My mug, my oversized mug, my bone china mug with the fish on it was missing. It is known to contain just the right amount of early launch caffeine so I was not overly impressed at my incompetence. I had to settle for less but with the same three spoons of Gold blend in it. I downed it and left the house. I left the house as I’d left my lighter around a friend’s house. Strike two. Things then stabilised and I made it to Hopton only five minutes late and before the others.
Tim pitched up soon after I started unloading. I was on a short session so should have been rushing to get launched and maximise the time on the water but low water was only half an hour before so I’d only end up anchoring during slack anyway. No, nice and gentle easing in was called for. Tim, missing since before Christmas, was also in no rush and nor was Si when he pitched up a few minutes later.
It seemed that things were improving, the sea was flat with just a gentle wave breaking onto the shore and the sky was beautifully clear, the sun just starting to come up. We wandered down the ramp together.
I launched before the others, only by a few minutes. They may have thought it a bit antisocial but I needed to find the spot. Today’s plan was to hit a wreck and fish that, an inshore wreck that was quick and easy to get to. I had the co-ordinates on my pc but not punched into my plotter but was also aware that they were around the area of the black buoy and the dan just to its north. The current was off slack now and would be against me once it started to run but for now things were easy enough. I reached the buoy and paddled in a straight line towards the dan. Nothing showed on the sounder. Funny. I came back again, twenty metres inshore; again nothing. I spotted a couple of fish returns but not the hump that I knew was there from previously paddling over it. The others had joined me now and I made one last pass twenty metres offshore. Nothing.
We headed uptide from the dan and dropped anchor. My new dive reel, a large capacity McMahon, worked beautifully as the anchor dropped down and hooked in quickly. There was so little tide that I had to pay line out for a bit before grabbing my rods. The worms I’d left to rot last weekend had dried out instead, this was not good as they wouldn’t be sticking their scent out and were solid on the hook so I couldn’t add to them. Oh well, a bit of squid on the end and a soaking would see me right, right? Both wishbones went out and down to the bottom.
I sat there for maybe quarter of an hour before the first little tap. Little tap being the best description. There were a few of them but all I had to show for my wait on retrieval was weed and plastic. Great. The tide was picking up quickly now, flooding to the south and as the water level rose the dan started to go lower in the water until finally it was submerged. As I sat there I kept looking at the patch of water to our south that appeared to be behaving differently. There was something down there and my bet was the Norman. Having spent a riveting hour already I decided to haul anchor and head for it. I know very little about the Norman other than it was some sort of fishing boat that got caught up and went under, that’s it. Google hasn’t been much use either and I’d like to know the story.
The McMahon worked a treat and as I started lifting the anchor straight up beneath me a long liner from Yarmouth turned up. Friendly chaps, we all had a chat and then, as he headed off, I wondered how he managed to disturb the water so much, Tim was thinking the same and then I twigged that we had drifted right over the wreck and this was the turbulence created downtide of it. We paddled north and I spotted her on the sounder, switched on now. Past I went and down went the anchor. The hump was raised about 6ft off the bottom
Things didn’t go quite to plan, again. The tide was starting to rip through pretty fast by now and I was in somewhat turbulent water. It wasn’t really the ideal time to have a stainless ring on the anchor system catch on part of my rod holder. I knew there was a problem – sitting side on to the tide and not being able to shuttle either way usually indicates something going t1ts up – but it took a while to identify the cause and by the time it was rectified I was past the wreck although my anchor wasn’t. Too late now, I started to fish alongside Tim and Si.
Things got off to a great start, I dropped down and had nothing but felt the deflected water knocking me about a bit. Okay…best I switch ends and fish uptide. I reeled in and spun myself around in double-quick time. I cast out, let my line run off the reel and then untangled it from the anchor warp and reeled in again. I cast over to my left instead. The second rod went down and I waited for the fish.
They didn’t pitch up so I reeled in a panty liner instead. Tim suggested I might get a tope on it. Back to my first rod and I failed to land the Norman. I broke out instead. I’d suspected a loss or two but had forgotten my spare rigs and ponced one off Tim before launch in case of need. I should have checked really, my rigs attach straight to the mainline, his to the swivel below the zip slider. Hurrah for cable ties! I baited up again and cast into the boiling soup around me.
Every now and then the water would suddenly accelerate and the water around me would roll up into a heaving mass; standing waves, fortunately small, would form and back-eddies would appear. It was really quite a thing to observe from the middle of it but to be honest I’d far rather have been observing cod. Not today though and with an hour and a bit left I decided to haul up and hit the usual mark. I wound in and then pulled my anchor reel back. I pulled myself up to the anchor and sure enough it was stuck fast as expected. I flipped the warp over the front cleat and heaved, the nose dipped and I felt the weak link give and then slack – I couldn’t believe it and pulled the warp in, hand over hand, as fast as I could. I had my anchor back!
I wound the line back onto the reel and paddled the 200 yards back to the others who’d been alongside. They also began to haul anchor but both were stuck fast. I pootled around with the sonar building my mental image up and then rafted up with Tim; it wasn’t budging and he cut loose. I went over to Si and rafted up again; also stuck solid. An empty bottle was tied on, above the buoy as water was coming over the side now and his anchor trolley had gone u/s, and he also cut free. The buoy was tantalisingly in view and, as it was mine anyway, I was having it back! I paddled up to it, looking for all the world like the barrels shot into Jaws and flipped the warp over my cleat. I pulled it into my lap and hauled the warp up tight so as to not leave a load of it floating round in people’s way, cleated it off, retied the bottle and flicked it over the side to be pulled straight under. 2 litres of air. X, however, marks the spot and the bass aren’t far away now…
We paddled in having drifted in no time to the usual mark. We’d fannied around for too long and it was time to land so headed straight for the ramp. A lone angler was in the bay and as we came in, tight up the groyne to avoid getting in his way, he rubbed salt into our wounds by pulling in a codling. Or codlet. Well undersize anyway but more than the three of us had caught over on the Norman.
We walked up the ramp, got loaded up and as I tightened the straps I saw a guy wandering down the lane pulling a kayak…someone new? No! Someone old, it was Pinkfoot, coming out of hibernation to show us how it’s done. It must be getting on for a couple of years since we’ve hooked up and it was as pity I had to run so soon…I pointed out the spot we’d been on and I pointed out the fleet at Corton to where he headed and where I’ll be tomorrow.
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