Back Out On The Princess…31/07/2013

A bit more filming was required, I had all the filler shots and flavour shots and suchlike and had edited the raw footage down to quarter of an hour but I felt we needed more fish and a bit of variety so once again I was heading out with Brian on his Lochin charter boat, Cleveland Princess. Back to the bank again and with a far better tide than the previous week we were expecting a more productive day, the tides having been a nightmare the week before. So there I was at the Royal Norfolk and Suffolk Yacht Club at quarter to eight after a quick walk from home. A couple of nice fellas had booked a trip so between the four of us we had plenty of space to fish a pair of rods apiece. My Maxximus IM7 went downtide with 12oz of griplead while my Powerstick Uptider went, obviously, uptide with only 8oz needed throughout the day. Wind over tide and not too strong, sun shining, sea calm…it was a beautiful day to be out. With the anchor down we baited up with unwashed squid, either whole or cut diagonally in half down the mantle. I had a couple of missed bites quite quickly on the uptider but was beaten off the blocks by the skipper, Brian, who went straight into a hound. Sweet! That’s what we wanted! It was still mid-tide too so we were promised a great session. Sure enough it didn’t take long for number two, falling to Gary on a 6/0. Well. I was falling behind here, best I get my skates on! I rubbed my lucky hat and hey presto, number one! Oh good, they were here too…just the one Brian? He didn’t think so. He was right; he knows his fish alright! Gary kept looking at his rods… …but they were on the wrong side of the boat! Definitely on the wrong side of the boat… Without doubt… Then John thought he had a bite. He was also on that side of the boat… We thought we’d best give them a chance. I was feeling guilty and needed to do some filming so I let Gary have my next fish… Enquiries were made as to where my fingers had been. I was getting the bulk of the bites but I was having fun hooking them and it was nice to just pass the fish over to others to enjoy, after all it was a splendid day to be out. I gave Gary another roker soon after. John had one as well before this that was too small for him to allow his photograph to be taken with it but nothing as biting on his rod. Conversation passed between us and he confessed to having a banana which I told him was very bad luck and it had to go… Well well… These were the rods on their side of the boat. This was the view from our side. They watched their rods… And Brian took a break from making coffee… …while I took a break from drinking it… I took more pity on them and let Gary wear my hat for a while which stopped my rods from going. It did him no good though so I let him put his rod in my holder; I was threatened with a swim if I caught from his side but fortunately his started to nod… Returning my rod to its rightful place I had another bite and called Brian away from the kettle to see what he thought of the action on it…I think he got a good impression of its capabilities. The funny thing was we were the two getting most of the bites – not just the fish, the bites, even on the same rigs and baits – on the same side of the boat even after the tide had reversed direction, by which time the sea had got decidedly lumpy. Poor old John though, he really needed a decent fish and then finally his persistence paid off. Having put a lucky hat on at my insistence and having now digested the banana and – after asking what the hell I was doing following my tactic to the letter – removing lucky hat, rubbing it, turning it three times and placing it back on my head – the magic worked and he was rewarded with a well-earned and super, hard-fighting hound. We gave it until five and then had to run in though I think we’d all have been happy to stay through until the following week, the fishing having been that good. All fish came to squid, bites were regular and bar the one small hound early on and one doggie they’d been good fish from 5lb upwards. The sea had picked up with the tide change as had the wind and we were getting knocked around a bit but none of us really noticed it apart from the odd bit of spray coming over the stern from the three foot swells. So Brian upped the anchor on a day that saw ten or twelve of both roker and hound landed…and now I had too many fish for the video!

Still A Goby Desert?...30/07/2013

We’re still on our way back from the Waveney Ruffe Hunt, in the rain, when I tell Paul I’m going to see if the Gobies have arrived yet before I drop him off. So a quick diversion down to my top secret goby mark at the bottom of Harbour Road on Lake Lothing and we jump out to walk the shore. I couldn’t see the other night in the wind and at low water so this seemed more promising. As we walked the shoreline I started to see the familiar dart and drop of my splendidly amusing summertime quarry. Forget the rain; yak off. I launched the Tetra after tying on a size 24 hook. Hook to nylon I hasten to add, that’s just far too fine a point to miss out. LOL as the kids say. Then I paddled out the single yard to the mark and set up a slow drift with the tiniest pinch of worm on the hook. I drifted quite a way before I found the first fish, almost thirty yards in fact. I dropped down. It swam to the shot, knocked it about, darted for the bait, battered it, picked it up, mouthed it, bit, I struk, lifted, it flew through the air, and dropped off just out of reach of my hand…damn. Try again…same again, same routine, same result…try once more…YES! In my hand…That’s my common goby caught for the species tournament. An easy point for those who know how and as large a point as a tope or skate. Job done. It was perhaps 1.5cm long at most. Well, Paul was laughing his head off. He’s never fished for them himself. We swapped over, him in the yak and me on shore…and sure enough he managed his first ever goby too. Perhaps he’ll lift the bream curse from me now. I got back aboard. I’d seen a lot of fry and decided I’d try for one of those too. Perhaps they were mullet though they may have been smelt or bass. The former two would have been points. Nope, they didn’t fall for my ruse, bar one that tried taking the worm…but if I went midwater (max depth I fished was eighteen inches, this is sight fishing) then the gobies came off the bottom for them. If I kept the worm in the water while drifting it kept it steady before reaching the fry…lights came on and I went for the ultimate in stupidity and invented a new sport: SMALL GAME FISHING! Yep, Snapper decided to try trolling for gobies…well it worked well for me with tuna in South Africa… …and I did it!!! I’m still grinning now. Trolled gobies. Who’d have thought it? That’s twenty species in a month from East Anglia; there’s not that many accessible ones left.

