It’s my last trip, my last run down to the south coast with a van and trailer, my last overnighter and I’m off to Christchurch. It sort of became a tradition on the first trip here of the spring to meet up with Overrun and go for a session though it’s never been much of a success…and what? It doesn’t matter.
I spoke to James and Tanners lane was settled upon. Richi was also up for it and with space on the van and nothing to do for a while Stinkyweim got an invite too. That’s why the poor bugger was dragged from his bed and we were on the road soon after four in the morning
Two drops and then it’s my last one and happily it’s one where coffee will be forthcoming! Good old Bournemouth Canoes delight as ever and with the boats unloaded Darren brings through two steaming cups and after chatting about my new job we depart for the premier Inn at somerford.
We check in and I’m knackered. Not that I’m missing fishing though, far from it and we dump the trailer around the back before heading off to the scene of my first smoothound session. Low bridges conspire against us but we find a way through and pull up on the beach behind Richi. Talking while setting up the owner of the beach who lives a hundred yards from us comes to chat. The van is not appreciated but he says I can stay this time, just not come back! We had a good chat and left on good terms and then it was time to launch.
The day had been a beauty until now; sun, blue skies, warm, no wind. Now though the wind was blowing and the sea was choppy. A smattering of mist was building and I was decidedly cooler than earlier. We launched just the same and paddled out.
Half a mile out and I dropped down in around 8-10ft of water and about 2-3ft of chop. The water looked clear enough but I was fishing blind and it wasn’t all that comfortable. I sat there, Si positioned a couple of hundred yards inshore of me and waited.
I appeared to get some taps and then line was being pulled slowly in starts…I knew what it was and knew that we’d lucked out. I reeled in and sure enough I had a weight of weed to strip from the line. The other rod was duly brought in and stripped too; the beautiful ragworm Richi had picked up for us were going to go to waste.
Si headed in for a while and James arrived on the beach. I moved and tried to get away from the weed but to no avail. I called James up and told him not to bother launching and ten minutes later I was back on the land, gutted.
We stood and chatted. Richi returned. I spotted some gulls diving and we tried flicking out some lures but nothing hit them. That was about the time people with funny shoes and strange trousers started prancing around on the beach. Some had cameras, some had baseball caps. One had long blonde hair and with a builder amongst us our friendship was doomed to fail! No, it wasn’t a porn shoot much to our disappointment but a music video for some anonymous band we’d probably never hear of anyway. They appeared to enjoy themselves though, snogging and subsequently splashing each other with piss and mercury contaminated salt water and managed to avoid any lurking stingray so I guess things were good for them.
We loaded up and headed off, avoiding horses as we made our way out of the New Forest, set course for the hotel via the worst and greasiest, by far, KFC I’ve ever eaten and crashed out in no time ready for the run back home and my last day with Johnson Outdoors…
I nearly went bassing last night as it was so pleasant but a third session in a day was just taking the piss so I decided to hold off for twenty four hours. Of course, one never knows if this is a good or bad move but I figured the dying wind and swell plus the clearing water might just improve chances.
Over at Gorleston the forecast was ideal. Last light 21:51, low water 21:45,3mph winds…if the water was clear and if the bass were on the wreck it couldn’t be better. Those last two were the question but it was a good enough question for Mike, Steve and I to get down there for an 8ish launch.
We paddled out the couple of hundred yards to where the wreck was showing clearly, the stanchions clear of the water and the top of the boiler visible with that surge around it that the bass love. I clipped off to one of the stanchions and started to throw a popper at it, changing to a Rapala DT7 as the sun was setting.
Nothing. I moved off to a buoy, clipped on and spent the enxt hour changing between lures, snapping lures off or pulling them from the wreck and generally doing everything to catch fish apart from catch them. Mike was also clipped off and doing as well as me on the catching and better on the tackle front; I lost three lures all in. Steve was trolling, again without a take and after long enough we both had a couple of trolls, fishless, and headed in on a flat sea, nice and calm as the last of the light disappeared over the cliffs. It was pleasant.
Ray of Sunshine…27/05/2012
I’ve got a newfound respect for those who chase the big flatties up in Scotland. I’ve got a new respect for the way they pull those huge beasts up and in. All because a 3lb’er nearly had me swimming this morning…
7am and I’m on the ramp at Hopton in another glorious sunny morning. I’ve got a bunch of miscellaneous bits of bait all in a bag to use and a few hours to kill, to chill and enjoy some me time. I’d made arrangements late after a wedding so was unsurprised that I was solo this morning. No matter, I tackled up, dressed in my Sidewinder bib and brace without a cag and paddled out nice and dry, dropping anchor on the usual mark.
First rod down and I’m baiting up the second when I get a bite…that’s a good sign. It’s gone by the time I’ve sorted rod two however so I settle down and wait.
Forty minutes before the next bite and it’s getting towards slack low now. What a lacklustre weekend! Then a few minuscule rattles and a few missed strikes. I’m underwhelmed but it’s pleasant enough though a bit lumpy. I’m kind of hoping for an early smoothie but haven’t really got the bait out for them and then bang! The rod gets hit nicely and I strike. The rod is out to my side, next to the beds and I strike sideways. There’s solid resistance and I shoot back towards it! Luckily I maintain an upright position and figure I’ve hooked the bed but no, there’s movement. Good movement. It feels heavy. Heavy and strong. Strong but light. Not fast though. It’s not a bass. It’s no smut either. What the hell is this? It’s almost codlike but different and with more pull. I’m at a loss. It comes up though after a nice spirited scrap and bugger me it’s a thornie! I’m amazed and over the moon! My wife will be pleased, that’s her favourite and I’m pleased too…
Why am I so delighted? Well, I’ve never had one locally. I had three in Kent a few years back but I just don’t see them here. I know a mark, a couple of miles out from here but have yet to fish it. The only one I’ve seen before was a baby Tim had a mile or so out but this is on the usual mark! Granted I’m usually lure fishing by now and bait is ignored but they should have turned up to one of us by now surely? I’m chuffed to bits though especially as I’ve been waiting for one for a while and all the local boas are on the hunt for them. Ha, good old Ray!
