Strange Days…30/11/2012

I reckoned I could be there just after nine. I’ve blown my yellow van up you see, that means the yak is now on my wife’s car and I have to drop them all at school first. So I arranged for 9:30 at Hopton and got there just after Mike. I was hoping to see Mel after his night session but he’d already left. The sea was up, pretty much on high water; it looked pleasant out there and the launch looked fine, with timing. That was the key as the odd set would roll in at quite a crotch-soaking size. Mike went first and I followed, paddling out against a still-running tide and anchoring up slap-bang on my mark. Down went the anchor and what the hell? There was a couple of knots running. Come on, it was high water, slack was just around the corner, half an hour away, maybe a bit more…but this was good and I dropped down. Straight into bites. Whiting rattles converted into fish every time, some decent ones and a few small ones but mostly reasonable, average fish. I was returning most though, just retaining a few big ones for the next day’s lunch and a couple that were deeper hooked. I was after cod. So, whole squid on spreader wishbone pennels…were the cod here? It’d worked last week a mile or two to the south, not an option today for rebounding swell…then the first of my three dabs jumped onto the hook…a 4/0 hook. I’d considered fishing smaller hooks for these beforehand but really wanted to get some bulk for smoking and loading into a fish pie. I love dabs you see. But I didn’t fish for them so I’ll change the subject. I’d had loads of fish by now and then spotted Tim on his way down the ramp. First time we’d been on the water together in a long, long time. Out he came and anchored up next door though the bites were starting to slow now and by the time Ian pitched up the tide had slowed and was thinking about starting to turn. I pulled up and rebaited, sitting around doing nothing for a while as we turned, I didn’t want four decent baits ripped to shreds being pulled along the bottom. I waited and as I finally swung around and the warp tightened up I dropped down again. Got a few bites but was now further north than I wanted to be. I pulled up and went back to my mark, reset the anchor and dropped down. With the second baits descending I got ready to pick up the first rod; double shot, unhooked, back down as the other rods starts going; double shot, unhooked, back down and pick up the other rod; double shot…squid is being used too quickly, I need it for cod, I fillet a deep-hooked whiting and pop some strip baits out, this should slow stuff, it’s never been much of a bait but cod eat them…and the tip starts rattling and I carry on hauling whiting and chucking hem back. Mike has gone in at slack, Ian is a ways off and Tim is not getting bites. It’s going absolutely mental here, it’s manic. Like a manic depressive it stops. Complete reversal. Nothing. Twenty minutes of hell breaking loose then nothing. No bites. Squid, blacks, strip bait. Ten minutes pass, little twitch, nothing there. Ten minutes pass, another, nothing there. Where is the tide? The ebb is just trickling north, no strength, no power, a knot max even coming up to mid tide. Ah well, I’ve been up since 11:30 last night and am going out on the town with some colleagues tonight, best I go home and try to get at least one hour’s sleep… The flood had been spectacular from the sea, with 3ft swells crashing larger against the sea defences and spraying fifteen feet in the air but it was nicer now and we scooted in nice and gentle to the beach. I felt bad; I assumed the others had been catching at the rate I had but they hadn’t. Ian at least had enough for tea so I gave Tim all my whiting. I could have filled his boot.

