Stay Up, Let Down…28/11/2013

Stay Up, Let Down…28/11/2013 I say let down, it’s not really, just not as productive as what I had in mind. And things weren’t right even before I got to the beach. Starting the night before I tossed and turned and barely slept before work so was shattered already. I tried to get a 45 minute nap before leaving and was awake within ten minutes. I again got held up by the bridge, both ways as it turned out and as it turned out sleep afterwards has amounted to perhaps a couple of hours what with more tossing and turning, disturbances and noise. I’m writing this with no idea how I’m going to last the next nine hours. Anyway, enough whining, it’s 28th November, 2013, 73 years since F/Lt John Dundas, P/O Paul Baillon and Major Helmut Wick were shot down off the Needles and we’re still not (nor ever will be) at the bottom of who shot down whom…but that’s a different interest for discussion elsewhere. Inciodentally, I’ve just this minute realised when looking for a suitable photograph that the pair have been immortalised by Airfix. That’s my Christmas present sorted then. You’re never too old to build a model Spitfire on Boxing Day you know. Anyway, it’s Thursday so I’m meeting up with [s]Jonah[/s] Garry again and Mike’s coming out to play too, not seen him in ages. First sea fishing session for Gary and after Tuesday’s session I’m hopeful. This is further backed up by an exciting call from Brian who’s highly amused by the references I’ve posted earlier to sprags as it was him that had mentioned them the other day and I’d realised that maybe I could use the term without everyone scratching their heads. Well, if I could find some. For those not in the know it’s a cod 63-75cm or more Englishly (which isn’t a word) 25/29 inches in length. It’s a commercial term and it’s one size down from cod (76cm and over) and one above codling (54-62cm making the current catch the fourth category of Small Codling, ie 30-53cm though under 35cm are undersize as far as landings go). There can be some variation in these figures dependant on current conditions and ports but they’re the ‘standard. figures. Got that? Good, let’s move on, it’s not actually relevant in the slightest. the purpose of Brian’s call is to give me the gen on the previous couple of days. Boat catches of 10, 21, and 23 fish averaging 3-4lb have been the order of the day. I’ll have some of that thanks. Right yeah so I’m going flat out after I’ve finally made it across the bridge, Buzzcocks blaring out to keep me awake and I skid to a halt next to Gary. I’m out and running; he and Mike are ready to go and in under five minutes so am I. Straight down and in and we’re heading out to the grounds. Gary safely down, Mike next to him and I paddle back uptide and out and drop down too, pulling straight pretty much in line with Brian on Cleveland Princess with another boat a bit further along (I forget the name). Two rods down with the usual frozen black tipped with a ring of unwashed loligo and I wait… I get bored, I’ve been here ten minutes without a bite. I think the others might be bored too but at least they can chat. Well I can chat too; I call Brian up, he’s just boated number two, while we’re chatting my left hand rod starts to bounce around, I lift it out of the ram mount and I’m into a cod. Dunno why but this week the cod are really going crackers, fighting like bass rather than cod and not giving up at all. It takes me a minute or two and it’s up and in at 48cm. Cut and bleeding and threaded onto my stringer, made last night at work, and over the side. Where there’s one there’s more. Apparently. Apparently not. Two and half hours later with two missed bites I’ve had and returned and one decent whiting. And a brace of whelks. I unclip and head over to chat to Brian while we’re on slack, get some pics and video and find out how he’s fared. They’ve landed four, they’re waiting for the flood which was when they got theirs the other day. Look at him. The swine! I’m waiting for the flood too but paddling back I see the other two, rods in and winding up their anchors. Ah well, there’s always next time. I follow the two Scuppers in, trailing and feeling it in the Cuda. We land and Mike, who’s been ashore far too long and had whiting and dab, gets my now-gutted codling; Gary, who had whiting, had one off the beach the other week and I have some at home so why not…besides, that’s another 3lb I don’t have to drag up that damned slope on top of the 80lb of Cuda..

