Down River…18/09/2012

Down River…18/09/2012 I was knackered already; I knew I’d be even more knackered by the morning. The end of a run of six shifts including a twelve-hour the night before saw me struggling to stay awake until 8am. Mike had got a day off and asked who was up for a session after finishing his own set of shifts and I’d agreed to go along too. So I yawned my way through handing over to the day shift, struggled through my journey home, gave my wife a hug to stop myself collapsing on the floor of the kitchen like a sack of wet lettuce and went to bed for a couple of hours…yeah, I was knackered. By the time I dragged myself out of bed the wind was up so clearly it was a river day and Mike had decided the same so I headed to Beccles to meet up with him for a day’s trolling for pike. I fancied changing things slightly though and grabbed my daughter’s two Fladen Ice Pike rods. At 4ft long and somewhat softer than I was used to I figured they’d be a grin to use on pike, especially if I got a decent one and rigged them up before I set off with my baitcasters and a Rapala…the usual stuff just transferred to these rods and I set off to the Quay. Mike had launched by the time I arrived and was flinging lures a little way upstream so I unloaded quickly, parked the van and headed straight up to meet him. The lures went down as soon as I hit the main river and I paddled right into the wind; it wouldn’t have been fun on the sea for sure. The rods, being shorter, didn’t give enough lift at the requisite distance and my lures kept picking up weed or hitting the bottom and I’d changed a couple of times before I caught up with Mike who was flinging lures around to no avail. We headed off upriver against the wind and flow. It wasn’t the easiest paddle I’ve ever had up there to be fair but the sun was shining and it was better than being asleep where the only fish that bite are bloody marlin that never weigh anything and can’t provide a meal. The sun may have been shining but I was regretting not leaving my hoodie on, it was far too cold to be paddling in a t-shirt. I’d figured on the paddling keeping me warm but it’s suddenly become autumn over here and it really feels like winter is on the way, sadly. Hmm. Might be some cod soon I suppose. I’d used a pearl/orange Sliver for a while, in the deeper water, with a J13 on the bank side to search out the different areas but was running a pair of J13’s off the Fladens, a blue and white on the bankside rod and a repainted all-black one over the deeper water. I’d painted this up for dusk bassing but hadn’t used it yet; the idea being it would make a stronger silhouette. Neither had attracted yet, nor had any of the others and we were slowly getting closer and closer to the pub. Finally! The rod with the blue and white J13 started to buck and I reached around for it; Mike was chucking lures into the margins a couple of hundred yards away but soon popped up for camera duty once I’d landed and unhooked this monstrous jack of a pound and a half. The fish itself hadn’t given me any bother but the wind was a pain; I’d been pushed into the trees overhanging the water’s edge and the other lure had now passed under the hull and overtaken me. I hate that! I’d already needed to pass the fish and rod through the line that was coming down on me during the fight as it was. Anyway, photos done jack went off for a swim and we went off for a paddle. I got quite camera happy as it was such a slow morning! Mike disappeared ahead for a while but I caught up with him by the sluice at Barsham where he was flinging lures once again. Someone else had done the same recently I noted as I saw a flash of red while paddling across opposite him; in I went and unhooked a 150g Redhead Abu Terminator from the reeds. I tried trolling it but didn’t like the action and changed lure again soon after. It wasn’t the most inspiring day to be honest, too slow to enthuse us. Little did I know how much excitement the next run would bring! It came about half an hour later as I ran up along some overgrowing trees; the rod started to buck and I pulled in a feisty little 8 incher. The smallest pike I’ve had for a couple of years it clearly had eyes bigger than its mouth. At least I could feel it on these rods! Now, what do I normally do when I’ve unhooked a fish? Simple really, I reach around and place the rod in the holder before paddling off. The thing is, I’d had to move the other rod due to the wind and had both in my lap. This was now running a Super Shad Rap in the deeper part of the river so I wouldn’t put it out until I was moving. The rods weren’t leashed