Further Afield...West Bay Ray...23-24/04/10

There I was on Thursday evening, back in from a long drive around the South Coast and just wanting to get back, sling the Ultra and my Scupper on the Transporter when I saw it was already loaded for a trip. Bugger! The big Merc I’d been driving around would have to do instead and so I went to get the Ultra from the yard. Bugger again! Seagulls had taken exception to my pressure washing a day or two before and it now looked decidedly un-pristine. Oh well, I slung them in the back of the van along with a delivery to be done en-route and headed home to get my fishing kit sorted out.

Friday morning saw me running around for squid, food and drink before heading south via Lakeside where I ran into Decathlon to buy myself a new small tent for the various demos and meets where I’ll be camping (due to the banter on the campsite beating the comfort of the hotel). Arriving at Westgate bay in Kent just after 1pm I went straight to the launch point (luckily) and got myself ready for the first session of the meet. Dumped into a long conversation (in my underpants) with a local by another forum member who was already glazed over I got kitted up rapidly and made excuses about missing the tide etc before legging it down to the beach with the Scupper to launch and head out to sea.

The sea was glorious – flat and quite clear; the weather was outstanding – warm with only a slight breeze and there were 17 of us on the water. I had a look on the charts loaded into my Humminbird and headed for a drop-off, 46ft of water a mile out, thinking that this looked promising. I was away from the main group and dropped anchor with Bluey on each of my rods. I had bites from the outset and loads of them. First up was this feisty fella:

More missed nibbles and bites and then another followed before I watched my line tighten and start pulling the rod tip down...game on! I was into my first Thornback Ray, or Roker as they call them up where I live, tempted by frozen black lugworm tipped with bluey. It gave a good account of itself and took a bit of effort to bring up from the deeper water but finally I had it in the yak where I worried about the effect of its skin and thorns on my drysuit!

Another doggy was followed by the most curious capture I’ve made yet – I don’t know what the hell this is but it had eaten the bait and had two 4/0 Vikings in the top of it. I didn’t really want to touch the bugger but it was easily unhooked and released over the side unharmed. Another doggy followed it in and then I had the rod bend over again...Roker number two, a bit bigger, had taken a squid body stuffed with herring. I was chuffed ;D

The constant bites slowed and I was starting to get a headache so I up-anchored and wandered in. Spotting Lozz I went over for a chat and then heard Amos give a yell as he finally got his thornie...

  

Then Lozz, who’d already had a few, started hauling up another...

...it looked like an excellent meet was on the cards!

I dropped anchor again but tempted no further fish and soon we all headed in, loading up and heading for the campsite where, at around 7pm, I parked next to the electrical hook-up Milesfromthesea ordered (figured it may be a useful pitch to be near) and cooked myself a bacon sarnie, my first food of the day. I needed a starter before the main course of barbecued ribs you see. This was all washed down with the only beer I could possibly partake in. Here I was in Kent so Shepherd Neame had to be the brewer of choice...and I was in Manston so there was nothing for it – I had to have a night on the Spitfire!

Saturday dawned slightly hung-overcast and so after bacon and egg sarnies (note to self, fruit and veg adds colour) and paying a disgruntled but actually very nice and friendly site-owner (‘We don’t allow vans of that size/commercial vehicles and it’s lucky you arrived yesterday after we’d gone and you’ll have to pay extra etc’) I got some toys out of the van...the new Ocean Kayak Prowler Ultra XT (with the ice box and live bait kit, both of which should be available soon), a bunch of Lendal paddles and three Pacific Action sails. I had mine attached to my Scupper and one attached to the Ultra (the forthcoming style) and attached the other two to Amos’ yak, which was already rigged for it, and to Todaymueller’s which just needed a couple of screws undone for a temporary fix...job done!

 

A lot of interest was shown in the Pacific Action sails – after all, if you’re like me once you’ve bought way more than you need to buy and a bit more you finally run out of kayaks and fishing stuff to spend the money on...but sails are another toy to add to the mix and enhance/increase the use of the kayak and it’s rare to see them attached to a kayak in the flesh and with the opportunity to play with them which is an important consideration when thinking about getting one.

Time was getting away from us; fish were swimming a few miles away. I offered a sail-rigged Ultra to Mattyoga who had fished the day before in his Frenzy and unsurprisingly he accepted. Of course, he will now become the face of ‘Kayak Anorak’ Monthly ;D

Off we went, heading for a promising looking mark. A very slight breeze was used to assist us along although this soon grew into something a bit stronger which had white horses ahead of us.

We turned and headed uptide and inshore a bit before anchoring up.

My Scupper Pro kept yawing as we had wind, swell and tide all moving in conflicting directions and as I couldn’t get it to stay in one position, from which I planned to photograph Matt with some fish, he moved the Ultra out of the rather large zone I occupied and started to fish. I, however, was already landing whiting.

The trouble was my frozen lugworm had got a bit moist so to stop them breaking up I had to dry them out. Luckily I had the solution ;D

Oh, and doggies, which were duly kissed on the nose and released or bashed on the head and kept.

 

It was quite funny really. Todaymueller arranged a fishing meet but hadn’t stopped whizzing around in all directions!

Bloody hooligan! Ah well, the tide was turning and we weren’t getting thornies unlike Lozz and so he, Matt and I set course as a fleet for Lozz’s position and let rip with the sails, zooming along and with me being a pain in the arse because I couldn’t steer and film at the same time.

