Butterfingers…12/12/2013

Butterfingers…12/12/2013 Coincidentally that’s the username of the guy I bought my frozen worms off on world sea fishing; great worms and a great price. Anyway, that’s by the by although it could be construed as important because you do tend to catch what your bait will attract and all the cod in my freezer, all the whiting and dabs too, have all come from these frozen Lancashire lug and I’ve not had a bad autumn so far. Frozen unwashed loligo squid from the Falkland Islands too of course, bought in 11kg blocks from Sam Cole, partially thawed and split, this being superb squid…apart from the bass that all fell to various Fladen lures over the course of the summer the rest of the fish – thornback and smoothound – has been caught on these fished whole on a pennel. Bait’s important; fresh mackerel or herring cut across the body or as a strip or fillet bait is also good for some species (ray for example) but to be honest there doesn’t seem to be much in it around here and squid is, at least, tough. I managed ten minutes sleep before I was wide awake again even though I was shattered. It’s always like this when fishing after a shift. Gary couldn’t do it as he’d had to swap a shift at short notice. I ummed and ahhed, not sure if I could be bothered – not from the fishing side or the sitting on the water aspect but the dragging across the beach and up the hill of 80lb+ or plastic. I can cope with a loss of speed on the water which is the difference between my Scupper Pro and the Cuda 14 and I’m appreciating the solid dry ride of the latter but that weight and that hill is just enough to put me off. But I’d posted so there may be someone else turn up…first, bacon and eggs. The sewer is fixed, the road is open, I was straight through. Bonus! Straight down to Tramps and there’s Mike, parked up on the roadside. I was really pleased he’d got the message and come along. I swung a round and parked by him and we unloaded and headed out together. All looked fine. Padlding out there seemed a bit more of a sea than it appeared. A strange sea, quite swirly and the wind was stronger than it looked too, especially the gusts. Halfway out and Mike expressed some concern. Near the mark he said he wasn’t feeling comfortable with it. having been out in stronger winds and bigger seas I was surprised but sensibly he heeded his instincts and went inshore instead. I drifted a bit further down and dropped anchor. Mike had made a very, very good choice. I can’t explain it but it wasn’t a good sea and I can’t put my finger on why. East is east, west is west and all that but the south westerly wind and south easterly swell must have been the twain that met, and it must have met here because things were disconcerting and that’s all I can deduce. Tide was running south to north too. It was swirly and there was a definite lump in the water. The wind was holding me off a straight line too. If I’d been anchored from the port side I may have sat better but I only have the one anchor trolley fitted on the Cuda, on the starboard side. As it was I wasn’t going to try and spin around and fiddle anyhow, nor was I happy to spin around yet and haul anchor. I was stuck, at least until the tide eased. I baited up and flicked out anyway. Again I had the mini Warbird 220 multipliers and 4.5ft ice Pike rods (I’d meant to change the latter overnight but hadn’t bothered) but had full length traces this time, with the stopping swivel at the top. I was 300 yards or so south of Whitby Quest, a new charter on the local scene I think. I called up for a chat and to introduce myself later on after speaking with Brian to see if he was out (he wasn’t) and he’d got five cod aboard already so he was doing alright. I sat biteless for half an hour then decided to check the baits. I reeled in the left hand rod and then the right hand one started to bang…cod? I was not mistaken. Cod! I dropped the other back down and started to reel it in, inching it up on the mini reel with it banging gloriously on the mini rod. I adnt needed to strike fortunately, it’d done the work itself and within minutes it was by my foot, up and in, unhooked and being bled for the pot; 47cm, perfect fillet size. I was gladdened. Pretty fish, perfect condition. Lovely markings. I sat and waited another half hour, chatted on the phone and radio then pulled up a whiting which went back. Not in need of more whiting for now. I got bored so started playing with the camera again, snapping the new reel on macro and rinsing my cod. My little mate was back again too so I gave him a few bits of squid. Nick called up to see how things were going and while chatting I seemed to alternate bites with dragging around as the tide eased and the wind gusted. But yes, this was a definite bite and another cod was walloping away; Nick got the benefit of the running commentary and shared the disappointment as I knocked it off on the bow; it was on the surface, the leader knot had just gone onto the reel and I guess it hit the plastic and was only lightly hooked. I was gutted – I hadn’t seen it but it felt at least as large as the one already landed. At least I’d had the sport of the scrap and I can’t really complain as I’ve brought home cod on all but one of the last dozen trips. My stock is fine and a few friends have had a meal on me. Last bite of the day produced a dab. A ratty looking thing; third species on the 220’s. I popped him back. I gutted and gilled my cod, washed it out, fed my feathered friend some more and paddled back in. Mike was waiting on the beach, having landed shortly before and another fella came and chatted then it was back up the slope and home so I could crash before another shift, after a quick chat to Paul who was passing when I got home. I need some dabs now. They’re queuing up inshore on the sandy beaches I hear. Maybe tomorrow.