Lowestoft Pier...28/01/2012

“Eloise always gets to go fishing.”

She has a point. Eloise, two years older, is strong enough and confident enough to jump on a kayak and go fishing for a couple of hours without getting bored. Perhaps I need to fish with something solid beneath my feet now and again. Besides…

“I’ve never caught a fish from the sea. I want to catch a fish to eat.”

This was a couple of weeks ago, a couple of weekends have passed of strong, cold winds and quite frankly the idea of sitting on the pier for them did not appeal. With the wind dropped and the sun out though it was the ideal opportunity. I’d been out on the sea in the morning but for the pier we needed to approach things differently.

We pull up around the corner from Angling Mad in Pakefield. It’s very rare that I use fresh worm but these fellas are local and deserving of my support when I do (and the worms I’ve had there are always decent). We walk in and knee-high Abigail says “Can I have ten lugworms please?” as she fishes in her pocket for some coins. Well, what can I say other than thanks very much lads? They found her a dozen good worms and let her have them with their compliments – that made her day!

A few hours later and wrapped up we arrive on the pier, pulling in to a random spot. I’ve tied her a wishbone rig with size 1 hooks – we’re after scraps, as long as we catch it’s a result. I’ve fitted my old Shimano fixed spool reel onto one of my longer boat rods even though it’s knackered and with a small rolling lead on I cast into the sea. Things feel kind of wrong with the reel…I tighten up and we watch. That’s the second thing gone wrong; camera is dead, will have to use my phone.



A couple of minutes later and Lead Us comes steaming into the harbour – I smile at the irony of having seen this boat coming out as I finished this morning’s session and in as I started this evening’s. Abigail waves of course, and to the other boats. We go back across and I see a bite.

I get ready to strike, wait, they’re gentle bites…again…agaiSTRIKE!

The reel is in a worse state than I thought. The spool is now way forward as the ‘axle’ has come sliding out of the front quite a way. :D I give her the rod and she reels. For ages. I twig that nothing’s coming closer and wind the line around the spool by hand, devoid of fish. Fair enough, I get one of my kayak rods out of the back and tie her trace onto the end of the line and cast out again; she’ll have to use a multiplier.

Loads of little nibbles, little taps, little nudges but nothing conclusive. I stick another rod out with 4/0 booms as it’s already rigged up. We wait, getting cold and watching. Then a repeated bite…we get ready…I strike…

…I hand her the rod and she winds in her first sea fish, a lovely little flounder. A fish I’ve not personally caught! She’s chuffed to bits.



A couple of pics and back it goes as I cast out again for her and we try to hit another bite in time.



The sun’s going down now and we’ve not got long left before we have to head home. A few little rattles, all missed and then we wind in, the boom rig getting snagged up and lost right at the end. Never mind eh, Abigail’s happy.

The Early Worm Catches The…28/01/2012

Early. Low water is early. Alarm is set early. 04:30 is early; I can’t leave it later. An hour further into the day and I’m on the beach; it looks worthwhile, the sea sounds gentle enough, the wind feels light enough, if it wasn’t so dark I’d be able to check the sea state visually but it’s okay, I’ve been here before.

I’m on my own this morning and go in my own time at my own pace. 0.82 statute miles to the mark according to the GPS. A few minutes of paddling and no effort required while the ebb still runs. There’s no water over the deck as I launch and the paddle out is easy. Yeah, there’s swell but it’s nothing to be concerned about. I approach the mark, 500ft and I stop padlding, 400ft and I reach around for my anchor, 300ft and the tines are splayed, things are clipped into place and I’m ready to drop, 200ft and I drop down…It takes a moment to bite and I settle nearby; perfect.

I’m using a quick release set up today, people keep extoling the virtues of it though I have no need. Still, there’s no harm in giving it yet another go. As with all previous occasions the additional complications add another minute or two into the mix and though it allows me an extra 50ft of warp it’s just a pain in the arse, especially as I end up holding off at an angle. Still, I’m making the effort.

Twin 9 inch booms with 4/0 Vikings and a lead sail down to the bottom carrying a frozen black and a squid head apiece…soon after a wishbone heads downwards carrying the same worms and half a larger squid head on each hook. I sit back and wait for the nodding, it’s peak time.