Arriving near Lozz I ran around the back of Baileybridger and noted the ground dropping from 12ft to 16ft. I dropped anchor and dropped the first rod down with bluey on a 4/0 running leger. 

I baited the other rod, with a 3 hook 2/0 flapper trace for some other fish and dropped it in. We were clearly on slack as my first line was loose and pretty close into the boat...I tightened it up and felt, after a minute or two in the water, the solid feel of a thornie!

I popped this one back having enough to take home with yesterday’s pair and watched as it swam away. There’s something fascinating about them, these pre-historic sea-monster type fish. Matt was alongside again by now.

No more fish followed and after a couple of hours I decided to head in. Up came the anchor and as I started in Ben started to make odd noises, kind of like Yes! Hurrah! Woohoo! Etc. I paddled over to see if he was okay as I could see he had his rod in his hand ;D

Perfect timing that was and a great end to the session for me. I raised the sail and headed in, almost into the wind. I hauled the sail right down on one side and held it in place with my foot while paddling gently against the tide...I was making 3.5mph on my way in.

Matt and Andy both ended up on the beach at around the same time and an irresistible shot presented itself as the two Ultra’s sat in their natural element.

The night passed in another blur of banter, food and beer with barbecued dogfish a hazy memory but at least I knew when to quit...

Sunday for me was just an ending. Waking up and calling Amos to inform Jeeves that I was ready for coffee was followed by finishing off the bacon and eggs and a visit to the Spitfire Memorial at Manston, an airfield very much linked to some old friends of mine - some alive, some dead - who had flown Typhoons out of here in 1942 and 1943. Then it was time for the drive home...

Sitting here a couple of days later and I’m wondering why I didn’t fish Sunday. I should have got up, fished and then came home. The fishing was excellent, the banter too and with the weather it really ended up being a top weekend. I think that I can honestly say that with all those factors it’s overall the best meet I’ve attended to date and hopefully it’ll be on again next year.

 

Bill Spills...18/04/2010

Amazingly Bill’s drysuit has finally come into existence and, champing at the bit, he wanted to try it on for size along with his Big Game that has been waiting the same treatment. Initially having other plans for the weekend it became obvious that the new launch / mark could wait as there wasn’t any better time or place to help Bill get started than Lowestoft South Beach on Sunday morning...

An easy launch with close, free parking. The forecast of hardly a breath of wind and what there was coming from the west, a flattening breeze. A tiny southerly swell that was easily blocked and deflected by the projection from the shore of South pier. A tide that would not reach its peak until l after I was back on shore and at a local theme park with the girls. Crap fishing on a poorly performing stretch of shallow sandy beach aside it was perfect.

05:30 and I was on the road from my house 300 yards from the launch point, parking my van right by the ramp. I know it was lazy of me but in my defence I couldn’t give a toss ;D I carried the yak onto the beach, followed by my gear and then went and parked. Bill had beaten me there and was already getting sorted out so we ended up ready at similar times. I don’t think he’s seen the sun rise for a while but it was a super morning to see one – it was a fantastic morning.

Down we went and after finalising things Bill dragged his kayak out and onto the water. I filmed, then followed with mine meaning to hop on once he was afloat and paddling. Getting used to the seat position actually on a moving, fluid surface needed a bit longer so I pushed my Scupper back and held the nose of Bill’s yak while he shifted and adjusted things before getting ready to paddle out. Standing  close at hand I decided to film the ‘surf’ from down low and zoomed in to try to increase the visual size to give an idea of the power of a 6-inch rolling surf.

Sorted out once again, and with his knackers sealed against further influxes of sea water Bill got comfortable and paddled out to the back of the groyne before I joined him and we headed for a lazy wander around. Bill opted to invest the morning in getting used to the feel of his kayak while I anchored and fished as he mooched around nearby. I had salted down some twice defrosted black lug and with a smattering of squid (some rediscovered remnants thawed out previously) I was into little bites straight away. Nibbles really. I failed to foul hook anything with my 4/0 pennels but it was good to know that there were things moving around in this barren seabed.

 Low water came and went, slack didn’t really occur and then the tide started to flood, reaching nearly 2mph even in the sheltered bay we had. Once it started pushing weed and flotsam onto my line in quantities it was time to go in. Bill’s son was waiting on the beach and as he paddled in to a smooth landing it was clear that Bill had enjoyed his first launch.

Me? I managed the two smallest starfish I’d ever landed...

...what a glorious session it was though ;D

Further Afield. Avon Beach...15/04/2010

With a delivery trip down south to Christchurch planned for Thursday I gave Overrun a call to see if he was free for a repeat of last year's dogging session  but he fancied going fishing instead. Fair enough I thought and though originally intending to take his wife's twin hatch scupper pro out it turned out that I didn't have a completely full load so decided to take mine. Then it occurred to me that I hadn't yet tried the Ultra and, as it had already got wet with Pugwash the previous week, I loaded the demo one on and headed south. It also meant that i could give the Bournemout Canoes chaps a chance to see one and the features of it.

On the way I spoke to Tratty who wanted to see it too so after some food and a drink the three of us met on the beach. Now, Tratty was the first owner of the Elite in the UK so was quite a good person to get an opinion on it from. He seemed to like it  ;D As the pair of them took turns then shared it I stood on the beach filming before heading out to try and find some fish but expecting nothing.

