Blimey, it’s been a long year. There’s been a lot of variety as well. Got some new mates into the bargain too. Yep, on the yakking front it’s been a belter!
January of course was rubbish. I was beset on the east coast with crap seas and crappy winds. The cod didn’t show and there was nothing else about either; there wasn’t even any surf to take my mind off things. It was almost a relief to spend a good deal of the month at the Boat Show in London. Most of the month I spent hammering around the broad, river and sea on my newly-purchased SINK – a composite Necky Chatham 17. By the time I got to the 23rd I felt confident enough to go out onto open sea with it and so Tim grabbed his Dorado and we went in at Gorleston for the 8.5 mile the paddle down to Lowestoft, reaching speeds of 7-8 knots and averaging about 6!
February was pretty poor too. I had a good paddle with Tim and Liam from Beccles to Oulton Broad one morning, a distance of 15 miles, in high wind and cold conditions but that was the only noticeable day really. Some exploring was done and I did try to get a goose for the pot – a broken arm from being shot didn’t stop it from repeatedly diving and getting away from me though and I had a sandwich for my Sunday lunch instead.
Mind you, February had its good points too:
“Mark,
Congratulations, you won our photo contest! I'm glad everyone voted for your photo, as it was our favourite as well. You've taken a bunch of really great photos with our Beard Head already, so it's nice to see you get some extra recognition!
Thanks,
David Stankunas BeardHead.com Tel: 310-569-5740 Email: david@beardhead.com ”
The power of the internet! So it came to pass that more Beardhead stuff came my way including Viking and Spartan helmets!
My seventh launch came in March and I retraced my route from Haddiscoe to Lowestoft which I’d first done back when my Prowler 15 was new. An hour and a half to do 9 miles rather than the four I’d taken the previous time! It was a trip down memory lane though – the junction box on the hill here is where we used to have excellent parties as teenagers. My mate from back then still lives there. We used to seal launch from the piling that joins the land on occasion.
13th March, finally I got out on the sea to fish, first time of the year. A flat sea with no wind either. I went to the usual mark at Hopton. I blanked. No wonder I was depressed.
Right, I had to do something special. The following week there was a huge tide and on the 20th March myself and John met up at Gorleston for a trip. Biggest tide for twenty years they said. We hit the launch point at dawn.
It was four hours later that we arrived at Southwold having run the 17.7 miles between the two piers with less tidal assistance than expected. It was somewhat knackering, especially as we paddled the last hour with a turning tide.
Then it was the 30th. That’s my birthday, that is. I don’t go to work on my birthday; never have, never will. I went out in my Necky instead. Not bad for a 38 year old!
April started two days in with my alarm being ignored leaving me time only for a paddle. Straight for the buoys, a four mile, non-stop, out and back blast. Bit of a laugh, that.
The following weekend saw me sitting out at Stanford again in 30ft on a glorious morning catching a dab, a dog and a whiting. Fishing season was starting up again!
Two days later and I was back out there, this time with my mate Liam who grabbed my Necky for a paddle. More dabs, dogs and whiting and more sunlight…we had fun running across the banks and I did some re-entries half a mile out so that I could reposition my action cam! It felt like summer was on its way at last.
Then I got ambitious. I spent all week planning, checking, preparing. I was going to hit the Tunisiana. I’d heard of large cod and thornies out there near the Barnard Buoy and I reckoned the Y shaped hole off Kessingland just offshore from it would be my best bet. A few wrecks down there and the Tunisiana, in 80ft, would be my aiming point. The drag across the beach at Kessy sucks so instead of a 2 mile paddle out I settled for launching at the end of my road – five miles each way. Fine, but it was a bit misty and no other bugger was about yet…I was solo too. Off I went, compass and GPS taking me to the spot. I passed the Barnard, found the wreck, spotted a huge shoal and then proceeded to bounce my anchor along the bottom.
The tide was not what was predicted and with a snapped weaklink and a snagging then dragging anchor things got a bit tricky and, unable to fish it, I cut the whole anchor system away and went on the drift inshore to await the tide change. The best laid plans…
The middle of the month comes and Mark wants to go out. There were reports of wrasse at Ness Point and, fancying this, we launched at Dogger and paddled down. I had my first pout of the year and we had a pleasant morning…but it wasn’t really fishing, was it! We ignored cars and tides and paddled to mine for coffee instead.
The next week Tim, Codcatcher and I decided to hit the banks off the Claremont in the hope of something interesting…and the first smut of the year turned up along with whiting and a codling. Things were going well until slack and a sinking kayak. With my anchor dumped over the side I went to assist and with Tim bringing the boat in I paddled in with a hitcher. I’d shortened my warp at slack though and with a flooding tide the buoy disappeared under. We’d had calm weather for weeks and then the weeks of snot that followed meant that I was never to see it again even though I looked the next day. Bugger. At least I caught a whiting on a Dexter Wedge while looking. That made up for it. Well, maybe not!
30th April. I’d had a quick blast with Steve mid-week – the surf was up. Away on a trip down to Plymouth I couldn’t wait to get back and Saturday morning saw the pair of us joined by Tim, Paul, Liam and his brother. I’d picked up a Yahoo on the way back the day before – which had been christened briefly – and having the extra boat meant we could all play and play we did, recorded on a bunch of photographs by Jason who’d come down to watch as we got hammered and battered in heavy waves, surfing until we were knackered.