A few minutes pass and I pull up a good whiting. They’ve been slinks lately and all gone back but here’s a long and plump one. Nice for tea…
It’s followed by more and then a pout, excellent, not been many of these around lately! It goes back,
I’m starting to head south now, the wind and tide lining up and as I pull in a few more whiting I spy a red kayak on the beach…soon it comes out and I can tell it’s a Scupper…a few minutes and I can confirm it’s Mike just popping out to say hi.
I’ve just spoken to my wife and I’m about to head in but I give it a while longer and catch him a couple of whiting as well. My wife, incidentally, has finally shown some excitement – I’ve told her I have something special for her, a ray, and she exclaims a genuine wow! Now, If I can hit a bunch of these my marital problems could well be resolved (and not in the Hampshire Way!).
We head in. There are one or two reasonable waves on the way in but without a dry top on I take it easy and resist the temptation that usually sees my Persil landings. No, I chose a flat spot and come in dry for once…and then it’s time to go home.
She’s patient but at seven her patience is being tested too much. With big sister at a sleepover and great weather I gave her what she asked for ages ago – a paddle on the sea. We were off to the beach with friends and the spot was to be a mile south of our beach. No contest then and so we headed down with her Kea and my RRRapido while mum took the picnic.
A couple of small waves to go through but she was straight out and I launched to catch up. It was lovely on the water, flat with just enough swell to make it fun and amidst giggles and being told how great it was I relaxed and knew Abigail would be fine. Out we went, about half a mile and then set course past the pier and down towards Pakefield, the tide assisting us all the way.
I didn’t quite land where we were expected so it seemed we were the first to arrive. Abigail went ahead with me following up behind with the camera recording all the way in. Small waves to me but she’s half my height! Of course she was light enough to surf the last few yards but got turned and slid off in knee high water, landing on her feet with a huge grin! Of course she then had to try the RRRapido and paddled out, turned, paddle din, watched for the waves, took one and wiped out with laughter on her lips and sand in her mouth! Brilliant!
Ten minutes passed before mum turned up and pointed out where we should be so off we went again…this time she took a shoulder height (sitting down) wave in and landed fine with a big thumbs up and smile as she turned to me coming in behind her…a class act. Then it was back in the water to splash about for half an hour while I lazed in the sun.
We spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach and after being picked on and bullied once more by six children who refuse to take heed of any threats of the European Court of Human Rights and proceeded to bury me and shovel sand into my mouth she once more donned her wetsuit and took the kayak out to teach herself to surf kayak…and she mastered it in those conditions!
She’s been watching me, I was gobsmacked when she watched for her wave, chose it, paddled for it and applied strong stern rudders to keep herself straight! First in the Kea and then in the RRRapido…soon joined by Jonas who spent a few minutes solo before she hopped on the back and kicked with her feet as he paddled for them to catch waves, having some great rides and plenty of laughter.
Four hours passed and then I had to make two trips up the cliff to take the kayaks to the car. I see there will be days and days like this and in a few years less space for me to ride the waves as my two little selkies beat me into the line-up…
So what to do? The forecast looked unfishable, possibly surfable, certainly paddleable (which isn’t a real word) so I figured on taking it easy and launching at the end of the road, a quick visual determining which yak to use. Si was up for something, anything and we agreed that he’d be around at mine for seven. By this time I’d had a coffee and a quick breakfast wandered down the end of the road to check things out. The waves had gone so the RRRapido was staying in the garden…Si was going to christen his Scupper Pro so should I unload mine? I decided not to in the end and instead took my Necky Chatham 17 off the roofbars for the first time in ages and clambered into my drysuit. It’s a wonderful kayak to paddle but my priority is fishing or surfing, not going anywhere really so the poor girl is underused.
I was in and out of the house looking for spraydecks and pumps, paddle keys and all manner of pointless bits and pieces but finally we were ready and with Si’s yak on a trolley and my Necky on my shoulder we set off.
The sun was already nice and warm and the sky was blue. It was a beautiful morning and I was glad to be out but what to do? We launched easily enough and paddled out past the groyne. The swell was a bit better out here and we initially aimed for the channel markers a couple of miles out but with the tide how it was and the sun in our eyes I decided I was bored with that so we decided to turn and run down the coast to Pakefield. The trouble was we had no clear goal, nothing to aim for. It wasn’t like we had a destination or a task or anything like that. No, we were out strolling at random.
I started to get bored quite quickly. It was a beautiful morning as I say but I just wasn’t really all that excited. I could have fished, the forecast was wrong. We headed down for a mile or so and then I decided to head right in close and play amongst the waves. Not that they were all that exciting either. Sod it, we headed back again, sticking close in. It was okay but only one bit of excitement occurred when a slightly larger one caught Si beam on, span him and sent him surfing into the beach. It looked great but I didn’t watch until the end, an end which saw him rolled out.
We reached the launch point and I started trying to surf the Chatham…some swells were just about large enough to pick up and get some reasonable runs on and this was all good practice for me but nothing really sick as the boardies would say…but we carried on for a while before being joined by a lifeguard in one of their skis. He caught some short runs closer in and while I waited, and missed, a few of the slightly better ones we decided to head back in shortly. I waited and then finally caught a reasonable wave in, riding to within fifty yards of the beach before cutting back over the wave and over-bracing on the seaward side for the following one. So I walked a flooded kayak in and we headed for home! A waste of a possibility but fun all the same. So we posed for some pics to at least get something out of the sunshine.