The Lull Before…24/11/2012

I was nonplussed. I really had no idea what to expect from the day. I’d got a Friday night off which meant a Saturday session was possible which coincided with Si not being at work and having not fished together since he’d started at the new place months ago there was no question of not going. The trouble was, I had to be back to get the girls off to swimming which meant leaving home at 2…but low water was 12:30, the ebb would continue to run for another 30-40 minutes at least and then there was the paddle back and loading up. It couldn’t be done as I was so delightfully informed by she whose car I’d be using, having blown my van’s engine earlier in the week, covering half the retail park and filling PC World, Carpet Right and the brand new Morrison with thick white smoke in the five minutes that my engine ran away with itself en-route to shaking itself to bits. So in some convoluted literary way my plans were fucked. So, following the argument I lost I sent Si a text to give him the great news that instead of fishing the last of the ebb and up-anchoring in slack water we’d be getting up early, in the dark and hauling anchor mid-tide. He was overjoyed as you can imagine. Now, this could go either way; I rarely fish the start of a tide as I get so bored during slack I come home. Nah, give me the end of the ebb or end of the flood at a push. Next problem was the timing. High water was 05:43; add in half an hour or so until slack and another half hour for the flow to switch direction and we’d already be missing the initial stages which I’ve previously found seems to trigger feeding; cod first, whiting next and then the whole lot dying off as the tide builds towards mid-flow. So we’d be late and hobbled. And we’d have to come back against the flow…unless…one vehicle at Hopton and one at Tramps where we were launching? That’d be another half hour wasted at least. No. Bugger that. Last minute change of plan and we head straight out and slightly south from the ramp at Tramps hoping we can find a decent patch on the finder. Well, luck started to sort of smile here and there, both good and bad. Though it was now 7 by the time we were on the water the flood was still running though just about on its last legs. Out I went, 300-400 yards or so and maybe the same south of the ramp but, damn it, corrosion had snapped off a pin from my power socket on the fishfinder so no marks and no sonar; fish blind and look for the needle in the haystack. Well, I found a patch of sea that was just the same as any other from where I was sitting and dropped anchor. It was flat calm, the sky was lightening and it felt far warmer than the just-above-freezing due to the almost complete lack of wind. Sweet! A nice big frozen black slid up between the two 4/0 Vikings on my pennel and then an small unwashed loligo squid hooked at the side, one through the top of the mantle and one through the bottom and then back on itself and through the eyes. First bait down and a second made up and sent to the bottom. Yep, the depth seemed okay at least. Si dropped down and sat a bit behind and inshore of me, just enough to shout at each other. There he sat while my rods didn’t so much as twitch for the next hour; three whiting and I’d not had a bite, this could get embarrassing. Still no current though, in fact it wasn’t until 07:45, two hours after high, that the ebb actually started and pulled the lines taught. Another half an hour and then I started getting little knocks, taps and rattles. Still, sunrise was nice enough. I missed them all. They were irregular and few and far between. A quick tap and then off the fish went, not taking a second bite. Strikes missed. Pins? Dabs? Nah, bastards! It took the best part of an hour before finally I got a hook-up and what a nice whiting to be going on with, a pound or so in weight and a nice account given of itself. Then I missed a few more. The tide started picking up quite quickly once it started running and my fourth whiting, only a little one, was enough to snap the thin cable tie I’d used as a weak link on the anchor and, with it reversed, I started to drift fairly quickly. It was now mid-tide which usually doesn’t produce much for me. Up came the anchor and I stuck two ties on, dropping down again. I’d moved maybe quarter of a mile in this time. I was still a good quarter mile south of the charter boats who’d set up; Cleveland Princess and Lead Us had both come past on their way out just after slack, High Flyer running down from the north soon after. They’d since been joined by Katie Louise and another; cod season clearly building with plenty of anglers spread between them. Here comes Brian… …and there’s Colin A securite announcement came over the radio; force 7 gusting gale 9 and force 8 gusting storm 10 were on their way. We really had been sitting in a lull and though we had no more than a four, absolute max, by the time we went in, it had still built considerably from what it’d been at launch and it continued; by mid-afternoon when I drove over the bridge it looked gnarly through the harbour mouth and by five when I went to bed the wind was keeping me awake. I started to get the odd whiting soon after I’d settled again and then, once the water started to colour up at last, bang. A lower case bang that didn’t result in a hook-up but that was a cod bang. Five minutes later a bigger cod bang that again didn’t see me hook-up. Another five and less of a bang and more of a rattle and I was into a codling. Now, an under 2lb codling is no monster but in full flow with a wide-open gob it requires rather more effort than you’d expect. Most enjoyable! I called up Si to let him know the cod were switched on now, being cheeky as much as anything else, seeing as how he’d been hammering me earlier though I did also let him know they were hitting double squid and weren’t at all interested in worm; before he answered I had some banter from ‘an unnamed mate’ to the north :-) So, following another missed bite and second cod, a 3lb’er this time, said unnamed-mate got called up and asked to carry on chumming the fish for me as they were getting bigger. Haha. I figured bragging rights were in order! It tickled me, anyway. However, numbers three and four would have been cruel so I kept quiet, just hauled them in, knocked them on the head and stuffed them down the hatch into the hull. Providence was clearly smiling on me for once when the anchor tripped. I decided I fancied a walk and, surprisingly, I had a companion volunteer to accompany…most unexpected as I figured they’d have moved off by now. Such a little sweetie. I’d told my wife I was still stuck because of the tide and would be late (payback) but as the current began to ease the whiting came back and I loaded up with the last of my squid for a last cast in case there was still some cod lurking around; four whiting said no and so I called up Si and we headed in, landing on the beach just in time to watch ‘unnamed friend’ motor south and anchor up where I’d been…that tickled me something rotten! (Though to be fair he’s put me onto fish before). I hope he had the luck I came across though, for that’s all that caught me those fish really. It wasn’t a mark I’d have headed for if I’d launched when intended originally, I’d got no electronics to find promising ground and I’d only ended up there after breaking out an anchor.. Still, with over 10lb of fresh codling to fillet and smoke I’ll be tucking into the fish pie I’ve been waiting for for a few weeks with great delight and getting my arse back on the water as soon as there’s another window amongst the high winds and big seas that are going to batter the east coast for the foreseeable…and with the charters all catching cod for their customers too this ain’t the time to be hanging about on land. If you want to get ahead get afloat.

