It was that time of year again, same weekend as last year and a few days before I realised I had the weekend off…I checked the forecast and it looked a goer; was there enough time for others to be goers to though? Short notice but I posted it up on the board and despite the numbers unavailable there were a few takers, enough to make a party out of it!
It was a nice mix. Most of the Lowestoft crew were or became available, Wilmy wanted to lose his virginity, WensumDav and Fishie H were heading there from Norfolk and Tangleweed was representing the southern colonies. Hopefully the fish would also come but of course they would…they wouldn’t miss it surely?
I got in from work at midnight, crashed out then pottered around all morning. Wilmy arrived after lunch and we set off, all loaded up with fishing, feeding and kipping gear and a bunch of wood to boot. Far too much chatter ensued and I wondered why the hell I was in the middle of Aylsham, how come I went past Blickling and then…out came the phone… “Tim? Where the Fuck am I?” “describe it” “Turnips to the left of me and turnips to the right of me”…”Ah. You’re in Norfolk.” That was alright then, couldn’t be too far away.
We pulled up on the shingle…damn, two minutes more and we’d have missed the guy who took the money…but no, he’d locked up so let us off. We chatted, he said he’d heard some of us were coming up. I asked him who from…he said I’d not know, I pressed him and he gave a name. It was my mate Marty of course (I knew he had links here) and his uncle was the warden. A good chat ensued until he told us there were no mackerel, they’d all gone. Oh.
Scuppers off the roof, rods out and rigged, and with the sun of the east coast giving way to the fog of the north I was glad I’d put something other than the wet shorts in the car. Wilmy of course was stuffed! But no! Stoker had returned my coolbox via Si (full of a selection of beer AND ice, what attention to detaiul! Cheers Bud!) and had also popped my old drysuit in with it and thus Wilmy was saved.
There were a couple of yaks already out when we launched. The birds were diving and I found a fresh sprat on the shingle; matched the hatch I did!
We watched Wilmy go off first then followed suit. The birds qwere everywhere and the sprats were topping all along the beach, twenty yards out. It was something I’ve never seen before and I enjoyed it for what it was as I headed for the Vera and hopefully a bass starter for seven. A J13 and a Sliver were out the back and I made a few passes over the various parts of the wreck but to no avail. I changed to tinsels and tried jigging them, getting hooked up in no time and losing the first of my metal lures, the heavy one that looked like a sprat of all things! I added some more tinsels and another one and set off elsewhere, jigging in clearer water. Tangleweed called over; he had a bass. He landed it, held it up and it made a break for it; stunned awkwardness! I carried on fishing.
Nothing.
I went deeper.
Nothing.
The odd fish was coming in to the others but it was so sporadic. I lost the other lure and a Dexter added for weight on a another snag, a tinsel on a pot rope and still failed to find a single mackerel. Ah well…thoughts of fish and chips sprang to mind. Oh the embarrassment! At least I had something to eat though…
I landed and got cold. On went some more clothing though I’d not brought any jeans with me. To warm myself up I got a beer out of the coolbox and relished it as it slipped down. Out came the newspaper and the wood and we started breaking it up and laying the fire; Dav produced a saw along with a few mackerel and soon the others turned up too…the seven of us had managed eleven and a schoolie (times were hard) between us, FishieH having done us proud by having a six-string while having a fag! We could just about get a meal out of that and so I set off to Sheringham for my essential supplies as we’d not need to go there for tea!
Back again I set to work filleting by headtorch and throwing fillets into the sea while rinsing them off! The fire was dying down and while waiting I got the sushi stuff out. Sprinkling mirin, rice vinegar and soy onto the thin slices of bass I squeezed some wasabi onto the nori sheets, added the fish and topped each bit off with pickled ginger as I passed them around. For some it was their first taste of sashimi and it always amuses me when people try wasabi for the first time too, especially when they breathe in through their nose! Si of course got stitched up with a hell of a splodge of wasabi but he, like me, is a heat freak and it had no visible effect.
The mackerel went onto the fire, seasoned with lemon pepper on the first batch, chilli and garlic on the second (both seasonings brought back from South Africa upon recommendation) and left plain on the last batch. Si got the noodles on the go while tangleweed passed around the olives and peeled up some home-grown shallots. A somewhat ecletic mix of tastes to be sure but we had alcohol and fish so what the hell.
It finally became time to turn in; the fire was running down and we were out of wood now. Out came the kip mats, my old 58 pattern sleeping bag and my bivvy bag along with a proper pillow and I prepared to sleep out under the stars. The others all disappeared to their own lodgings and Wilmy pulled out a pop up dog with ears and stuff that was a foot shorter than him and a pink negligee…I can see him fitting in well…I drifted off to the sight of shooting stars and satellites passing overhead.
I woke to the sound of crashing waves, deceptive as I’m not used to the sound of shingle. I looked up, it was already light so I’d missed the dawn raid, A couple of people were already up and about and I was feeling great. Not only had I slept really well but I’d had time for a romance too. A lovely girl, blonde, pretty, funny, happy and bright by the name of Jane Crisp. Really sweet – for some reason she offered to cut my hair and even styled it for me, all spiked at the top and stuff. Nobody has ever styled my hair before in the real, conscious world and I was smitten…and nobody will now that I’m smooth on top! The next day of the dream I saw jane again, I went to see her at the pub restaurant in which she was working. She offered me her own dinner as I looked hungry and even though I love lemon meringue and it was a huge wedge I let her have it because she’d been working hard, poor thing. Then I woke up. A pity really, she was a lovely girl. Wilmy of course was somewhat lost when I woke up and babbled this all out to him from my pit.
Kettles were boiled, coffee was drunk, rubbish was gathered and all the metalwork, screws etc were pulled from the embers before the fire site was covered over and all our crap was thrown into the backs of our vehicles…we left the place as we’d found it. Then it was out onto the water.
The sprats were still topping, the birds still diving. I headed once more towards the wreck. A few passes with different lures, slivers, shad raps, J13’s, magnums; nothing. Casting was just as productive but then dav let out a whoop as he hooked up…his rod bent niocely as the bass came up to the surface but the current was pushing through and those posts were poking up; he drifted around them and somehow the bass ended up caught twice. The lure was in the ropes and the fish was poking up above the water; dav was stuck now with how to resolve this so I put the camera down and went in to retrieve it, fortunately able to do so without issue and passed him over his catch shortly after.
Close in was doing nothing on the tinsels and I lost some more. Wilmy was doing fine.
Right, let’s try deeper. Off I went, 25ft, 30ft, I headed out for the 40ft contour a good mile out across the tide and set up a drift. There was NOTHING on the finder. I jigged and jagged and the screen stayed blank, the rod stayed steady and I failed.
Si and I spoke over the radio and I suggested jacking it and heading for sea palling. The idea was acceptable and I set course for the mile and a half paddle back across and against the tide, in full flow now and into the wind. It took me over forty minutes! As I made the final few hundred yards a group of ladies were ahead of me in the water. I diverted slightly and, upon them speaking to me I offered to rescue them. They laughed but, with their fellas nearby they felt obliged to refuse my kind offer of kissing some life into them…I’m such a tart.
I landed. It was a slog back. The wind had got up and was now an easterly., Bugger Sea Palling, I’d had enough. Load up and bugger off.
But hey, it was a wonderful way to spend my weekend off, amongst mates and on the beach. No regrets at all…apart from Jane being fictional.
Video to follow...
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