Cod O’Clock…26/11/2013

Cod O’Clock…26/11/2013 So James is wondering if anyone’s going out on the morrow. Well I am, maybe one or two more, so I let him know along where and when. Looks like three days of good forecasts though this is the worst as there’s still residual swell. And what? Swell’s fun. The only downside is the time of low water…I’m going to need to get up early. I don’t want to. Two nights off, this is the first and I’m going to have to cut it short. Oh well. I’m hungry. So, up at half six, out of the house an hour later as it starts getting light and I’m on track for a 7:30 meet up despite the roadworks at the end of my road that have been ongoing for weeks now. Well avoided…not that it does any good whatsoever as the bridge is stuck in the up position and I have to divert through the only other crossing. Which is jammed up from Kirkley. Which is gridlocked from trains crossing. Which is just about typical. I call James. He’s just arrived. So I’m half an hour late, it’s taken me forty minutes to travel three and a half miles. I should have paddled. We wander down to the beach and get set to launch. Nice dumping waves…I give James a quick lesson on when to go and then we get his Prowler in as the set goes through and the smaller stuff comes in; he hops on and I give him a shove and then a rogue comes through…oops! No matter, up and over and with the way clear I go. Out we go. North and east and out a bit, no gps, no sounder, looks okay over there… anchors down …tide still running, swells between 2 and 4 foot, cod nosing about…well James, shall we dance? Two rods, two pennels…two worms and a ring of squid and down we go…and I sit. And I wait. And I wonder why the whiting aren’t about. My first bite takes a whole half hour to come; the tide has slowed a bit and I strike; what? There’s a good weight here, but it’s a thrasher, big whiting? freak bass? Of course not. Number one, 47cm. James is fine, swells not bothering him, then he gets a good whiting. I settle down again. Another half hour passes biteless. Then the second bite. This is going alright. 49cm. I know Brian’s out but no answer on the vhf – he’s a way away – so I call up on the mobile to let him know there are a few cod about up here in case nothing shows south and out. He asks where I am, I turn my head and my phone cuts out. As my rod starts to jump again. Bite three, fish three. 50cm this time. In it comes and I cut the right-side gill rakers and let it bleed out in the footwells to whiten and sweeten the flesh. I make a new friend. I chuck him some squid. I string the cod next, using my rod leash through the gills and out through the mouth, a good wash to free the clots and then back into the footwells. Then slack comes and I start gutting, string them again and wash them out; no blood, no worm, no mess at home bar head and frame. My gull mate is happy. We spin around as the flood begins, then James starts making a racket, he’s got past the whiting and dab and the codling have finally started to show where he is; he’s in and like all three of mine his fish is really fighting, all the way up. This is his first kayak cod. [video]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y6xqV300lDQ[/video] Then he gets another, up it comes, right on the surface and the rig comes apart on him; gone. Then a missed bite. Me? I’m sitting silent..then follow him with two missed bites. So there appear to be a few fish around. I was rather hoping they’d be a bit bigger so I could use the word spragg, a term I like but never use because nobody else does but seeing as how Brian did I figured somebody would know what I was banging on about. I’ll make use of it in a few weeks instead with luck. Yes, a few fish around…and we’re fishing right by a longline too. Blue Eagle 2 came up behind us to work the line previously laid. No idea how many they had caught but they were about most of the time we were, not that they gave us any problems, passing nice and slow. The tide, once it picked up, put a stop to anymore bites so we reeled in, span around and hauled anchor. Nice swells running through still, but no bother at all and we headed in. Hmm. Beach anglers everywhere and some rather large lumps of water hitting the beach. I had to wait for a while to get he right moment, I’m not getting wet to an audience thanks! easy landing, call James in and he’s ashore safe and sound too and then it’s back up to the cars and home. Now, I hadn’t eaten since the previous night so a quick bacon and eggs and then onto the filleting… Good session that.

