To say that my mojo was sinking would be putting it bluntly. The last few days had seen fairly lacklustre sessions including blanks and it was a concern, the best session by far being on Cleveland Princess and even that was a struggle – it was all down to the strength of tides we figured, the fish were there but not really feeding. I knew the two main local charters were heading out on this day so gave them the heads-up on what was happening closer inshore the day before when we spent a few hours of abject failure out from the holiday camp at Hopton where the hounds have been pretty commonplace lately.
“Dead at Hopton so far. 3 fishing 7 rods. 1 pup landed since 10. I have missed 3 bites, single hits each time. Only bites on whole squid, nothing on fresh mackerel or lug, blacks or the whelks I am catching – so I am on the mark for sure. Tide has been ok, downtiding with 6oz holding.”
Nothing too optimistic there and Colin wasn’t sure where to go…I did suggest Oulton Broad and he responded with the pub so at least there was an alternative! Not a real one though and after thrashing it through with Brian they plumped for the Whistler Buoy which has been producing well lately; how would it fare today though? I’d been bitching all week and with nothing planned because I really couldn’t come up with anything good Colin had invited me along. An offer I couldn’t refuse and a summer video would look good on his website next to a winter one too.
Half seven we were meeting at the berth. I was early, having overslept once before. Gruzzle (Bob) and Barry met me there, Bob coming and saying hello when he spotted the kayaks on the roof. I’d slept badly and had a poor session failing to catch bream the night before and was in half a mind to cancel, expecting hard fishing and a long day but this all passed as soon as I got near the boat. Well it would, I was going fishing! On a blinding day too. With the engines warmed up Colin backed out and we headed for the harbour, passing the Lydia Eva with her new mast installed and past a large amount of gulls.
“There’s a trawler run aground just outside the harbour” said Colin. “My heart bleeds” was my less than charitable reply. Might not have been the tides after all. Gert Jan, a 312 tonne 36 metre beam trawler was originally from Lowestoft, where it had been named St Thomas, and had caught the edge of one of the banks. I saw the RNLI ‘Spirit of Lowestoft heading out ahead of us and was able to observe the drama as we went out through a rather flat harbour mouth and northeast. I had the camera out…
It was quite a trek across and uptide. Brian was already anchored up on Cleveland Princess just to our northeast and Colin chose a spot just down from a rip which showed some good marks on the sonar. There were already two hounds aboard Brian’s boat so perhaps the worm had turned?
Whole loligo squid for me – bottom 2/0 through the top of the mantle and straight down through the guts then hooked through the eyes. In it went, cast past the bow on the Powerstick uptider and with a big bow let out; it gripped. Colin cast from that side too, his whole squid whipped on with elastic too. Bob and Barry had worm and squid cocktails…and my rod went first.
A small hound, a welcome sight. Easily unhooked and straight back and off. I kept my lucky squid on…whose turn next?
Me again! Oh yeah, who’s the daddy?! “What is it?” “Dunno, not big, not sure.” Up it came. “Hound?” Colin asked, then it came onto the surface – and we’re talking 3-4 knots of flow – spinning merrily away and being streamlined and I thought it was an eel, a second on whole squid…as it came in I saw it was a hound…or rather wasn’t. Mouth looked wrong, fins looked wrong, tail looked wrong, nose was totally…TOPE!
Now I’ve only had one before, a 25lb’er on the kayak up in Scotland. I have long-wanted a Norfolk/Suffolk one and a Lowestoft one…well, even though it was on a boat and kind of cheating I had my first ever Lowestoft tope. I was absolutely thrilled, over the moon, cock-a-hoop “Easily pleased you are” as Colin said. Yep, I’d be happy to go home now.
I sent a text to a bunch of my fishing mates. Okay, so I forgot to mention it was four ounces or so in weight with its see-through nose and oversized eye but we had to have a conversation and my mobile wasn’t silent for the rest of the day. I was sated, but feeling guilty and offered the next fish to someone else if it was on my rod.
It was too, I struck again – not my lucky squid this time, I changed for a fresh piece – and felt a good hound on the end. I offered it to Barry and Bob, fair’s fair but both declined, insisting it was my fish. I started to do battle but ping! The braid parted. That was it. I’ve had enough. Something was up with the braid, some damage I couldn’t see and no way was it taking 20lb of load. I reeled in then stripped a good fifty yards off before I put another trace on. I didn’t have any more issues for the rest of the day – I’m thinking it’s damage from jamming and being freed in overruns. Meanwhile Bob and Barry kept their eyes peeled…
…then…You got a bite Barry?
…I think so…
…and he did battle with a personal best, a 4lb smoothound that swam away again soon after!
He seemed rather pleased! As was I when I landed one soon after.
Then it was Bob’s turn, also his personal best hound and he too was over the moon.
This carried on with us all catching more hounds. Well, almost all of us. Let’s play ‘Rib the Skipper’!! Of course Colin took the banter like a man before wiping he floor with us by landing one good fish after another!
We lost a few too. Lines getting caught together on the uptiders was a pain and one of mine was lost because of this – Co0lin and I both had a hound on, they crossed the lines, we landed his and after getting mine free (cutting his trace through) my hound got its tail around and onto the trace, wrapping and twisting in it. Off it went, abraded right through. Well, I had the fight and that hook would be out in a short time, a bottom hook 2/0 corner of the mouth job. Colin lost at least two rigs striking or reeling in, cut clean through so presumably there was some rock or hard clay ledges down there. It was infuriating. That said, that particular fish had taken off like a steam train and nearly whipped the rod over the side.
The tide slowed and so did the fishing. Every now and then I’d try feathering with no success. Finally slack arrived, the best time, and I commenced a bit more seriously. Five minutes passed. Ten, then Colin said “There’s a shoal coming through at eight metres”. I would in and the rod started to rattle – overjoyed again, my first Lowestoft Mackerel! Another hope realised. One small, undersized joey mackerel and I’m grinning again.
Not as much as Bob though; first mackerel, first time using feathers and four of them hold fish!
No more, even though we kept seeing marks in the water and then the sea started to flow again as the ebb kicked in…and off went my rod. I pulled into a nice hound, another hard-fighting male, and it gave a great account of itself; the braid was working fine now.
It was starting to get faster and faster and though we kept getting bites and the odd fish it was getting pretty hard to even hold bottom. I saw one of mine nodding, brought them both in and said I was done. Colin wasn’t to declare himself being finished yet though. His hand went into the top hat and pulled out a rabbit…in the form of a thornback. Best fish to the skipper then!
Pulling in a dustbin lid against a strong flow is no fun. He was done now.
We headed for home, punching the tide all the way, hard work it was, 1.5 knots…choppy but flatter than previous times. Past the cardinals off Ness Point, past Gulliver.
Lots of marks, lots of banks and drops and a yacht heading straight at us? At first a concern but then it became clear that he wanted to follow us in, being locals. Having heard the DSC alarm tone two or three times during the day it was probably wise.
In we went, smoothly through the heads and motored down to the berth. What a blinding day, weather you’d expect for marlin, a dozen hounds, a thornback, some mackerel, a tope and a dogfish; a very enjoyable and better than feared catch. Bob and Barry must have been pleased, they already started looking at dates for their next trip, before the hounds have gone. Brian did well too so all was good in the world
Nb they were suggested to try some smut and both took one. De-spined, chunked, dip in egg, dip in self-raising flour seasoned with salt and deep fry I told them. Bob, who was reluctant to take one, has declared them nicer then cod. Having ate a whole hound for my tea that night I couldn’t really argue.
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