That was exactly what we caught but it was a pleasant couple of hours all the same.

Tim’s Birthday Blowout...13/04/2010

Sometimes a forecast is not necessary to decide on having a day afloat and today was one such day, being Westie’s birthday. I figured that this was as good a reason as any for taking a day’s holiday and duly booked it a few weeks back with the intention of joining him wherever for a spot of fishing. The trouble is, a force 5 north-easterly decided to start blowing a couple of days beforehand and continue throughout the 13th. A north-easterly on this coast practically trashes the local fishing as the swell grows, the chop grows and the sea just becomes a mess making fishing a chore at best, impossible at worst.

But it’s alright for a hard paddle, bit of surf play or sailing! The plan was hatched – we’d rig Tim’s Scupper Pro to take a Pacific Action sail (six holes) and head north to Gorleston to blast down the coast to Lowestoft for a nice cold beer. A plan if ever I heard one ;D The only thing that wasn’t ideal was the tide time. An early start is not good for a birthday so we kept our fingers crossed that the wind would be stronger than the tide.

Arriving at Gorleston we unloaded, rigged up, kitted up and carried the yaks down to the shore. The sea was going berserk! The cauldron by the harbour wall was spiking wildly with clapotis reaching heights well overhead! Tim’s new Mysto and my Yak Board weren’t with us and with sails on we decided not to play in it but instead to launch through the shore break and head on out.

The exciting start continued when we saw that there were some bloody good surfing waves to be had and Tim took the first one all the way in to the shore. I drifted past the break while filming but did pick up a less impressive wave that bore me down towards the beach before I turned sideways and swung around it as it formed a peak, a semi circle manoeuvre that I found rather impressive even though it was nothing to do with me! Playtime over we headed out and flung the sails up.



Off we went! The sea was big and messy, very confused and we’d take off in one direction, skid around and head somewhere else, skid and be heading back the original way! Then, a stroke or two of the paddle and we’d pick up a wave and surf it as well ;D



No sitting back and taking it easy like on Sunday, I was making constant corrections, bracing and supporting with the paddle and changing the position of the control lines which I was using cleated today.



Tim was leaving it as set and paddling as well, disappearing off to the distance all the time unless disappearing below the waves between us. It was pretty bloody good bumpy out there.



Reaching Hopton, we came ashore hoping that Steve would be bringing us some coffees – poor bugger had a disaster and couldn’t join us to try out his own PA sail sadly. Tim surfed in and I followed, surfing in under sail power. Tim came out to grab me as I surfed on in; it was doable!

Steve hadn’t made it so after looking at some of the video already taken and clearing space on the camera we launched again, initially together but I grabbed the wrong thing and removed some bungee from the kayak and had to get things sorted again which allowed Tim to get in position to film me coming through some damned good surf ;D

We then called in our intentions to the Coastguard knowing that we were going into the roughest part and set course, via a wide berth of the sea wall, for Lowestoft. The sea really picked up after a few minutes and with Tim now carrying the camera there was little chance to dare use it. The waves were bigger, closer, coming from all angles and occasionally breaking and we had loads of fun using the skills we’d acquired playing in the cauldron at Gorleston over the last few months. We assumed we’d need to furl the sails and rely on paddling alone for the run down to Corton, where the sea defences ended, but were able to continue sailing.



It took a surprisingly long time to transit this area and so I took a reference point (no GPS today) and rechecked it regularly. Calling across to Tim to ask the time it was clear that we were now unlikely to make Lowestoft in time to avoid me getting my arse kicked from my wife and he would have to dash back to his family later than intended as the wind was starting to drop and we were now in the full run of the ebbing tide. We were sailing hard, paddling mildly and just about creeping forward and as much fun as it was it was clear that we’d have to head in short of our destination and make other arrangements and so we headed for Tramp’s Alley at Corton. This lies just south of the sea wall and the waves dropped off considerably – we could have actually anchored and fished inshore here now. No matter, we landed, hauled the yaks up to the road and tried calling Steve to beg a lift back to my vehicle ;)



Bugger. Answerphone. For the next half an hour we failed to get hold of him and so, dressed in my black baby romper suit I stood by the roadside, thumb out, trying to hitch a ride while Tim took the piss and looked for cab numbers on his I-Phone ;D To say the expressions of the drivers were amusing would be to understate things – clearly the thought of being picked up (even though this is a renowned dogging site) were ludicrous.



We were relieved when Steve finally answered and came down to give me a lift back to the launch point where, I noticed, the sea had flattened right off. We were lucky we launched when we did! Running back to pick Tim and the yaks up we then headed back to mine for the beers I’d placed in the fridge earlier to chill down. I think I could get used to this WAFI lark!

Ultra Wafi…11/04/10

A few days ago Pugwash let us know that he was in the area on business and that he fancied getting a bit wet if at all possible. Of course, this area is quite wet and so it was felt that he could certainly be accommodated…and in style to boot!

Sunday afternoon saw him arriving at the office where we’d arranged to meet and after a coffee and chat we loaded up the van with our demo Ultra which I’d spent a couple of days rigging with a Humminbird Side Imaging unit and a Pacific Action 1 metre sail. The original intention had been to have a play around at Gorleston before scanning the wreck of the White Swan further down then sailing down to Hopton for a bit of spring codding. Sadly the Force 4-5 north-easterly with it’s attendant wind over tide 3-5ft waves put paid to this plan so we instead opted just to launch, paddle, land and sail our way south with me sailing along on the Scupper Pro.