Not Quite Sensational…18/11/2013

Not Quite Sensational…18/11/2013 Which is no criticism at all. Sensational, you see, is a totally different thing half a world and half a lifetime away. Sensation was Denise, my aunt and I was there when she was starting her charter business waaaaay back a couple and a few years ago. I’m second left, she’s second right. She taught me how to really fish. So, different boat, different skipper and certainly different weather. But it’s Monday, it’s three days after Denise passed away and there was nowhere I’d rather be than on the sea with a good skipper and friend even though I’d taken a cover shift the night before and had only agreed on the proviso I got relieved an hour early so that I could make the boat and this was granted though I was already tired. So there I was on Lead Us in my Sensational hat steaming out to the familiar stomping ground of Corton, or ‘the roods’ as I’m starting to call them! The cod aren’t showing themselves much right now after that initial run of multiples around the 45cm mark but there’s still plenty of other fish about. I’m confident though, Denise is with me, in spirit, in the form of the KP Scarborough reel she gave me way back on Christmas 1991. I’d strtaed the repair work after smashing the handles off bass fishing, replaced the fascias but I was kind of stuffed for handles so it’s sat there without any. No matter, it was going out for one last fish before retirement and shelf angling. I lined it up at work, 90lb braid chosen as the most useable thing for this occasion and with Colin anchoring us up I set to work with a pound of lead, chosen as I was going to have to fish pretty much straight down, and a 2/0 pennel with a frozen black and a diagonal of squid. Well, I missed a whiting bite on it so dropped it back down without coming all the way up; Alan next to me was to have the first fish, a whiting. Alan hasn’t been out all year so he was pleased. Turned out he was to do best on the whiting of all of us this time. Colin was watching, waiting and so were the other two onboard. I decided to get my two other rods set up – as soon as I’d got my fish on the KP it was coming in and I’d start to fish properly. Bang bang…I struck and could feel it on there and I knew immediately she’d done her magic…I started inching line in with my palm. I’m not joking, 1:1 retrieve and a small spool, no handles, a pound of lead and fifty feet of line out, Inch by inch and I got to feel every one of them. “It’ll be time to go in by the time you get that up” said Colin. They all thought I had something else on there but I knew different. [video]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tHaTsL4vzE[/video] Since when did she not outfish the men? There it was, a cod. At 47cm the best of the winter for me so far. Best she could do for her nephew for now, the larger ones needed chasing in but there were no record cod for Denise to pull out today, not like when I was a kid and she sent this over to go on my wall. Right, KP in and trace off and it’s time to get to work. Out flies the lead on my Uptider. Not sure where the fish are but finally after a wait the first whiting comes up. Brian came past and said hi to us all, out on Iceni Spirit for a run and as we’d had a cod they settled down for an hour or two to get a spot of tea while we carried on, mostly waiting. It was very slow and a very strange kind of movement to the water in my mind. Now I’ve blanked at Corton before but this all seemed way slower and I have no idea why. We had good bait and a selection of it, good anglers, good tackle and yet…dribs and drabs. Slack came and we figured it was just the tide, the start of the ebb would surely fish better. A couple of snags and a lost set of gear so I pulled up and waited, rebaited and once we finally swung I stuck my baits out again. Even live whiting, liphooked, has failed. Mind you, it always does unless there’s bass around for me. Colin stuck a bait downtide. Keep an eye on that rod… We waited and as it started to run; four rods went; four whiting and they were plump and roe-filled ones. We only really saw big or tiny. Then it dropped right off and we sat for an hour staring at the rod tips, willing them to move. Colin kept up the coffee and although it was a cold and misty day and the fish weren’t throwing themselves at us we weren’t complaining, it was flat and serene and pleasant company all-round. We knew the fish were there but they just didn’t want to feed. I dropped down to one rod, as had my neighbour. With him on one I figured I’d abandon the cross and downtide fishing and belted my bait downtide at an angle and waited. Thump thump. Yep, that’s a cod bite and sure enough I’ve got one of my own now…51cm…Now you know I said to keep an eye on Colin’s rod? Thump thump…he’s got one too, same size…then me again thump thump but I missed it…then, twenty minutes before we had to come in thump thump once more and another 47cm for me. Well, everyone went home with some fish and though the cod weren’t thick and fast to my knowledge we had more than any of the other boats, possibly even the commercials working further down though I may be wrong from my take on the radio chatter. So our luck was in, that combined with patience. We rode back in and entered the harbour just as the light went. The boat was already scrubbed down inside and most of the outside until I knocked the head off the broom so it’s now like Trigger’s broom – another new head on one of the replacement handles but still the same broom. Then Colin started gutting everyone’s catch as Mike took the helm back down the water to Lake Road. I noticed something new to me which was a delight, a nighttime reflection that wasn’t of a point of light. If only the camera had recorded it, in the still water ahead of the Sulisker I had the perfect mirror image. Well, home I went after another good day afloat and having seen off Denise, in the form of that old KP, in style… …and I’ve just eaten the evidence.