Yeah. Peak time. I wait 40 minutes for my first bite, on the wishbone and it fails to connect – I feel the weight of the cod that made the tip nod and then I feel it no more. It’s grabbed part of the bait but not the hook. So much for the expected irresistible offereing of half a lare squid-s head.

I wait twenty more minutes and then the boom rig jerks a bit; I pull something up that might be a cod but someings nor right…It feels okay whatever it is; it turns out to be a 45cm 1lb 9oz whiting, perhaps a PB. You’re coming home with me love! Got to really, I haven’t got any way to take a picture other than the phone.

I have a couple of nibbles and another bite but that’s it and I as it moves towards slack I decided to haul anchor and head in. Again things take ten times as long with the modified anchoring system but I get there in the end and start heading home as Lead Us approaches from the south to no doubt do the business once again.

I land far too calmly around 08:30 and head home to have a proper butchers at my roe-filled whiting.

Sail of the Century…27/01/2012

By 2pm I was done and wandering home though town; a quick turnaround, kitted up, I jumped in the van and headed a couple of miles south to Pakefield. It was a lovely bright afternoon and mulling over the options as I walked I decided to get my Pacific Action sail out and have a gentle wander back to my beach with no effort.

I trollied my Scupper down to the beach and paddled out to a somewhat flatter and less windy sea than I’ve been used to of late. Well, all year in fact. I flicked the sail up when a hundred yards offshore and proceeded to head home…



There was a yacht out there and he had a sail up so I figured things would be okay.



I don’t know why I don’t use it more, it really does beat making an effort.



…with a few minor adjustments to alter my course, feet up. Nice and sleazy.



Back at my beach in no time I decided to play about a bit, as per usual. That’s the kind of guy I am. There were some small waves that I could just about play with and so I did for the next hour or so, sailing along them, riding them in, sat side-on to them, paddling in and out backwards, that sort of thing. There was very little purpose to any of it other than not going back on dry land for a bit.











Of course that had to happen eventually and I headed in and home…the weekend has begun.








I think I’ll end, if you’ll permit me the profanity, with a quote frim Lock Stock and Two Smoking barrels…

“And you're haggling over 200 pound? What school of finance did you come from Nick? "It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the sail of the fucking century!" In fact, fuck it Nick, I think I'll keep it!”

Out and Apout…21/01/2012

Ho hum, strong winds again, Southwesterlies. 20 gusting 40. Pretty flat then, just shitty. Best get up at 05:30 then. Coffee…triple strength…check current conditions; force 4, gusting 5, 8 degrees, windchill factor of 4. Dark, damp, overcast, miserable, shitty, stupid…

I get down to Hopton, Si is already there. Idiot. Should have stayed in bed, not come out on a morning like this ;D No one else is stupid enough to join us and we launch as dawn is sort of breaking into a breathtaking grey.

I’m already decided, I won’t run 1.5 miles south with the tide to Corton, even though the fish are there. I’m going to head quarter of a mile north against the flow, dogleg straight offshore and drift back onto my mark as the anchor is going down. That’s what we do. I call up the coastguard, they ask more questions than normal, what safety kit we have etc. Must I read something into this?



I come up short by 200ft. Not a problem as I’m on the beds but I sit there and wait for a while before the first rattle, missed. I wait some more and up comes whiting number 1.



Another follows and then I decide I’d feel more confident on the mark. I up-anchor and head over a bit, drop down again and settle bang on it. I fish again. I get a cracking bite, cod? No, even better! My first pouting of the year!



It goes back, as has everything else so far. I fish on


Another pout. I keep this one, plump. Tasty. I kill and gut it on the spot.

Another pin whiting and then it goes quiet as the slack finally arrives, an hour after high water. Slowly, slowly we start to turn. It’s not just us, the boats down yonder are having the same issues judging by the conversations on the radio and are catching about as badly; we are all awaiting the ebb.


Si is being harassed by a seal. I say harassed, I mean it fancies him. It’s a tease though, won’t pose for a photo. I call him up and question him on whether he’d rather sleep with a seal or a polar bear. It’s cold; we agree that a cuddle from a polar bear would be the deciding factor.