A couple of hours later, cycling back from town with my youngest daughter, I spotted something half a mile out. At first I thought it was a paddler (I was looking out for John Willacy on his way around the UK and likely to pass sometime during the day). But no blade movements. It didn’t look fats enough for anything else so perhaps it was an inflatable? Then I saw someone in the water behind it, going ion the same direction. I figured it might be someone accompanying a swimmer in training but no, the distance kept increasing. Then, as the swimmer turned for shore I made my mind up that it was a jetski. The swimmer was doing okay under his own power having made the right decision to stop chasing the ski and come in (wind and tide were taking it further from him) but it was getting closer to the harbour mouth which could have been a hazard. So, first number on the phone is dialled and I’m through to Yarmouth Coastguard…I call it in and then spot a pilot boat entering harbour. I suggest that might be able to go pick up the ski and it entered port, turned and came back out again before lashing rope to the infernal machine and towing it in. Quite funny turning round and seeing the Endeavour, 74m and 3000 tons, stopped outside the harbour mouth waiting for the pilot boat to come back…
Tuesday night, Wednesday night, Thursday night…all lovely, calm, no wind, balmy evenings with flat seas. I figured on the water clearing sufficiently, I figured on bass at the Swan. I figured on getting out for them. I figured on energy. I knew it was going to break overnight and Friday would be bigger, I knew it and still didn’t go. I should have…
Friday…another hot sunny day. I leave off at half three on a Friday, that put me home at four after a quick look at the sea; four paddlers out and enough to get onto though nothing spectacular so I didn’t bother with any cameras for once (stock photo inserted from a similar session!). It had to be worth a shot and so I squeezed myself into my fancy-pants wetsuit, grabbed the RRRapido and my Mystik, donned a short sleeved cag (the easterly was strong and I didn’t want to get fed up from wind-chill) walked to the end of the road and launched. It didn’t look great but one of the paddlers reported that they’d had a great time since two and were all now knackered. He also said it was worth the effort and so I paddled out and over the foam.
Blimey, it’s been a while since I rode the RRRapido. It felt wobbly. Probably because it was. I got to my usual position and almost immediately a set came through and I chose the largest one, nothing major, 3-4ft but short and messy. Up it came, started to peak as I ran down it. I stuffed it up, pearled and flipped out. Pearling is my new surf kayaking term, I try to learn one each surf report! Pearling is when you bury the nose and end up looking a complete dick in front of everyone on the beach.
I hopped back on, wiped away the shame and tried again…
In all I had maybe a dozen decent rides though all but two were short as I was practicing my cutbacks and 180’s as there was no real speed or power behind the waves this time. It was coming on for low water anyway so that was to be expected. No matter, I bongoed in on the last reasonable one (well, two actually, the first one faded away) picked up my RRRapido and wandered home to get ready for the weekend.
A morning off! Hurrah! Si and Mike both free too and with the forecast being all over the place we had to hedge bets. The 6mph southwesterly on the flood looked really promising to go to the banks in search of thornies, bass and smuts but this changed back to 15mph southwesterly changing to southeasterly so that would see us on the inshore mark again…we prepared for either with a decision to be made on the day.
Twelve hours before Si and I had scrabbled around in search of hardbacks and perhaps peelers but an hour too late on the tide meant a limited area to search and all we scraped together were half a dozen usable hardbacks. Now we just needed the fish to want them.
Just before 7 I pulled up once again on home territory, actually being beaten by Si for a change. He and Mike were not far off being ready to go so I unloaded and started hunting for the unsorted paraphernalia slung into the back of the van after the Swanage trip. It came together but slowly. I’d had an idea though to use Whippersnappers Fladen gear today though, the two 4ft Ice Pike rods as well as the 12lb IM7 along with some of the traces I’d tied for her.
The water was up to the ramp. There was a lively bit of swell too, dumping close in. Si was going first and I mentioned waiting for the flat spot…here it was, go now…he was busy though and twenty seconds elapsed, then he went. Mike and I laughed quite heartily as he yo-yoed back and forth between breakers but to his credit he stayed upright though Mike had to bring his hat out to him! Mike went next, chose a flat spot and got out easily enough, just popping over the first wave of the oncoming set. I just strolled out all casual-like.
A quick paddle out against the tide and we dropped anchor. The ram tubes were swung into position and tightened up, one being tricky where the threads have become jammed with salt, and I started to bait up. On the left with a small fixed spool, a Power 30, went a 1/0 pennel rig, a frozen black and a squid head. In the middle on the longer rod went a whole squid bait with a squid head on the bottom hook and to my right on the Fladen Warbird 3600 multiplier a 2/0 wishbone rig with live hardback on one hook, black and squid on the other. 5oz leads on the zip sliders for the tide and I was away. What a difference from the south coast a week before – 3-4ft swell running through, short, murky water and a gusty wind. It was fine to be back on familiar territory and even the odd spit of rain wasn’t annoying.
Ten minutes in and I had my first bite on the centre rod.
Not a bad scrap at all from my PB dogfish, around the 2lb mark I’d guess; taken on the whole squid. Unhooked I considered eating it but with smuts around I popped it back instead.
Half an hour later and the left hand rod goes. Up comes a spawned-out whiting and again it goes back.
I wait for the next bite. I miss it. another half an hour passes and the centre rod goes again, I strike and another dogfish is swung aboard and popped back over the side. I like these pretty little sharks.
It’s quiet though, there’s really not much happening and I miss a couple more tiny bites by waiting for them to develop. I replace baits, cast out closer and further, all to no avail. Still nothing on the right hand rod and then a good, shaking whiting bite. I make a hash of striking though and it also results in nothing on the end.
The wind starts to change direction and the yak starts to move about as the tide slows and the wind gusts. Some bigger swells are coming through now and then, finally, another bite. The rod dips and I wind into the fish, it’s quite heavy but with this tide that means little. I wind it up and am rewarded with a just-sizeable codling. Just-sizeable isn’t enough for a meal though and so a quick unhook and pose for the camera and over the side it goes again.
We leave it another half an hour and then decide to call it quits. The others head in while I’m bringing my anchor up and I can see the water hitting the sea defences; bumpy landing coming up! I figured they’d go the other side of the groyne where it was slightly dissipated and there was more sand but no, Si went for it and landed without problem. Clearly things looked different out here. Or did they? Mike went in and then I saw his underside. Si went to assist and next thing they’re both on their arses. I love the entertainment but now I had a predicament – do I be all cool and professional and take the coward’s route next door or do I be cool and foolhardy and follow them in? No question really…
I let the bigger ones pass and start in, I miscounted though and there’s another behind me. Not massive or anything but I paddle and then start to swing the nose; I’ll go up and over or bongo slide it, which will it be? Si has his camera out…I bongo in beautifully and pull up sideways on the sand without embarrassment.