Ignoring the Hint…16/11/2012

I woke up okay but I didn’t much fancy leaving my bed. It took a while and in the end I had only forty minutes until Wilmy pitched up. That’s why, half an hour later, my hurried ascent of the stairs knocked out any immediate impetus. It was that chilli I’d made the night before. Wilmy pitched up as I came back down the stairs. So we began with a coffee to see if things would settle and, appearing to, we set off. Ian’s day had started badly too, the angling shop not yet open due to illness leaving him devoid of bait, weight and traces. No matter, the freezer was raided and off we set, doing a lap first while I went to fetch a spare anchor reel…it was going well. The traffic through town was atrocious and all the time the tide was running out. Still, we got through and turned onto Beach Road and, when he moved to the side, passed the man standing in the middle of the track. Incredibly fast as he was to tell us when coming and taking my registration number, speeding no less (though he didn’t know what the speed limit would be here. Built up area? Any guesses? If you can do thirty down there you certainly ain’t in my van). There’s kids down there you see, presumably truanting as it was the middle of a school day but as we didn’t see any and he couldn’t answer that we just took his word for it. Anyway, I regretted my cheery good morning to him before he started with his grumbling and let him get on with his threats of reporting me to the police who would be jailing me in due course. Clearly they don’t prosecute people for wasting police time then but I didn’t ask him that, merely for his name and address as he had my details and it was surely only fair. He declined, once he became un-stumped for words. Anyway, the silly old cunt wandered off in self-righteous indignation and a badge-studded hat with his false accusations and we wandered down to a flat sea, so full of positive energy by now that we couldn’t fail to hit the jackpot! I dropped anchor with the tide still running quite hard and stuck out two rods, both with 4/0 penneled black lug and squid and watched as Wilmy pottered about for a bit before dropping down nearby. I sat and waited. For quite a while. Half an hour or so in fact before the rod finally dipped down into a missed bite. It took a bit longer before I got my first; back it went, I have plenty for now and was on up for large ones today. It was so slow! Tiny bites that didn’t connect…finally though a keeper, a good whiting that gave a good account of itself. It stayed aboard, to be joined a while later by a decent dab. It was a bit nippy out here and with only a dozen or so fish at most (the majority caught on blacks with whole squid) of which I kept three, and very few decent bites there seemed little point staying past slack and so we headed in, landing easily by a beach angler who’d not had much either. Had it not been better than the alternative of doing nothing it’d have been a waste of time and effort…

