It’s thirteen days since I last went out on the kayak, that’s pretty close to eternity in my book. Work had kind of interfered last weekend but with the weather so bad I hadn’t been too upset and I at least got on the water in the meantime courtesy of High Flyer. Yep, I’ve been a busy boy lately and getting home half an hour before midnight last night left me just enough time to switch off and sleep.
06:00 and the alarm goes off. I’ve loaded up two bait rods and a spinning rod, the plan being to chuck a wedge at the wreck of the White Swan after bass and stick some food down on the bottom in case of spring codling, thornies, smoothound or of course bass…with perhaps a bonus whiting too…
It was a promising start to the day, bright and still at home and I regretted not getting my daughter up but although the wind appeared not to be present it was still a big tide so I left her sleeping and went off alone to Gorleston. A good move as it turned out as it was blowing unobstructed where I pulled up. I went and checked things out from the clifftop.
Hmm. It looked choppy, swelly, dumpy and wet out there. The wreck itself was under water, the tide flooding, and the potbuoys were few and not where I expected them. No matter, I’d clip up anyway. I returned to the van and took my Scupper from the roof.
So here I stand on the beach, 3ft of dumping waves crashing in front of me every few seconds and then the odd larger one. The sea is the usual azure brown, flecked with foam. I see my chance, pull forward then realise my mistake and so stand there as they still keep coming at me; the yak swings, the tankwell takes a wave and my bag of bait almost gets washed off the back. It stays so I turn forward again, wait and then seize my chance and paddle out through and over the oncoming waves.
A hundred yards out and I see a seal, fifty yards away. Quite a big one too. It lifts its head out and sniffs for a while and I wonder why I haven’t taken my camera out. I watch it, smiling and then, it turns towards me, lowers its snout, looks at me, does a double take and crash dives. Haha, that’ll be revenge for all the times they’ve snuck up on me and giving me a start. I aim for a potbuoy, grab it and clip myself to the line with my buoy-cord, shooting the anchor trolley forward so I’m tied off from the bow. I cast a Dexter Wedge roughly where I expect the wreck to be, pessimistically due to the colour of the tide when suddenly the line shoots south and I reel it in from behind me. Sounds dramatic but it was just the current, a big spring, mid-tide and with the wind behind it I figured I had no chance so got down to the bait rods.
Whole squid on the pennel, black lug with squid heads on the wishbone. Rolling leads and down they went. I was uptiding for once, through necessity rather than choice as I wasn’t up for turning my back on the waves. They were breaking nearby somewhat regularly and though they averaged 2-3ft the odd one came in bigger and a few others put some water in my lap. I reeled in and landed my first crab – there was no sign of any squid. I rebaited and cast out again.
The next hour saw 3 crabs, no proper bites, one snagged hook that bent out and plenty more water. I hadn’t been overly enthusiastic at any time since arriving to be honest ad as I considered unhooking and heading back in Marty called. He’d planned to take his boat out originally but took a good look at the sea and figured it’d be no fun…
“Are you desperate?” he enquired.
“Nah. Stupid” I replied, and decided to reel in and go ashore. That’s when I felt the fish, a reasonable whiting that had clearly spawned and wasn’t as fat as it could have been. I took pity on it and unhooked the 2/0 stuck through the piece of bluey and sent it on its way.
All in and unclipped I headed back against the tide and wind and sat just off the beach facing offshore, watching and waiting as the waves came through. I’ve been rolled here before, it dumps harshly and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to get everything wet and so I sat there, waiting, waiting and then turned and glided in smoothly for a chat as I dragged my Scupper up the hill to the van. Let’s hope I fare better on my return…
A hundred yards out and I see a seal, fifty yards away. Quite a big one too. It lifts its head out and sniffs for a while and I wonder why I haven’t taken my camera out. I watch it, smiling and then, it turns towards me, lowers its snout, looks at me, does a double take and crash dives. Haha, that’ll be revenge for all the times they’ve snuck up on me and giving me a start. I aim for a potbuoy, grab it and clip myself to the line with my buoy-cord, shooting the anchor trolley forward so I’m tied off from the bow. I cast a Dexter Wedge roughly where I expect the wreck to be, pessimistically due to the colour of the tide when suddenly the line shoots south and I reel it in from behind me. Sounds dramatic but it was just the current, a big spring, mid-tide and with the wind behind it I figured I had no chance so got down to the bait rods.
Whole squid on the pennel, black lug with squid heads on the wishbone. Rolling leads and down they went. I was uptiding for once, through necessity rather than choice as I wasn’t up for turning my back on the waves. They were breaking nearby somewhat regularly and though they averaged 2-3ft the odd one came in bigger and a few others put some water in my lap. I reeled in and landed my first crab – there was no sign of any squid. I rebaited and cast out again.
The next hour saw 3 crabs, no proper bites, one snagged hook that bent out and plenty more water. I hadn’t been overly enthusiastic at any time since arriving to be honest ad as I considered unhooking and heading back in Marty called. He’d planned to take his boat out originally but took a good look at the sea and figured it’d be no fun…
“Are you desperate?” he enquired.
“Nah. Stupid” I replied, and decided to reel in and go ashore. That’s when I felt the fish, a reasonable whiting that had clearly spawned and wasn’t as fat as it could have been. I took pity on it and unhooked the 2/0 stuck through the piece of bluey and sent it on its way.
All in and unclipped I headed back against the tide and wind and sat just off the beach facing offshore, watching and waiting as the waves came through. I’ve been rolled here before, it dumps harshly and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to get everything wet and so I sat there, waiting, waiting and then turned and glided in smoothly for a chat as I dragged my Scupper up the hill to the van. Let’s hope I fare better on my return…
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