I get a bite, I pull up and a sprat, which I’m trying today, has been savaged by a savage sprat-savager. That’s the only sprat savaging I get today. I put another sprat on the hook, cast a bit, something goes wrong and the rig is no longer on the line, the rod and reel are in the water and I’m wondering what the hell just happened. Thank God for leashes. Still, at least it’s pleasant out here.



Time’s getting on. I was lying about it being pleasant by the way. Don’t normally get chop on a westerly this close in. Don’t normally get little wavelets.



We give it another half an hour, the fish suddenly coming on the bite. I get three texts in a minute, including one from Si saying he’s going to head in and as they come in I get bites on both rods and a double shot on the one I chose. Bugger it, I have a visitor on the beach so I stow things, haul anchor and head in against the wind.

A text – can I anchor 50ft out for a photo, make out I’m fishing? Sure. I anchor fine but there’s no flow so I spin with my back to him. I swap rods around and whip leashes off and generally make a hash of everything in an effort to haul myself parallel with the beach by rod and line but it ain’t working. I up-anchor again and head into the beach to meet up with Mario from the Coastguard who’s come down to see us along with Stoker and Renrag who are also waiting with him.

We have a good chat, take Mario through the kit, get photographed, get the piss taken, get some thoughts from his side and an hour later after a quick capsize and re-entry practice we load up and head home. Not the most inspiring of catches but a decent effort, certainly worthwhile.

Dinner was actually really nice! Just a pity I dropped it on the floor.





7 whiting and 2 pouting.

Outaninfortea…15/01/2012

I woke up early, my alarm set for early o’clock. I hit snooze 3 times before I switched it off. I still got up early but didn’t go padlding. I had a coffee and looked at the conditions and failed to reach a decision. I walked to the beach. Hmm. Could have fished, couldn’t have surfed, could have paddled, could have sailed, could have gone on the river. Could have. Didn’t. Went home, did some stuff.

Once the rest of the house was awake I cleaned some herring and fried the roe and milts for my breakfast. It kept me going until I made lunch – a selection of pike, bass, mackerel and herring cooked in foil with lemon juice, parsley and nutmeg. It was no good though, it still didn’t make up for not getting wet and I was snappy.

It was tasty and then I decided to go.

I headed for Dogger, didn’t have a lot of time. Knew there was fairly deep water and rough ground close in. Knew the tide ran fast but knew it wouldn’t be an issue in the time I had available. I squeezed through the pikey-free blocks and parked up, unloaded, suited up and went down to the shoreline. I lay there chatting to the camera as I studied the sea, making a launching tutorial. Well louche…might have to get some Ray-Bans.



I hauled the yak to the water, biding my time and then paddled out through a flatter bit. The force 4 south easterly was putting some chop and swell into the water and this was dumping on the beach a tad. Nothing too bad really and I liked the paddle out.



I knew where I wanted to go but then the plotter went on the blink so I paddled out until I decided it all looked the same and dropped anchor.

Two rods, one with a 3/0 twin boom rig, mackerel strip and sprat on the two hooks and a wishbone rig with frozen blacks and squid on the other. Five minutes and a decent whiting came to lug and squid. Soonm after a nother, then I missed one, then a rattle on rod one and a dab came to mackerel. Green and with an injury. Then a pin whiting that went back on the squid, another whiting, another dab then it went quiet as the tide dropped off.





Nothing had touched the sprats, fresh yesterday.

The tide was slack when a big white cat came past, a lovely boat it looked too. One of the charters but I couldn’t make out the name as I was having to look over my shoulder. Soon after as the ebb started to push through Lead Us came past, inshore of me, with a huge flock of birds indicating that Colin had once again done the honours for yet another party. Might have to sell the yak at this rate, be a good investment!





The tide started to push through once more and another whiting jumped on the hook but with wind over tide now and the swell going the same way the lumps got lumpier. The skipper of Lead Us found me difficult to keep sight of as it was but now it had grown in intensity slightly as the current increased. I had enough for a good meal and the light was fading so I decided to up-anchor and head in through the dump and go pick up the van ready to run to the other side of the country for breakfast…and I feel a hundred times better after that.