In the Lap of the Cods…12/11/12

I could smell them coming, from the east, carried on the winds. Few in recent times have seen these cods, many disbelieve but where there is faith there is hope. And where there is hope there is cod. Mind you, I’d have to get through the whiting first but that’s no bother, I enjoy the constant rattles and the taste that results. It was a calm sea, a mild day and only the lightest of breezes and with a couple of hours before low water I figured on three hours of fishing the optimum end of the ebb. So there I was, on the beach at Hopton looking out at a dinghy anchored on my intended spot, one I’d scanned but only fished once; no matter, I chose another spot, further north in line with my usual mark and further offshore. I dropped anchor and settled down. Bites from the off, good bites too that resulted in hook-ups. I was landing fish at a steady rate. I could hear the radio chatter on 8 and the charter to my south was also on the whiting but had seen no cod as yet, another about to join him and drop anchor. My first fish went back down as a livebait, liphooked on a 6/0. The second went back, the third fooled me into thinking cod…it was a good fish but no, still a whiting. But then the tide started to ease and the whiting disappeared. It was time, perhaps, to make the best baits up and leave them to tempt their larger kin. Tempt their kin it did. A 4/0 pennel with black lug and a whole unwashed squid side-hooked did the business as the rod thumped towards the ending of a telephone conversation. Poor Si, stuck inland, at work, as I strike into a codling, my first of the season. Heavier than its weight I thought I had a three-pounder but no, it was probably half that but a good few centimetres in-size. Times are hard! Home it came. There wasn’t a great deal more going on over the next half-hour but then, a tremble that I kept ignoring finally yielded a skinny dab of maybe 6 inches, darker and spottier than normal, on a 4/0 pennel and a huge bait. It didn’t look at all dab-like, more like a baby halibut I decided but sadly the rough skin and curved lateral line denied me that as a species. On slack I up-anchored and headed ashore, landing a few minutes behind the dinghy. The pair of them had managed only whiting. As for the charters? The first had gone in an hour before slack with only whiting and the one dropping anchor had only had the one. I reckon I did alright.

Dull and Pointless Piking…09/11/2012

I had to nip to Beccles for a doctor’s appointment so it seemed like a good idea to do a bit of piking while I was there. It was a mild morning, a bit windy but quite bright so the lures should get seen with a bit of luck. The water was up quite high too so I could use a greater range, the bottom being 6-8ft or so down for much of the route I’d be taking normally with weed down their too so the extra foot or two clearance would help. The only thing I didn’t like was the speed of the water; the river was in ebb and was moving through at a steady rate. I still had a pair of Magnums on from the other day so I started off with them, launching off the pontoon where some guys had set up for a spot of deadbaiting. I headed straight off through the town, running downriver with strokes every now and then to keep my track but there was nothing doing. I passed under the bridge and changed to a redhead J13 by the boatyard and cast it out. There was a fella in a boat just down from there on the corner and as I approached the J13 rod walloped down; I grabbed the rod and felt a couple of lunges before the line went slack. Damn, not good. Reeling in I noticed that the hooks had dulled from rust since I’d last used this one. My own fault I’d lost what felt like a reasonable fish. Still, maybe one of the multitude of pikers in the area might get it a bit later. I passed the bypass bridge and then turned, heading back up once more a lot slower, against the wind and flow now. The advantage here was a lot more movement in the lures. Passing under the bridge again the constricted flow was surprisingly fast, somewhere in the region of 3mph I’d guess. It was no real surprise that the fish weren’t too active! I passed the launch point, the guys on the bank reporting no fish, and carried on upstream. Then Marty called to see if I fancied a boat trip tomorrow but with too much on I had to decline. As we nattered I saw a swirl in the water ahead and aimed and passed over the spot; the J13 rod banged down again and, hanging up I pulled into the fish. More lunges, really strong ones that turned the boat around quickly and I passed the line over the bow to keep it from tangling the other. This really was a decent fish. But I didn’t see that one either. Those hooks would need sharpening, that’s for sure. I carried on up towards Barsham and, with the takes having both been on a redhead I swapped Firetiger J13 on the other rod for a redhead sliver and cast it out. I made around fifty yards and then the rod banged down again. This time the fish stayed on and after a spirited scrap I picked a 2lber out of the water. Something to photograph at last. I unhooked it and popped it back in, watching it shoot off swiftly. I continued past the pump house and then decided I wasn’t feeling all that interested and turned for home, the water running too quick for effective trolling as the lures weren’t moving much at the speed I was doing, even on the drift it was too quick. I followed a kingfisher for some of the way, sighting the fleeting blues as it took wing then chose another bankside tree to shelter until I once more came close. The guys at the launch were packing up as I arrived and had blanked so perhaps I had a lucky time of it after all, even if my main success had come on a dull and pointless lure…