With the rods removed and everything stowed we got ourselves dressed up and with me filming and snapping Andy was the first onto the water doing the old Hawaii Five-0 thing as there was a bit of movement on the surface. After all, there’s no point having someone do a boat test on flat water, is there ;D

With him safely launched, I followed and the two of us paddled down to the wreck of the Swan, intending to scan it with the side imaging unit but as we had a 2-3ft sea at this point, a very strong wind and the current was starting to pick up we couldn’t get close enough for a proper scan. Instead we did the next best thing and, having briefly had my sail up, put ashore for me to do some running modifications to it. I did well on choosing the landing spot – I couldn’t have picked a worse one! The waves were dumping messily, about 4ft, and the 20mph wind was making it tricky to turn the long kayaks. I made a mental note to ship the sail properly next time too as it flicked up as I was running in; I needed to keep my hands on the paddle at this point but no matter, the surf practice in the Scupper stood me in good stead and I slid, upright, onto the beach to await Andy’s landing.

Oh dear! We needed to try this again ;D The wind and dumping surf made control of the Ultra quite hard and coupled with being in a strange boat Andy made a less than graceful exit before he reached the shoreline…and I missed the shot! Oh well, I gave him the camera and had a go, the first time I’d been on the water in an Ultra. Out I went into a lively sea and headed uptide a bit to run in away from the groyne. I picked my moment badly (for the intended test) and came in between a couple of smaller waves as opposed to the larger ones I had hoped to try and surf in which would have proved more testing. No matter. We went back out to continue our trip. Little did we know, but we were being followed ;)



Asking Andy if he was happy to try the sail he responded positively even though he’d never sailed before. A quick briefing on how to control it with the lines and it was up and at ‘em! Off we steamed, across the wind and through broadsiding waves at speeds between 5 and 7mph. We were up and down like my ex’s knickers! I somehow got the feeling that Andy was enjoying this new method of propulsion and between videos and taking pics on his camera I snapped a few on my own.





The cocky bugger even overtook me at one point…



…but it wasn’t going to be for long…



We leapfrogged back and forth down to Hopton, a couple of metres apart and chatting, with the combined efforts of wind and wave (and going over the debris field from one of the inshore wrecks) giving Andy an early bath at one point which allowed him to test the Ultra for deepwater re-entries. Having practiced them only last week he was unperturbed about being in the water (one of the main reasons for doing them regularly) even though it was the biggest sea he’d been out in. Once he’d got past the effects of the sail in countering the upturning of the hull he flipped it back over and clambered on neatly with ease. We then set sail again.

We reached Hopton where I’d originally planned to beach and, as we were having so much fun, carried on south to Dogger (Gunton) a few miles further. Knowing that we had some rougher water between us and our destination and that landing wasn’t a possibility for at least a mile I put in a call to the Coastguard just to let them know we were heading down with an estimate of our transit time. This had the added benefit of being a radio check in that area at the time we were going through. We were still being watched…by someone who would shortly be reversing a 3.5 ton curtain sided van all the way back up Beach Road ;D



We blasted down a bit and then shipped the sails once the rebounds came from the sea wall. Attention has to be paid in this area as it can be quite tricky and so we paddled it, with the sea now running at an average of 4ft with some larger moments. It was exciting and good fun too, easily within the limits of the kayaks, and we made about 4mph on this leg before opening up the Pacific Actions again once we reached Tramps Alley at Corton for the final mile down to Dogger.

Spotting the landing site I told Andy to hang back so that I could land first and be on hand to grab him as he came in. I noticed Okreally standing on the beach, camera in hand, and figured that his bloody camera was all I needed in this sea!!! It was large and dumping with a strong wind and I knew he’d be hoping for me to land on my arse ;D Fortunately I did the business, braked when needed and paddled when needed and got in, dragging the Scupper up and calling Andy in. He had no problems this time even though the sea was worse than at Gorleston and slid in nicely, having covered five and a half miles in an unfamiliar boat, a force 5 crosswind and a 3-5ft running sea with paddle and sail. He was smiling hugely from both the adrenalin and achievement.

My smile came next. We’d been observed by a couple of beach anglers just walking up to their mark. I do like to wind them up and when one cheekily asked where the rods were I avoided the question and answered with:

“Here, have a look at this” as I pulled out a 5lb cod which we’d taken down to illustrate the fish box at its best.

“Wow! What did you get that on?”

“Double black lug”

“How far out?”

“About 400 yards”

“Further than I can cast then”

“Yep, that’s why I’ve got one of these”

I neglected to mention that it was caught off Felixstowe in a flat calm sea the morning before ;D

Fishing Felixstowe…10.04.2010

Felixstowe was producing the goods and I’d not seen Pete for a couple of years so when he posted up an invite I decided to head south for a session on a venue new to me. As much as I love Hopton a new venue is always exciting and so Friday night saw me getting my head down at 11am for a 4am alarm.

2am. I awake with toothache.

3am. I awake with toothache. I neck some Ibuprofen.

3.15am I decide what the hell, get up, dress, pour coffee and get into the van for the 50 mile trip south.