Well, we all caught though nothing to eat for our lunches. A good mix of species with dogs, cod, whiting and a pout as well for Mike so perhaps slow and for scraps but a decent morning all the same, a precursor to my drive down to Worthing for tomorrow’s demo day!
“Dear Eloise, as the only junior and female member of the Ocean Kayak Fishing team would you like to take your Tetra Ten and represent us on the water at the OK Classic please?”
“YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!”
“Alright Andy, would you mind babysitting my daughter on the water please?”
“Yeah of course I will. It would make a good feature too, would she be ok with that?”
“YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!”
“Dear Fladen, I was about to buy another Ice Pike rod for my daughter but I’m too tight, I was wondering…”
“YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH! But have better rods and a whole load of other stuff!”
“Dear Canoe Shops Group, daddy’s nicked the Fladen Maxximus IM7 boat rod I was sent because it’s bloody brilliant and therefore too long for me, have you got an Ice Pike spare please?”
“YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!”
“Dear H20 Kayaks, would you mind helping my daughter’s pocket money stretch a bit further on a pair of RAP119’s please?”
“YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!”
“Dear Mrs Headmistress, my daughter wants to go fishing which is better than school, will you please authorise the absence?”
“YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHH!”
That’s how everything got set in place for us to have the best weekend I can remember. Snapper and Whippersnapper were off to Swanage for the OK Classic, me working and Eloise trying to win! With hell and all tackle falling out of the boxes that arrived I set to work tying rigs, loading reels, attaching stickers, tournament rigging her kayak and preparing baits in advance…while she, in turn, practiced sticking hooks through pieces of slimy squid, herring, worm …
…and unhooking dead herring in various states of filleting over the sink between what on-water sessions we could manage between weather windows and work. Not quite fully up to speed but well on the way I figured that Eloise was in with as much chance as anyone else of walking away with first prize…now it was down to Neptune, Triton, Poseidon and a bit of luck but hey, we were going on holiday!
All the while this was going on I was working away in the warehouse or on the road, doing some other work some evenings as and when, a whole-weekend show and trying to fit in my normal life but still I found time to process the entrance forms and plan the competition, gee people up and get on the forums…time was getting short and the list was getting long. A few months back we were worried that we’d struggle on numbers with things how they are but no, from Cornwall, Wales, Scotland, the Northeast, East Anglia, London, Kent and the southcoast not to mention the Fens and Midlands people sent in their payments and got ready to come down for combined meet, fish and competition. So thank you, ALL of you. The numbers were creeping up...we wanted to give the RNLI a grand, we wanted to reach the ton… not so many days left and we hit it…Andy throws in another kayak as a thank you and STILL they keep coming…I call up the mates I know who are parents, we would love to see some other youngsters on the water, they have the exemption on the week-prior registration and then comes the bank holiday, delivery trips and so on…deadline is extended until the day I leave for Swanage and I depart, speak to the parents, take the details in and we have hit an Astonishing 140 entrants at a tenner apiece. FOURTEEN HUNDRED QUID FOR THE RNLI!!!
We’re stoked, but we’re questioning ourselves, can we deal with this number, getting on to double last year…right, a second safety boat is called on; John who used to run Crazywater is joining Paul’s lads from Studland Watersports. That’s easy. We’re going to have to rejig the way we process people in the morning too; ten clipboards and alphabetising the names should do it. Order more T-Shirts! Empty the shelves for prizes! Think of more random or stupid or plain insulting reasons to throw stock into the crowd! More coffee!
Hang about. Whippersnapper is nine and back at school Monday morning. I’m not going in any hotel, I want to be at the campsite…with two days to go Andy comes up with the answer and I book a cabin at Herston Leisure; I can still be with everyone but sleep will be possible this year and I have an excuse not to crawl around in my underpants in the nighttime and groan in the daytime. Sorted. Bait, mackerel? What? None swimming around the UK at present? Rigs go south to Teignmouth to have peeler attached, herring are sliced up, salted or as is, unwashed squid is sliced thin into rings, deheaded and frozen in all the juice, the last of my frozen blacks are set aside, maggots, must get maggots (forgot them) razor fish, they might be good (forgot them) ragworm, must get some from Dave at Swanage Tackle…let’s look at the chart and see where to send Whippersnapper…oh, hang on, I need to change these and get people away from the pier…remark them, re-copy them…ah, that reminds me, print those tournament cards off, designed with devilry in mind with a nice blue skate on them just for Maghouse…laminator is on, where are the a4 sleeves? Ok, I’ll do it a3…half go awry and the rest end up on the floor. The guillotine works overtime and it’s 1789 again.
Time to load the van, what’s missing from the demo boats? Wrappers off new stock, on they go, prize boats next, mine and Eloise’s on top ready for a practice run, boxes, papers, prizes, kit, cable ties and finally the gazebo…Andy, I’m off, Eloise leaves school in half an hour, see you tomorrow…
“Hi Daddy I’m SOOOO excited!”
“Here, eat cake”
Bastard. A47 A11 A14 A505 and FINALLY on the A1(M) we start to build up speed; Fleet Services are my favourite but we cut in and hit the KFC at South Mimms – second favourite services. We’ve got to get protein down our necks to absorb the sweets and oatmeal bars from Tesco.
Bladders emptied and refilled and the stereo is cranked up, Transvision Vamp blasts out as we dance the 3.5 tonne Merc down to a Premier Inn outside Southampton, laughing and changing words around…’I want you wra-asse, I want your ba-a-ass’ . We check in, it’s 930pm and she’s been up later than usual; TV for five minutes to see how cool hotels are…
… then we crash out and set the alarms for a full English, yoghurt and fruit and muesli and coffee and juice and croissants…
…and jump in the van again; quick detour to drop off a Scupper and then it’s a straight run down to Swanage. Man, this weather is PERFECT!
