Rude Not To…04/12/2013

Rude Not To…04/12/2013 “Got suit and bait, you going tomorrow?” So texts James. I suppose it’d be rude not to, the winds are light for another 36 hours after all even if the tide is wrong for fishing after my shift. So what tactics to employ…could go for the cod off Corton where I was the other day but it’s cod or bust – no whiting or dabs showing on the rough the other day. Trouble is, it was the flood and we weren’t going to get to the usual mark anyway. Lowestoft could provide dabs on the sand; Pakefield, where Colin was going, would leave me a bit late on the way back though he was doing well there when I spoke to him. So, we settled on Corton but only three hundred yards out, making use of the dip past the shoreline in the hope of fish moving in to feed. Of course the traffic was a nightmare again so after leaving off, going home for bait and a change of clothes and then battling through it all it was after nine by the time I arrived. James was already there and getting unloaded and Si had popped down to say hi. I swore about my morning for a while and then we headed down and launched into a rather pleasant sea. Out we went, anchors down and the water is rushing past. We pull up level about fifty yards apart. Lines go down – I’m fishing for free right now with the worms left on the traces from a couple of days ago. Well, almost free, just a bit of squid to tip them off. 8oz on and down they go, a multiplier and a centrepin. Ten minutes and a couple of taps, missed bite. Another and then, as James calls over he has a whiting on I start pulling one up too, a return. Hurrah, no blank! The next one is better, a keeper. A couple more follow and then James calls over and I see a nice bend in his rod, a cod! Great stuff, a bonus on the off-chance…but it comes off halfway up. I feel almost as gutted as he must. The wind is pretty strong now and there’s a bit of drizzle now and again. The hood goes up. I spot the Katie Louise coming up from the south and past us, offshore, followed by the Newcome, the chaps waving as they come closer; I beckon them over to let them know what’s occurring for us and we have a quick chat. Soon after I spot High flyer dropping anchor to the north around where I’d normally be – I can’t raise them on the radio but I know Gary’s onboard. Then I have a dab. As the tide starts to slow I have another dab – a keeper – and a few more whiting, some directly below me on the pin. Some cracking bites but the only bent rod is from a foul hooked dab. The tide slows right down and we start to turn; I decided enough’s enough, it’s after twelve and it’s time I was heading home and to bed. I haul anchor and with James staying until the start of the ebb to finish off his bait I headed in and home, feeding the gulls first.