I pulled up on the roadside and went for a look at the sea - flat calm with little wind. What a fantastic morning for it. It was 4:25, a bit early for a 6am launch so I unloaded, kitted up, took the Scupper down to the water’s edge, parked the van in a side road and went and woke Amos up.

Pete soon turned up and as we prepared to launch Tangleweed and Banglemouse joined us, following us out a bit later.

Anchoring up a mile out on the ledge Amos was first to draw blood with a whiting.

Another soon followed and then Pete had one. I hadn’t had so much as a sniff. The others joined us and Tangleweed started his ball rolling with a small codling soon followed by a keeper.

Still nothing and then I noticed my anchor buoy passing me, no longer attached to my anchor line which had parted and was no longer attached to me. Bugger! Pete kindly let me tie off from his bow and I settled back down again to fish.

Pete continued to bring in good whiting while I failed to get a touch until finally a rattle was struck and a plump whiting came aboard – I was off!

The next knock was even better and as I wound down it was clear that I had a better fish on. It took a bit of line, it thumped all the way up and it bent the rod somewhat…finally in came a 5lb codling. That’s what we were here for!

Peeler joined us soon after, having finished his night shift.

Another codling and a whiting followed and then it started to quieten down again.

I had no squid so was fishing frozen black lug, herring (for Thornies) and had a handful of frozen soft and peeler crabs from last summer. On went a peeled and down went my rod. It knocked soon after and I was surprised and rewarded with my first shark of the year – a beautiful 12 inch Starry Smoothound! Lovely. Quickly unhooked, snapped and kissed on the nose it went back to grow big.

I couldn’t tempt anything else and with slack water it was time for me to head in. Peeler noticed some cord and hauled up my missing anchor. The reel had disappeared but at least I had something back!

After a quick photo shoot I hoisted my PA sail and set course for home.

 It was a very light wind so a gentle crosswind journey began until I came close to the shingle beach. I decided to sail right in and seemed to be heading for Pete who, cleaning fish, had failed to notice me. Oh to have the clear panel of the original sheet as he jumped out of his skin ;D

The wind started to pick up and with the fish coming on the bite as soon as the current started to run again the others reluctantly headed back in as the lumps started to appear. Between us we’d had cod, whiting, pout, dogfish, smoothound and whelks, with Tangleweed showing us all up for the amateurs we must be with FIVE keeper codling!

A brilliant morning’s fishing that had me excited beforehand and certainly not disappointed afterwards! I think I’ll add Felixstowe to my regular to-do list! Thanks Pete.

Hopton Sunrise...05/04/2010

05:30 to launch at 06:00 I’d decided on. Low tide was early and I had to get on with decorating – a Friday morning job that extended itself through to Monday evening and still isn’t finished. You’ve got to love old houses eh?

I arrived a minute or two before Piscator who was up from Sussex and once we’d tackled up we headed down to the beach. I took a couple of pictures to show the huge difference SOLAS tape makes when illuminated.





A beautiful morning with vivid colours in the sky as the sun approached the horizon and virtually no swell or surf either. The weather window was open!



We launched and paddled out to the mark. I positioned myself, dropped my anchor, and ended up ninety-eight feet the wrong side of it, the current being a lot stronger than expected. Oh well, I didn’t have much time so I figured there was still rough ground here. Having missed loads of small bites a few days before I rigged up 2/0 wishbones and dropped the first one down, a frozen black lug on each hook, then started to bait the second. I was putting a worm on the second hook of the second rod when I got the first bite. A little pull, then another, then another. I continued pushing the bait on meaning to cast it and then retrieve the rod for what no doubt would have been small fish pecking away when suddenly the rod arched over and started pulling the RAM tube down! I’ve never had that before and I grabbed the rod, wound down and felt something odd. There wasn’t the heavy pull of a cod, it certainly was bigger than a whiting but maybe it was a cod that had its mouth closed? I started bringing it up but my reel was making hard work of this – I rarely use fixed spool reels and this reminded me why.

It broke surface and I swore. It had fins. It had rays in those fins. It had a green-tinged silvery head. BASS! I NEVER get bass in open sea here and I never get them bigger than 6 inches long here. Well, apart from the one I caught, unhooked, photographed, then watched disappear over the side last Easter weekend. It was thrashing and pulling a few feet away and I played it on the surface for a few minutes wandering how to get it alongside against this current - it was 5lb+ going on cod sizing and I was getting really quite excited and then...the fucking hook pulled!

If there’s one thing I really hate it’s seeing a fish get confused on the surface because it’s no longer attached to a line then flick its tail up in an ‘Up Yours pal’ kind of gesture before heading back down towards a long line or net that someone else will put in its way I n the future.

I swore, believe me I swore. And I cried. And I kept talking about it all day.

I had a whiting later but very few bites. Piscator, a hundred yards away) thoroughly outfished me with constant bites (which was great as he’d travelled to fish here) and we had a smooth landing after a short session (both of us had things to do afterwards). The wind had picked up by the time we landed and continued to build all day. I’d write more but I just can’t get over that bloody bass. What is it with me and Easter bass?

Pugwashing From Pakefield...02/04/2010

My name’s Mark and I’m a yakaholic. It’s been seven hours since my last launch.