We head to the campsite first; the cabins a few hours from being available but people are around and we go say hi after chatting at reception and checking all is ok…Jamie is persuaded to partake in the comp with one of our kayaks, buoyancy aids and paddles they just need a wetsuit…then down into Swanage. Park the van…down the hill…go visit the tackle shop; they’re happy and looking forward to it. A steady stream of orders, questions, last minute purchases; we head to the Tourist Office next and then it’s off to enjoy cod and chips. The fish was nice, in an undersize kind of way, the chips underdone and the batter utter crap but hey, it’s all a part of it. Ice Cream? Yes please! Off we go to stamp on the green to make sure it’s firm – not that we can do anything if it isn’t – and then over to the RNLI station. Dave is there, a good chat, all looks good, he gives us some freebies to dole out to the entrants and Eloise buys another notepad and pen and starts her Swanage diary. Then we’re away back the campsite, unload all our gear into the cabin and get kitted up; fishing time.
We park again, check with the man in the high vis where we can go so as to not get booked and start taking the yaks and kit out. We trolley them halfway down the hill when I go back to get the rods out of the cab as Whippersnapper rolls her eyes. It’s blowy up here but there ain’t a lot us Crame’s bow down to and nor do the Hantches my dad married. Stubborn? Crazy? Adventurous or plain stupid? Yup. It’s doable, that’s what counts.
We’re going to fish feathers and tinsels, have a paddle and a thorough shake-down. This is the first time Eloise has fished two rods, first time she’s used RAM tubes, first time she’s been tied off independently, first time she’s used ragworm, first time she’s used a fixed spool…we have to get on the water. Down to the slip and I start stowing c-tugs while she plays about.
These in from Richi
I turn and there she is happily bobbing and giggling and waving fifty yards out in her drysuit. I swear we gave birth to a selkie! She soon washes in as flotsam and pulls her tetra out, chest deep and clambers aboard and then she’s off.
I play catch up again of course.
Hard work this, straight into the wind. Nope, I’m not towing her no matter how much I plead and so we drop anchor. She settles and I head towards the pier. I go back and give her a hand with something and we both head for the pier as she baits up.
Then I snag a buoy line and settle…then I head for the pier. I decide to clip off and there I sit, waiting for a bite. I’m downwind of her so run the line from my bow and face her in the distance, she’s happy enough.
Nothing happening on the fishing front. An hour and more pass before Lozz and Richi paddle up for a natter…Eloise is onlying on her side, curled up like a dogfish and Lozz wonders what is wrong. He’s highly amused when he realises she’s just on the phone to her sister! She’s in a similar position, albeit napping when Richi takes her picture and when I paddle up and tell her we’re heading in, fishless. She sets off and I paddle in past her, landing first in case she needs assistance. As if. She gets bored and, as it’s a bit bumpier here, she starts shifting round and ends up kneeling at the front of the footwells and paddling like a Canadian! Yes. Whatever. Eventually she lands and as I start rigging things to go back up the hill she disappears into the water again…
Back up the hill, laod up, over to Herston leisure and into the cabin. Out of the cabin and into the hot tub.
I tempt her out…Chinese in Swanage…
Filled up with sweet and sour king prawn, prawn crackers and lemonade we return to the campsite and mingle. I scrounge some beer and she is given drinks once again from some quarter (thanks to all of you by the way). Some shyness comes over at first and then, finally, she hooks up with Alise and Amy and is off being a little girl again, running around, disappearing, playing, taking her friends to the cabin and having as much fun as the rest of us are! But parental control is a must and I have to be firm; she has a competition to partake in and had a late night, we must go to bed. Two hours late of course, we’re on holiday and 10:30 is fine I reckon – the coke has kept her going anyway!
We discuss the best course of action. I have to be at the green at 6, so I’ll be up soon after 5. That’s too early for her and so – and this is a big thing – her alarm is set for 6:45 and she needs to get up and wash, dress herself in her padlding kit, fix some breakfast and be ready for Stuttering Dan (dancccccccooke to you and I) and Dee to bring her over at 730. She’d met them earlier of course, Dan had landed a wrasse and we’d sashimi’d it with a beer and a chat…blind taste best? Nah, it was okay, bit chewy but I’ll go for yellowfin, salmon, bass, mackerel or bream any day of the week (and my wife and I tried bream and ballan side by side on my return and bream came out tops then too).
And so to bed to listen to the rowdy crowd near us and sleep doesn't come for a long time, excitement plays a part too...
05:15 I wake up, get dressed, drink coffee and orange juice, take headache tablets and lock the door…a bit apprehensive, she’s only been left on her own briefly before but she appreciates her independence and I know she’s a good girl. I drive off and on arrival see that Andy has started bringing stuff down. I reverse up, fling open the doors and start to pull things out of the back. Andy appears, Amos too, Richi, some others, someone who brings coffee, more people, we get things out, up, on, together, shipshape, friends appear everywhere, old and new, some who’ve only been electronic before, 7:30 arrives and I start taking registrations – thanks for staggering your arrivals guys, it made things so much smoother. At first I’m doing the lot, grabbing goodies and shirts, passing the sign in forms, taking insurance money then Richi and Tinasarf jump in on either side and things start to flow and – phew – an hour and quarter later and we’ve signed in the bulk…we’re fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. We breathe and then it’s time for Andy to welcome the throng, me to run through the event, Darnsarf to run through the safety brief, me to run through the bits I forgot and to wish everyone well. We clarify the boundaries, amending slightly on suggestions from the crowd and then give the go ahead to rush off and get competing…
Eloise tries on first prize for size…
…the usual meandering saunter of kayak anglers follows as the chilled out bunch we are competes in a casual and friendly manner. I wander down with the camera to take photos and with Whippersnapper chomping at the bit our crew come back with twenty bacon rolls and a bunch of drinks.
Here’s young Jamie Lloyd, all the way from Wales, ready to rock as a representative of SWKA…no plans were afoot for him to compete until the day before when I got all persuasive – out on one of our demo Elite 4.1's in a demo buoyancy aid and with a newly purchased wetsuit – money well invested as he showed his mettle and was to be rewarded!
Eloise and Alise get together for a pic, joined by Jan who declares a sisterhood!
I saunter back, have a pee and look out from the pier – I’ve never seen so many yaks in one place. Apart from at work everyday! It’s a fantastic sight though the car park was amazing with the plethora of plastic on just about every roof!
