Crash, Boom, Bass…10/09/2012

I thought the bass were just about gone after such a slow session with Whippersnapper on Saturday; we really should have bagged up but only one fish on and that didn’t stay there but I was persuaded otherwise; some people need to be listened to and Norfolkboy is most definitely one of these. Anyway, proof of this came on Sunday morning after work. I went down the beach with my wife and the kids and, being a coward who doesn't like getting wet, I failed to go in past my knees but with it so clear I went wandering along the groyne...saw fry shoals, saw sandeels and saw some larger grey shapes in the turbulence...mullet or bass? Of course I went home and grabbed a rod and close to giving up on the mullet with a wedge the tide started to move and a bass took; 42cm of pleasant surprise! So of course Monday had to be bassing. Hehe. Off to school went the girls, Wilmy arrived straight after and eventually Si pitched up as well; we’d filled the time drinking coffee. The sea was still really clear when we’d wandered down the end of my road and, although bloody windy and a bit choppy close in, we figured we should have a fair chance of finding a fish or two. So we launched. A bit bumpy, that launch, a tad moist around the crotch. Out we went and then the swell started to appear…this wasn’t quite what was expected, nor was the strength of the wind but it was certainly okay to paddle in (though confused and unbalancing). The thing was, we couldn’t tell what was happening around the corner – would the swell be smashing into the sea wall and rebounding too much for us to fish close in? We’d have to see. We headed north and I called up harbour control to verify that we were clear to cross the port approaches. We were and headed through the turbulence that kicks up there (it’s nasty). Wilmy had dropped out. His paddle wasn’t right and he couldn’t get a proper purchase on the one side so he landed instead to reset it. I called him up when I found and eddy and he sounded really apologetic but he really shouldn’t have – it wasn’t a day to have things not right. Indeed, I was quite impressed that he did go in instead of following blindly and it wouldn’t have been a tricky session for him otherwise as it turned out. I dropped down a Sliver and a J13 as I cleared the entrance and started to troll. Although the waves were quite large and crashing into the rocks, worsened by it being low water and this being pretty shallow, they weren’t causing a nuisance really. I’ve been forced off the reefs at Sea Palling with less than this. Si was paddling ahead and at a slightly quicker pace than me. Then he seemed to be going even quicker – I glanced around and saw my rod bent right over; snag. I cleared the snag by freelining then paddling up to it. The J13, being a floater, fortunately released itself and I was away again. I turned, flicked it out and started to paddle. I got about 30 seconds downtide when the Sliver on the other side did the business and my spinning rod started banging away like a good’un. I grabbed it, made sure I had a firm hold and started to wind, tightening the drag as the fish fought me. This was going okay but I had to get away from the rocks now and so, with the rod jammed between my knees I paddle dup and over a couple of waves and out of danger before hauling in bass number one at 50cm. Lovely, thanks. I carried on down, meeting Si on his troll back. He’d had nothing but as he started off again after our natter he hooked into a fish on the wedge and feathers, unluckily losing it near the end of the scrap. Ah well, some sport nonetheless. We paddled back together, me on the inside, trolling away and chatting when suddenly I raised my voice and said ‘watch out!’ That practice the other month against the exploding clapotis at the sea wall came in handy for both of us as 4ft of wave face went under Si just before it broke (had he been 6ft inshore he’d have been rolled) and I went over 3ft of it ahead with a burst of speed (6ft back and I’d have been). That was close; we laughed. Nothing was happening on the rods though and a couple more passes later we decided to head back. Si passed some staging first and as I went round my rod started to buck; fish two. A schoolie. I had to use my paddle to steer myself back past the boards at the same time as the wind was in our face and the tide was still running because of it. A force 5, with near-constant gusts to 7 (27.8 knots recorded on the yacht club rood nearby) the tide had been held back and our timings had been thrown out. Anyway, I unhooked the little fella and passed back around again but didn’t seem to be making any headway, I was static; and the rod was banging again. A better fish this time, it felt at least as good as the first but sadly I had to steer again and it got off. Bugger. I think Si cursed me to be fair. We carried on the few hundred yards to the entrance and then my inside rod started to bang like mad. Off streaked the 9cm jointed shad rap, straight into the rocks and I knew exactly what was going to happen. Fish and lure gone. I wasn’t overjoyed. Permission granted we paddled across the harbour entrance again and what a sea! It was all over the place, we were up, down, sideways, water was coming over the side, we were surfing, the nose was digging in; I left Si standing, there being no other choice though I kept turning to check on him and he confessed after that he thought he was going in at one point. I know the feeling well, that’s a shit bit of water at times. Besides, I had this bloody wind to deal with! It took an age to get back to the launch point and as I arrived I saw Wilmy launching again; he’d got his feather sorted and was practicing on his own while we were off fishing. Not one to give up and these were ideal conditions. We didn’t bother with self-rescues though as the lure of coffee was too strong. As a side note the sea increased during the day; come 4 o clock my girls were catching rides on bodyboards after school. Then it was home to a starter of Ceviche; in a few days’ time bass gravad lax will also be served.