Dredging Some Up...07/11/2012

It's my dad's 70th birthday and I’ve been up all night. That's a solid reason to go fishing I reckon. After a blustery and wet few days the sun is out and though fresh it's not as cold as it has been as I make my way home to get changed, drink yet another coffee and take the girls off to school, my wife having the day off; my only task today is to make muffins for dad when mum drags him over here as a surprise at half three. With an arranged 10am meet-up that's going to give me a fairly short but reasonable time on the water with Wilmy who's cherry failed to get popped last time we tried for pike. I'd originally planned to go to Beccles as normal but I’m starting to find it far too familiar. I'd gone right off Oulton Broad after the bastard Napoleons had ticketed my van having changed the parking rules (taken away the free winter parking on mud) and had not set foot there since last winter but a chance natter on the phone with Marty changed my mind; he was dredging there for a few days so a mid-session coffee was on offer. I'm fickle enough to base my fishing on such things. I pulled up and unloaded then went to park the van on a side road then called Ian; I couldn't see him and I'd not been quite specific enough, poor bugger had been waiting just up the road. No matter, he came round, unloaded and went to park up and then off we went, heading straight for the dead end. I was trolling a super shad rap and a jointed one as well; big lures that I thought might pull a beauty out. The wind was starting to build as I went around my favoured spot but nothing doing; I headed up the broad to find Marty, snagging just before I got to him. That’s when my phone rang... Ian was still in the dead end and had got one on, his first ever pike. I headed down to get it on film and give him a hand unhooking it. A respectable fish, 3lb or so but with its jaw stapled shut which complicated things somewhat but it was soon dealt with and after a quick grip and grin it went back into the water. Sweet! Coffee time...Marty had the Gold blend ready by the time we got up there and, tied off and basking in the sun we had a good natter before heading off again. Last time I’d seen him we were on his boat catching cod off Corton a couple of weeks back… I'd changed lures but was still having no joy...I crossed the mouth of the dyke and met up with Ian again who'd had another up to the side before it spat the hooks. Bastard. I headed through my hot spot, hit the bottom and jerked the rod to clear it of weed. Thanks to my Gemini quick link this resulted in a new Sliver disappearing, the swivel running up the link and off. I was not impressed and angry with myself as it wasn't the first time. I cut the links off and tied them before heading past the holiday village. The wind was strong now and with two J13's out I drifted down to the dead end again, nothing. I was resigned to a blank now but tried anyway, making a circuit before crossing the bay again, that’s when I saw he'd got another one! Another bit of film and another unhooking followed by a grip and grin, a longer, fatter fish in the region of 6lb he was made up. Not bad for a virgin, not bad at all! That was it, time to go and trying one last time with a couple of Magnum CD9's we crossed the broad, pulled up onto the pontoons and went to get the vans. I may have blanked but it was a great success to see Ian break his duck so well and on such a beautiful day too.