It was maybe two hours after we’d left the beach that I passed by and saw the coastguard, air ambulance and ambulance. The groyne we’d been surfing earlier had claimed the life of a board surfer. All of us were shocked and even now I look at that groyne and think about things.
A week later and it’s summer time. I left work on the Friday afternoon and headed north, bound for Sea Palling and an evening’s fishing with Tim. Trolling the reef, that was the plan, and we’d be doing it until dark. It was one of those perfect results – my first bass session of the year, a post-work fish, excellent company with my mate and a total of nineteen bass and two sandeels. I was chuffed to bits.
A couple of weeks later and it’s me, Aaron and Mark. I’m set on some raping and pillaging on the White Swan. Dexter wedges and Shads are the order of the day. It’s warmish so it’s Sidewinders and cag for me. Oh, and a Viking helmet with braids and a Beardhead for good measure. It seemed as though my house, unlike Valhalla, would have no need of Saerimner.
Then it was down to Swanage for the OK Classic. What a weekend! Howling winds and screaming drunks. Still, the comp went ahead and I spent two nights off my t!ts, which is always good. I didn’t wet a line but did at least get out on the water, bringing some of my barbarianism to the festivities
I spent the rest of the week in Cornwall with my family and apart from a quick afternoon on the beach which had me bring the Yakboard for us all to use…
…I didn’t get on the water again until Tim and I decided to head offshore for some reason. Wrecking, that was it. The Axminster in fact. 246ft x 34ft, lying in a 20m hole and standing 4m proud (maximum) it struck a mine laid by the German Submarine UC4 on 13th November 1917. We screwed up though and with the tide picking up we got bored on spotting blue water close by with a mile still to go to the wreck once we’d hit the buoy…
We dropped down and my anchor didn’t bite. Tim’s did and he cut it free to chase after me. We ended up covering nine miles to fish a couple of hundred yards from shore. Still, it was a cracking wheeze, as they said in the old days, with a breakfast of fresh bass on our return shoreside.
The glorious sixteenth was upon us soon after and Amos drove up to fish with Tim and I, who’d both taken the day off. It rained, the pike weren’t interested and it took most of the day for me to pick up a small jack.
Still, Amos took a huge perch, a pb and a specimen to be proud of so it wasn’t all wasted.
The end of the month saw a cracking evening session on the Swan. Straight after work and I’m down there flinging Dexters at the ironwork. I’m pulling some bass too. Then I see my new friend…a seal that is actually close enough to get a picture of…and she comes closer. Closer, then disappears. The tide is running so my legs go over the side…it’s not long before something nudges my left foot and I jump out of my skin as the water boils…a bloody seal kiss! What a wonderful evening…
July began on the Swan as well. My brother was persuaded out; he’s never had a bass and not been yakfishing in four years. He turned up as I put dinner in the hold then I went to meet him on the beach. It was choppy but he was soon flinging lures around the wreck with abandon. Then he caught his own dinner – his first bass!
Two days later and I’ve blanked by Ness Point. Bugger. I should have done the Swan after all.
Never mind, I spent the afternoon dicking around on the beach and watched as Eloise showed me how it was done…
The summer was busy. I drove kayaks all over the country and spent a good few weekends off the water with demos but one, a Sunday, was brilliant – I was down at Totnes with Chris from the Canoe Shops Group on the Sunday but this left the Saturday for him to take me and my hitchhiker, Richi, out for a session. Fort Bovisands was the venue. We launched from jagged rocks into a large sea with swell, chop and strong wind to contend with. It was great! Flinging Dexter’s out for Pollack on my old baitcaster and having lunch on an island of sorts before coming in at the end of the day at low tide and going for a beer was priceless. It only took two hours to fill the gouges in the hull the following week…
As I said there were quite a few demos during the summer and perhaps the most notable of the others was held at Wittering with Shore Watersports. Apart from having our kit available for people to use I had the opportunity to try our Nalu 12.5 SUP along with a proper one and the Perception 5-0 which I was very curious about…the high point however was being taught, finally, to surf by Stuart from Tiki. It’s taken me just under 30 years since I first watched Big Wednesday but I finally got on a board and picked up a wave, getting to my feet for a split second to boot.
There’s no forgetting Mudeford of course and the Crazywater team’s weekend marked the start of my diet – KFC bucket on the way down, seafood for breakfast and so on. A busy day on the beach was followed by a mass launch as we paddled out to Pout Hole in search of conger. I began with bream, the first since I’d fished here three years ago, and this, along with numerous pout and a mackerel was all I had other than hilarity at Chris and his shocking radio procedure coupled with Kev spitting the lovingly prepared bream sashimi over the side after I’d made Richi paddle a mile to collect and deliver! What a night.
Then came playtime. The end of July sees the summer holidays and my wife and children headed off to France for 3 weeks…my holiday was spent at home between work!
Day one I fished for a bit on the wreck of the Swan with no takes before Rich and Alex turned up from work. Rich was on a Nalu and Alex in a Scrambler – he’s a surfer but came out anyway. We did a couple of miles.
