Everyone’s been catching rays lately and it’s nothing to do with the weather which, frankly, has been unseasonably poor. I’d only had the one myself and couldn’t get out to where I wanted to be, where I knew they were…at least not by kayak. My good mate Marty however has a Warrior 165 and had a spare seat available not to mention an already-filled freezer. With my wife dealing a blow to my pride by asking if any of the anglers I knew sold fish I saw an opportunity to disappear fishing on a Sunday and with the children away for a few days leave was granted. As they can’t and don’t sell fish pride could be returned!
I was expected by 07:30 and with everything prepared the day before I was raring to go; up early, coffee consumed, forecast checked, bait taken out and the car loaded I was off to sit by the bridge while it went up to let some yachties through at 7. Still, it gave me a chance to eyeball the sea through the pier heads and it looked good. Next to me was a selection of gear –pennel, single and wishbone running leger traces, a boom flapper and a Portland livebait trace just in case I tempted a small whiting; the business end consisted of Maxximus Jig Hooks in 2/0 and 4/0. Three Warbird 3700R multipliers loaded with 20lb braid and fluorocarbon and three different rods; an IM7 12lb class Maxximus, my usual rod, and my two new uptiders (following the advice of local charter skipper Colin from Lead Us – ignore the advice of the experienced at your peril!) a 10ft Powerstick Uptide 170-200g and an 8ft Celtic Trolling Uptide. As for bait, I had a kilo of unwashed squid, a couple of herring and a couple of wraps of frozen black lugworm – the latter in case of passing cod.
On arrival at Martys everything was transferred and we set off for his berth, loading the boat up and heading up to Breydon Water, through Great Yarmouth and Gorleston and out through the pier heads passing Jon on High Flyer also on his way out with a party of ten onboard.
We motored out a bit to a new mark offshore and dropped anchor on a patch of mud adjacent to some rough ground. Ray like mud so it seemd as good a place as any. We’d thought to go further out to a bank but the swell and wind were already reasonable and due to build so stayed put, dropped anchor and stuck our baits out. Unwashed squid went on the two uptide rods, one with a wishbone and the other a pennel both with heavy bell leads and a lug/squid cocktail on the boat rod with a spiked lead. It soon became apparent that we were dragging slowly, the big tide, mid-flow and wind conspiring against us. However, this slow drift saw me boating a starry smoothound pup on the Celtic rod in minutes.
Next up, on the Celtic, was the first of numerous spotty dogs. Species number two! As for Marty, well, he was blanking for now but snootily informed me that he was fishing for rays…yeah, okay.
I landed a couple more dogs, one of which took a patch of skin from the back of my hand in the next quarter of an hour or so…
…then Mr Blank decided to rub things in while the water was still pounding through with his first thornback, taken strangely on a boom rig; on herring which didn’t usually work for him. That was me chastened then because I didn’t have dinner yet!
We up-anchored and headed north of the mark to drop down again, catching the edge of the rough ground and staying put this time. The tide was starting to ease and I hoped I’d now be able to show myself to be just as capable as he. I pulled in another dog or three and he hauled up another thornie, followed by a small blonde ray.
And another. Then one more, some on squid and some on herring which I also had on one rod now. It seemed that the rays liked the port side with the dogs in their own starboard ghetto.
East is east and west is west…we debated the differences; same distances out, same quality of bait, decent hooks, rigs that presented well and baits being presented well by both of us
. In kindness he offered to swap sides but I declined and mumbled something about hats. Bless him, he offered to swap hats too as we’d decided it must be down to lady luck but I figured I’d give it a little longer. Maybe I’d better make more effort though – I took off my hoodie (perhaps they were scared of my chav style?) and rolled up my sleeves and set to work with a good chunk of herring cut across the body on each trace.
I missed the first wallop. Advice on ray fishing seems to be to let the bite develop and either wait for the rod to bend over when the fish moves off or reel it in after a few minutes in case it’s stayed static – don’t strike too soon! Next up I hooked in. Nice, a dab! Not much in the way of calories but something to eat all the same. Finally though, as the slack approached, I had something that wasn’t a dogfish, my rod taking on a nice curve; thornie!
A decent fish, the rays averaged around 6lb or so and Marty was still pulling in more than his fair share; getting nervous when I got up to my third and showing me that he was still the better angler by hauling up a double shot!!!
Fine. Make mine a double then.
It weighed 10lb when I got her home; I had a brace that size.
The rods were proving themselves to be decent workhorses, the reels too though I kept playing with knobs and drags and stuff and loosening them too much or tightening them more than necessary and causing myself occasional anxiety that I’d messed them up by cleaning and oiling them but no, I was worrying for no reason.
As we started to drift around on the start of the ebb the fish came back on the bite; the same time that we got peckish as it happened and the spicy kettle chips with garlic dip had to be put aside as we landed a fish each at the same time and had four between us in the space of five minutes. We’d lost count by now. The sea was starting to rough up a bit now and we gave it another half an hour with a few last casts before finally, with things going quiet, reeling in; Marty of course bringing in yet another thornie.
With the anchor hauled he opened up to give all sixty horses a gallop and we bounced into the harbour in a manner to which I’m unaccustomed before settling down to punch our way through the outgoing water, passing underneath the bridges and out onto the expanse of Breydon, passing avocets, hire boats and a small launch overloaded with ten people before pulling alongside the mooring and unloading. It seemed we’d done rather well with sixteen rays between us, Marty having had ten or eleven of them (neither of us having kept a proper count) and declaring it his best ever ray session. As for me? well yes, it was my best too, having had the grand total of six previously and nothing above 4lb so matched (or thereabouts) in a day numbers wise and personal best after personal best.
We unloaded and snapped off a couple more photos and then it was time to go home and start skinning them, Marty having separated the wings off most of them while giving a couple away to friends by the mooring.
Now, filleting is no bother for me, easy and quick from plenty of practice but four hours later with holes from thorns and less skin on my hands than on most of the prepared wings.
I admitted defeat and invited my wife out for dinner instead of cooking up some skate, having given birth to twins from my big lady – a mermaid’s purse from either side which was deposited into the harbour on our way into town where I’m told they stand a very good chance of hatching. With the wings being left to soak overnight in salted water we capped a cracking day off with a superb meal
Of course there has to be an epilogue for a fisher for sport AND food. I loaded up three quarters of ‘my’ freezer tray, a year’s supply of roker (nothing wasted or unwanted here) and waited a couple of days before defrosting a pair of wings for a meal – Skate in Black Butter (wings poached in a court bouillon then served with capers and a sauce of foaming butter mixed with red wine vinegar and parsley spooned over them). Heavenly!
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