Corton Scraps…19/10/12

I knew that Mike was off on Friday and text confirmed that Wilmy was free as well so the final decision rested on conditions in the morning. The wind had stopped at least but the problem we faced was the rain. At 8am when I knocked off it was raining and had been for a while. There was no point launching before 10:30 because of the tides so at least we had the option to wait and see and this was what we chose to do. It cleared. We went for it. I pulled up behind Mike and started to unload. Things had already gone awry though, the rain was just the first issue and now the coast road had been closed just shy of the launch point so I’d had to double back and come around in a loop. Would it be one of those days? Well, with my finder/plotter not bursting into life it may well prove to be so. Wilmy turned up next and with bits and pieces loaded up we walked down the ramp to the beach where the sea was perfect. Flat as you like, low offshore wind and clear skies. This followed a few days of rough water so expectations were high and we took the tide down to Corton to fish off the church. This would be Wilmy’s first time anchoring and so I stuck around watching and talking him through while Mike dropped down then went uptide and dropped down myself. We drifted quickly initially and left Mike out of earshot but then with the Scuppers swinging crazily in mid-flow we ended up being magnetically attracted so rafted up to make things safer. This also put me in the ideal position to smoke Ian’s fags… Blacks and squid, wishbones and pennels and we started off with a rod apiece. Straight away I had a decent whiting that dropped off at the bow and then it went quiet. It was too quick for regular bites but we had a few and the fish were coming in, Ian having his first yak whiting soon enough. The whiting have thinned out a bit now so the codling are going to become more likely soon and with that in mind I hooked my smallest whiting of the day and dropped it down as a livebait; one can but hope. Ian was doing fine as he was though and pulled up a nice doggy. As the tide finally started to lose strength the colour dropped out and the sea got clearer. We split the raft and I was able to deploy all rods and Wilmy was able to get a proper feel for things. Then with slack water upon us Mike up-anchored and paddle dover as we did the same and took the start of the ebb back north, making it just in time before the rain started, hammering down once I was on the road again with my tea and a bunch of decent whiting to be enjoyed at a later date.

Slow…09/10/2012

A suggestion of fishing…good suggestion. Typically inconclusive forecast and a meeting later restricts things to Hopton; shift ending at 8am and a judgement made then on the wind that isn’t coming from where it was expected. Procrastination steals time and dissuades Mike, Wilmy is being diplomatic and Si is still in gainful employment so it’s just me on the ramp. Hehehe. It’s bloody cold. The new shift were moaning about it when they walked in. That’ll be the north wind doth blowing then. They’re right though, it is cold. Northerly means swell here too and it’s quite lumpy out there this morning and a few bits of white indicate that there might be a bit of easterly in the wind too. There were loads of whiting about at the weekend though so it’s got to be worth the effort and the Scupper comes off the roof. Simple session today. One rod, handheld, anchor and reel and a bit of frozen bait. I let the large waves dump then, waist deep, jump onto the yak and paddle out without getting any water dumped in my lap for once. I’m bouncing around a bit but the water is really clear and I’m thinking things might be quite productive today. I drop anchor a couple of hundred yards out to try close in for once; I never fish here but there might be some dabs or bass kicking about and I’m still further out than the casters can reach. The wind is holding me side on to the flow though, it’s very strange but my line is going out the same way as my anchor warp and I’m being held uptide of it. The wind isn’t even that strong really. It makes things a bit tricky in terms of bite detection and the lead seems to be moving around a bit. Finally though I get a positive knock, strike and pull in a pin whiting. Ideal for a livebait but I’ve only got the one rod out with me today. I head deeper. The wind and flow are still conflicting and I’m still bouncing. Nothing is biting. I try a herring trace, knowing the shoals are about but with no finder onboard I don’t know if I’m over them or at what depth they’re swimming at; a pity because it’s the clearest water I’ve seen here yet. After a fruitless wait I decide to drift a bit, jigging the trace. I’d quite like some nice fresh herring for lunch, especially if I get some plump fresh roe into the bargain. I seem pretty static. I get bored after a while and paddle over to the wreck of the Norman. I know where it is. Doesn’t do me any good though, I still don’t get anything so I drift back, very, very slowly with the wind and, getting bored, stow the rod and paddle in avoiding the larger waves to make a smooth landing before dumping my gear and going for a quick play, surfing in a few times. Haha, I’ve undone my pee zip at some point recently it seems; all I have to show for the session is a set of cold wet balls.