Day two saw me on the Waveney at Beccles after work. I fancied a go at the summer pike on the troll. They certainly played ball with the first hit happening in minutes and a total of nine fish in 3 hours…it was a cracking session and one that left me over the moon.
Day three saw me headed once more to sea, this time with Paul and an arrangement to meet Mark on the water. Sea Palling was not really fishable as the swells were pretty large and getting close enough to troll the reefs, especially with the water so low, was dangerous. Hell, we launched and landed through pukka surf! No fish came to the yaks but a seal followed Paul around for a while, much to his delight.
Day four and it’s a lazy afternoon on the Waveney, headed downriver towards Worlingham with my brother and his kids. Watching him getting pulled by the Broads Authority for being unlicenced vindicated my wearing of a buoyancy aid but my superiority complex was hindered by a blank on the pike. Oh well, you win some. It was gloriously hot and we had a ball.
Day five and it’s back to Sea Palling to meet up with Mark, Spark and Phil. It started out glorious but with nothing biting and the evening wearing on it started to change…then came the thunder…and then the storm. I was caught off the reefs in a worsening sea and getting soaked in T-shirt and paddled down for another half an hour before finally catching a schoolie minutes before pissing off a seal. Dragging my kayak back up over the dune I felt slightly better as I helped push the coastguard 4x4 out of the sand and over the crest. I felt bad again after driving home with no street or traffic lighting to a powercut that took out any chance of food, television or internet.
Day six and I’m straight down to Hopton after work, Paul being kidnapped and Si finally meeting up with me after so long. Steve was out again too with a friend from work and the target this time was smoothounds. Si was taught to anchor and we settled down to fish. Things went to plan and first Steve, then myself and finally Paul pulled up some smoothies; a 6lb’er for me, my first decent one from this coast. Back on the beach Si and I realise we knew each other twenty years ago at school…an evening to remember!
Day seven started with rain so I went back to bed. Bugger that. It finally stopped and I finally launched in the afternoon – another decent smut, this one within minutes of anchoring. Paul joined me and we had a slow but swelly session before heading ashore through 3-4ft waves. The bloke’s a Jonah for rough water!
Day eight and our fishing was ruined by the wind and the sea, the tide dragging us closer to the harbour mouth than planned. Si was out again and we ended up just playing, practicing re-entries and, in his case, suffering! He made it to his feet though, briefly and we had a few goes launching and landing just to make the most of things before going on the hunt for a missing swimmer that the coastguard asked us about; a false alarm.
Day nine followed 24 hours of misery with broken down vans and the suchlike and began with drizzle. I took my Prowler 15 out to Gorleston for some bassing but it was fruitless; nothing happened. The intended smut bash after lunch was also cancelled after I locked myself out while loading the van. My mum came to the rescue from ten miles away but my window was lost.
Day ten and it’s my daughter’s birthday. That calls for a celebration so Paul and Si are dragged to Cley at 3:30amwhere we meet up with Tim and go clear water fishing; all lures. It’s a macky bash and we get bass and surprise summer cod too. I couldn’t help myself and ate the first mackerel while still at sea. Weybourne loomed and we dumped everything on the beach and walked into the village for coffee. Fishing continued for the rest of the day and I came in with a hell of a haul of fish and some great pictures. A return was already planned…
Stiff as boards Paul and I tried for sole back home briefly the following night. Luckily the crabs robbed our hooks immediately and we could knock it on the head and come in…the next day and the girls came home.
Back home they were forced to sit down and watch the DVD of Valentine warner, fishing chef from the television, fishing with myself, Steve, Tim and Pete the previous October. We had a quick session off Hopton that saw a couple of codling and a bunch of decent whiting; the latter were served up with wild fungi and some other stuff. Great food and a cracking experience and the show itself was really good – I didn’t sound like a bumpkin, the kitchen looked great after my hastily-applied paint and the fishing showed us in a good light.
The weekend that followed began straight after work with a blank on the bass at the end of the road by the outer harbour. Si and I followed this in the morning with a near blank followed by a bollocking in the harbour at Lowestoft as we tried to jump the queue without comms – our VHF signal blocked.
No matter, we came back out and landed on the beach where we met Mike for the first time. He’d come to learn anchoring and after I made a hash of it in waist-deep water 9standing) Si paddled him out and they practiced.
That afternoon and I’m on the beach with my eldest and her friend for a quick blast from Pakefield to Lowestoft, a mile or so, in their Keas. They loved it and a good session of surfing followed it, with both them and their younger sisters having a good old play in the waves.
I’ve caught a cold now but I’m still up at 04:30 and heading for Hopton to meet up with Si and Mike. It’s smut hunting again and I’m going out armed with my KP Scarborough and a spinning rod. All of us get our smuts with Mike bringing in a codling too. It’s a pity I feel so crappy though, especially as I’m off to a theme park for the rest of the day…
27th August and it’s a milestone. Eloise is coming fishing with me, in her kayak, on the sea. We anchor off Hopton and sit there as it blows, rains and the tide pushes us about (we dragged anchor the first time). It’s nearly time to call it quits when my rod goes and I pass it over…nine years old and armed with a Scarborough and a spinning rod she takes on a smoothie and brings it in from a kayak she’s paddled out and back! Her reward? A visit to the Sea Life Centre and a book on British sharks! What bragging rights on her return to school!