Not As Planned…14/01/2012

After last week’s disappointment on the Saturday and then not bothering to get out of bed on Sunday and feeling down about it all week (not to mention not being able to take the day off when Ian did so well) I was determined to go for it this weekend. Saturday was looking perfect…I sent out the email to the usual gang:

“Low water Saturday is around 06:30, that means an 05:00 launch at latest sadly; that’s gonna hurt! Tide should turn and run again by 08:00. Large tides. Sunrise just before 8, first light soon after 7. Forecast is westerly turning northerly but very light winds predicted. Northerly swell, not tiny so possibly a little bit of surf if we’re lucky :D
I’m looking to go from Tramps, take the ebb up to the Corton mark, the rough ground half a mile out in 35ft and try to bag up on the shoal that’s hanging there. The charters are catching plenty and there’s no reason why we can’t do likewise. Apart from being rubbish at fishing, dragging or losing anchors, forgetting bait, falling asleep or capsizing of course. Think I’ll take a spare anchor this time too…and extra bait…tempted to get some fresh lug…does my excitement show?”

Yeah, it did. Tim wasn’t available but Si, Mike and Paul would be meeting me down there. Great, in bed by ten Friday night, awake at 03:30 and back to sleep for another hour – excited – and then down for coffee. Lucky codding socks pair number 2 have been fished out of the washing basket, washed and put on the radiator to dry and go on underneath main lucky (most lucky) codding socks.

I’m a couple of minutes shy of socks and drysuit; Paul texts:

“I’m not launching in that surf. I’ll come back down when it’s light”.

Fair one. He hangs fire while I head down, drysuit flung in the back, wetsuit, boots and surf paddle grabbed from upstairs and flung in and I’m away. Mike is also there when I arrive. We wander down to have a look. Looks okay to me, a small dump by the beach but the rest seems okay though it sounds somewhat worse. I can relate it to what it looks like in daytime by the amount I can see. The others aren’t so sure. Si, aware now that he’s up but maybe not going out has instead stayed home and gone back to bed. Paul and Mike decided to follow suit. I’m awake now, have been excited about this one for days and don’t want the regret I had last week again.; I’m happy with conditions for myself and am pleased that the other two aren’t going to be sheep; instinct is not to be ignored.

I suit up, minus lucky codding socks number 1 and with the wrong hat – this is work hat number 1, not lucky fishing hat no.1. The colour is wrong and there are no holes. I leave the polar hood too. I’m going to regret both.

I launch. I don’t even get a wet lap. I knew it was just the dump. Out back and I paddle into some fair swell. Pretty quick and a couple of feet high, perhaps a tad more. The tide is still running. I move the cursor, hit goto and track right in to the mark, dropping anchor 200ft short. I land up 20ft inshore of the punched-in numbers. Things are improving! I call up the coastguard, let them know where I am. I sing Moon River. I edit it out; I can’t sing.



I rig up, bait up, switch the Humminbird back on to see what’s happening. I’ve drifted a bit, am moving ever so slowly. I finally settle 150ft north and slightly more inshore. Not as happy with that but I’m within a few feet of a fortnight ago when I had four cod for the smoker. I cast in and settle down to await the nodding of the tip lights.



Having waited I change my baits, or rather add to them. I cast out again and wait.

I wait some more.

I’m starting to get cold now.

Here comes dawn.



Here comes some daylight.


Finally, with the sun comes a bite. 07:30, I’ve been out a couple of hours. I strike and haul in a whiting on the wishbone. It’s a keeper but being lightly hooked and having saved me from a blank I decide to let the little fella go back down. Well-deserved freedom.



Ten minutes more and the tide starts to drop right off. I was going to fish through slack and into the flood, that was the original plan. The plan involved those socks and hat though and quite frankly my feet were freezing. I switched the camera on and decided to do a talk-through up-anchor clip before setting off back to the mark. Some other boats were starting to pitch up now, hopefully they’d have better luck. The one I passed was pitching and rolling a bit, it certainly looked more uncomfortable than the kayak felt in terms of roll (which surprised me). I guess there is more to move and more above and below the waterline.

The cam still on I paddled into the beach. The swell was heading in the same direction and I knew I could have a bit of fun if I wanted. After the boredom of the fishing I wanted. Oh yes, I wanted. I did another talk through and then gunned it on a couple of big waves I couldn’t get ahead of. The third took me in though and it was great but not quite dramatic enough.





I launched again and waited for a bigger wave to come in on, one that I could keep properly seated on. It soon arrived.
I went for it.