as I’d been rushing at launch which was the first mistake. The second was quite casually placing the rod in the river and letting go. I didn’t miss the rod holder. No. I just placed it intentionally and bizarrely in the water and started to paddle away. That was why I watched it sink a moment or two later as I wondered why I’d done this. Eighty quid was now on the bottom. I stuck on a diver that always hooks up on the bottom and failed to get it down far enough; I tried casting and trolling but no luck came my way. Mike lent me a small pirk but this failed as well. After ten fruitless minutes I decided to get drastic and hope there were no trees down there. I didn’t fancy a swim, wouldn’t be able to see anyway and we’d now established that we were in around twelve feet of water (the deepest hole in the entire river system of the UK it seemed) and so I fitted a Rapala Magnum to the link on the bottom with three more running up the line above it. A bit of a risk this… I cast in; nothing. Again. It was the fourth or fifth chuck that had me recognise the different lure breaking the surface; first the Super Shad Rap came up and then, vertical in the water, I saw the Ice Pike rod rising up. It was photo time! I stopped swearing and we carried on into Jack Alley (named after a manic hour a couple of years back). Five minutes later Mike was in! His first pike from the yak and the first fish from his Trident. I’d have expected him to look slightly less disappointed but again it was a small fish. I tried to make him happier and tried to make the pike look bigger too…not sure if it shows? Nothing further happened until we turned at the fork to head for the Locks. I had another run on the blue and white but slack lined it when bringing the rod over my head (the wind turned me as I stopped padding) and lost it but shortly afterwards Mike was in: It shook the hooks as he was lifting it in and so we carried on towards the beer with no more excitement and ten minutes later, through a brief but slight shower we arrived and tied up alongside the staging. Beer followed. Viking for me and Trawlerboys for Mike, who kindly paid for both as I‘d not thought to bring any money. It was cold outside but we didn’t hurry our pints. This was still better than being at work after all. A while later we started the paddle back after negotiating our way back into the yaks, perching precariously on loose wood with nettles by our hands. The paddle back was uneventful. I felt drunk, being tired, unfed and unused to drinking after a long period of rarely drinking any alcohol. I was also quite verbose and making a racket so perhaps I scared the fish off. Not that they seemed to be about anyway. In fact we were almost back when I finally had another fish, on the black J13 this time. Again, a tich, but better than nothing. Mike was trolleyed up by the time I landed at the slip and so I went to get the van while he walked off to the car park. It may not have been the greatest session of the year but I was glad I’d made the effort to join Mike all the same; now I just wanted to go home, get warm and get

Lazing on a Sunny Afternoon…12/09/2012

Lazing on a Sunny Afternoon…12/09/2012 I couldn’t decide. It was sort of fishable on the sea for the bass though a bit windy and I suppose I could have gone for smoothies or made a start on thinning out the whiting shoals if I re-rigged my anchor trollies but I kept umming and aahing (which aren’t real words, procrastinating would be better but that’s the thief of time and I can’t have that) but I had the night off so I didn’t need to make a decision immediately after all. So I fiddled and mooched and did a couple of bits around the house before making lunch for my wife and I early and setting off towards Beccles. I had 90p. I kind of hoped that’d be enough for some maggots and, not knowing where my tub was, I hoped they’d stick them in my rig tub. Fortunately they would and 70p was the minimum crawly spend so I was safe. I carried on and took the Scupper off the roof at the slip by the quay. A nice, gentle afternoon in the sun with a bit of trolling and a bit of silver bashing was the plan; just a couple of miles of paddling required and I had no rush to get home to bed for once. I parked up and set off. My match rod, shortened to 7ft by means of a hacksaw and some superglue, was loaded with 4lb line, a 4bb waggler and a size 16 hook. I hoped I wouldn’t snag this as my coarse box was still sitting at home. If I lost any shot, broke the float or lost the hook I’d be buggered. Out back were my two 7ft spinning rods with the baitcasters, 20lb Trilene XL Smoothcasting