Of Mice And Men…12/09/2013

Of Mice And Men…12/09/2013 The best laid plans…nothing to do with Steinbeck at all. All change at every stage; nothing went as intended and everything kept changing, it seemed like I spent the whole time on the back foot. Right from the start too, a couple of days before. Originally planning on some LRF on the rocks at Lowestoft I changed my mind after failing to repeat the success of last week a couple of days before and with some rougher water and rain for two days it’d not work out anyway; besides, the tides were wrong. Next plan thought up was right for the four of us planning to fish…a bit of hound and ray fishing off Corton, hopefully though they seem to be further out now. What else? The tide was going to be strong still and mid-flow by the time two of us could launch. Gorleston then? Tuck in by the pier and hope for some shelter from it, have a hunt for rockling, sole, that kind of thing on a small rd with some larger hooks and baits out for other stuff. That was decided on even though two of the four were beset with car problems and no longer able to come along. Fine, it’d work. Except for delays after work and at home. Then a text from Andy, he was stuck in traffic and going to be late. Then the same happened to me and I was still stuck when he sent a text to say he had arrived. We changed the plans again, I asked him to come to Corton, back to plan B from C. That was the best we could do, otherwise it’d be one o’ clock before we were on the water and I’d need to be heading home by three. Andy pulled up a couple of minutes after me. Unloaded and tackled up we headed across and walked down the track to the beach. A slight swell and more wind than predicted but perfectly reasonable. Lead Us was out there, I would have been too had I not had shifts either side. They’d had a few spotty dogs on the three mile bank and come in hoping for better on the rough ground. They were uptide and further out than we planned to be though and after a brief chat over the radio we launched. Out a few hundred yards, paddling across and uptide just to hold level with our launch. The flow was stronger than expected and with Andy in a short boat and being a first timer here I figured it best to see him safely anchored up before dropping down to pull level with him myself. He was set to go with the trolley already locked to the rear and dropped down. I paddled uptide again and turned to watch; it wasn’t right. I watched as the yak started to slew off to one side and paddled straight back over. By now it was well out of alignment and I could see the problem, an easy mistake to rectify off the water but impossible to do now – the bungee loop holding he trolley back was too long and had stretched too. So, around ten percent of the kayak length from the rear; the lines were also now too loose and with a large ‘staekout ring’ and a free running carabiner thrugh which the anchor line passed it was also triangulated around a foot out to the side. I grabbed hold and took a look at a way to resolve things. The low, open stern of the Scrambler meant that reclipping to the rear carry handle was out as it would pull the back down and below the waterline which would tip him. It looked like it was game over until it occurred to me he may get away with it if he was bow on to the tide. Staying rafted we hauled the trolley to the other end and tried that. Far better, straighter in the flow and possible to fish, though not all that brilliantly. At least it wasn’t a wasted trip. I returned uptide and watched to make sure things stayed okay and sure enough they did. I paddled a bit further north then dropped down letting out three hundred yards of warp and pulling almost level with Andy. I baited up with whole squid and stuck my two 2/0 pennels out. Within minutes it seemed that Andy was further away; I waited and watched. Yep, he was drifting. Would the anchor set? It didn’t. I thought I saw a bite but nothing developed. I continued watching Andy. He seemed comfortable enough and was tackling up but getting further away. Three groynes down I called him on the radio and advised him to cut his anchor trolley and leave the whole lot in-situ so I could recover it for him later as I couldn’t easily up-anchor and would probably also have to cut free if trying to assist. He did and paddled in, agreeing it was the best option and saying he already had his knife to hand. In he went. I got a bite. Missed it. Got another. Missed it. the tide was pretty fast so neither developed to a second bite. It was the third I managed to hit and up came a nice plump dab of around half a pound. Around the time Andy hit the beach. On whole squid. Oh good, I love dabs! Another ten, fifteen minutes and then another bite missed. Next one came in, a whiting; a shoal fish by the look of it, seems they’re on their way. Another followed after more missed bites; both keepers as was the dab; I gutted, gilled and bled them, strung them and washed them out in the tide. I gave it until around half two and then decided, after an hour and a half without a bite, to up-anchor and go. The bruce came up fine and with it in the boat I set off to look for Andy’s anchor. I paddled in a bit, down a bit and spotted the buoy fifty yards downtide and twenty offshore. I turned, paddled up and took hold of the floating line, pulling it and the buoy in before grabbing the anchor reel. That explained the drifting; loads of warp still on the reel. I pulled up, the cable tie weak link had parted and reversed the anchor, that’s why the yak drifted faster after a bit. I landed. I hate it when plans comes unstuck, at least there were lessons in this and a nice lunch.