There was no excuse not to take her and her friend piking a couple of nights later either. He hooked up and I lost it next to the yak when chinning it on and she had a take on the surface that didn’t connect. Bugger!
28th August seemed to me to be the chance of one last crack at the smoothounds. We’d targeted them and caught them and I felt that it was, for me, about time to move on, fun as they were. So a bunch of us launched for one last bash. I hadn’t seen Scott for ages and Tim had come back for another attempt having missed the smuts last time out; his was the day though. My fishing wasn’t fast and furious but Tim’s was and he landed no less than five starry smuts in total to my one – but my one was what I’d waited patiently for. A common at last! My third and the only one captured in a photograph…but Tim’s is the trophy shot:
A postscript was added by clearing the beach of bathers when I said it was a shark and we’d caught it just over there…
The next day was supposed to be a little bit windy. It wasn’t until Si and I got two miles out that it got windier than forecast though. The tides were wrong and we had other stuff to do at home plus it wasn’t going to be fishable so we’d settled on this nice bank holiday paddle straight out to the buoys and back, four miles, an hour in those conditions. Nice start to the day we reckoned. That was until we started to get bounced around and noticed just how much the wind had picked up; we had to paddle in against 26mph winds (as recorded by the RNSYC weather station). Between that head-on wind and the maelstrom over the sandbanks it proved memorable and landing on a flat beach at Pakefield just seemed so unjust. At least we got in though, our paddle fitness from the previous few weeks being the key. Fit or not, it was still hard graft and we covered about six miles in two hours when going forwards and a fair distance backwards.
If my summer is to be remembered for one thing it will be for this. A plan was hatched for an overnighter that would not only be a mackerel freezer-filler and a good bit of kayak fishing but would be a social that said farewell with a kick and a scream to the coming autumn. So there, assembled on the beach at Cley once again, were Si, Paul and myself with Tony already on the water. Without delay we got kitted up and launched on a mission – we had to catch dinner. It took some time but then we found the shoal and a feast of sushi and Cambodian curry was assured.
Our revelry and fire continued for a long time until we settled down for the night as best we could. Sunrise would see us out on the water again, joined by Tim and Mark. Apart from coffee in Weybourne again we spent the day paddling against the tide for the occasional random fish until, at the very end; we located the shoal and filled our boots! Our summer ended on a high.
Summer may have been over but fishing wasn’t and a week later Si and I went to Hopton again to start the autumn whiting run. It didn’t disappoint even though the weather was less than ideal with wind and waves to contend with. Still, I took my Prowler 15 out for the first time in ages, had whiting on my KP, now fitted to the cane rod Mark had given me and also on my twenty year old Shimano baitcaster which finally, irrevocably, gave up the ghost on me. I brought a few home but missed so many through incompetence and the failure to set hooks on a spinning rod! No matter, there were still enough for the smoker.
Then came a period of landlubbing. Three weeks in fact. Southampton Boat Show, Southwest Canoe Show and loads of delivery driving; I was going spare! I had a day off that left me with a free afternoon and with Terry staying locally on holiday it would have been rude not to drag him out fishing! Hopton was the venue and whiting were the target. I was back on my Prowler 15 again and set off into the clearest water I’ve seen here. Black lug, unwashed squid, bluey, 2/0, 4/0 it didn’t matter as the fishing was manic. Eel, dog, smut pup, and an inquisitive seal coming to see what the fuss was about. Tim turned up too and joined us out there. 68 whiting came aboard and a fair few went back (I came in with 45, mostly deep-hooked) and the evening ended with a bonus 5lb smut which gave a fantastic account of itself on slack water. I then set myself the task of eating whiting every night for a week, prepared differently each time and I must say I can’t wait for that number of fish again to repeat the whole exercise, that’s one tasty fish.
Down to the Boat Show in Southampton that month too, notable for Pimms on the beach with my boss and his constant attempts to break my protein diet by force feeding me crispy duck pancakes…no effect! I managed one
October arrived and with it a new old toy to try. A wood and brass starback Nottingham reel came from Lofty in return for some of my home-tied rigs. I’d spent hours polishing, sanding, renovating and preparing it to go back to sea maybe ninety years since it first went fishing.
Its debut was Hopton with Si and Mike. It was a rough launch but the baits went into the water with immediate effect and the whiting appeared. Sadly the brazing had gone on the reel and the rivet I’d hoped would hold it all together failed too and the reel fell apart before I landed a fish on it, having missed every bite. A story to be continued soon but for now I was down to one rod…which brought in my first Hopton cod of the season!
I decided to fix my KP following this and between a scalpel, some balsa, some yacht varnish, some wet and dry and a load of hours it started to come on, back to it’s old self.
A week later and I had the Friday off. 14th October marked the official start of my fifth and final Eastern Meet. It actually began on Thursday before I got home with Rich arriving. Joined later by Shaun and, briefly, Si it was a good and hazy night before things kicked off with the traditional big breakfast.
Friday began with a bunch of guys hitting Oulton broad for pike and silvers while the rest of us went to sea with a surf launch at Gorleston. We paddled south to Hopton against a stiff wind and dropped anchor onto dabs, whiting, dogfish, smoothounds but no codling. A few hours later we turned and headed back making a far better time with tide, wind and swell all pushing us along and then it was back to the holiday village to socialise and talk fish, kayaks and sex as usual.
