It was time to hit Sea Palling for the bass, first proper trolling session of the year but plans changed; Dav had to head to Stansted to drop some people and decided to hit Clacton for the roker while he was down that way and Shaun had agreed the sale of his Ultra 4.3 to Dave who, being halfway between Gorleston and Clacton, provided an excuse to carry on down as Shaun had yet to fish it. I went with the flow, chucking my Tempo on Shaun's roof and riding shotgun for yet more dustbin lids!
Things were all going well until we were fifteen miles away and Shaun decided to go on a magical mystery tour for the following hour. Okay...it's quite nice around that way, so much so we had a look at some parts twice. And then my phone went. It was the awful news that I knew was coming one day but wasn't expecting yet. Cam, without doubt the most knowledgeable angler I know and a fellow yakker had lost his fight for life a few hours beforehand, less than a couple of weeks before we'd be meeting up again to fish on his patch. Ever the practical man he'd at least approve of me going fishing.
So we parked up and wandered down to the beach to see the others as they weren't on the water. They'd launched and returned as conditions weren't nice at all, very close chop and reasonably tall as far as fishing conditions go. It was windy too. I didn't get out of bed early for nothing though and nor did Shaun; we went up and got rigged, chatting to Alan who gave us a look and to Pete from Nucleus Watersports who had seen us on the way past.
An easy enough launch but the sea soon picked up as we paddled out a quarter of a mile to just past Dav and Dave. Anchors down, little tide but big chop. On went a chunk of Shaun's fresh herring from Morrisons. Fresh as in frozen autumn herring full of roe and as soft and mushy as it can be. I didn't hold out much hope...Dave was anchored not far away...
Dav paddle dover after an hour, no bites and feeling rough after a 2:30 start and no food. He was going in. Passing over far better bait, frozen bluey and better herring, he paddled back to shore.
And I set about rebaiting and dropping down again.
Shaun was further out towards the buoy and quite happy too. The waves breaking over us weren't the worst we've had...
Low water came and went, slack came and went. Two biteless hours came and went and then, finally, my rod tip twitched while the tide started to run. I left it for a few minutes and when it went again I wound down and struck, feeling the bend and pull of a nice fish. And in came our first thornback of the day!
Three fish in, I heard a shout from Shaun and then lots of giggling, he was into a roker on a light rod and his Warbird 220 mini multiplier...I started videoing but gave up after a few minutes. It took him five minutes or so in total by which time I'd boated number four. He was loving it, getting a good scrap.
At 90cm, tip to tip, it was the longest fish caught in the Warbird 220 comp so far this year and at 11lb and in tide an excellent catch that really tested the reel. Dave though was still fishless and getting a soaking in the Dorado; he pulled anchor and came over. I tried to tempt him into staying but he decided against it and headed in.
We sat it out for another hour or two until time started pressing and with Shaun on three roker and two dropped, me on seven and a couple missed, we headed in. My tankwell was full anyway and my last fish, a female which went ten pounds, left me with 45lb of fish to wing, skin and freeze. Plenty to be going on with for now, a favoured fish in our household that even the children adore. In we went.
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Back at the cars we loaded up and I gave Dave one of my fish. Ralk about a spiky one! Can't have a mate going home empty-handed when I've bagged up after all. Then it was off to KFC for the traditional post-roker bucket of chicken followed by fish and chips from the floor of Shaun's van...
Another excellent cross-border raid.
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