Weather Curse...Training Day!...14/11/2013

Weather Curse...Training Day!...14/11/2013 He’s cursed. We’ve been trying for weeks to go fishing on the sea; week 1, too rough, go paddling in it. Week 2, too rough, go surfing in it. Week 3 was windy, week 4 on the broad, windy again…I’ve lost track but it’s been pretty much no-go every time. He only has Thursday mornings anyway and here we are, the fifth week, still and flat yesterday, still and flat the day after, 25mph offshore then. Garry, burn some incense or sacrifice a lamb or something PLEASE! Isn’t stopping us though. He’d been on the river at the weekend, paddling the long haul from Beccles to Oulton Broad, something like 10-11 miles, seeing as he’s got the Scupper while I’m using the Cuda he might as well! So far, rough, surf, wind and tide hasn’t phased him, the diving experience showing in the comfort around and on the water. Presumably in as well? I may sound patronising but that’s not the intention, just a flavour of why we did what we did. I was on shift and knew I’d be knackered so said to be at mine for 11, this would give us a couple of hours at least. No wasting time with traffic, no sitting around deciding not to bother making an effort. No, if we’re going to fish sometime he’s going to need to anchor, this was as good an opportunity as any to practice that. And self-rescue. We dragged the yaks down to the beach, me bitching all the way as I was still tired, undernourished, thirsty, had a headache, had the heavier yak and workmen had closed off the ramp and doubled the distance. It’s not like I need the exercise. We paddled out after a quick ‘show and tell’ on how to deploy the anchor, just a top up really as Garry had been through all my anchoring videos time and again and had mentally done it a fair few times. It’s not quite the same as seeing it live or doing it but he was certainly clued up. We launched and paddle dout. It was sheltered close in but once out we got hit by the wind, long gusts interspersed with less, a slight bit of wave action but not much, the tide running but not too fast…Ready? Ready. I got the camera out and started to film – this is Garry’s first ever deployment of the anchor, in perhaps 1.5kt tide and 25mph wind blowing him off at 45 degrees… Nope, not phased at all. Turn and recover? There wasn’t any point giving it a second go! Move onto self-rescue.It was a pity we hadn’t got larger waves and rougher water because that’s a great thing to train in – you don’t fall in when it’s flat unless you’re a halfwit. Like me when I fell in when it was flat but that’s another story. I was looking for an opening to dump him off when not expecting it, for the sake of realism, the shock factor etc, but it didn’t really present itself. Anyway, strong wind blowing us out all the time, mid-November, North Sea and I go in to do a quick practical demo – apart from showing the technique this also shows that I’m not being an arse and getting someone wet to be nasty. He’s already watched the videos a few times so has an idea of it but this is easier to show in reality, the feet floating, the positioning and so on. He’d been quite concerned after watching Si’s run of fails when he first got the Scupper (purely down to being used to doing them on a Caper) especially as he’s taller and heavier but…the camera was rolling… [video]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvJocmuCSfc[/video] One’s fine, but no tiredness to contend with…again…again…now capsize… Everything was done fine and smooth, no panic, no struggle and sensibly too – I’d said earlier, relax, take your time, wait until you’re ready and if things feel wrong, move around…well, his feet floated up under the kayak so he moved around to the other side. That doesn’t sound all that much but I was really chuffed because if that went in, a small mention amongst the rest, then it bodes really well for everything else. The trouble was it was all too easy so we just paddled in and got blown out againa few times before we decided on an assisted rescue. It was going alright until he ended up with his face inches from my crotch. That kind of threw us both! Honestly, it’s the smell of squid and cod on the drysuit mate! Now what? Umm, I tied off the Cuda to his, grabbed my paddle and hopped in, explained about swimming with the aid of the paddle, ie paddling oneself along. I was upwind of the yaks and I can honestly say that without the paddle I would not have reached them as they got blown further out; I had to go some as it was. Last thing, just for the sake of it, swap kayaks. Without getting wet. We drew alongside and with me up forward he clambered across into the seat of the Cuda before I hopped across and into the Scupper. Back in my favourite chair at long last! It felt very, very strange! Yep, I felt cramped, hunched, squashed, cozy and far more in tune with the hull. The back support was really bugging me though and the different position of my legs all took some adjusting to get used to again. Padlding became so much easier. Garry said he felt exposed, could feel a wobble but was comfortable. We paddled in and he was made well aware of the difference in performance between the two very different craft. Battling the wind progress wasn’t all that swift but not all that bad either though I’d have hated to have had to get in from the buoys a mile and a half out like Si and I had been forced to do when the wind blew up one time a few years back. We landed smoothly and I left Gary to drag the Cuda home, let him bitch!