Pugwash is somewhere with his camera and nearly an hour has gone; I’m drysuited and take Eloise out to get started. She rolls around playing before launch and then we’re off into another stiff breeze. She again refuses a tow but with time getting on I talk her round and we head for the Grand Hotel, I want to get her north of the pink cans…people are there though, in numbers so I stop short and we clip to a buoy. On the way we pass Dilligaf and Alise, already settled in…
I wasn’t going to fish with Eloise, I didn’t want any possible grumblings if she went and beat everyone ;D But come on, a day like this? We clipped off independently to the same buoay and sat there with a couple of rigs baited with rag, squid and herring on various hooks. Nothing, no bites and with half an hour gone it was time to move. Pugwash had joined us now but had just gone for a quick drift as we chilled…
...and then decided to try another spot. Time to reel in…
“ANDY!”
I had to repeat it a few times, age shall not weary him but that pony tail was covering his ears!
“ANDY! SHE’S IN!”
His Ultra 4.3 springs to life and he rushes up to her as she pulls in species one with a WOW! The most beautiful Ballan Wrasse comes aboard in all its stunning glory, putting a fine bend in the Fladen Ice Pike rod Chris sent down specially…that’s SWyaker to you and I and that reminds me, I have to give him a shout as he’s getting married right about now! Anyway, picture time…
I recall Strummer et al…should I stay or should I go…we’re on wrasse so we’ll get wrasse…lets stick with the plan…we paddle offshore. I look for buoys, quite a way, I’ll head for that white, unoccupied one…we paddle, over half a mile out now I guess. I spy an orange one.
“Eloise, white or orange?”
“You choose daddy”
“No, you choose”
“It’s okay daddy”
“Eloise, you’re competing, not me, which one?”
“White”
We go to the furthest one ;D We tie up, drop down and wait. Nothing. Ten minutes pass. Twenty. We both snag up and pulling Eolise’s rig out I break the trace. I tie another on for her and my rod wallops down! What the hell was that? Nothing comes up, back down goes the set of Fladen feathers baited with thin rings of squid and a few scraps of frozen black lug or rag. I carry on tying. Wallop! Wallop! I miss them. Eloise is getting concerned now, only one species, we’re not doing well. I tell her she is and there are fish here and then wallop as I am changing her rig…
“Get that bloody fish!” screams Andy
“I’m busy, it’s Whippersnapper that needs to catch, not me!”
I pass her the trace and my fish is still on. I’ve stolen her rod, a carbon Fladen Maxximus IM7 12lb class boat rod that just has the sexiest carbon weave that matches my Lendals, that has the best, machined aluminium reel seat I’ve ever seen, that I’ve decided is too long for her. When it arrived Iwas gobsmacked – my words went along the lines of “Christ, that’s a hundred quid rod!” I checked, it’s around thirty quid online…and with a bloody great bream on it’s priceless! I think I’d better get myself a quiver of them if anyone wants some 3-piece Shimano Forcemasters?
So there I am, with a new personal best, double the size of my previous biggest bream. Andy is gobsmacked too, that’s a special bream!
Then Eloise gets a hit on her Ice Pike…the leash keeps getting in the way of the reel handle and it drops off…those bloody leashes, I’ve recently got them, they’re falling apart already and we cut 3 hooks out of them the day before because they just attract them. They aren’t long enough, they don’t stretch enough and they’ve cost her a good fish. I feel bad. Anyway, I have to go and take pictures and think about getting in for early registrations…I unclip and Andy comes to take my place. I leave the Maxximus rod with Eloise and she chucks it down.
Wallop!
Yep, your turn to be outfished by a nine year old (she’s beaten me three times and drawn twice)
A specimen! 3lb of black bream is in her hands!!!
Her ice Pike is in the way of Andy so I’ve passed it to him, he drops it down and the wishbone picks up his first…
She can probably hold her drink better than Sea Angler’s finest kayak angler too!
She’s in again, she’s found the shoal…
It gets off and I depart to do some work…
“Mark, she’s got another!” Oh to have been able to stay. I paddle back, go and chat and take some photographs en-route…
…and there’s young Jamie again with his dad…I’ve been asking and it seems that with four species under his belt he might just take first place!
The radio blurts into life…
“Snapper, Snapper this is OK Control, OK Control”
“OK Control this is snapper, go ahead over”
I’m needed back on the beach, I’ve timed it well, I’m two minutes out. I land, grab a lift with the yak (Mike Arnopp I think?) and strip in seconds…we need my laptop to id a wrasse…it’s still in the cabin…Andy swears at me, deservedly to be fair, Richi runs me back to get it and force feeds me nicotine…ten minutes and we’re back…weigh in had begun…
An aside from Andy Benham:
Really nervous about looking after Snapper's sprog, responsible adult not really a role I'm comfortable with. Anyways, have agreed so too late to go back on my word, go a bit overboard on safety equipment, have three tow lines on board, massive first aid kit, two radios (in case one dies) and most of Thursday on the Marine Lake at Clevedon practicing assisted rescues of various flavours.
We'd planned it really well, Snapper had sent down a load of rigs, and I was to go out, catch some of Teignouth's finest mackerel, salt some leave some plain cut them all into chunks and then freeze the lot. Managed to catch them, then left it all to steam in the car park during the match, lovely smell. Also froze a load of peeled crab onto the hooks of the rigs, and left that behind too.
Snapper's covered the rest, but Eloise looked v cool with her logod up yak.
Set of with Mark and Eloise making their way across the bay, and met up with Sea Gypsy and his clutch, also en route for the far side of the bay.
Then it was over to the father and daughter team.
Was very relieved when Eloise's rod bent right over, and started praying the fish wouldn't come off.
She landed it like a pro
After loads of pics as Snapper has said we were off out into the bay.
As Snapper has already said, we found the bream
Felt really sorry for Mark having to go back, because boy were the bream in party mood. Had my first on Eloise's' borrowed rod, followed by quite few on my 6lb Kaskazi
Then thought I'd try a lure, and bingo, my first lure caught black bream, followed by my second and third.
