What’s This A Pout?...08/01/2014

What’s This A Pout?...08/01/2014 So Nick and I had arranged to get out on the sea to try and find some cod or whatever else might be around. Midday launch was the best we could do as low water was way too early. Trouble was, we’d still be a bit early and would be dropping anchor mid-flow on a fairly big tide. The flow was against the wind too which would be troublesome, kicking up a bit of swell and the wind…well, 20mph or so gusting to mid-30’s from the south southwest. Brian was out for the end of the ebb and I gave him a call to see what was happening. The news was dreadful – they’d moved off to the Stanford Channel now as the roads were still not fishing; a couple of small whiting and three whelks. I suppose if you boil them long enough they’d last all day. So, everything against us, including the tide which meant a hard paddle north. I’d already heard the news that a commercial had been offshore and shot a fifteen mile line and had practically nothing to show for the fuel burned and fifteen miles of bait; Brian confirmed this, apparently they’d done it twice a few days apart, had two boxes of mixed fish the first time and less than one the second; four boats had worked one of the days and one of them had nothing at all for the market. Not good news, the fish just aren’t about. Still, Brian and Andy were getting some decent whiting from the channel now, even if it was lumpy out there. It was good to take the Scupper out to sea again, it’s been months. No more dragging the Cuda up and down the slope with stops every couple of minutes; back to lightweight performance again. Nick was in his trident 11 and he had his Warbird 220 with him on a tiny rod, hoping to start on the competition; I had them on both my IM7 Maxximus rods. We had points to gather as well as food! The sea was looking okay, a bit of swell but nothing major. A few beach anglers about, looking bored. We launched and headed north, slowly. Reasonable waves behind, semi-surfing along, we doglegged out to the first scar and I dropped anchor, letting out most of my warp to set the 1kg Bruce into the bottom. It dug straight in and the water started rushing past as I swung into the turn, facing downtide. The swells became more noticeable now, 3ft or so in the main, some a bit larger. With the wind as well I was being bounced around a fair bit. I baited up, black lug tipped with squid as always. Nick had dropped down ahead of me but his anchor wouldn’t catch; 1.5kg grapnel. He was dragged slowly south until he finally stabilised in the distance. I cast across the tide and let out most of my line, hoping it would bed the 8oz breakaways into the rough ground below. It did, and I sat back to await the first bite. And waited. Half an hour later I saw Nick up-anchor and start heading back against the flow. Twenty minutes passed and finally a bite; I struck and started pulling up against the tide, quite a pull, especially for what turned out to be a small pouting; at 24cm it got me started on the Warbird Challenge with an easily beatable score; it also knocked the first species off the list for the year and one which I’d struggled for last year. A few minutes later Nick made it back up and then headed in closer to shore where the flow may be slightly slower. The next tap came about an hour later; reeling in I saw my squid had been stolen. Replaced, it went back down. Twenty minutes later and I had to replace the squid on the other rod. Another half an hour and the first rod was robbed of squid again; the fish weren’t hanging around and didn’t seemed interested in the worm once the squid was gone. With an hour left to slack water I finally got a decent bite, the rod banging down, hard. I picked up the rod, felt the pull again and struck into what felt like a decent weight of fish, four or five pounds perhaps. I started to reel it in, giving it another hit when the line tightened and then it began to fight; I held the rod up high and felt it dashing, this wasn’t a cod and no way could it be a whiting at this size. But it’s only just over a week into January, surely not a bass? Well, I’m pretty certain it was (especially after hearing after of a schoolie coming from the rocks the same day a mile away). But I will never know because on one of its dashes it threw the hook. Damn, one decent fish to start the year off and it got away. As the tide started to slacken Nick headed in; I’d just rebaited and gave it a bit longer, hoping for one last fish. A few squid robbers but nothing hooked and, with a shift to get to sleep before, I reeled in, spun around and wound the anchor up, paddling in quickly now I was back in my Scupper and surfing the last bit onto the shore. One last moment of excitement occurred coming up the steps when my bow handle pulled through the attachment point, stuck now I reattached it to the riveted strap eye the sail attaches to and that pulled out as well. Oh well, I pulled the whole lot up the hill backwards and loaded up, assisted by Nick who’d hung around to wait and at least had dinner with one nice sized dab. Roll on next time and more luck.