The Thirteenth of the Thirteenth; I should have guessed…13/11/2013

The Thirteenth of the Thirteenth; I should have guessed…13/11/2013 Time and tide wait for no man and I didn’t have time to wait anyhow. I had a short window; I had a funeral to go to later and a shift after that so it would have to be a quick fiddle. I could have been on a boat again but no time, no time! I didn’t want to lose time avoiding the roadworks so I figured I’d go to the end of the road and paddle north on the ebb to kiddie’s corner and fish the rocks first followed by the pier as it’s now closed to the public. So, I took the Cuda off the roof and laboriously dragged it down to the beach. Flat calm it was and for the first time in years I saw someone fishing here. I’d taken spinning rods and baitcasters with small leads and small flapper rigs; bait was pinches of black lug and tiny strips of squid. I wasn’t after monsters, just playing. Off I went, slowly drifting and paddling, stopping by the rocks for twenty minutes and two lost rigs. Spotted a lobster pot jammed into the rocks, not sure if it’s one of Brian’s missing ones or not. It’s well entrenched though. I decided to abandon the yak on the inside instead and clamber over the rocks to fish from up top. Lost another rig and a hooklength, still for no bites. Okay, paddle back out, go up the pier a bit and try there; nothing; paddle some more and drop into the rougher bit towards the end of the rip. The windfarm helicopter was buzzing around, something happening at least. I could see Brian out near the buoys too, wondered if he was catching. Things weren’t going well as I sat and watched my rod tip, I’d not had so much as a bite. I considered moving – to Africa – but then, what was this? A rattle! A tiny rattle! I watched, it rattled again, I struck, nothing on. I watched, it rattled again, I struck, nothing; I watched, it rattled, I struck, nothing. I left it five minutes and no more movement so I brought in the bait – squid gone. I cast out again. An hour passed with no more rattles and I wondered why people were so upset to lose the pier – it’s never been all that great really, certainly not in my lifetime. I decided time was getting on – though I had plenty left really – and gave the rocks another go, losing my last rig. I paddled back nice and easy and landed on a blank. weather was nice though so if I try really hard I’ll be able to convince myself it was all worthwhile.

Freshwater Fry Up…12/11/2013

Freshwater Fry Up…12/11/2013 It was a Tuesday. It should really have been a Monday but Monday was raining so Tuesday it was. Monday wasn’t raining all day but it was when I got up so I got back down again until it stopped raining. That meant it was both too late and I wasn’t in the mood. That’s winter for you. Tuesday, well, it was still winter and it HAD been raining but it was past tense, or almost past tense. Past by the time the coffee was gone so it was time I was gone. Hmm. I’d go easy, I’d go river. Down to Beccles and I parked up at the pool. It seemed the easiest place for where I was planning to fish. I wanted a ruffe and a bream would be nice; my maggots were not as fresh as I’d have hoped and were stinking a bit but they’d get a bath and they seemed lively enough so they might do well. Besides, the fry by the pontoon were attacking them with gusto. No piking gear, just the tiddler-bashers. I jumped in and set off downstream, there was definitely no rain about now, it was glorious, if a little nippy. Quite still it was and I didn’t feel like exerting myself. lucky really, the Cuda doesn’t take well to exertion – it tires me quicker rather than moving quicker. At least I was dry though, no cold, wet foot from my shredded sidewinder foot that should have been replaced a year or so ago. Nice and slow and downstream I go, casting here and there in likely spots. Down to my never-fail chub spot. nothing. Not a chub, not a dace, not a roach nor a perch; no gudgeon and definitely no ruffe. A boat though, I wasn’t sure it’d get through but they managed to coax it under to my annoyance as I needed the laugh. I gave it a couple of biteless hours and decided to move back upstream, failing all the way. There was nothing for it but to try for fry. Haha. size 16, red maggot, half maggot, quarter maggot, sliver of maggot; no. Side 20 (the other rod) just as disastrous. I was watching them, I was giggling like a child and I was getting quite tense. There was nothing else for it, size 24 and the tiniest sliver of red maggot…half an hour of constant harassment and I hooked one, it fell off in mid-air. Right you, even tinier sliver somehow just on the hook…ten minutes and bingo! A roach. Well I couldn’t really go home on a blank this early, could I!

