A Marty Christmas Party…17/12/2013

A Marty Christmas Party…17/12/2013 I’ve packed my Warbird 220’s with grease – gun grease – and as Marty has popped in for coffee the day before we may as well go fishing. So, armed with those and my KP on my IM7 Maxximus rods I drive over to his and we jump into his car, setting course for the yard where his Warrior awaits, stopping briefly to pick up some leftover lug from a friend. Out we go, zooming across Breydon water and out through Yarmouth Harbour. First stop, the roads. Down go the baits and we sit back to enjoy the pleasant sunshine and clear skies that this day has brought. The pictures do not show how very cold it is! It was positively Baltic. Now, I fish this spot regularly from the kayak and from the kayak I have been wanting to catch a pout for another point but can I find one? No. they’ve become very rare over the last year or two. I get the first fish of course. A pout. Why today? Oh well. Back she goes, no voucher shot; she doesn’t count. Still, I’ve got my elf hat and beard. My two idiosyncratic rods and reels out, we wait for cod. And we wait for cod. The tide eases and, while dealing with one rod and a load of weed, my other rod bangs down in a cod bite. Marty grabs it, starts bringing it up then tells me to take the rod, the fish is on, it feels like a cod. All I can feel is weight; all I bring in is another line with a dab on it. He stole my rod and lost my cod then handed the rod to me so I could take the blame!!! Typical! He sees it differently; I was messing around he says, I lost it…We differ. But we don’t argue, it’s a long walk and I have no floating shoes. I put the rod back and get arty with my camera. Nothing is happening, the tide has dropped right off; we shoot out three miles and try there where the tide is still running. And we wait for cod. I get a dab. We both do. We’re on two species each; Marty’s already had whiting but I haven’t. Then I take the species lead with my own. A small one. The tide starts to hammer through, we tide starts to run and we head inshore to Hopton where Shaun’s been doing okay on the dabs and where the cod used to oblige me…we get nothing. We shoot out again, three miles off to another mark and fish for a while. I get a lovely poundanarf, our name for decent whiting and with Marty bringing in half a dozen fish to my one (he’s on fresh lug and leftovers on boom rigs, I’m on blacks and squid on pennels) but nothing really worth keeping apart from that one whiting we decided the cold is enough and finally lift anchor for the last time once the tide starts to run. Then, doing what I can’t, Marty opens up and we shoot home… He spots a guy with a camera by the bridge as we go through Yarmouth; I look and by coincidence it’s my mate Jules. Arty comes back though the bridge and over towards him so I can shout abuse in his direction – he looks defensive at first until he realises it’s me…I pose stupidly and then we set off again, back to the yard, and home for coffee. A pleasure as always!