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.
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