A Tasty Tankwell…06/10/2012

My last cod fillets were eaten for lunch on Wednesday, battered and deep-fried with home-cut chips and mushy peas; being the last for the time being I wanted to cook them in my favourite way for cod and as poncy as I can get in the kitchen at times I really don’t think there’s a better way to taste this fish! I’d heard of one or two coming out over the last week or two and knew that the whiting shoals would be in now with the start of the dabs too; I’d pan-roasted the last of these two species from the freezer the day before so needed some replenishment of them too. I only had two smoothie meals left too. With the wind finally dropping after a fortnight, Wilmy’s anchor trolley needing to be tested and Si desperate to get out I got a pass for a Saturday morning, a day I don’t usually fish any more. I’d got two nights off so it was ideal for an early start to catch the tide. I didn’t realise that I was so tired though, and I had every intention of watching a film, the conversation running along the lines of “what are you doing tonight?” “getting drunk and watching porn” “what?”. Being an old man with a re-aligned sleep pattern though I failed drastically and for the second night in a row collapsed into bed at half-eight. At least that’d make the 5am start a bit easier. I got up with no problem, made a coffee quite happily, had a quick nibble and got my bait out. I was feeling rather upbeat; rested, fed and back to my most familiar fishing. Then I went into the conservatory to get my drysuit. Then I noticed it was raining. I hate the rain. I considered cancelling but checked the forecast again first. It was going to stop at some point in the next couple of hours and, seeing as I was up, coffee’d and needed to stay up and tire myself ready to get to sleep before another nightshift I decided to go. I loaded the last bits into the van and headed to Hopton. It was neaps, small tides and a moderate westerly. I’d thought of doing Corton, the tides being perfect for it but I kind of wanted to start my winter whiting wonderland and codling captures off the traditional mark, especially as it’s around the time I traditionally had a bunch of people anchored off here for a meet. Pulling up on beach road I had a look at the sea. I didn’t really need to, the sound was reassuring enough and I knew from experience what it’d be like from the forecast but I had a look all the same and it was lovely. I was on my own. It was still too dark for Wilmy to load his kayak onto the roof and Si had been hit with man flu so I’d have the place all to myself. With thoughts of Flat and Norfolkboy loading up with bass a couple of days before up north I figured on making up for my turning down of the invite to join them! Now, not many people would class bass and whiting as being equal, certainly many locally get really fed up with the latter but I do in terms of the plate. Now, I have a fair few silver fillets in the freezer to last me the winter and these give the options of certain dishes. The co, when they pitch up, give me another set of options but if there’s one meal I really enjoy, and enjoy very regularly, it’s whiting fillets dipped in egg and rolled in breadcrumbs, deep-fried and served with Langans chilli sauce, sweet hoisin or plain ketchup. The kids love it too and it’s perhaps their favourite fish meal. So a meal of whiting or a meal of bass is all the same to me. I paddled out and dropped anchor. I’d replaced the starboard trolley lines the day before and re-attached the port rear bungee after my last disaster in a big tide a few weeks ago when I’d had the bungee snap and had to cut the trolley free on the other side. It was all a bit tight now so it’d take a few trips to stretch and bed down but at least I was running again. I baited up and cast out. For some reason I couldn’t tighten up the line and then, in the light of the headtorch, I noticed that my line was coming towards me. I reeled in and checked; my anchor and buoy were missing. Great. I immediately knew what the problem was having had this before, the spring must have gone in the carabiner. Now I just had to paddle back uptide and try to find a dark blue buoy floating in the dark somewhere over there. That’ll teach me not to take my electronics out! Amazingly I found it with no trouble, countering for wind and tide instinctively (upstream and into the wind of course) but it did help that I was in my own backyard. At least it had stopped raining. I reattached and stayed attached for at least a minute before it gave way again. Okay…so, do I connect from the port side? I prefer not to, the starboard side is the one I use unless I have to, so I decided to swap the carabiners over. This sounds easy but was a bit of a pain, involving a bait knife holding two rings together and jammed under my leg while swapping one to the other. Still, it was all good fun and worked fine once done. I cast the first rod back in, a 2/0 wishbone with black lug tipped with mackerel while I stuck a 4/0 pennel into a whole squid in the hope of a late smoothound or a cod that might have some food left by the whiting. There was a third rod too, with a single 4/0 attached. This was going to hold a livebait in the hope of cod or bass passing by if I could catch a suitable one. The first fish took all of five minutes. It was a bit large for my choice of a livebait but needs must and I could always swap it later. The whole squid kept banging away with whiting bites but I concentrated most of my efforts on the wishbone rod, tipping variously with mackerel, squid and sandeel as I was using up a frozen lump of assorted leftovers. Bites were constant, the whiting coming in were a good size, averaging around a pound or so; it was a struggle to get a smaller one for bait in all honesty but I finally managed. It’s rare that I want to get a smaller fish! A few double shots came aboard to the wishbone and one on the pennel but mostly it was singles. I had a couple of dabs too and one was a lovely specimen. Let’s hope they turn up in numbers soon, lovely to cook, serve and eat. The tide started to slow an hour after low water but the bites continued to come until it stopped dead for around fifteen minutes as the tide turned. The flood started to pick up but the bites were far fewer than they’d been on the ebb. The wind had now turned to a north-westerly and was over the tide, the flow was faster and the sea had roughened up slightly. Not by much, but noticeably. The whole squid was getting constant bites but they were sporadic on the other rod. I listened to the chatter on the radio and it seemed that the charters were just getting started. I let High Flyer know what was happening inshore with me and, once he started, he let me know that they were incredibly getting mackerel! There were loads of herring shoals showing on his finder too. Meanwhile, Cleveland Princess were inshore at Corton and waiting for the tide to start running. They’d had a couple of codling a few days before so were hopeful. As the tide speeded up I decided to head in. My tankwell had filled up nicely with fish and I hauled anchor. Halfway in I spotted a familiar vessel tearing along from the harbour. Five minutes earlier and it’d have been easier for me to hang around and chat to Marty who was also headed for Corton where he and Richard were going to catch a couple of codling and a few score of good whiting. Bloody hooligans. I paddled in and landed smoothly, not losing a single fish out of the back. 31 fish for around 20lb, I had a bit of filleting to do when I got home, not including the half-dozen roasted on the bone with cherry tomatoes, celery and mushroom for lunch. I do like the whiting shoals.