mono, wire traces and a pair of Rapala X-Rap Shad Shallows (I decided to use some smaller lures than normal as I figured I might find some decent perch at this time of year). I just had to persuade the swans to piss off first. I started nice and easy, I got into the Seat and cast a maggot behind a moored boat; a minute or so later and the day was started as I pulled in a roach, my starter for ten! I popped the lures out as soon as I was in the basin, as always and as always they dived into the bottom and caught up in weed. I don’t know why I always do that. I reset them once I was in the river and settled down for the 300 yard troll to the bridge. It hardly seemed worthwhile but you never know and I’ve had a fair few fish in this stretch in the past. I drifted slowly into the bay and manoeuvred round to a buoy, hooking onto it and got the match rod out. A single red maggot was hooked on and next to the supports it went. Immediate dip; chub. Unhooked and returned I replaced the maggot and cast it close into the brickwork on the corner. It hit, dropped down and took a roach before settling. Next cast saw another chub and then a perch. Lovely. I then spent an amusing five minutes watching a hire cruiser working its way under the bridge with a couple of inches to spare. With the tide on the way down they should have just waited ten minutes instead of risking damage but there’s just no telling some people so I didn’t. They made it through eventually though. No bream today but last time here I had a ruffe and a gudgeon from the other side so after a few more of the same I moved around. Plenty more of the same followed but neither of these though I did find my way into a couple of dace; mostly it was chub and perch though. I tried across the river on the other side next, a couple of roach and a perch but it wasn’t as quick here so I went off on the troll again. Snagged on weed after fifty yards and as soon as I set off again the other rod bent round and stopped wiggling; weed again? No! A perch had grabbed hold and skimmed across the surface. I unhooked it and cast back out. A small pike came next, two fish in a hundred yards… …I binned the silver fishing now, with two out of three of the local predators I kept my fingers crossed for a chub; I’ve never done the triple. Off I went to Barsham, picking up more pike and perch and then tried the maggots again by the sluice. Nothing except a tiny roach. I swapped one of the lures over for a 7cm Jointed Shad Rap, bluegill pattern. This did nothing, nor did the Magnum I swapped over onto the other rod shortly after, apart from weed. Fair enough, I’d try for something bigger and popped a couple of J13’s on, a Firetiger and a Blue. Time was getting on. I picked up my third trolled perch on the Firetiger J13 under the bridge then wound in and spent ten minutes plucking some more silvers out by the bridge, including one while drifting through and then set off for home. Five species with 3 jacks and 3 perch on the troll (all pike and 1 perch on the perch patterned X-rap, 1 perch on an orange one and 1 on the J13) but still I’d failed to get the triple. Oh well…

Crash, Boom, Bass…10/09/2012

I thought the bass were just about gone after such a slow session with Whippersnapper on Saturday; we really should have bagged up but only one fish on and that didn’t stay there but I was persuaded otherwise; some people need to be listened to and Norfolkboy is most definitely one of these. Anyway, proof of this came on Sunday morning after work. I went down the beach with my wife and the kids and, being a coward who doesn't like getting wet, I failed to go in past my knees but with it so clear I went wandering along the groyne...saw fry shoals, saw sandeels and saw some larger grey shapes in the turbulence...mullet or bass? Of course I went home and grabbed a rod and close to giving up on the mullet with a wedge the tide started to move and a bass took; 42cm of pleasant surprise! So of course Monday had to be bassing. Hehe. Off to school went the girls, Wilmy arrived straight after and eventually Si pitched up as well; we’d filled the time drinking coffee. The sea was still really clear when we’d wandered down the end of my road and, although bloody windy and a bit choppy close in, we figured we should have a fair chance of finding a fish or two. So we launched. A bit bumpy, that launch, a tad moist around the crotch. Out we went and then the swell started to appear…this wasn’t quite what was expected, nor was the strength of the wind but it was certainly okay to paddle in (though confused and unbalancing). The thing was, we couldn’t