I’ve always regretted that I haven’t fished one of the northern events almost as much as I regret having not fished up here for the sake of it, partly because of the quality of the fishing and partly because of the hardcore kayak anglers up here. The North Sea is a serious business and a lot of the fellas I’ve got to know on the forums over the years I’ve never met so this event already held a huge attraction for me.
Martin (Collison) was also coming and would pick me up en-route, a cost-sharing exercise which makes things more affordable for those of us who have to trek halfway around the country to attend anything. Supposedly coming in the evening he worked late and was around mine for midday. Coffee was followed by loading up and we set off for The North by way of fast food. An offer of a sofa near Hull was decided against and we continued direct to the bay where we were greeted by a fine sunset over cliffs unlike home and a flat sea. Should we fish or should we get a drink? You try a seven hour drive and turning down a shandy in surroundings like that!
It’s a funny thing but we passed a sign to Goathland just before arrival and it’s almost exactly twenty years since I went there to rescue my fiancee from a family holiday there, the only time I’d been in this part of the world. The intervening two decades seemingly erasing the arduous journey in my beaten up old wreck of a Mini from my mind. Soon after we descended a ski slope and parked up. George (Spud) turned up ten minutes later and joined us, the first time we’ve met though we’re not unfamiliar with each other. Two shandies and a load of packets of crisps (no point trying to get back up that slope and then looking for somewhere for a proper meal) followed while the midges constantly harassed us and then it was time to wet a line from the shore in a flat sea with barely a ripple on it. Luminous Fladen Portland Eel for me on a spinning rod and a lumi eel for Martin on his. We both had good catches of kelp before giving up and heading for the van to try and sleep…him upright in the van and me on the ground next to it wrapped up in a bivvy bag that the midges still made their way into. Bad night number one!
Up early and into Whitby with George. Apparently the cafes open early for the charter skippers and you can earwig to find stuff out. So, after going into Whitby Fishing and buying a couple of bits – and Martin calling them Whitby Angling – and Whitby Angling – and Martin asking them if they could bring him bait to an event they weren’t attending – we found a greasy spoon that grilled everything and listened in to the skippers over a full English. I learnt that brown sauce was the top bait for skippers and crew and deduced that should I use red sauce I’d be straight away identified as a soft southerner. I reached for the Lea and Perrins and Colmans Mustard and got an extra spoon of coffee in my mug; I’d show them!
Shall we get on with the fishing? I’m sure you’d prefer it if I did. Back to Runswick and a strong wind. Two black Tempos off the roof and kit out of the van.
At home it’d be a choice of two spinning rods with lures or two boat rods with baits. Not here. I went for one spinning rod with sabikis and one boat rod with a Portland Eel. Mark (Mark8) turned up around this time and George went back to bed. I left them to get on with it and trolleyed myself down to the slip and launched.
Where to fish? We had no choice but to stay in the bay with this wind – apparently it got up to almost thirty knots at times – which would leave tomorrow’s hoped for area uncharted but we’d at least have a chance to recce the inner area which weather could restrict us to. Should I begin near the rocks or…? Easy answer, head for the birds.
I paddled up-wind of them, unclipped the sabikis and dropped down for a drift. Straight through and under the birds with nothing and then a few hundred yards past the shoal hammered into me and the rod arched down greatly. It’s a 10-30g Xtraflexx and you feel the lot on that, especially with braid on a small fixed spool spinning reel (I had the FS-30 out, all oiled up and ready for action rather than the LP Magnet baitcaster as I didn’t intend trolling). Now I’ve been getting decent bass of late but this was something else. A steam train. I finally knew what people meant about the hit from a Pollack and worked the rod around the kayak until I subdued my catch and got it to the surface. Four PB mackerel were attached, not Pollack at all and they were almost double the size of any I’ve caught before. That was a marvellous start and I now had bait.