The next day saw me on the sea again with a few others and a few fishing the river at Beccles. One of the great things about the eastern meet has always been the opportunity to do either, or, both at will and the reports coming back from the freshwater anglers were promising and I headed out onto the Broad on my return, losing one jack before the photo and missing a hit soon after…and then back to the village. Before that, however, Shaun, Chris and myself had blasted around the cauldron in the Scuppers; it was kicking up nicely in there and we made the most of it.
Sunday saw me once more on the sea, launching from Hopton this time with Eloise, my eldest, who was taking a Tetra 10 Angler out, the first time one was paddled in the UK. Anchored up she then proceeded to hammer me 23 to 11 on the whiting front!
Back at home I made a swap and brought Abigail out on her Kea. We scrounged some maggots but blanked on the silvers though we did see a 17lb pike come out a hundred yards away to a couple of guys in a boat.
Yep, it was a cracking weekend, another successful meet and though I was sad it had come to an end I was pleased it had always gone well and was sure that it was the right time to finish it.
Yep, I was fished out by Monday morning but it was only a few days before I got wet again. I had a new toy now, one I’d been after a while. A ten year old surf SOT had come into my hands, new, unused and ready to rock. It was rough on the beach so Si and I left the rods in the vehicles, grabbed my new, old, RRRapido, my old Yakboard and some short paddles and hit the beach. I may have spent most of the time in the water but by the end of the session I was sure I’d soon be able to handle my new ride. The waves I did manage to catch and stay upright on were a thrill. I was in love!
A couple of nights later, devoid of children, I rode her again in a sea that was still poor but did at least provide me with a few reasonable rides and one good one. I mean very good. The wave reared up behind me…4ft, maybe a bit more but certainly way higher than my head was on the RRRapido…I paddled, concentrated, picked it up, made the drop down the face, hooked into a bottom turn, roared along the face, went straight in to avoid some foam, cut back in and with the crest still unbroken, got ¾ around then turned in again and went flying into shore. THAT is why I bought my little green minx! What a ride. The potential is there and I was getting more comfortable with my RRRapido. I came home and sold my faithful and trusty Yakboard.
A week later and I’m out with Mike. Si is a broken man, the waves have messed him up and he’s on a yakking ban. Don meets us on the beach for a chat as planned and then, following our launch into the biggest tide of the year disappears to get his other toy out. We anchor up, I catch dabs and whiting and then, with the tide screaming, get pulled off my anchor, the weak link snapped, by another whiting! Paddling back and I hear Don’s arrival. Screaming in from my ten o’clock, the Red Baron passes low overhead. I’m impressed and we get our own private airshow. Unable to fish effectively in this current we head in with enough for tea.
Well, if the sea is tricky you may as well hit the river and with stronger winds forecast it made extra sense. The clocks had changed and so I was Billy-no-mates for the first hour before being joined by Paul and his dad. I’d only managed one fish in that time but at 6-8lb on my KP I was satisfied! A lovely scrap. I rigged up for silvers as they launched and caught a couple of dace on the drift down. Tim also turned up eventually, dunno what he did with his clock! He had his pike on the fly later, Paul’s dad had one that escaped pre-photo and Paul, well, he had a small jack before following it with this beauty:
And so into winter.
November should be cold and horrible. Yeah, there have been some days like that but a Friday night saw me once again jumping onto the RRRapido for a quick hour-long blast before darkness. The cat told me to.
It was snotty but I was looking at it and talking to Tim. He made me feel bad for not going so I went. I failed to catch anything decent as there was nothing decent to catch BUT I stayed on almost completely and with tomorrow un-yakkable for my wife’s birthday there was no option but to get wet anyway. I reckoned I was now about ready for a surfy day to come along…
Sunday was that day. I got over to Gorleston to meet Tim; it was crap so we headed straight back to the end of my road where it was 3ft, clean and nicely spaced. There were now a couple of surfers and a paddle boarder but it was still fairly relaxed with plenty of space and we launched our relics, both new to us and long discontinued. Tim’s Lipstik had its first airing and my RRRapido is of the same era. We had a blast and caught a few decent rides before moving into gnarlier, slightly bigger water the other side of the groyne. Not so good to surf here and more chance of harm but at least we could catch them more regularly, in between dicking around and just enjoying the morning…and finally I made it into a backwards surf albeit if for a second or so only before I wiped out! Yep, we were pleased, we could finally turn and carve and spin and cutback and make a start on that flash tricky shit ;D We’ve gone up in the world!
Then a lean period of a whole four days! It was Si’s fortieth so Tim and I took the day off for an excellent mid-week whiting and dab bash with the hope of codling. Well, I dropped mine, Tim managed one and Si had one of those days where everything went wrong but with fifty fish including eleven dabs (I’ve had years where I’ve caught far less) and having two porpoises between us as well as a seal around and great weather we couldn’t have asked for a better day to not be at work. I maintain the notion that working on a birthday is against the law. It even started with a huge protein-heavy fry-up.