tell what was happening around the corner – would the swell be smashing into the sea wall and rebounding too much for us to fish close in? We’d have to see. We headed north and I called up harbour control to verify that we were clear to cross the port approaches. We were and headed through the turbulence that kicks up there (it’s nasty). Wilmy had dropped out. His paddle wasn’t right and he couldn’t get a proper purchase on the one side so he landed instead to reset it. I called him up when I found and eddy and he sounded really apologetic but he really shouldn’t have – it wasn’t a day to have things not right. Indeed, I was quite impressed that he did go in instead of following blindly and it wouldn’t have been a tricky session for him otherwise as it turned out. I dropped down a Sliver and a J13 as I cleared the entrance and started to troll. Although the waves were quite large and crashing into the rocks, worsened by it being low water and this being pretty shallow, they weren’t causing a nuisance really. I’ve been forced off the reefs at Sea Palling with less than this. Si was paddling ahead and at a slightly quicker pace than me. Then he seemed to be going even quicker – I glanced around and saw my rod bent right over; snag. I cleared the snag by freelining then paddling up to it. The J13, being a floater, fortunately released itself and I was away again. I turned, flicked it out and started to paddle. I got about 30 seconds downtide when the Sliver on the other side did the business and my spinning rod started banging away like a good’un. I grabbed it, made sure I had a firm hold and started to wind, tightening the drag as the fish fought me. This was going okay but I had to get away from the rocks now and so, with the rod jammed between my knees I paddle dup and over a couple of waves and out of danger before hauling in bass number one at 50cm. Lovely, thanks. I carried on down, meeting Si on his troll back. He’d had nothing but as he started off again after our natter he hooked into a fish on the wedge and feathers, unluckily losing it near the end of the scrap. Ah well, some sport nonetheless. We paddled back together, me on the inside, trolling away and chatting when suddenly I raised my voice and said ‘watch out!’ That practice the other month against the exploding clapotis at the sea wall came in handy for both of us as 4ft of wave face went under Si just before it broke (had he been 6ft inshore he’d have been rolled) and I went over 3ft of it ahead with a burst of speed (6ft back and I’d have been). That was close; we laughed. Nothing was happening on the rods though and a couple more passes later we decided to head back. Si passed some staging first and as I went round my rod started to buck; fish two. A schoolie. I had to use my paddle to steer myself back past the boards at the same time as the wind was in our face and the tide was still running because of it. A force 5, with near-constant gusts to 7 (27.8 knots recorded on the yacht club rood nearby) the tide had been held back and our timings had been thrown out. Anyway, I unhooked the little fella and passed back around again but didn’t seem to be making any headway, I was static; and the rod was banging again. A better fish this time, it felt at least as good as the first but sadly I had to steer again and it got off. Bugger. I think Si cursed me to be fair. We carried on the few hundred yards to the entrance and then my inside rod started to bang like mad. Off streaked the 9cm jointed shad rap, straight into the rocks and I knew exactly what was going to happen. Fish and lure gone. I wasn’t overjoyed. Permission granted we paddled across the harbour entrance again and what a sea! It was all over the place, we were up, down, sideways, water was coming over the side, we were surfing, the nose was digging in; I left Si standing, there being no other choice though I kept turning to check on him and he confessed after that he thought he was going in at one point. I know the feeling well, that’s a shit bit of water at times. Besides, I had this bloody wind to deal with! It took an age to get back to the launch point and as I arrived I saw Wilmy launching again; he’d got his feather sorted and was practicing on his own while we were off fishing. Not one to give up and these were ideal conditions. We didn’t bother with self-rescues though as the lure of coffee was too strong. As a side note the sea increased during the day; come 4 o clock my girls were catching rides on bodyboards after school. Then it was home to a starter of Ceviche; in a few days’ time bass gravad lax will also be served.