I’d landed a dozen and shook more off by the time the others launched, trying to get one at a time, and was now on larger hokkais and the eel, drifting, to try and avoid more of these mini-tuna. Had I had a freezer to return to I’d have not moved from that spot all day, the sport and the marvellous food and bait section of mine and my friend’s freezers would have all been satisfied but I had no choice but to leave them alone. I was across the bay now and quarter of a mile further out than the start of my drift and lost my rig and one of my Fladen Portland Pirks, baited with mackerel strip, so I headed straight back across for another drift on the new line.
I found Mark and Martin who’d yet to catch (they were on hokkais and the mackerel only seemed to want the smaller rigs) and started another drift, a couple more mackerel which I managed to shake off but mostly blanking on the eel and large hokkais with jigging and then, a further quarter mile out and across the bay again I paddled back for another drift. Two rigs hooked up and lost on this second drift.
I changed again, I’d go for some species; small pieces of mackerel trailed across the clear sandy ground in the centre of the bay, on sabikis, and I avoided the mackerel, picking up my first gurnard of the year, a stunning grey! Back in the sea and I dropped down again. A few minutes passed and I had a lovely small one that would have been a star in my aquarium at home. I’ve only had one before as they’re not present at home as far as I know and after marvelling at it I popped it back to swim away. Then I found the rough ground and lost the rig.
Back across the bay once more and I hooked up with Martin. The wind had increased so I stuck two leads down with the giant Fladen hokkais I’d bought in town (all mine are smaller) and I started to drift. A snag within seconds saw me trying for ages before it broke off. I watched a potter come past lifting pots and then spied the lost gear on their rope…
“Excuse me mister, can I have my ball back please?” Of course I could and they handed it over as I paddled alongside. Then a thought, they could make good use of my mackerel and I asked them if they wanted them…”Have you got some? Yes please!” Passing them up I then felt something and turned around…”Hell, I’ve got some more!” and three more were passed up still thrashing! They were loving it. We chatted, I told them about the comp the next day and they said they’d move their gear, more for their benefit than ours I suppose but a good result.
Ten minutes later I lost that rig for good.
I sat with martin a while and watched him catch a cod, he’d done what we’d set out for. A nice fish but no monster it went back again.
I headed over to the south side again and tried the shadding again with a red Portland Eel on a flying collar trace. That was my first codling caught in Yorkie style; a small fish so no regrets at returning it and I’d managed to get the technique I supposed.
I headed over to some breaking waves near the point and tried trolling a Fladen wedge in the hope of bass but in a couple of feet depth I just kept snagging. Well, why not land and study the ground? The Tempo was pulled up out of the water and I went for a wander, looking around the rockpools, such as they were. It was all flat rock below the cliffs and apart from enough anenomes to have stocked my tank at home (I only have two so far) it was devoid of anything, even crab. I did find a broken rod and a working reel though and after removing as much trapped line as I could I stowed it in the hatch to bin on my return to the shore proper and made my way back to the kayak, picking up a small jig on the way.
Another couple of drifts with and without bait on hokkais and eels and pirks followed with the net result of more lost gear and then I was over the kelp past the northern side of the bay. I beached and went wondering again.
I found some trapped fry and a small hermit amongst rock and metal and then spied a larger fish in a pool. I tried to tempt it with baited sabiki one hook) but it wasn’t having any of it and it looked pretty damaged by rock, fish or bird. I decided to try and hand catch it and a few minutes later I had a sprat in my hand. If only it had taken the hook it would have been species 22 for the year!
No matter. I released it in open sea and started back, dragging a wedge over, through and into kelp for no result, landing back ashore after a good eight hours and fifteen or so miles on the water in strong winds, large chop and decent swells.
Three species, great sport but nothing that would have got me placed in any competition. At least knew what the bay was like to fish though and it was definitely time well spent. Martin backed the van down, we loaded up and headed for East Barnby Outdoor Centre by way of a few missed turns.
Once there we started bumping into old friends and new before hooking up with Ed (Floydyboy) and Chicky and heading into Whitby for a very enjoyable Indian meal before returning and partying a bit with the stopovers. With rain forecast another night on the ground was not appealing and we laid ourselves out on the sofa. Life’s great under the white rose.
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