Caught it.



Couldn’t get the paddle where I wanted because of the rod, purposely left in place, had to lift up and over but things weren’t going to plan, I wasn’t pulling up over the lip this time, oh no!



The nose slammed into sand and the arse went airborne! I went into the water, the Scupper passed over me, upside down and I could see the rods still in place as it went scooting in towards the beach. I picked myself up and wandered over; no damage, no losses. All appeared well. I dragged it up the sand and went down to film the shore dump.

That’s when I noticed a problem with my camera. The screen had gone black. It turns out that the waterproofing is not waterproof and it is now dead. It was inside the upper chest pocket of my drysuit so should have been more than adequately protected. Hopefully the warranty will be honoured, it’s only a couple of months old; back to the old one with the knackered lens again.

Hard Blows Suck…07/01/2012

Sometimes you know. You just know. I knew when the alarm went off the first time. That’s why I ignored it. I couldn’t ignore it the second time though, even though I could hear. It was the time slot available.

I sat there watching the live weather station on the laptop as I drank my typically strong coffee. It was pretty constant at a force 4 and though I was listening to the wind outside and stronger gusts were coming through I still went with the instruments at the yacht club. I wasn’t overly keen though so decided to go back to bed for an hour; daylight would be useful.

As I lay there I mulled over the fact that I had an invite onto a boat, a proper boat, one with engines and stuff. A galley too – or at least somewhere for coffee and bacon sarnies. Damn the work already planned for this weekend, it was the ideal time to run screaming from the notion of kayak fishing like some landlubbing coward with a lot more sense than I.

I lay there wide-awake for half an hour, the caffeine kicking (my head) in. I got up, jumped in the van and drove to Hopton. I was intending to fish Corton again so would launch and use the flood for the mile and a half commute to the mark. This meant two things. Firstly I’d have to run through the rough water with reversed swell that covers the sea defences at one point; confusion here. Secondly there’d be no turning back for quite a while – strong tide and a following sea. Fair enough. It wasn’t light yet but I could at least see.



The launch was easy; it was pleasant close-in. I headed southeast and after a few minutes began to experience the first of the turbulence. Nothing out of the ordinary, I carried on. Nearing the church I switched on the Humminbird and tracked into the mark while watching the seabed; 40ft and getting nearer. 150ft uptide and my anchor goes down, shuttled to the rear.

Hell of a rush as the stretch comes out of the warp and then I’m being swung a bit, bounced a bit and generally made to feel less than ecstatic. There is water coming into the tankwell as I bait up. It’s bloody windy too, I’ve been paddling one-sided a fair bit on the way out here and now I’m getting moved about. It passes within a few minutes though; things settle down, calm down and I cast in my first baits.

They’re bouncing on the bottom and the angle is reducing. Oh. Am I on the drift? I switch the plotter on again; yep. 1.5mph drift with the anchor bouncing; it’s tripped, the weaklink has gone. It’s a fine game this, too weak and it trips, too strong and you can’t break out. I haul it up as the coastguard weather report comes on…force 5 to 7, gale 8 imminent. That makes it 2:1 so I don’t drop it back down. I’m nowhere near the mark now anyway, in fact I’m not far from Tramp’s Alley. I could move inshore here (I’m maybe half a mile out), anchor up and fish in the shelter of the cliffs. I’ll still have to wait for the tide to turn and the wind isn’t going to help me on the way back. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

I think about the alternative.

Why not. I head down the coast for Lowestoft and home; bugger the van, bugger the plan. I make good time with minimal effort and at one point glance at the plotter and see that I’m doing 7mph, speed over ground. That’s not bad…

…I approach the twin cardinals that mark – I think – an outfall. I know it rears up here on the flood so start to grin, bring it on!



It’s a bit lacklustre today though. I call up Lowestoft Harbour to inform them I’m crossing the approaches shortly and to check for traffic – I’m clear. I glance down; I wasn’t paddling while on the radio. Still making 3mph though.

I go round the bend (ahem) and with the harbour to my starboard side I head in past the banks and decided to make an anchoring video quickly. I drop and raise it a few times, sling a line out then get bored. I make a quick beaching and launching video, chat to a surfer (there are none today that are rideable – lovely shape but less than a foot tall!) and then trolley the yak home.