Med Morning…08/09/2012

“When you get up, look out of your window and if the trees aren’t moving, get dressed and we’ll go fishing”. That was what I said before I went to bed yesterday evening before my shift. I was home just after eight and clearly the trees hadn’t moved as, tucking into croissants was an underfleeced Whippersnapper. This was good as the sun was up, the sky was clear and the wind was almost non-existent. I checked the tides and the forecast for the rest of the day and we had to move…having not yet refitted anchor trolleys to my Scupper it was a morning destined for trolling even though the small tide was ideal for us to sit for ray and smut at anchor. With the bass likely to disappear soon and not many days for lure fishing left though this was a perfect example of things coming good; Eloise had yet to have a bass either and it had been on the list all year. Sadly things have conspired against us and she’d not been fishing since Swanage back in May so we crossed everything and headed for Yarmouth. We pulled in just up the road from a near-empty warehouse and unloaded. A quick haul and both yaks were at the water’s edge. To describe the Whippersnapper launch as unorthodox would be to understate it but what is fishing with dad if not fun? (Button it Si!). We paddled south with the first flowing of the flood tide. The water was clear. Med clear. Twelve feet of visibility minimum, by far the clearest I have EVER seen on this part of the coast; I really could have believed I was in Spain, the temperature, the light and the gin-clear sea all being so reminiscent of my own beginnings fishing in Ampuriabrava as a nipper. The paddle was easy and with a lure trailing from her Fladen IM7 12lb class boat rod and Warbird reel I was really hopeful – surely any bass around would spot our lures a mile off! I had the thin spinning rods and Coriolis reels out but had forgotten my lures so had nicked my daughters. Payback! I got close to the outfall and flicked out a Fladen wedge a few times to no avail. I trolled past; nothing. The pair of us went around the outfall, up and down and Eloise thought she had a take but apart from a pull and a splash there was no sign. I’d not felt so much as a twitch. We carried on for a while and then headed for the outer harbour to run up the wall for a bit. We had no joy here either but there were plenty of fry on the surface as there were near the first mark. Perhaps feathers or tinsels might have been wise but it was too late now. I was topless but Eloise was decidedly warm so we beached and off came the drysuit and underfleece; I’d already got her to take off the hoodie and shirt she’d had on when we were getting suited! Now, in knickers and pfd, she was ready for a bit of effort again and we paddled, against the tide, back to the mark and started making our way around the two structures in a large figure of eight. The water had still not coloured up so things were getting more promising as some turbulence was created. Cast wedges were not doing the business and nor were the divers and we continued just pulling lures about, up and down and around when suddenly I felt the floating, jointed lure that Spark had given me a while back get hit by something. I grabbed the rod and pulled tight; this was a decent fish! It was a five plus for sure, judging by previous fish on this rod and reel, and I called my apprentice over to do the honours. As she pulled alongside and I prepared to pass the rod disaster struck and I dipped the rod. It went slack and then it went weightless. Damn it! I’d not even seen it, just felt it for a minute or two and now it was gone and we’d have to carry on. We pulled around a while longer and I had one huge take that didn’t connect. Then, with the tide becoming a chore, I told Whippersnapper to head back to the launch point as I followed up behind. Not a bit of it! She beached, stripped off her PFD and went back in the water for a swim! I soon caught up and after taking a few snaps of her doing her usual coaxed her back onto her yak after a spot of tandem fishing. Hearing her call and turning around I watched her go through alternative launch number two… She paddled that way for a bit before I told her we had to move as the chickens would be nearly ready for lunch by now and we had swimming this afternoon and so, back on the Costa del Grotty Yarmouth. She had time for one more quick dip while I dragged the boats to the tarmac and fitted the tugs in place before we pulled them to the van and loaded up, fishless. Just around the corner I slowed to see if Andy was around and sure enough he was, shirt off and playing with his new yacht. More rainseeker than gin palace he ambled over and invited little one for a quick glass of squash and we had a natter for a few minutes before jumping back in and heading home. That’s two daughters I’ve failed to put onto fish now. Best we hit the river together soon. After I clear the garden of bugs of course.