Typical. Easter is a double bank holiday weekend, I have four days off, it should be the height of the spring run of cod and the weather forecast is atrocious. Not only that but my wife is insisting I do some decorating and I offered to look after a friend’s children while they packed for a trip. The latter put paid to the idea of an early launch which may or may not have entailed fishing, surfing, touring or sailing...

A walk to the beach in the morning allowed me to feel a bit better – it was a force 5 gusting 6 and, being from the south east, unfishable. The kite surfers were out and a couple of optimistic (but rubbish) boardies were too. I needed to get wet, was going to get wet and just needed to come up with a good plan.

This plan set itself up. Around 13:30 I would be returning the children to Pakefield, a mile south of my place. With High water around 12:30 this would mean the current would have turned by then and so wind, swell and current would be more or less aligned...an ideal opportunity to test my newly modified sail (it’s yellow now) in a strong wind. My wife was surprisingly agreeable to this as I explained it’d only take an hour in total.

The modification was a bit more than replacing the sheet of my Pacific Action sail with yellow material. I’d not used my sail much in the last couple of years as I’d sold the smaller one (1.5 metre) and bought the biggest one (2.2 metre). The latter was a bit overpowered above a force 3 and encroached a bit on the cockpit. It took me this long to realise that one of the three poles on each side could be removed to give me a smaller sail option...and so with a tenner spent on yellow ripstop and my mum persuaded to get her sewing machine out my Pacific Action was given a new lease of life and was duly fitted to my Scupper Pro. It wasn’t the first trip with it fitted to be fair, but the first proper go with it.

A few pics as I was asked for some









Blustery was the word that sprang to mind as i got set up on the clifftop. Kitesurfers and windsurfers were out, the sea was churned up and my confidence took a dip. No matter, I just attached my towline as a leash ;D I clipped the thigh straps in, attached the battery for my Humminbird unit, clipped on my paddle and wandered into the water, paddling out through a closely-spaced 3-4ft shore break that swamped me a couple of times and nearly flipped me once out and fiddling with things. Hmm, good choice of conditions for testing ;D

Up went the sail, paddle across my lap, and I headed north. I was holding a parrel bead on each end of the rigging lines and with the port one pulled further back I set the sail at a slight angle and set my course for my aiming point – I had to go around the pier three-quarters of a mile away.

I made good headway up, down and sideways and reached the pier rather sooner than normal. I was hitting speeds of 6mph (averaging 4.6 over the whole trip, filming for a fair bit of it) and finally, after about seven minutes, reached the point where I had to turn in for the beach. This I did by bringing the port side of the sail down at more of an angle and the boat responded as hoped and took me in. I reached the (even) rougher water where the waves were starting to break properly as it shallowed out (I’d had white horses and breakers all the way) and furled the sail. I’d have to paddle onto the beach. This I duly did, picking the first wave up a hundred yards out and surfing most of the way in before picking up a smaller one that turned me side on and was too weak to support me leaning on it. I dumped unceremoniously twenty yards out ;D



I trolleyed the kayak back to the house and later walked back up to Pakefield to fetch the car. My nine minutes on the water had used up about an hour and a half of my day, not good time management...but it was certainly worth it – I had a blast!

Birthday Bouncing...Hopton, 30/03/2010

There’s no point having a birthday if you have to go to work...so I always take my birthday off. Having had a horrendously long day on Monday I needed some relaxation so the plan was to get up at a reasonable time, see the girls and then head for Hopton for a spot of codding. I wasn’t too optimistic as the weather had been atrocious on Monday but as it happened it dawned reasonably well and with the children duly deposited at school I headed for beach road.

I parked up and started unloading. The Scupper was (already) rigged for fishing and sailing and so it was a case of getting dressed, including my new home-knitted socks that my wife had given me that morning and tackled up. In the mean time somebody wandered up the ramp in a drysuit...

“Snapper?”

“Yes, Hi!”

“I’m John’s brother”

Aha...this made sense. It looked like he’d beaten his brother down here. Justin had been out and had a nice (first) trip downtide before coming back to the beach again and had caught a codling too. So we went back out together.

I didn’t know quite what time the tides were doing what so ended up in the exact spot I needed to be before deciding I was the wrong side of it, paddling south and being completely off the mark as the tide was still running. Bugger. Anyway, life’s too short to worry about such things and so I baited up and got the lines out. A few small nibbles on the 6/0 pennel kept me awake but frustrated.

The sea was a bit bumpy and t was both damp and misty out there but nothing to be concerned about. The 25mph south westerly was a pain in the arse but still okay and the pair of us sat it out. Then it started to drizzle. I headed in at slack to fetch something from the van and picked up a lovely wave and surfed the last fifty metres inadvertently (but nicely). I then had issues getting out again and had to let go of the yak before mounting it. Funnily the sea had changed in that short time.

I sailed out to Justin and clipped back up to my anchor reel the tide had now turned and we were wind over tide. The current was picking up, the wind was picking up and the waves were picking up. I concentrated as I rigged up, figuring that my decision to stay or go would be made over the next half an hour – if it got any worse we were going in. As it was, it eased as the tide picked up. It was still snotty but fishable.

Then I got the first bite since coming back out. Hesitant it was. Ten again a few minutes later. Then a monster bite and the rod tip bounced around like crazy – I wound down and up came this:



My PS codling! A good sign this, a year-old youngster. It went back of course and I continued to fish to no avail although Justin had one of a similar size.