“I don’t have to drive you to Hopton do I? I have so much to do”.

“No, I’ll bike up there.”

Gently paddling with wind and tide pushing me down (but offshore) I cover the distance in an hour and a half roughly. Against a strong wind (at times) and in top gear I make it the 6 miles back in around half that. At the age of 38 ¾ and with a bike I’ve hardly used since the nightly half-milers up the hill and back in the summer I’m seriously impressed. It was fun too. I get off the bike and almost collapse in a heap! I’m not tired but my legs are not right; I grip the van, stop myself falling. I walk like I have rickets. It’s disconcerting, I can tell you, but driving is fine.

So, a big fat blank but a good stretch, both ways. It can’t always go right but that’s no bad way to go wrong.

Waving For An Alibi…06/01/2012

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this.”

So said Thoreau; I think he has a point.


So Magic Seaweed is predicting 9.5ft northerly swell, 9 second period, north-westerly wind of 19mph. That means there will be something on the beach, probably 3-4ft, best running up to high water. So I set my alarm for 06:30 in the vain hope of getting to the beach for 7 and first light. The plan was good but the execution wasn’t as I didn’t want to get out of bed.



So I set off for work at 07:30 and just stop to see what’s developed. I’d told Rich I might take a couple of hours off in the morning but would let him know. I take a look and the sun is putting a beautiful orange glow over the sea. There is one surfer there and he catches a nice wave in the 3-4ft range. It’s clean. I am fetching my RRRapido!



I drive home again, run in, unload the dishwasher politically, grab my wetsuit and boots and do a Clark Kent. I grab my wife’s PFD so I can stick my camera in the pocket and leave the house. I attach my ATC9K to the nose, attach seat and thigh straps, run in and change the shaft on my paddle to a 197cm, run back out and walk down to the beach.



It’s a beautiful morning, the sun is still not fully up and it’s bright. A bodyboarder is in the water too and a local photographer well-known in the local surfing community (he was one of the originals) is recording things. I bid him good morning and run down to the beach. I launch; something is wrong. I come back in and swap my blades onto the right ends of the shaft and go out again.



It’s an easy launch; I go out after a set, run up the side of the groyne, paddle around the boardies and wait a full couple of minutes. Here it comes!



It’s around 4ft when it reaches me, long and wide, nice and fast and steep too – an easy wave to catch. I paddle for it and I’m off, shoot down the face and pull into a bottom turn, run along the shoulder and pull myself into reverse for a good 4 or 5 seconds; I’ve perfected the spin! I run in backwards, leaning forwards to stop the tail digging in, and then slide out into a side surf on the foam to the beach. Great!

I check the camera…the red light is off. What? I switch on, play, fast forward. It’s gone off just before I’ve turned for my wave. I switch on again and it dies again. I try periodically but it comes up with ‘recharge your battery’. I am crestfallen – these are the best waves here since November 2010 and I can’t film myself on a better kayak, worse still the camera has been plugged in all week so should have a full charge. Well, that’s it. I can still have fun though and remember it!

Out again, run in beautifully again, down, turn, along, spin, backwards, side-on, in…out again, down, turn, along, cut back and over…out again, down, turn, cut back…out again, down, turn, along, cut back, spin, backwards, side-on, in… out again, down, turn, along and through a breaking wave, the closest to being tubed that I’m ever likely to get at Lowestoft, cut back…out again, down, turn, along, cut back, off, ICE CREAM HEAD…out again, down, cut back… try again, down, cut back… try again, down, cut back… out again, run in beautifully, down, turn, along, spin, backwards, side-on, off…

One last wave, a wave goodbye. It takes a good five or ten minutes to arrive and I blast off with a flurry of strokes, the Mystiks pulling the RRRapido through the water and I’m on again, run in beautifully, down the face, turn at the bottom, run long the shoulder, spin, surf backwards, go side-on, and come off just out from the beach. I walk out of the water, my hands cold now, both ears full of sea. I head home, change, leave the house and arrive at work just before ten, two hours of lieu time well-used!

So, a great start to the year – 3 launches, one in each boat; fantastic bumpy paddle in the Chatham, superb 4-cod session in the Scupper and blinding surf session in the RRRapido…I’m loving 2012.