Med Morning…08/09/2012

“When you get up, look out of your window and if the trees aren’t moving, get dressed and we’ll go fishing”. That was what I said before I went to bed yesterday evening before my shift. I was home just after eight and clearly the trees hadn’t moved as, tucking into croissants was an underfleeced Whippersnapper. This was good as the sun was up, the sky was clear and the wind was almost non-existent. I checked the tides and the forecast for the rest of the day and we had to move…having not yet refitted anchor trolleys to my Scupper it was a morning destined for trolling even though the small tide was ideal for us to sit for ray and smut at anchor. With the bass likely to disappear soon and not many days for lure fishing left though this was a perfect example of things coming good; Eloise had yet to have a bass either and it had been on the list all year. Sadly things have conspired against us and she’d not been fishing since Swanage back in May so we crossed everything and headed for Yarmouth. We pulled in just up the road from a near-empty warehouse and unloaded. A quick haul and both yaks were at the water’s edge. To describe the Whippersnapper launch as unorthodox would be to understate it but what is fishing with dad if not fun? (Button it Si!). We paddled south with the first flowing of the flood tide. The water was clear. Med clear. Twelve feet of visibility minimum, by far the clearest I have EVER seen on this part of the coast; I really could have believed I was in Spain, the temperature, the light and the gin-clear sea all being so reminiscent of my own beginnings fishing in Ampuriabrava as a nipper. The paddle was easy and with a lure trailing from her Fladen IM7 12lb class boat rod and Warbird reel I was really hopeful – surely any bass around would spot our lures a mile off! I had the thin spinning rods and Coriolis reels out but had forgotten my lures so had nicked my daughters. Payback! I got close to the outfall and flicked out a Fladen wedge a few times to no avail. I trolled past; nothing. The pair of us went around the outfall, up and down and Eloise thought she had a take but apart from a pull and a splash there was no sign. I’d not felt so much as a twitch. We carried on for a while and then headed for the outer harbour to run up the wall for a bit. We had no joy here either but there were plenty of fry on the surface as there were near the first mark. Perhaps feathers or tinsels might have been wise but it was too late now. I was topless but Eloise was decidedly warm so we beached and off came the drysuit and underfleece; I’d already got her to take off the hoodie and shirt she’d had on when we were getting suited! Now, in knickers and pfd, she was ready for a bit of effort again and we paddled, against the tide, back to the mark and started making our way around the two structures in a large figure of eight. The water had still not coloured up so things were getting more promising as some turbulence was created. Cast wedges were not doing the business and nor were the divers and we continued just pulling lures about, up and down and around when suddenly I felt the floating, jointed lure that Spark had given me a while back get hit by something. I grabbed the rod and pulled tight; this was a decent fish! It was a five plus for sure, judging by previous fish on this rod and reel, and I called my apprentice over to do the honours. As she pulled alongside and I prepared to pass the rod disaster struck and I dipped the rod. It went slack and then it went weightless. Damn it! I’d not even seen it, just felt it for a minute or two and now it was gone and we’d have to carry on. We pulled around a while longer and I had one huge take that didn’t connect. Then, with the tide becoming a chore, I told Whippersnapper to head back to the launch point as I followed up behind. Not a bit of it! She beached, stripped off her PFD and went back in the water for a swim! I soon caught up and after taking a few snaps of her doing her usual coaxed her back onto her yak after a spot of tandem fishing. Hearing her call and turning around I watched her go through alternative launch number two… She paddled that way for a bit before I told her we had to move as the chickens would be nearly ready for lunch by now and we had swimming this afternoon and so, back on the Costa del Grotty Yarmouth. She had time for one more quick dip while I dragged the boats to the tarmac and fitted the tugs in place before we pulled them to the van and loaded up, fishless. Just around the corner I slowed to see if Andy was around and sure enough he was, shirt off and playing with his new yacht. More rainseeker than gin palace he ambled over and invited little one for a quick glass of squash and we had a natter for a few minutes before jumping back in and heading home. That’s two daughters I’ve failed to put onto fish now. Best we hit the river together soon. After I clear the garden of bugs of course.