After a bit more inactivity I started to run low on bait and decided it was time to head in. Bites had dropped off and the tide was still increasing so in we went, recovering our anchors with surprising ease and landing on the beach with no trouble at all. After a good natter with Justin it was time to head home to prepare sushi and barbecue.



You can’t beat a days fishing on your birthday.

Back again...Hopton. 21/03/2010

Saturday morning was forecast to be windy and wet and being wasted anyway I decided against sitting on my arse in the rain so cancelled and had a lie in. I regretted it all day as I woke up to a pretty fair spring morning. Ah well, there’s always tomorrow...

Tomorrow dawned nice, probably. I couldn’t face getting up too early so arranged to meet Steve down at Hopton for 7. I had all kinds of good intentions in the meantime though, namely sorting the van out, rigging my rods and so on. But no, I just really couldn’t be bothered. So, I went to bed.

I arrived at the beach at 7 and it was glorious – a beautifully sunny morning, not too much wind and the sea was pretty flat. Granted the tide had turned and the flood was starting but that’s no great issue really on such a beautiful morning. Even if it was one day after the vernal equinox ;D

I was really slow getting sorted out. Everything was in disarray as I’d not hit the salt in a fortnight and that hadn’t been for fishing. Still, eventually I got down to the water’s edge and paddled out to the mark, guided by GPS. I dropped anchor just up from the mark and settled down to fish around the sides of Steve who ended up in front of me ;D Usually it’s me cramping his style but we’re mates so it doesn’t matter. The tide was already pretty strong as we baited up and started to fish. Two worms and a squid head on a 6/0 pennel and 1 worm and a squid head on each hook of a 2/0 triple flapper.

It only took about half an hour before the bites started. Both of us missed one in the first instance – I lost the squid off my pennel, the only bite on it as it turned out. Then, a minute or two later a bite on the flapper rig and as I wound tight the rod arched over. The combination of the current and a pissed off fish gorged on sprat and herring ensured a cracking scrap and it took a couple of minutes to get the fish in – first post-spawning codling, weighed in later at a shade over 5lb. The day was a happy one!

Another half an hour passed before the next bite. P.N.Gwin phoned up and we had a chat and, moments after he rang off the rod banged down! The fish felt heavier and stronger than the first but this was purely down to the current picking up – it weighed in at a shade over 3lb. Steve had landed a small whiting by this point so I was chuffed to be outfishing him – not a common occurrence I hasten to add.

Another whiting came aboard and then shortly after it became too fast a tide to hold bottom and my yak was starting to yaw a bit. It was getting difficult to relax and so I made the decision to head in. Unfortunately Westie had just arrived and as we started in he started out ;D It’s not that you smell or anything Tim...

Anyway, we hung around on the beach chatting, being chatted up and photographing women holding my cod before saying goodbye to Tim, who was heading out again now that the tide was due to slow and headed home for the rest of the day, chuffed that the codling were coming back.

The Pike Dyke. 13/03/2010

This tale will necessarily cover 21 years, so forgive me my meanderings as I fished a very special and personal place today and feel like relating the precursors to it:

Back in the old days ‘when I were a lad’ I used to fish a particular spot a couple of miles from my home. We never met with any success, using as we did garden worms, cheese, bread and bacon rind but would occasionally spot the odd roach or rudd swimming about. All this changed when my Grandfather came to stay with us for a few weeks shortly before my sixteenth birthday, having been diagnosed with a serious illness. One day he related a tale of his courting days when he had borrowed his fathers old rod, wicker fishing basket, reel loaded with cat-gut and went down to the water’s edge with my grandmother-to-be. Now, no fishing was done that day by my Grandfather but he did spot someone returning home with a pike that had been caught and so he decided to buy it from him and take it home for dinner.

My Great Grandmother prepared this fish for the table that my Grandfather had brought back from his fishing trip and they all ate their fill. It wasn’t until later that my Great Grandfather stated that, nice as it was, he didn’t believe that his son had caught it, not least of all on his rod, to which my Grandfather replied:

“I never said I did”.

Now, my Grandfather then told me that he had never eaten Pike since. Personally, I had never caught one and had seen very few BUT I figured that I could at least try and catch one for my Grandfather to eat and so, armed with frozen whiting from a previous trip to Gorleston pier I duly tied my rods to my racing bike that weekend and cycled across the marshes to my old fishing spot. I had no idea whether there were pike there or not but my Grandfather (although he didn’t know it at the time) was dying and my aim was to bring back a memory.

Well, from memory I was using a bamboo boat road and my beach caster, possibly my lucky green rod too. Line was probably 25lb mono and the traces were whatever old shitty pieces of wire trace that had lurked unused and inherited from God-knows-where in the bottom of my and my brother’s tackle boxes. I cast the baits into the dyke and waited for the floats to disappear. Impatiently, being fifteen!

Eventually one went down and I fought the fish for a little while – it was strong, easily the strongest and largest fish I’d ever hooked...but I didn’t know about drag settings and straight-lined it...it crash-dived and snapped me off. Crestfallen, I failed to get another bite in the remaining hours of light and wandered up towards the road to break down my rods and go home. I dropped the one bait in by the end of the dyke and proceeded to dismantle the other.