Well with a day like that we just had to get back out there on the Saturday. Friday was blowing and the sea was somewhat turbulent but the forecast was doable and so myself, Mike and Si headed back to Hopton. To say the launch was challenging would be an understatement but I was soon out and anchored with two lines down. The sea out here was pretty lumpy and being mid-tide we didn’t bother paddling against it to the mark and just chose a spot and crossed our fingers. It was a complete difference to the previous session and bites were sporadic though I did bring in another twenty one whiting in the couple of hours we were out. I then surfed in and had to slide up to the ramp sideways with a heavy left hand brace. Oh well…
Funnily enough the night before I decided to weigh my fish tray, having taken out a nice cod fillet to crumb, deep fry and serve with sweet chilli sauce. Delicious it was too. Anyway, I hopped onto the bathroom scales then re-weighed myself with my current stock of fish, all beheaded and a lot of them filleted. Full once again no matter how much I eat it was a shade over twenty kilos once the tray itself was deducted. That’s twenty kilos of self-caught cod (normal and salted), whiting (normal and smoked), bass, mackerel (normal and pickled sushi-style), dabs, smoothound and pike.
That meant that the catch of the day had to be eaten so a quick Cambodian fried whiting in garlic, ginger and palm sugar sauce was dished up with a salad of mango, carrot, red onion and crispy, flaked smoked whiting. It was as good as it sounds – a highlight of 2011 is most definitely Rick Stein’s Far eastern Odyssey; a present to me that’s benefitted the whole family a hundred-fold.
I love dabs. I don’t usually catch many of them with my usual 4/0 rigs but with a few more coming than usual I dropped down to fishing one rod with smaller hooks on my next trip – size 1 wishbones baited with small pieces of worm tipped with squid on a rolling lead. The whiting were still jumping on it in numbers but once I found the dabs by rolling into the gullies and dips I started to see some dabs getting hooked too, regularly. My catch was increasing and when I started to double shot them (they tend to congregate in groups) I knew I’d cracked it. Cooked on the bone, wrapped in foil with olive oil, sea salt and cracked pepper or roasted on a bed of tomatoes I was glad to have removed the cod rig.
A couple of days later and I’m out for a morning splash around on the RRRapido. It wasn’t particularly surfy nor fishy for that matter so I had a workout instead. It was most enjoyable. I had to roadtest my new wetsuit you see – I’d just paid through the nose for an O’Neill Psycho 2 5/3 steamer. It’s the dogs bollocks.
Another general bash followed with a mix of traces off the usual spot at Hopton. We launched in light fog and met Chris on his way in; he joined us for a while. The fog cleared into a lovely, bright morning soon after. Dabs and whiting in droves and a codling for Mike provided good sport for the few hours we spent on the mark and coming in I had plenty of fish to fillet and freeze. Ten minutes after I landed though a drift net caught up on Si and Mike’s anchors and a moment or two of sphincter-clenching ensued. The boat that had shot them stayed close by when realising they were there and an ensuing beer or two with the skipper pointed towards strategies to avoid a recurrence; black ball anchor indicators and possibly radar reflectors. A very positive outcome from a bad experience.
Mid-week I went out again with Ian with ideal tides. The idea was to launch at Gunton and drift down with feathers and baits towards a rough-ground mark we wanted to fish at Corton. Originally I’d intended a drift off North Norfolk for some of the mackerel and bass still hanging around but with Tim no longer free and the wind direction being less than perfect I saved the fuel. Three boats were on the Corton mark and heading north a few hundred yards put us off the grounds and all we were catching were a few whiting. Onwards to Hopton and we bagged up on more of the same and a bunch of dabs, paddling back down at good speed with little effort and landing just before dusk.
The weekend came and it was out again on the usual grounds, this time with a black ball indicator mounted on a pole on the bow of my Scupper Pro. The forecast was for a force 5 gusting 7 but with a fairly flat sea due to the westerly direction and it was a big spring tide. We were launching mid-flow so as I was going uptide I chose to run up the coast inshore before doglegging out and ferry gliding down to the anchor point in 3 knots of current. I dropped anchor where I intended and settled down to fish with a mixture of a 4/0 pennel on the multiplier and size 1’s on a triple flapper on the KP. I’d salted down some black lug and left them out for 24 hours to appeal more to the dabs. The pennel was seeing whiting but the flapper did nothing so I changed to some Orme hooks, two hooks joined by a plastic moulding at the eye end and blinged to the max with beads and attractor blades. A whiting soon came in, the bites really well indicated.
Meanwhile I had a good fish on the multiplier, a reasonable sized cod by the feel of it but coming in against the full force of the tide with its bucket of a mouth the fish got off as soon as I lifted it off the bottom. The second one, a while later and smaller gave hint to the possible reason – a large hole in the side of the mouth had been made by the pressure on it and this quite likely caused the hook to work loose on the first. Still, I landed that one and a second so was more than happy. I then swapped the orme hooks for a circle as I was missing bites on the KP with the rolling lead and decided to see if this would do the trick instead as striking wasn’t necessary. I’d not used circles for years and then for pike, with dire results. Baiting up was far easier than I’d been led to believe and a whiting came aboard with no trouble. Then the wind picked up, hugely and after ten minutes I elected to come in, straight into it; a good workout! That was it for the weekend as the following morning blew up with a force 9 and I had an annoying lie-in, the wind not dropping until it was too late for me to get out.