All too soon, time to go back to the beach. Got the tow rope out, turned to Eloise and said OK, give my your bow and I'll put the rope on. Is it OK if I try and paddle some of the way myself? Of course, long story short, she paddled all the way home without any help from me. As soon as the yaks were back on the beach she was in the water in her dry suit, and I had to get her out to go and register her catch in case there were other junior on 2 species. She fished like a pro, was a pleasure to be with, thanks to both of you for letting me share a very special day.
Pugwash
So I sit there, head beneath a black fleece like some snapper from the turn of the century peering at fish to identify them from the larger screen; ballan, ballan, ballan, ballan, ballan, ballan, ballan…..there are others in fact but just about everyone has had Ballans. Those other species that obliged on the day were Undulate Ray and Smalleyed Ray, occasional Mackerel, the Black Bream that some of us found in numbers, Plaice, some Corkwing Wrasse amongst the ballans, Pollack, a Brill, one Tompot Blenny, a few Garfish, some Scorpion Fish, a Tub Gurnard, a Shanny, a few pleasing Dogfish, a couple of Bass, some small Starry Smoothhounds, a lovely Dragonet and a Goldsinny. The wrasse are the big problem, damn but they’re a pain! It’s the rays that really cause the trouble though – three years ago we gave away a second first prize Ultra 4.7 because we’d cocked up on the identification (hence the laptop now). Now of course Amos stands before me with four normal fish, two rays which may or may not be the same and a disallowed huge undulate which there is no picture of just a furious text from early on! Crap pictures mate, showing clearly why ray pics are a problem in this comp – they’re large fish and we need to see the whole thing. The trouble is of course that neither Darnsarf or I are that good on rays…I think he’s won with 6…
Step in Cam and Iain, both knowledgeable on Maghouse’s fancywomen, amongst others and it’s settled. They’re both in agreement, both rays are smalleyed. Amos is on five as well and, with 6 people on this winning figure, his sign in time drops him from a possible first place (on sixth) to fourth. Such is this evil twist in the tie-breaker; mental note to you all next year, LOG IN FIRST. The time difference between winning a Prowler Elite 4.1, a Tetra 12 Angler and a Yaksport were 14:32, 14:48 and 14:49 (the winner of the Ultra 4.3 was logged in at 13:49).
People keep coming, lining up and thrusting cameras at me. Finally it starts to slow and we’re down to the last few returnees…everything has gone to time and I get a drink before it’s time for us to stand at the front again. Whippersnapper is back and has been ripped from her drysuit. I’m busy working so she scams money from Ocean Kayak’s head man in the UK instead. She’s got the right genes that girl.
…I follow Andy thanking everyone, congratulating everyone and handing over FOURTEEN HUNDRED POUNDS to the Swanage Lifeboat station. Outstanding!
Then it’s time for Carolyn from Swanage Town Council to help me with the awarding of the prizes. Between her sore throat and my being on a roll I left her kind of by the wayside for which I apologise…congratulations, suspense, piss-taking and laughter all intertwined as I rolled through sixth, fifth, fourth, third, second and finally to first place. There should have been only the top three really, that was all that was advertised but on reaching our century, a grand for the RNLI, Andy released another boat…and so Patrick Banks, thinking he was out of the running perhaps, received a C-Tug trolley to not wheel away what he could have won…Steve Cowan, from Weymouth, was given the tools to upset the Olympics and so, if England take Gold in the sailing with a Pacific Action sail then you know our man has done his job! Amos came next and after describing his refusal and sheer terror to face nighttime pounding surf with me one winter a few years past I saddled him with his very own Yaksport. I’m evil at times!
Third place? A very late entry – faxed over and the last name on the typed registration forms - Ben Wallbridge became the proud and worthy owner of a spankingly yellow Tetra 12.
Now, a new name that’s become noticeable in a short time, and one behind a nice little blog, I was really pleased to give the camo Prowler Elite 4.1 to twenty year old Ryan Turner who was christening the Ultra 4.7 he’d reviewed on his blog…whatever will he do now?
…and then, the moment we’ve all been waiting for. First place, a magnificent flame Ultra 4.3, awarded it seems to the holder of the Oxwich 2011 crown too (Oxwich Bay, 21st July for those of you who want to compete this year)…a popular choice for a popular guy – Merryfisher, an apt name, Keith ward to the real world, was called to the front. Absolutely first class…with 5 species and landing after less than 4 hours on the water, the sixth person ashore, his gamble paid off. Should he have stayed? Gone for a clear lead on numbers? Would it have paid off? Who knows? It doesn’t matter – top fishing Keith!
And here they all are…
Of course this is the OK Classic and as eagerly anticipated are the classic abuse, insults, derogatory comments, pisstakes and genuinely kindhearted comments accompanying random prizes ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous. Let it not be said I’m not warped! Sadly I misplaced the list of bizarre reasons to give stuff from the pile I’d looted from the warehouse, placing it in an envelope labelled prize list in the paperwork box, so had to come up with stuff on the spur of the moment…with help of course from the team.
The juniors all received a goodie bag for competing, very well-deserved they were too…well done Alise, Nadine, Eloise , Olly, Jamie and Alice and thank you parents!
With the boss hating people from that place near southsea it was only natural to give a two piece paddle to one fella in a Southampton football club shirt…two piece so he could batter both Maghouse and Gosling at the same time!
Mike Arnopp put us all to shame with his nurtured beer belly and won the 4XL Ocean Kayak T Shirt.
Dizzyfish was first to take to the water – a Daytripper paddle will slow him down in future.
Steve Cowan, sadly for him, did an impression of a mirror (when I had a goatee in the past) on registering and received a drybag for looking most like me. I guess he could put it over his head.
Two deserving ones , both Jamies:
Jamie Lloyd from Wales, the last definite entrant recruyited from the campsite, was top junior with 4 species and as such deserved something special. The trouble was I didn’t really have anything suitable…but a Carlisle Enchantment Carbon paddle, lightweight and at 215cm one to grow into, was probably the best of what was to hand – well done Jamie!
Jamie Thomas, at 17 just outside the junior age group and therefore not getting the goodie bag but valiantly holding his own in the top third amongst those allowed to vote walked away with a Plano waterproof tackle box and a dry bag.