Good things come to those who bait…08/11/2013

Good things come to those who bait…08/11/2013 [i]“I had a fixed purpose when I put to sea. As I sat in the boat with my band of men, I meant to perform to the uttermost”[/i] I like to read. I find many useless words and sentences which make me think “Aha! I can use that!” Well, I have time to read when I’m on shift, lots of time in fact. I also get to see the sun come up and sometimes the caffeine is present just enough that I can put to sea, and like Beowulf I tend to do so with a fixed purpose. Well, today was going to include sitting in a boat with a band of men. A small band, to be fair, Brian and I in fact but for someone normally alone in a kayak that’s enough of a band to suit a quote. The quest, as this was, was to find a large cod or winter roker from a bit further out, intercepting them on the way in. Kind of a game of roulette here, a gamble. We both have enough in the freezer for the time being so we could afford to be patient. For me I could go a lot further out than normal, chase the tide and sit out conditions that otherwise would have kept me inshore or even ashore. Not to mention only out for 3-4 hours. But I’m one of those simple-minded souls who’s always happy whatever as long as I have a rod in my hand. Leave off work, exhausted, home, try to grab ten minutes, too excited, grab gear, bait, get changed, lock the door and down to the Yacht Club; in through the gate, down to the pontoons, engine warming up, kettle on, ropes off and away we go, out of the Yacht Club, out of the harbour and off to mark 1, out near the Southwest Holm. I’ve rigged up and baited up ready while Brian’s been ploughing through the swells, heading for where the fish might be. We’ve got quite a mixture here, longshore herring and mackerel, both fresh, stale herring from the freezer, unwashed loligo squid, Lancashire black lug and two life yellowtail lug. They’re, umm, in reserve or something… I whack pennel out uptide and a wishbone across, 2/0’s baited with blacks and squid rings/heads, and drop a downtide pennel off the back. The water is running hard out here. Brian’s first, a huge great whopping bend in the rod as the first whiting takes off! It’s ignored. It’s a nice keeper – a lot of them are out here, around the ¾-1lb mark as an average maybe – but no, something bigger is wanted. Not just by us though. Surrounded we were, anywhere up to five seals around us at any one time during the day. They didn’t want our whiting – there’s plenty of those and herring around – they were just waiting for the same thing as us, cod. With Brian in the lead I checked my rod; double shot on the wishbone. Again decent whiting but the flow was so quick I had the traces quite twisted. Better under 2 knots, those rigs. Still, it untwisted and went out again. Then one hell of a bite on the cod uptider, one for the mantelpiece for sure: Next was Brian’s roker rod, his big roker rod. Head and guts sent downtide ona balloon… Things were really picking up!!! The tide slowed, we’d had plenty of decent whiting but not found our quarry so it was off now to the Three Mile Bank. The promised land where the spurdogs and tope had come in the summer, where the hounds and roker had been in numbers. The good fish come through here but what a nightmare when I tried it on the kayak, absolute nightmare, the depth and tide had me struggling and quite frankly it’s unlikely I’ll paddle out there again. Well, we had more of the same; more good whiting, and I mean all the way through the day a few minutes apart, some tiny ones but mostly decent keepers, and more seals around us but we just couldn’t find a roker or cod this time. But that’s fishing, we tried. Inshore the others were struggling too, two small codling from the roads, another further south from us so ahead on a safe bet but not by much. One last try perhaps, down to the South Holm where the ebb should be starting, slack having arrived out here… Brian went out to drop anchor and noticed the wind – it had built up considerably. The sky had darkened, there was heavy rain in a few places around us on the horizon so we hung back and waited. Then it started to hammer down with no telling how long it would last; we came in. You know, it’s marvellous to come in without having to make an effort after you’ve been busy all day; none of the up-anchor and paddle, wait for the surf to be how you want it, drag everything up the beach and the slope. Very genteel this way of fishing and I’ve rather come to love being spoilt! Just a quick wash and brush down of the deck and a bit of tidying up and we’re away. Part two to follow soon no doubt, will the cod join us? Nb sorry about the photos not being up to the usual standards, mostly video captures and even then I didn’t film as much as normal as we didn’t get the bending rods this time. Marvellous day though nonetheless, haven’t a clue how many fish we had all in though, but there was certainly a lot.