Chariots of Water…01/03/2014

Chariots of Water…01/03/2014 I’m quite a thoughtful guy. With a light offshore wind we all wanted to go fishing and because I’d bargained for a weekend session it would give me the chance to fish with some of the guys I don’t see much now. And I may as well see if Paul wanted to come too. He had no bait and no roofbars for the new car though so declines. So I offered to pick him up and loan him some bait. So he undeclined. I know it was a bad idea but his antics amuse me. So of course my alarm goes off early and I hear the pitter patter of rain. I don’t like rain. I do like fishing though. I dragged myself out of bed, early because I had to fetch Paul and his kayak of course, losing half an hour’s sleep. I put the kettle on for coffee. “I’m leaving it mate. Don’t do rain.” Ah. Text from Paul. “But the rain is your fault.” “Thought it might be. Makes sense.” “Stopped anyway. It’s dew.” “Hasn’t here. Just not enjoyable conditions for me. I only fish for fun. And that wouldn’t be.” So I leave early and pull up at the car park where Frank and James await. James is full of cold. They’re both sitting there hoping I’m going to cancel. But I’m not. I explain that I’d invited Paul and they agree it’s his fault. They then grudgingly get suited up. In the dew. Aaron turns up next, then Tim and with us all sorted we head down to the beach, an hour and a half before high in the hope the flow is manageable now. We get Aaron launched first, then laugh at Frank as he hooks his PFD and battles the shore dump while attached, his kayak approaching vertical, and then he’s out. We follow. Quite a swell considering that conditions should have been perfect but no matter. Paul, who has come to take photos and see us off continued to curse us. We start with Aaron, get him anchored – his first time anchoring here – and he shoots backwards as the stretch comes out of his warp and I float rapidly downtide. I paddle up past him and with him settled in position drop my own anchor. It’s so fast that instead of ending up alongside I’m just past shouting distance downtide, slightly further out. A four minute mile kind of day. I cast out, first time using my new kit – Fladen Nano 10-20lb 7ft boat rods and 15 LD Maxximus Lever Drag reels. Colin comes steaming past on his way to the usual spot to our north, another party out on Lead Us. Brian’s postponed his party on Cleveland Princess because of the tides and headed out for a recce with Andy on Wader Bay. Jon’s pout somewhere on High Flyer but not in sight. There are seven boats in the bay here to our north today. Tim’s alongside me and we’re both solid. Frank and James are down from us and Aaron is suddenly catching us up – his anchor has pulled. I call over to release it, paddle in and come back out in half an hour when the flow has lessened but he can’t hear in this wind; he continued downstream and so does James. Frank calls up that he’s had his first fish. I call James, tell him to head in with Aaron and wait, he’s gone over to assist anyway. A friend in need and all that. We watch as the two of them battled four knots for a while to land level with us an age later. Bet that hurt! Tim and I are getting loads of snatch bites but nothing is connecting. Mostly whiting but two pulls that scream cod go un-rewarded. Nice rod and reel though. Tim reappeared moments later. That’s the sort of swell we had coming beam-on. Tim actually looked bigger though. Like this: …But I stopped looking at Tim and looked at my rod when it moved… Ooooh yeah. Felt nice on this rod. Felt nice in this tide. Just, well, felt nice. It was one of these. Rakers cut to bleed and it’s into the tankwell under the net. Not too much longer to wait, ten minutes maybe? Had my hood up by now, that wind on my neck was grim. …and another keeper cod. We could see James heading back up the ramp, his cold had got to him sadly but Aaron wasn’t giving up. Kid’s got no brains! He came out through the shore dump with no trouble, paddle uptide and sufficiently inshore that he could drop anchor without causing problems for us and let his warp out like he’d done it a million times. The flow caught him out too and he ended up further than he wanted, lucky though as the wind swung him a bit. Right in front of me, but at an angle to his warp so I could still fish and further than I was casting so it was okay. He caught a cracking whiting then, within minutes. I needed a whiting now, for the WSF species hunt. Out went the Ice Pike rod and Warbird 220 because I also needed a cod on it. I told Tim this. Seconds before I got a bite on it… Another cod…back she went. Loads of babies this year, it’s great to see. …and then my whiting. A good one at that! I was happy now, two species, two keepers and everyone safe and catching. Tim was waiting for cod but apart from him and Aaron the rest of us had had them…now what was Aaron doing? He needs a stronger rod, that’s bending too much. Except it’s not the rod…he calls over that he’s into a cod and yes, a nice one too – easily bigger than mine. What a result! Of course it was my cod, it was heading up the tide to my juicy bait it had smelled when it spotted his en-route and wondered what it was, getting hooked accidentally inside the mouth while investigating. But I'll let him take the credit this time. Soon after the yaks start to wander as slack approaches and the wind takes over. We haul up, head in and land. I’m chuffed, two keeper cod, christening both my new rods/reels and a nice, roe-filled whiting to boot. I give time one of the cod – I’ve got some in the freezer so one fresh will do me for now and he’s driven a long way for his first cod session this season. Besides, he’s earned it… …has he? How? Well, I skipped a bit. You see when we came in that shore dump was in the way. So was a beach angler. Our launch spot was taken – and rightly so, we don’t own it – so we had to land south of the groyne. So in I go and with my stern lifting on a wave I lean back, keep the nose floating and then it’s ploughing through the shingle. Fine, I’m upright. That wave passes under and my old, cold bones can’t do a thing and then the backwash gets me and I get flooded by the next wave, turning the yak on its side a bit; it locks onto the chine, I manage to get out and stand and run to haul it up the beach. Trouble is, there’s a gulley here and I’m thigh deep; the next wave picks the yak up sideways and it comes at me. I hold it, it stays upright but there’s water everywhere and one of my cod has gone…I haul the kayak up and start looking in the waves. One reason not to gut the fish at sea, they float if you don’t. Tim spots it though, fifty yards up from us, a couple of minutes later. So it’s kind of his. Tim’s landed behind me and here comes Frank, impressive skills! Aaron last, and he picks his moment for an easy ride. Lovely. Now let’s see that fish…his first Corton cod I think he was happy. Now, I mentioned that the tide was really strong. That’s because it was the lowest tide of the year, and also the biggest. This actually led onto something else later…Abigail and I wandered to the end of the road in the afternoon to see what the beach looked like uncovered and to see if the wreck was exposed. I took the camera of course. This smaller groyne reappeared not so long ago and the sand that’s disappeared this winter in the storms can be measured by it. Sometimes I bang my toes on it when pulling the surf kayak out of the rip there but now it’s a bit higher than toe-level. It’s pretty nasty really. We walked the beach to get some long views. Apart from the shingle bank that’s built up it’s all flat, featureless sand below. In the summer it’s usually flat sand to the promenade. That’s when we didn’t find this usually-submerged groyne nor any like it Nor did we find sackfuls of fresh, Lowestoft, sandy blue-flag beach mussels attached to it. If anyone says we did then tell them it’s not the case please. And while not grabbing half a carrier-bag full in my hands we didn’t find, two feet above the sand amongst them breathing the water retained in its gills, a shanny. And Abigail did not take great delight in releasing this to swim away and a pool of water. And this was not dinner. Rather a successful day I think.