The Finer Art of Fishing…07/09/09

The Finer Art of Fishing…07/09/09 There are two types of people in this world. Those with balls, and girls. Likewise, there are two types of angler too; those who have to fish and the other one. As knackered as I was after a hard night I had to get on the water and, stuck for ideas and time (I crashed out all morning) I decided on specimen hunting for a species that always gets the pulse racing; yep, one that takes balls to target from a kayak. Things had to be right to ensure success and I’d not gone after them at all last year; I had to prove to myself that I could still do it, that I still had cojones grande. I timed things badly. It was coming up to high water and I needed to dig bait. I could have grabbed something from the freezer but fresh is always better. I took the fork from the garden, jumped in the van and got stuck in traffic; I cleared that and the lock was open. Half an hour to go a couple of miles. The water was well up when I arrived and trying to break through the top layer of shingle, stone and detritus of the harbour beach was an effort even before I broke the bloody handle off. Could things go any worse? Well, I could see fish in the margins, my quarry and what looked like smelt. Well, I failed to find any rag but did walk away with two crabs, the pair of which would fit on my fingernail. I took Whippersnapper’s Tetra off the roof. I would need the width, drag and stability of this. The last thing I could allow was to be dragged out into the area where the boats move about, out of control. Next out was my specially made rod, sensitive enough to feel everything and with enough flexibility to cope with the powerful runs I could expect when I got a hook-up. Fitted with a free-wheeling centrepin I’d have the 1:1 pulling power so necessary to haul this leviathan up and allow it to run if I got into difficulty holding it. A crash dive could see me in trouble. I paddled out, past the most recent wreck, and down to the area I’d seen fish holding quarter of an hour before but they’d gone. I gave it a while and then moved. Nothing here either. Onlookers were intrigued as I headed back and settled in over a yard from where I’d launched. Okay, so I could have fished from the shore but it’s snaggy here and I didn’t want the risk of being pulled in. I broke off a fresh piece of crab and dropped down; the fish were here and visible. Voracious predators, they attacked the weight and bait immediately. Should I be using wire? No, just suitably thick mono. Bites were constant but they’re tricky buggers to hook and I missed so many strikes…finally managing most of a crab… …it took half an hour of constant twitching before finally I struck into one and it took off in all directions. A battle of epic proportions followed until finally I lifted it into the kayak; my first sand goby for two years. I was made up! Photographed, unhooked and released I set about trying for another of these pack fish and was soon rewarded. Satisfied, worn out and running low on time I ditched the remainder of my bait when I spotted a bass moving in to the swim; I found one morsel left on the hatch and set about tempting this…and, fighting its way through the frenzied mass of gobies, I got it on the hook. A shirt scrap later and it was ready for landing… That was it, target achieved, fun had and I was feeling tired again. I paddled the yard back to the slip and loaded up, another frustrating species off the list and perhaps my last bass of the season caught and returned. A night session for them next if I dare?

