The day was pretty vacant, I didn’t have a lot on bar some housework but it was far too nice a morning when I got in from work to not go out on the water. Si and I had already talked about a possible launch but he ended up with a load of jobs so had to cancel. Perhaps I should sleep instead? No, I was full of caffeine and it was beautiful outside; I decided he didn’t need to do his chores, that I didn’t need to sleep and with Eloise’s kayak on the roof already it could be quick and easy if I just kidnapped him without the hassle of loading his yak onto his vehicle and we fished locally. So I did.
I stopped off for a quick look at the sea, it was reasonable in terms of clarity and flat. I reckoned on a fair chance of trolling up a bass or two from the rocks between Ness Point and the harbour so I carried on to his, knocked on the door and persuaded him that he really didn’t need to do any work just yet – an hour and a half should suffice I told him…he was persuaded! A quick re-rigging and we bundled his gear into the van and set off.
Parking up at Dogger we launched easily into a calm sea and headed south. The flood was just dying down but we were against the southerly wind (that should have been westerly) all the way so progress was slower than it should have been. This wasn’t an issue of course as we were trolling. I didn’t expect a great deal on the way down as we were just inside of a mile of nets and sure enough we saw no fish. These stopped near the rocks though which left us clear for the hot spot. Except it was no longer all that clear. Never mind, it was a pleasant paddle anyway.
I had a couple of bright 7cm Rapala jointed shad raps out on my spinning rods and with Si in the lead we set off. It was a bit bumpier here but perfectly manageable and I stayed within 20ft of the rocks, often closer. The inside lure was bouncing off rocks and sooner or later it had to happen – the line parted and my lure disappeared. That’s when I realised it was not a floater. I replaced it with a blue J13 and continued.
Down near the end before the harbour approach I turned. Si was already paddling back and with us both on a blank I felt a bit guilty. Off he went and I continued north again. By the time he reached Ness point I was a good few hundred yards behind and I’d pretty much decided that it was pointless; I moved out a bit deeper, replaced the j13 with another shad rap and continued as Si turned and came down presumably for a natter. It didn’t take him long and by this time…
My outside rod started to pull and buck, snagged or weeded or? Or! I pulled into what felt a reasonable fish getting a good scrap and line pulled from the baitcaster. Si drew alongside and watched me deal with the snag which broke the surface with a silver flash; his timing couldn’t have been better, it must be torture fishing with me this month! He did photo duty while I opened the centre hatch of the Tetra and pulled my fish out of the water and straight into the hull, unhooking and dispatching it swiftly before holding it up for a photograph. 51cm and 3lb, a nice plump bass.
Si promptly headed back again for another try and I started to do the same but soon turned and headed back towards the launch.
The tide and wind were both now in our favour and apart from the odd steering stroke I drifted back, my lures jiggling away sufficiently. I opened up the playlist on my phone, sat back and chilled out to some music, the first time I’d ever bothered having any on the yak. I must say I rather enjoyed being such a degenerate. I tried offshore of the nets this time in clearer water but with the additional depth and no features I expected the nothing that I got. Soon we were back at the launch point and headed in together for a smooth landing.
After a chat with a friendly native we loaded up and instead of putting another fish in the freezer for an anonymous meal and wanting to share it with my fishing mate I invited Si back for lunch and beer…it was an easier decision than fishing and so off we went via a quick stop at Si’s.
Maybe an hour had passed since it had been swimming freely and dodging the nets. A good wash in my sink and as I descaled it Si was set to work pouring beer, grating ginger and squeezing limes. The olive oiled pan went in the oven, on full blast and with the grill on as I sliced a sweet red pepper and a few tomatoes; these went in with a sizzle and cooked as I took off a fine pair of fillets, the heads, guts and frames reserved for pot and drop bait as I abhor waste from fish I’ve had to kill. I chopped a red chilli, combined this with the lime, ginger and some more olive oil and poured it over the inside flesh before turning them skin up and placing them in the pan. I oiled up the skin side, seasoned with rock salt and black pepper after pouring the remaining marinade over and stuck the whole lot in the oven. Aside from the scaling and filleting the actual dish preparation took maybe five minutes in total and so we had to open a second Cobra – the first half-emptied in the most glorious first swig since last summer.
The skin was crisped up, the flesh cooked through and I laid the meal onto a plate each. Salad would have made a nice colourful garnish but being proper men, albeit 40-odd year old juvenile delinquents, we neatly side-stepped the foliage and went into the garden with the freshest and most wholesome meal you can get; in the words of Mr Oliver it was pukka!
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