Unlike Gosling – Brian Morris – who received something for his ridiculous Nemo hat as did Amos Mak for wearing a Viking Beardhead all weekend – the father Christmas Beardhead, chosen not for the festive time of year that may is but for the red and white colour scheme of Southampton. I was jealous of that one.
Dan, who capsized and lost loads of gear trying to paddle with Richi (how many times, DON’T!) whine about the loss of his tea towel most of all and so Andy replacxed it with an RNLI one…now Dan had received an advance spot prize for making me laugh when he snet his form in – special medical needs? Cider intravenously…a can of Strong bow was duly dispatched.
A junior that didn’t fish but took part from the campsite and the shore was next, Amy Ebborn, Si’s lovely daughter, received a hat, some gloves and a bottle to go with her OK Classic T-Shirt. She’ll be with us on the water next year.
Si’s mate did well too. He may have lost a rod and reel overboard but it won him a paddle leash and a Scotty triple mount rod holder…don’t do it again, there’s a good lad!
Karl Kilbride…his entry came through the door…the name was familiar…had we argued once online? Not uncommon, whether we have or not I can’t recall but it matters not anyhow; the important thing was where he was from. “Am I right in thinking you’re from Scouseland?” I asked as he came, quizzically, to the front, hhaving caught a very worthy four species after 18 months on dry land. “Yes” he said as I then presented him a set of C-Tug wheels as someone had probably nicked his…that got the biggest laugh of the day!
Rylands. Came down from Wales. Ill. Couldn’t fish. Came, and stayed all day. That was worthy of a prize…but I can’t remember what I gave him!
Maghouse, good old pet pompey boy. Whipping boy, good sport, and forgiven his trespasses he was already in line for a load of prizes before he even signed up for the comp, it’s tradition and he’d earnt them for the months of ribbing from Andy. So there was the Ocean kayak mug in the Southanmpton Football Club box for starts but as he now had the distinction of being the first entrant run down by a catamaran in the OK Classic we felt he deserved a new safety light, a buoyancy aid, some welding rod, a tube of patch n’ go and a drybag…guilt on Andy’s part perhaps? Deflection of suspicion perhaps?
Right. I am Whippersnapper’s dad. Gratuitously and with full knowledge of the spelling of nepotism I gave her a prize for no other reason than her being my daughter and, in my eye, deserving one. A drybag to keep the van dry and Andy from telling me off!
Stargaizer got one too, and a bait coolbag. Having travelled the furthest, all the way from Scotland, I figured something to keep the van from stinking was a safe bet!
John Large. First kayak fishing session ever. He blanked. Taking on 132 others on the sea on his first go? That’s woirth a paddle in anyone’s book. Good on you!
Bigegst Bream…thougt this would get Eloise a legitimate prize but no, Pugwash beat her and was feeling smug. Until Steve Hill rocked up with one over 4lb…earning a great tea and an Enchantment Glass two piece paddle. Good catch that!
As for Wayne Dunn, that was one seriously visible drysuit! Perhaps Maghouse should ahev worn it but then he’d have won the OK cap instead of you.
Cobra won one as well. His hat was even stupider than Gosling’s. With hindsight he should have qualified for a Beardhead too.
Now who was that little blonde girl who registered first of all the other juniors? The one who smiled all the time? The one who waited 11 months to send her the gloves I promised at last years prizegiving for having the tiniest hands there? The one whose dad had just gone and bought a bunch of gear for and who had proudly taken one of our Tetra 10 demo kayaks out? The little girl who cast so beautifully? I wasn’t having her disappointed at blanking, no way. She deserved a special prize and an escape junior buoyancy aid is now hers to wear, well done Alise Holt and well done Dilligaf for making her day happen!
And so that’s all that I can remember bar one. Kayak fishing. It’s fishing from a kayak. A kayak is self-propelled, right? Usually but not neccesarily. I’d heard that some had questioned whether they were allowed and we had ourselves pondered it the first year when we wrote the rules…this coming from other comps abroad. To be fair I’d had the question asked over the phone by motorised kayakers before registering too so it was clarification not moaning…like we could exclude someone for having a motorised kayak when we ourselves market the Torque! Nope, paddles, sails, motors, whatever, if it gets you out there then I’m all for it…but Martin Collison, you lazy bastard, use that paddle I gave you!!!
And that was that…time to break things down – and loads of willing hands with that – and head off to wind down. With Eloise hopping in with Alise and her parents to open up our cabin and have a hot tub party we set to work and within an hour or two the van was loaded and I was sent away with forty quid to get some beers for the campfire party…
]
The day had been a beauty until now; sun, blue skies, warm, no wind. Now though the wind was blowing and the sea was choppy. A smattering of mist was building and I was decidedly cooler than earlier. We launched just the same and paddled out.
Half a mile out and I dropped down in around 8-10ft of water and about 2-3ft of chop. The water looked clear enough but I was fishing blind and it wasn’t all that comfortable. I sat there, Si positioned a couple of hundred yards inshore of me and waited.
I appeared to get some taps and then line was being pulled slowly in starts…I knew what it was and knew that we’d lucked out. I reeled in and sure enough I had a weight of weed to strip from the line. The other rod was duly brought in and stripped too; the beautiful ragworm Richi had picked up for us were going to go to waste.
Si headed in for a while and James arrived on the beach. I moved and tried to get away from the weed but to no avail. I called James up and told him not to bother launching and ten minutes later I was back on the land, gutted.
We stood and chatted. Richi returned. I spotted some gulls diving and we tried flicking out some lures but nothing hit them. That was about the time people with funny shoes and strange trousers started prancing around on the beach. Some had cameras, some had baseball caps. One had long blonde hair and with a builder amongst us our friendship was doomed to fail! No, it wasn’t a porn shoot much to our disappointment but a music video for some anonymous band we’d probably never hear of anyway. They appeared to enjoy themselves though, snogging and subsequently splashing each other with piss and mercury contaminated salt water and managed to avoid any lurking stingray so I guess things were good for them.
We loaded up and headed off, avoiding horses as we made our way out of the New Forest, set course for the hotel via the worst and greasiest, by far, KFC I’ve ever eaten and crashed out in no time ready for the run back home and my last day with Johnson Outdoors…