The Flip Side…02/09/2012

I had an inkling there might be some smoothies around by now, they’re due back after all. I had the day free after the car boot sale as my wife and kids were off with friends for the afternoon so it just seemed like a good idea to go for a few hours after lunch; if I went before I’d have to go right away and I just couldn’t be bothered. The wind was light and the sea pretty flat when I rocked up to the beach. I’d picked Tramps Alley as the launch site as there was plenty of rough ground there and it’d produced the goods before. Going solo in the sunshine I took my time and ambled down to the shoreline, got set up and launched into a smooth bit of water, hit the Goto button on the plotter and headed across and up the tide. Slow going this; building to mid-tide and a bloody great spring made progress slow but it wasn’t far and I dropped down over a previous mark, let out plenty of warp and waited for the yak to settle. The water was screaming through at three knots so heavy leads went on with whole squid on one rod, a 4/0 pennel on a running leger and a 3ft snood and a 4/0 wishbone with black lug tipped with squid on the one hook, mackerel fillet tipped with squid on the other; cod and thornback being the target for this rod. Five minutes in and the first bite came. A nice plump whiting had jumped on and was welcome as I’ve eaten all the ones in the freezer. A fair start seeing as how the tide was pumping and I figured it as too quick for much luck right now, certainly for any of the species I was hoping for. Bites were few and far between but the sun was out and I had all afternoon. Another keeper and a few that weren’t worth filleting and then I got snagged on the rough ground. I pulled and pulled but it wasn’t coming out. Letting out some slack I got hold of the line and tried pulling by hand; nothing. I wrapped it around my priest and started with that and just pulled the yak closer; stuck solid I was and I pulled anchor instead, finally breaking out the trace with one snapped snood as the yak drifted past. No matter, I could reset the anchor easily enough and as I was still moving I figured on a snapped weak link. I fished them out and started to haul… I didn’t get far. The carabiner came to midships just as the anchor jammed into something and I stopped dead in the water. One word, FUCK!, sprang to mind as the yak tilted alarmingly onto an edge and I flung myself the other way to counter balance; I was very, very close to flipping and was now beam on with water bubbling past…still leaning way I grabbed the trolley and tried to shuttle forward to no avail, the pressure on the line was too much and the buoy and carabiner were a good 6ft out from the side; that’s more stretch than I had built in! That’s when I heard the crack as the stern bungee snapped and I swung nose-on to the tide. Well that’s alright then. I hate uptiding. By the time the lead hits the bottom in this tide I’m downtiding backwards and miss every bite that comes along. I can’t strike the bloody things properly and after quarter of an hour of this I’d had enough. Simple really, paddle up to the buoy, unclip from the remains of the anchor trolley and clip up to the port-side trolley, shuttle it back and sit downtide like normal. I checked that all leashes and clips were clear, checked the trolley ran smoothly and paddle up to the buoy, disconnecting and swapping sides. There was that word again as the pressure jammed the trolley and I was side-on again and damned near went over a second time. This was starting to get silly now. Nothing was moving and I had two choices. Dick around and hope I could free it before I went over or just cut the trolley off. With one rod over the side (and hanging by the leash) from water flowing into the flush mount and floating it out it was a no-brainer and the knife came out. Ping! And I was floating free. Quickly. Paddle out and up to the buoy I went, reattaching to the loose starboard trolley again. Uptiding it is then. There’s been some sort of maritime festival on at Great Yarmouth this weekend. I’d not been and wasn’t even aware of it but had a treat to enjoy because of it. Many, many years ago as a seven year old I once saw an MTB motor under Haddiscoe bridge and since then have often seen it at its berth in Lake Lothing, only once seeing her under power in the harbour. She looks and sounds lovely; the prototype MTB, built by Vosper seventy-odd years ago. Dunkirk, Normandy, Churchill, Eisenhower, The Eagle Has Landed…MTB 102 has an illustrious history and seeing her shoot by a couple of hundred yards offshore from me in her own element finally was a real treat. Better than catching fish. I stayed a couple of hours more, fishing through to the slack and managing to connect to the occasional fish but with most of them being small it wasn’t anything exciting and at slack I went up to the buoy and started to haul anchor, having to rely on the front cleat only to keep me relatively nose-on. Ten whiting, four keepers and a reel to flush out not to mention a new bit of bungee on one side and a new bit of cord on the other…could have been worse I suppose.