I returned to the rod and was curious at what was going on – the float was right up to the bank a few feet from where I’d dropped it. Funny that, oh well, reel in, break down and go home...but it wasn’t that simple. Darkness had fallen and the pike were feeding – and I had another on! Don’t mess around Mark, this one is for Grandpa...I fought it to a standstill and brought it ashore – my first pike, all 3lb 10oz of it. I’d done it!



Now I apologise for such a dreadful photograph of an obviously dead pike but this one I will never feel ashamed of. I had no camera of my own so it had to wait until I got it home, in a carrier bag, before having its photograph taken. I can clearly remember the pandemonium when I returned – my brother declared it was a monster (he repeated this some fifteen years later, but that’s another story), and that we had to be careful because somebody kept one in his empty bath once and the next day it jumped up and bit him and everyone else crowded around to look at it. Nobody could believe that I’d caught it, least of all me! Well, the next day we ate it, baked somehow and while all remarked how lovely it was it would seem that there wasn’t 100% honesty about that. Grandpa was pleased though, I think, and I really felt as proud as any teenager possibly could.

Of course, I had the bug now. I was going to become a piker, no more messing around with tiddlers; I wanted to feel a fight from a fish! The following weekend my mate and I went back to the same spot...this time my beach caster had half a whiting attached to a trace made up from a 2/0 single and a size 6 treble when it was taken.

It was a long struggle before I saw what I’d caught and using my brother’s old (gifted) landing net my mate and I scooped it up, unhooked it, jumped and danced and then, with him holding the net in the water I ran to the nearby train station car park and phoned mum to bring some scales and a camera...

My mum grabbed the bathroom scales (!) and jumped into my brother’s car which he proceeded to cross the marshes in at break neck speed as I’d said the fish was bigger than the previous week’s capture. They got over the gate to the field we were in and came down to have a look at this poor pike that had suffered the ignominy of being bested by a teenager and subsequently been forced to hang around for an age to be weighed and photographed by someone unable to even hold it properly...I cringe when I view this photograph now.



22lb 4oz...My second pike a specimen! It made the papers.

I continued fishing this dyke once the season restarted, spending a fair bit of the summer of 1989 on its banks and continuing to visit it over the next few years and although I had a few fish out to double figures it never really seemed to fish brilliantly. Summer was weedy, winter was murky and bait choice seemed to be the key – Smelt was best. Lures occasionally worked but I never had that much success on them here and found it difficult to get them in the water at times and although I sometimes saw good pike in the dyke they seemed very sporadic in their feeding. Looking through an old box of photographs these two are all that I can turn up from the time before I pretty much put one type of rod away to dedicate my time to putting another rod away ;)





March 1993...I was about to head off to Miami to join a ship and begin a new career as a cruise ship photographer. I decided that what my girlfriend really needed before I went was a fishing session and so at first light just before the end of the season we went, unlicenced, to my old spot for a piking session. Other things would also have been on the cards of course but unfortunately others were fishing there too. Well, there was nothing for it but to fish and so my KP Scarborough centrepin was put into action with a Smelt on it and a wait ensued until finally I noticed that I’d got a fish on – within feet of where the 22lb 4oz one had taken the bait five years before...



23lb 6oz. A belter of a fish and still my biggest pike...I pretty much stopped fishing that year and so rarely managed more than a glance at the dyke as I passed by now and again en-route to doing something else. Then I started to fish again, discovered kayak fishing and it seemed somehow ridiculous to launch a 15ft craft into such a small water. I wanted to beat that fish but somehow I didn’t feel it’d count if I wasn’t on a yak and so I didn’t get around to fishing this water again...until this morning.

Last weekend saw us playing in the waves at Gorleston and I realised that the coarse season was about to end. There was nothing for it but to plan a session to finish it on a pike and why not hit the old spawning ground again after so long? Being a slightly secret location I figured that a general invite was not ‘right’ and so politeness saw me asking the guys I was with when I thought of it. Of those one was unable to make it, one decided filming would be more productive and one fished non-comittedly from the bank as I got myself afloat on my old stomping ground.

It was a pleasant enough morning, dry and reasonably mild with little wind (at least below the level of the bank) and once afloat my feeling of overkill left me – in fact I now fancy trying to find small waters to fish from the yak for the challenge of it. I set out on the long paddle to my twenties mark – around a hundred yards up-dyke ;D

Out went two rods, both with float-fished smelt, and I sat back to wait while chatting to Steve and, later, Jason. Nothing was really happening but this isn’t unusual for this water, I’ve blanked here so many times. I guess a good hour and a half had passed by the time I’d had enough of the lack of action and so I decided to paddle to the other ends of the dyke where they are cut off and cause a bit of disturbance, perhaps driving the fish down towards my spot with my return. It was fun going beneath the bridge as flat as I could get and, of course, doing a 33 point turn at the end before returning to my original spot.

The disturbance worked. A pike took my smelt. I reeled and it thrashed, not the hoped-for twenty, a mere tenth of that, but a very welcome little jack graced my yak. The markings were perfect and it was a beautiful example of the species with which to begin my freshwater tally for the year and with which to reacquaint myself.



I called it a day straight after and off we went to Jason's for breakfast. It just shows really, some things never change and this area of Norfolk certainly hasn’t. It’s still an area where fish can be had in the least likely of spots and I will make the effort to pay attention to it in the future.



It was good to be back.