A busy week, I've hardly stopped. I'd been off Friday and Saturday night, crashed out early on Sunday and, following my shift, hit the ground running on my return home. I'd hoped to get out on Thursday but the weather was shocking - big seas that might have been fun to play but it was pouring down and I hate that. I was gutted, I'd been able to hear the surf crashing onto the beach from the moment I’d got up and every time I'd gone outside at work. My day got filled anyway and that left Friday...and the forecast was good. A quick text out to see if the others fancy a session followed a coffee with Marty who had popped in randomly with the day off and was going out with Jon.
Well...I knocked off, and set off for home to be met with the news that my wife was using the car...that restricted things somewhat; I’d have to launch at the end of the road. Okay, still ebbing, I could launch, head past the harbour and fish Dogger. I'd be on my own. Marty called, said I’d best check the conditions before I got too excited, said the beach looked as rough as guts. He’d dropped anchor off Corton, four or five miles to the north. It was coming up to low water though so I knew the beach would be okay to launch from, it just might be a tad nasty once out to sea. Still, the world was due to end in a couple of hours anyway so I may as well enjoy myself!
Things went wrong from the start - I got to the beach and realised I’d left my camera by the front door. Damn. No video either. Fair enough, not the end of the world - yet - but I had no time to go back with tides how they were if I wanted to head north and I’d decided to pay Marty a visit. The sea was down a long way and a few bigger waves were rolling in - and I get a soaking. My bait box flew open and my lucky codding hat got soaked so my head would be cold, fishing would be affected and everything would defrost. a few hundred yards of hard paddling and the sea was still the same, 5ft lumps passing under me and I still had the bank to cross and the harbour approaches to deal with not to mention the shallow rough ground to the north. The flow was weak too and I had to make more effort than I felt like but things carried on as they do and I headed north a good half mile out to avoid the rebound of the swells that were still around from the days before.
Passing Ness point I spied a boat off Corton but it wasn't Marty. I carried on and on, my vhf stuck on 14 after speaking to harbour control as I’d forgot to switch back to 8. I changed back moments before I heard Marty call me up but couldn't raise him on 8 or 16 and that boat definitely wasn't him...then I spotted him, finally, a little white dot. I passed the other boat, a beauty with 6 cod and a labrador aboard with the skipper...okay, so it was fishing then. I pulled up to my mates and heard there were 4 cod aboard before paddling back uptide and dropping anchor, coming to rest alongside and around fifty yards offshore. 4/0 pennels with blacks and squid went down and I sat there for the remains of the ebb.
Nothing. One twitch in a couple of hours, a dab by the look of the bite. Marty was pulling the odd fish up, Jon managed a couple of whiting and I took the piss a bit even though I was doing worse. Slowly we started to swing; I snagged and had to cut off, rebaited and kept the baits out of the water for a while. Then I started to move backwards...Jon had caught my anchor warp. It made a change for him to catch a yak on rod and line rather than in a net!
11:12 passed and we were all still alive, my plan to catch one last wave when the world ended in a tsunami (hopefully, compared to less enjoyable varieties of armageddon) having proved to be unnecessary. So I baited up again.
Poor old Jon, I’d given him one of my lovely, lucky 4/0 spreader wishbone pennels via Marty and finally he got a hook up with a cod. the rod was arched over nicely as he played it up to the boat, looked good, 5-6lb from where I sat...'he hasn't got it aboard yet' shouted Marty...and then he snapped it off bringing it over the back. I could feel the venom when I shouted across that I'd wait for Colin or Brian to get the hook back!!!
Bang! My rod started to buck and I reeled into a cod, bringing it up, knocking all the way against a strong flow. No problems landing it but it was only a couple of pound. I had to hold it up for a photograph which took a good few minutes as they couldn't keep me in the frame with big swells rolling beneath us. Still, I kept a smile on my face as I watched them both steady themselves against the gunwhales without noticing their rods banging away behind them...
I was cold now, getting bored too as there just weren't any bites here and they were catching steadily. The sea was picking up, the wind freshening and the swells growing. I couldn't keep my baits on the bottom, even with 12oz down. I had a couple more bites that didn't develop and then decided enough was enough when the sky turned black and hauled anchor. I knew that the longer I left it the worse the landing would be; waving goodbye I slung everything, fish, bait, hat, weights, anchor and reel and broken-down rods into the bow hatch and headed for home. Wind against tide, big swells, shortening, following sea; 12ft spray flying up from the shore. I actually had a touch of nerves for the first time in a long time knowing just how bad it'd be north of the harbour; I gave it a wide berth.
Turning in, a mile offshore, I caught a few waves, riding them briefly. It wasn't that pleasant but at least I could maintain some semblance of control. I crossed the banks, that was fun and then headed closer in. As I suspected, a surf landing. I looked back, saw a good few feet of water rolling in behind me and it was time to PLF. I caught the second of the set and screamed in the last hundred yards, running straight then carving away from the breaking section, broadsiding as the wave closed out and bongo slid all the way to the beach, soaked and grinning. Marvellous! I let the others know and they told me they were up to fourteen cod now...
I dragged my Scupper up the beach and walked home, figuring on a coffee and then grabbing my RRRapido. I had to forego the coffee though, I was locked out...but that's another story. Maybe not the best success from a cold, lumpy ten mile trip but it was hardly the end of the world.
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