Good Surfternoon…01/09/2012

Good Surfternoon…01/09/2012 It’s been blowing southerly and south-easterly all week with thunder, lightning, rain and just generally poor conditions. I’ve just kicked my heels at home instead of going out and getting wet which has left both my wife and myself a bit stressed to say the least so of course with the sun shining and a shift in the wind direction – though still strong – I had to check out the beach after getting in just after eight. I’d promised my youngest a Star Wars day; we’d watch Episode 1, play with the toys and have a fight with the lightsabers and just generally do nothing of any importance. She was well excited and had been for days. Me? I felt like going and seeing if I could get the remastered DVD’s of the original trilogy and episode 1 on disc instead of tape from town as she has got so into it lately and this would give us the ideal opportunity to check out the sea while going for a blast on the bikes while my wife delivered our eldest to her best friend’s for the day. Wow! Highwater and the sea was pumping. Really pumping. I’ve not seen it like this since last May and I’ve been itching to get the RRRapido wet properly. Running in long, unbroken lines that made it over the sandbanks without being broken up, one after the other and going 4-6ft with good spacing it looked like a superb session could be possible; indeed two surf kayaks launched as we went past. We upped the speed and stood for ten minutes as the bridge went up… The shop was closed. Damn. We came home and, while waiting for my wife to return and knowing that the water would start to drop soon and that’d be the end of it, we sat and watched the film. I was terrible at it, lasting half an hour or so before things caught up and I fell asleep. Candle well and truly burned this week. Still, I managed to rouse myself after a while, poured more coffee and watched some more. But where was my wife? It hit noon and I had to get lunch on. Chunked chicken breasts, floured and deep fried and a home-made sweet and sour sauce and we were away, my wife coming through the door just as I put the finishing touches to it. Green light; food down and I was off. Upstairs and my Psycho III gimp suit goes on. Mystik paddle is taken out and snapped together. ATC-9K is brought down, sealed up and mounted to the nose and my RRRapido is brought through the house from the garden. I’m out of here; see you two down the beach. Oh no! It’s dropped off a lot. The water is halfway down the beach now and the banks are absorbing a lot of the swell. It’s kicking up a bit further out but inshore it looks nothing on this morning. This morning looked nuts. Dangerous almost. Sick. There are a gaggle of surfers and paddle boarders hanging on the groyne too so the prime take-off is taken. Oh well. I look like a Power Ranger. Or a pervert. I wade in and paddle up the inside of the groyne letting the rip take me out past the boardies. I hang there, waiting and watching all these waves crash out before they get to me as the surfers take a few as they rear up by the structure…finally one comes through and I leave it for a paddle boarder, wait for the next and go for it. I’m just about to drop down when the paddle boarder comes through from my right; I pull up a few feet from impact and we miss. He’s not made the first, taken the second after all and I’ve not seen him while I’ve been concentrating on my take-off. My fault though, technically, as he was first on the wave. He forgives me. He should have left it though or not turned so sharply. It’s an age before I’m free to take another, dicking around with lesser ones that don’t get me shifting enough. I try a good bit further out on the banks themselves but there’s nothing but mess and the wind is screaming here. I get blown over at one point. I head back in and finally though I’m running and pull myself off the lip and down, down, into a turn and along, spinning up and over the top. Okay, good practice run; a couple more follow a while apart and then I grab a beauty; long, high, fast and beautifully shaped. I run along it, start to lose the height towards the end of the wave and pull round into a 180, lean forward and run in backwards until I lose depth and the tail buries and I go under. Brilliant! Another beauty arrives soon after and I run down it, pull round badly and go in sideways all the way to the shore; thumbs up from the girls who are now down the beach too, Abigail trying to use the bodyboard in waves a bit big for her; she jumps and splashes instead after a while. I hang around and start to catch some a bit more often and some are great. There’s nothing mediocre to be fair, it’s all or nothing but most of the time someone jumps on the wave before me; I nearly ram another late-entry boardie swinging in from the right. I get a few though and one is the best shaped wave I’ve seen down here. I finish playing after a couple of hours. It’s been so frustrating but wonderful when they’ve been available to me. If only I’d been free at high water though…