Bugger. Bed seemed appealing but Eastangler had mentioned an intention to fish and Pinkfoot was going to try and get down later so I left the house and set a slow course for Hopton. Arriving, I looked down the track at Beach road and saw no tyre marks. I sent a text to the others to tell them of my intentions and drove back to the main road and headed for Gorleston. The sea was flat and I figured I could get a good scan of the wreck of the White Swan, maybe fish it and perhaps, with a bit of time available, could paddle home. The roads in Gorleston had not been gritted and so it took until around 7am before I arrived at the launch spot to be greeted by a beach covered in virgin snow. I just had to change that!
Ahh, so fresh it reminded me of being raised by wolves in the wastes of Siberia…
BeardHead, Ushanka and I launched with a hearty ‘Dassvidanja, tovaritch’ to the snowy beach which extended to within a few metres of the water’s edge. The snow-filled seat and footwells of my yak along with the front hatch were largely cleared by the first wave as I launched and away I went, paddling south a few hundred yards offshore.
The sun was starting to come up as I paddled and it looked as though it’d be a pleasant day, if a little cold.
By the time I got near to the wreck of the White Swan – maybe 20 minutes – it was getting lighter and I was feeling nicely warmed and looking decidedly rugged and handsome, decked out as I was in the height of arctic fashion.
A quick run past the wreck as I scanned a new image was followed by paddling back up against the current to drop anchor. I judged it poorly and ended up swinging away from the wreck so that I was positioned between it and the marker buoy. Not a complete loss as the ground here is quite rough but with fishing being generally poor in the whole area by all accounts more precision may have just lifted things above that level.
It took a little while before the first rattle and I of course missed it. The next was not so lucky…
I was feeling benevolent this morning and wasn’t too interested in determined fishing having decided to just meander south and so returned it to swim away and live another day. A short time later a seal popped his head up and admired BeardHead for a few minutes before diving under again – I figured that was it and the fishing would be trashed…then I got another bite and reeling quickly to avoid having to fight a seal on 60lb braid I landed a second whiting. Again this was returned and I decided to up-anchor and go further down to the wreckage near Hopton.
Bugger. I dropped anchor too late and drifted past the debris field. I was still in rough water so over some of it but had missed the main part, where I hoped the bigger fish might be. I cast out both rods, downtide, and sat back to wait. After ten minutes I decided on a change of plan. Now, I don’t usually uptide as it’s a pain casting backwards but I figured it would be worth it considering the ground I was over. Big mistake.
I love my Shimano Charter Special 1000LD lever drag reels. At a shade over £100 they are a bit of a luxury for me. On a 12lb class rod with 60lb braid I reckon I’m looking at around £125-150. Now, I generally only use these for piking these days as they are superb for trolling. I use the equivalent star drag reels for codding as I don’t need the lever drag for this type of fishing. However, I’d loaned these rods out recently and had pennels on them rather than the single hook rigs on my other reels and so it was that I came to be back-casting a Charter Special uptide.
In gloves.
I rarely wear gloves, even on the kayak, as I lose sensitivity. And that’s the story of how my rod and reel managed to follow my bait straight into Davy Jones’ Locker.
I fished around for ages to try and snag it in 30ft of water but there was no chance. I up anchored again and, pissed off, headed south, the rest of my squid going into the water for the fish. The fishing was slow and not too promising anyway and with one rod would be even less exciting. I may as well do some scanning with the Side Imaging.
I passed Hopton and was amazed at the sea as I went past the southern end of it where the sea defences are – the waves hit these and shoot up into the air, rebounding on themselves. I’ve never seen the swell running out from the beach before but this was happening and it was actually quite a bumpy ride, which was quite enjoyable.
I carried on south for a while and then passed Tramp’s Alley at Corton where there was a line of beach shelters and anglers fishing from the shore. They must have been mad – it looked quite cold in the snow.
I passed Dogger next, the car park at Gunton that fills with shaggers in the balmy evenings of summer. I assumed nobody was going to be getting too excited in this temperature!
As I rounded Ness point, Britain’s most easterly point, the current was starting to pick up as was the sea state but not uncomfortably so. It was clear that I was rounding a headland. The lighting on Gulliver, which was or is the UK’s largest wind turbine was quite striking but didn’t really record too well on my compact.
I was getting close to the harbour now and soon reached a point where I needed to call in to harbour control to check I was clear to transit past – I was drifting at 2+ mph so had about 5 minutes or so before I’d be in position. I was clear to proceed as nothing was coming in or out.
Then I slowed considerably – I guess I was in an eddy. Paddling had me moving at around 2.5 mph and so it took a bit longer to get to the harbour mouth – and coming in at a great rate of knots was the lifeboat. I stopped to let it through – I wasn’t going to be clear as they arrived. I sat there, maintaining my position without use of the paddle. It was as though it was slack water. Waiting for the lifeboat to be in position I clicked record on the camera and found that my card was full. By the time I’d deleted some files to make space the moment was gone – lifeboat, bow wave, engine noise, all contre-jour against the sun. Bugger.
I rounded the corner past the harbour entrance and paddled home, aiming for South Beach and the short walk home.
I paddle din and was surprised to see surfers out. It looked flat from where I was! As I watched and waited I could see that there was the odd clean wave rolling in that was big enough (at 3ft) to give a bit of a ride amongst the 1-2 footers and so I bided my time to wait for one, picking one up finally and surfing the Scupper Pro into shore on it.
There were a few people around now and I decided to take some pictures of the waves. Imagine the sight of a BeardHeaded Ushanka wearing bloke in drysuit standing waist deep in water in December photographing waves…a kid on the beach couldn’t work it out and just gawped for about ten minutes while a young couple pretended to take pictures of each other, coincidentally in my direction ;D
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Well, that was pretty much it. A nine-miler on a snowy day when everyone else was tucked up in a warm bed. A trip made memorable not only by the expense but also by it being the first time I’d done that stretch of coast. A full and thorough sea-test of BeardHead…time for a bacon sarnie before collecting the van, the children and going sledging.
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