Well you tried it just the once and found it alright for kicks, now you’ve found out that it’s a habit that sticks…with kit still damp from the Cley overnighter Wilmy was invited along for another session with Si and I, at Sea Palling this time as Monday looked like a great weather window, low offshore winds and sensible low water times. Clear water, bass and mackerel about, surely we’d do better than the weekend? And so it came to pass that he pitched up at mine half an hour after I came off shift, grabbed a coffee while I chatted on the phone to my wife and daughters and then we headed off to pick up Si – it’s such a ball ache going up to Sea Palling that we may as well use one vehicle and with two scuppers inverted and one the right way up it all fits fine on my wife’s car that at least has enough seats for us. No power though…
Low water was 10:30 or so and we arrived shortly before that. I seemed to recall it took a while for the tide to swing around again and had two hours in mind which would put slack at around lunchtime; a couple of hours trolling or drifting north from the Waxham launch, a spot of feathering during slack and a couple of hours to do the same back, covering the reef both ways and seeing us off the water sometime after three. That was the plan, a nice, easy, gentle day. We pulled up, unloaded and got kitted up; I could hear the sea though. Si and I carried the first two up the dune and I took a peek at the sea. Oh…
It was a surf launch. The planned tan-topping in wet shorts was out and Si got into his drysuit. I made the mistake of not taking my cag to go over the top of my Sidewinders and, wanting some brown skin, left my shirt off. I must remember the sun trap where we park being just that. Then it was over the hill and down to the shore. It looked rough and we laid the rods flat for once. The reef didn’t look safely fishable but we were here and the mackerel would hopefully be too. Right, no messing around today with pansy little ripples, Wilmy was going to have to go full-bore! I garbbed the bow and went in first, told him to get ready to jump on and go and I’d pull him forward then give a push…GO!
I pulled him forward, stumbled and made a hash of things; it’s 50:50 as to whether his dip was my fault or his! Over he went, unbalancing on the wave and then jumped back on and went., going out fine this time. A few waves looked like they’d have him but no, he was up over and through and I followed him out with Si bringing up the rear. Fun launches all!
Out by the reef the waves were still cresting and the 7mph wind clearly wasn’t.I took the lures off, fitted tinsels and leads and dropped them down. A macky bash it is then. Si Paddled and disappeared past the reef in no time. Wilmy paddled around getting acquainted with a lumpy sea and I sparked up a fag and twiddled my thumbs while drifting along at nearly 2mph.
Half way along the reefs without a touch I decided to head out into the clearer water and see what was happening there. I’d been in close to the reefs, inshore in the gaps and thirty yards out with nothing. I paddled straight out into the next contour line, stowed my paddle and the rod was bucking in the holder. Superb! My new spinning rod was arched right over with the pull from two large mackerel going nuts and trying not to be landed; rod two started to buck; I grabbed the trace for rod one eventually and hauled my pair aboard, unhooked them, stowed the rod and grabbed the other…one this time and boy did I enjoy the fight on that rod! I’ve had bass fight far worse and this gave me the run around for a while before I finally lifted it in. I was chuffed after such a poor spell and had some fresh mackerel again at last.
It stopped as soon as it started then Si came out as well, catching one straight off the bat. The three of us drifted along, up and down constantly and every now and again one of us would grab a rod and wind in another fish. I usually fish a turn or two off the bottom but I found them at mid-water this time. It was a bit lumpy, mind.
Two singles arrived and then, as we passed the top reef, Si started to get more frequent hits, a tad closer in than I. Then Wilmy asked if the boat coming up the reefs was a lifeboat. No, red not orange and looked like a fishing boat I said. It looked familiar but surely not this far north? I squinted and sure enough it was Jon, shooting up the coast in High Flyer with a party of divers on board…
“High Flyer, High Flyer, this is Snapper, Snapper, Over”
“Alright Marky, I thought it was you, you plonker!”
“You got that kettle on?”
Hehe. Yep. That was me out in a force 5/6 north easterly. And Si. And Wilmy on his third ever launch, his third day of knowing us! And we were catching too. Wilmy was persisting with a lure (against my better judgement as it was open water and I almost never catch other than around structure) and then finally got rewarded for it! Three bass for him this week now, what a start! First lure caught fish he’s had too. Meanwhile, Jon gave us a pointer on where we’d find some bass and we followed him down; I pulled up for a chat and then tried the wreck just off the beach at Happisburgh having gone past the bass mark to socialise instead.
There was nothing doing so we went in for a break to wait for the tide to turn. Not two hours here, oh no. FOUR BLOODY HOURS! Should we give Spark a bell? I had to get some kip before my shift, it was coming up to 2pm, we were five miles from the car, the wind was picking up and had shifted to a headwind, wind against tide and the sea was getting lumpier and gaining whitecaps more and more. Hmm. It’d take a while to start running, I figured we could do 2.5mph against this so two-hour paddle…factor in the tide gathering speed and we could make 3mph by the end of it but fatigue would come into play…nah, two hours. Shit. Still, we’d played tourist long enough.
We launched and I decided to go solo and push it down and then meet the other two further up with the car if need be, Si staying with Wilmy, and both of us had our radios.
Christ but it was wet! Straight into the waves, wind whipping droplets off them, breakers, lumps, surf, crests, rollers…but I was doing 3.5mph, occasionally 4…I could do this in an hour and fifteen I estimated if I stayed at this pace. And stay at that pace I did until I passed the first reef and decided to have a fag. Damned lighter wouldn’t work so I went to ask some guys on the shore. Non-smokers. But there were Si and Wilmy, in view. I waited and they landed a quarter of an hour behind me.
We had a quick smoke break and set off again before our muscles seized up; we should never have stopped, it was hard until we loosened off the hardened muscles again.
Each reef we passed was another off the list until finally we missed the submerged rocks and breaking surf of the end, submerged one and turned for shore. I took the first run, it didn’t look all that surfy, all broken up now and I was disappointed. Then I got closer in and there was a wave building; I paddled for it and sat atop the crest as it carried me along then overtook; I paddled for the next and caught it for a while, slipping off as it crumbled and rode a succession of smaller ones in. I hauled the Scupper, beautifully beached, up the sand and turned to film Si. He caught them fine and came in happily…would Wilmy get it? Man, he’s lucky! The one that built behind him rolled under…then he came, slowed to look and we saw the one that was going to take him out rear up behind…
“Paddle!” we shouted in unison and he did.
He was in the rip. Twenty yards to his left and he’d have been rolled. The same to the right and he would have been swimming too. Lucky, lucky bastard; he scooted up the beach in a nice straight line.
Just that bloody great dune and a very slow drive home to contend with now. All had caught and all were happy after yet another epic session…over twelve miles covered on the chart and some serious rough water and strong winds handled. Talk about feeling alive!
No comments:
Post a Comment