Sea: Rough, River: Ruffe?...30/07/2013

It’s still windy so back to the river. Time to get those bream out of my head. I was back after Ruffe today, Pope, Snotty, Tommy…they are present at Beccles, not rare for me to catch them but uncommon though they can be numerous at times and the fella in the tackle shop had told me he’d had over twenty the other evening while trying for gudgeon to use as pike livebaits. Well, though we’d planned to go from Wainford to Earsham we altered this as it was only the pair of us who were fishing now. The pair of us. Yes. For some unbelievable reason I was taking Paul along again. He’d never had a ruffe in his life though so I guessed I was in safe mode. I did some quick research to improve my chances. Mr Pennel wrote in The Anglers Naturalist, published in 1863: [i]Although, however, a purely river fish, and considered as by no means unpalatable food, it is seldom sufficiently numerous in this country to become an object of exclusive attention to the angler, but is usually taken incidentally whilst in pursuit of other fish, and more particularly whilst raking for gudgeon, the small larvae and other insects turned up during this operation possessing apparently an equal attraction for both species. The ruffe, also, like the gudgeon is very easily tempted by a red worm, which, if offered in judicious proximity to his nose, he will rarely ever refuse.[/i] The worms came from my compost bin. A big bunch all around the rim. I had those and maggots and a look of grim determination. As we headed for Beccles, me still seething at Paul as we drove. Of course we still intended going to Wainford, just later, so after unloading I decided to sit with a dry bum and try to get one from the bottom of the slip while Paul tackled up. All I had a was a beautifully marked and fine perch which Paul failed to get a photo of before it escaped from my hand though he managed one of me landing it Cheers Paul. I decided to give it a few more minutes. It was nice here. It was too nice, I was danger of falling sleep. I paddled out through the quay to swim number one. Tying up next to the ‘No Mooring’ sign I cast to the drop off and waited. I waited ages. Paul sat there mid swim drifting around and giving out bad vibes so I dispatched him on a pike hunt with my lucky lure and my spinning rod and reel. I still couldn’t catch on the leger though. Nothing else for it, I stuck on double red maggot, dangled it in midwater off the bow next to the pilings and immediately pulled in a fine perch. Then another. A third drop and I had a lovely rudd, a wonderful golden sheen on its flanks. I moved. Tried on the shelf again. Different coloured maggots. One missed bite and loads of weed. I moved again. Nothing. Paul was under the bridge then moved into my bay and started fishing my chub spot. Great spot for lots of species this. Lillies, rock, mud, silt, rubbish, fast water and eddies, pilings, concrete…I went the other end and had a chub, roach and rudd then moved around to join him. He was pulling perch. I spied one that backed under a rock then ignored my maggots a cm from his nose. I feigned indifference in return and started to fish the bay. Paul caught another perch. “Oh, hang on, no it’s not…” My head whipped around. “Uh, um, Mark, ummm, I don’t know how to tell you this…” I really do hate him. See that? It’s Pope Tommy Bleeding Ruffe. He’s five yards from me! The least he could do is keep quiet about it, especially with the next two. So inconsiderate! I swore at him for the next hour as I failed to catch anything that wasn’t a dace or a roach or a rudd while he kept cackling. I’d all but given up, bites becoming non-existent, just sucked out maggots on occasion. I moved around and tried fishing directly overhead as it was so difficult to see the bites or strike them. Then I remembered my research, namely Izaak Walton’s words from the Compleat Angler though I hadn’t any earth. [i]“You must fish for him with a small red worm, and if you bait the ground with earth, it is excellent[/i] I’d forgotten about the worms, so had Paul. He was determined to catch on worm though so we both swapped over. And the magic happened… Yes, that had me elated! Time to go. I told Paul we were going to get lunch then try Worlingham for bream, lunch hopefully seeing off the drizzle and Beccles has good chips and the finest chippy sausages. That’s when he caught a roach. “Isn’t that a bream?” I asked. I heard the hesitation then “oh, um, yeah. It is.” I had visions of him becoming groundbait as I tried frantically to get my rod back into action though the leger had wrapped itself into knots on being stowed. That’s when he saw the 4lb bronze bream enter my swim through his polaroids. And move out by the time I had retied another rig. Sweetcorn failed, maggots failed, worms failed. We went to wash our hands at Tesco and thence to the chippy. By which time it was pouring so we headed home. Addendum. The slip was already occupied by aggressive, hissing swans. Paul decided to feed them. That boy ain’t all there.