I spent all week being fed up at not trying to get out on Sunday and so began a blog at :
http://kayakingangler.blogspot.com/
Then, come Friday and with 4 hours overtime worked the day before I decided to leave off early and take the Necky out for a blast up the coast. I launched into a flat sea off Gunton and headed against the current for the 3 miles up to Hopton with the strong offshore wind blowing onto my left shoulder. As I meandered up past Corton I counted plenty of beach anglers, almost every groyne holding one and then I was past them and off the sea defences. The further I went the worse the effects of the rebounding waves became and at times I had to concentrate. Reaching Hopton I turned around an anchored fishing boat and headed back; with the current this time but into the wind. The sea flattened out again at Corton and I paddled into the beach with hardly any waves to worry about. I hopped out in knee-deep water, picked up the kayak and wandered up the beach with plenty of time to get dinner on.
The next morning it was still blowing and though we’d intended launching at Tramp’s alley we decided to head to Hopton again because of the amount of southerly in the wind. It was Don’s first time out with us and he steeled himself for the surf launching. A helping hand got him started and off he went, straight over two lovely waves and was then joined by myself, Si and Mike. We paddled out to the mark, dropped anchor and were blown outwards instead of uptide, the westerly overpowering the current; it was pretty blowy! I was trying salted lug that had been out all week and squid, a circle hook and the centrepin. I had a few whiting but it was generally slow; Don, however, showed us all up and after a succession of whiting pulled up a codling of a couple of pounds. That made all the expense worthwhile!
We paddled in against a strong headwind around 930 and had some exciting landings. Red rag to a bull this and with Don filming the three of us stripped the kayaks and went out to surf. They were lovely shaped waves and easy to catch and ride. So easy in fact that I managed to stand up surf I’s caper in! Half an hour and then I had to get home to keep the peace.
Sunday. I wasn’t going to fish, conditions were rubbish again. Surfing wouldn’t happen as it was flat inshore so I went out with Liam for a paddle. I lent him my Necky and jumped into the scupper in my wetsuit. We paddled out from Pakefield and headed for the banks where the water was a bit bumpier. A good couple of hours of paddling and we were back on the beach; loading the kayaks back onto the van on the clifftop was painful, the wind on the cold flesh causing some discomfort. Still, it set us up for the day! That was launch number ninety for the year under my belt – could I make the century once again?
Monday night and I get a PM from a local forum user…
“Girl on yak??
Hey snapper, just got this month’s issue of total sea fishing and in the young guns is a girl called Eloise Crame, is this your 9 year old daughter? If so, good for her as she won for the month, only asking as you have mentioned that you girls like looking inside the fish and she is from Lowestoft with her dad letting her out on his yak, 5lb 12oz starry hound.”
So I duly ran out of the house and bought Sea Angler. Luckily Pete sent me a scan! Go Whippersnapper!
A mid-week session called. Spark was off, Don was home, Mike was off, Si was free and Paul was able to join us; I took the day off. We launched at Gunton in a stiff breeze and headed for the rough ground at Corton Si finally sorts his anchor issues and we head off to compete for largest cod…a bottle of Moet rides on this courtesy of Don. We get blown around a bit; we have our moments and come in mid-afternoon. Si has a codling, Don has one and Spark has a brace though he had 6 on. Paul makes it in dry and we all go through Zanussi Falls! Spark loses his bottle of Moet to a seagull so Si scoops the prize and shares his pan of chilli with us; even more appreciated as it’s freezing out here.
Come the weekend and Tim’s over. We don’t know what to make of the forecast so hedge our bets – he brings the Lipstik and the Scupper. By first-thing, our heads clearing from drinkies the night before, it becomes clear we can fish so we heads out to hit an old mark off Pakefield. It was bloody freezing and after a couple of hours and four whiting Tim finally landed one, allowing us to go home. We headed north again and saw that the sea was up. We landed gingerly, hauled the Scuppers up high and fetched the Lipstik and RRRapido! Time to play…and finally I cracked the backwards surfing! I was stoked.
I was out again the next day, Hopton this time. Everything went wrong but I avoided the blank with another 3 pin whiting. The best part of the day was Aaron turning up and helping me up the ramp and onto the roof with the kayak!
I spent most of the week either on the road or servicing my Shimanos. It was pleasant enough and I was confident on launching on Saturday…
Ha! I arrived at Gunton and it was dumping. I set my gear up, noticing I had no 4/0 pennels with me, then set off for Hopton where I at least know the beach. Out I went into a beautiful dawn. I dropped anchor and went on the drift. What the hell? Somehow my anchor line had detached from the trolley and I was adrift; twenty minutes later I found my buoy and clipped on again. Some blacks go down the scupper hole and I drop fish after fish on the circle hooks. I’m not impressed at another morning of incompetence; then I hear him…beware the Hun in the Sun! Don zooms over low with John snapping away in the back, an airborne visit to cheer me up; I show them a decent whiting I’ve had before they buzz off. I finish with a double shot that includes a lovely whiting and head in, beneath the yak at the end of my landing; I play some more and go home.
They must have been bad sessions. I have a lie-in on Sunday; I just can’t be arsed. Winter is here.
By now I was filming my cookery and uploading it to YouTube by the request of various members of various forums. It started as a pisstake but it seemed that people not only sat through ten minutes of my kitcheneering but also enjoyed it, commented favourably and started emulating my recipes. Quite bizarre really when there are so many proper chefs on telly and so many books about. Ah well, it is good to be appreciated for making the effort to entertain and the filleting films had been well received too.
Wednesday and Thursday is Edinburgh and back on Tacho, Thursday culminates in a staff Christmas night out and I feel sick from a shit, stodgy meal (thank God the company was good!). So Friday morning I’m up, out and on the water. I arrive at Hopton, launch and head south to Corton. I’m solo and headed for the church. I line it up, no navaids to help me but I have a hunch as to where I’m going. I drop down and three minutes later, as the other rod gets cast out and tightened up I haul in a codling. Sorted! A good session coming up. I drop two more and then my anchor warp parts, frayed I guess. I can do nothing but turn and paddle back against the remnants of the tide to Hopton; hell, I’ve got what I wanted. I was happy, had a good morning, went with Eloise to pick up her new yak – an Ocean Kayak Tetra 10 – and then called the RAC out to help me part with £252 for an alternator on my wife’s car…
Christmas Eve and I’m doing DIY, preparing the dinner for the evening, making lunch and finalising everything. Enough is enough and with an hour of light left I grab my Necky and run down the coast and back for an hour. Great, sets me up for Christmas!
Christmas Day and I decided not to go for a quick blast on the RRRapido as I had originally planned. No, I prepare breakfast and then take the girls to watch the swimmers. There are 3 lifeguards on yaks and waves I could have caught. I’m gutted. Still, the bacon and eggs helped me get over it.
Boxing Day and Eloise and I hit the Waveney early along with my nephew and my brother. A beautiful morning and a fresh couple of hours trolling result in a fat blank. Who the hell cares? Not us!
Right, I’m heading for Corton again. See if I can do better than yesterday. I launch and paddle hard against the tide, drop my anchor before I’d intended and get stuck in a screaming bitch of a tide. The Scupper is yawing, my legs are over the side for stability and my leads are bouncing. I’m kind of stuck here now though so have no choice but to sit it out. Sit it out I do and am rewarded, eventually, with a bite that translates to a 3lb codling. I go home happy enough but don’t bother to get up the next morning!
A day of rest follows and then a stupidly early start with Si. It’s a force 5 to start, building to a 6 or 7 later. We get to the mark in time and drop anchor and lose sight of each other for the next hour or more. Then I lose a bloody good fish after a minute or two of shaking and head banging. Then we get slack water. Then I land a 3lb’er. Then we up-anchor and come home with the tide in conditions that really weren’t very nice at all. That was my hundredth launch of the year.
I spend the day sanding the kitchen floor. I want to paddle but have little time. I also want to get some pictures with my new Beardhead so I head off late in the afternoon with the RRRapido. I go looking for the shore dump at Hopton but the bridge is up and I’m running out of light; I pull up at Dogger and run down to the fishing match…I give up, ask someone if they mind me sharing their groyne (!). She agrees, I pull on my Beardhead and push out into the waves. I get what I want but also, finally, manage to get tubed briefly! Okay, it’s a slight exaggeration maybe but I have the pictures!
So, New Year’s Eve…Mike and I are up early; what does this new dawn, the last of the year, hold in store for us? Well, a tangled anchor reel, a lost anchor, a dragging anchor with two of us on, a landing under the cliffs, a snagged rod, a tangled reel, a double blank and a cracking morning out in great conditions; yeah we could have bagged up being spot on with the navigation to a promised mark
I'm not sure if I mentioned some of the important stuff. If I have, sorry, if I haven't then it's tough! A high from this year was meeting a bunch of new paddling mates, not just the regular Si and Mike, seeing more of others already made such as Paul and his dad John and still catching up with the fellas I’ve been fishing and surfing with for a few years like Tim and Steve. Then there are the foreigners around the country like Richi and Chris who get seen on delivery trips as well as on the water. Then there are the old and new faces at meets and the Swanage comp or shows; Gosling and Marshy to name but two of the many that keep popping up and of course those who returned time and again for my meets, people like Andy, Ben, Ken and John. Then there are those I miss, who I’ve not seen enough of for various reasons. I like all that. I also liked accompanying quite a few people on their first trips, helping people to anchor safely or just dragging them somewhere new to try different stuff. I love being able to just pass on the stuff I've picked up over time. I like that with the demos too - did quite a few of those over the year - it's quite a buzz when you get, for example, a father and son surfing a Malibu for half an hour laughing their heads off. It’s not all philanthropic though, Stuart from Tiki taught me to surf during one demo - I've wanted to surf on a surfboard since I was ten or so and first saw Big Wednesday. Mustn't forget that one, it was everything I ever hoped it’d be and for a split fraction of a nanosecond I made it to my feet!
…well that was it, the end of my year, my log reading:
2011 Launches: 102 Salt 87 Fresh 13
Species: 12: 359x Whiting, 35x Dab, 9x Dogfish, 19x Pouting, 13x Starry Smoothound, 10x Codling, 36x Bass, 2x Sandeel, 9x Pike, 11 Pollack, 1x Black Bream, 50x Mackerel, 1x Common Smoothound, 1x Eel, 2x Dace
Happy New Year!
No comments:
Post a Comment