Two Nil…04/10/12

We’d done a bit of rigging a couple of days before, anchor trolleys only because the rivet gun decided to die on us before we could get to the rod holders, but Wilmy’s Scupper was looking good to go so two days later we decided we would. It was quite a pleasant day, bright and reasonably warm but a bit windy for the sea. Wilmy fancied getting afloat though so we decided to head to the river and try for a toothy critter or two. So off to Beccles we went and dropped in by the pool to cover the town stretch for a couple of hours. The water was nice and clear but high up the bank; this should mean less weed being picked up and some deeper-running lures being trolled than usual but I find the lower levels to be more productive generally. No matter though, it is what it is and it’s a pleasant enough place to paddle. I started off with a blue J13 on the bankside rod and an orange Super Shad Rap to cover the deeper part of the river. I left Wilmy at the launch point rooting around for another lure as the first he’d attached fell off somehow. Sadly it was his favourite too, the one he’d caught his first yak bass on. Being a sinker it was gone and I felt his pain, I hate that! There wasn’t much happening on the rods but there were plenty of smaller fish topping as we paddled along. Weed wasn’t too bad either, with only the occasional stop to clear the rods when they stopped twitching. The usual spots remained quiet as we passed and, once we passed under the main road we turned and I hoped that perhaps the extra movement in the lure running against the current might trigger a bite. I changed the J13 over to a perch-patterned Super Shad Rap and headed back upstream. Nope. Still nothing. We made it all the way up to the launch point again without so much as a twitch; may as well carry on upstream past the boathouses then, get a bit of open countryside and see if they’ve all gone off on holiday. We passed through with nothing and then turned. I’d got maybe fifty yards when I got the shout; I turned and saw his rod hooped over as he played something decent! I reeled in, got the camera out and headed back upstream…had Wilmy broken his pike duck? A species he’d not yet had though he’s fished freshwater much of his life. It looked like a good scrap too. Mind you, he wasn’t gaining any line! It dawned on him that perhaps he was now snagged and the disappointment was shared. It was stuck solid, no idea what it was hooked in for sure but probably a large, heavy branch. It had felt like a fish at first so perhaps the lure had run right into the fish’s lair and got snagged as the pike moved with it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t coming up and the line parted under the strain. He was now two lures down for no fish. One more pass then? We passed the launch point again and I decided I couldn’t be arsed anymore. I figured I’d turn at the bridge and run back but then I got a text from Si: “There’s loads of police along your road.” Hmm. I figured I ought to go now. I’d intended dropping in on my brother after fishing too but that was out of the question now. Wilmy wasn’t averse to giving up either so we turned and went in. There’ll be other times though.

Down River…18/09/2012

Down River…18/09/2012 I was knackered already; I knew I’d be even more knackered by the morning. The end of a run of six shifts including a twelve-hour the night before saw me struggling to stay awake until 8am. Mike had got a day off and asked who was up for a session after finishing his own set of shifts and I’d agreed to go along too. So I yawned my way through handing over to the day shift, struggled through my journey home, gave my wife a hug to stop myself collapsing on the floor of the kitchen like a sack of wet lettuce and went to bed for a couple of hours…yeah, I was knackered. By the time I dragged myself out of bed the wind was up so clearly it was a river day and Mike had decided the same so I headed to Beccles to meet up with him for a day’s trolling for pike. I fancied changing things slightly though and grabbed my daughter’s two Fladen Ice Pike rods. At 4ft long and somewhat softer than I was used to I figured they’d be a grin to use on pike, especially if I got a decent one and rigged them up before I set off with my baitcasters and a Rapala…the usual stuff just transferred to these rods and I set off to the Quay. Mike had launched by the time I arrived and was flinging lures a little way upstream so I unloaded quickly, parked the van and headed straight up to meet him. The lures went down as soon as I hit the main river and I paddled right into the wind; it wouldn’t have been fun on the sea for sure. The rods, being shorter, didn’t give enough lift at the requisite distance and my lures kept picking up weed or hitting the bottom and I’d changed a couple of times before I caught up with Mike who was flinging lures around to no avail. We headed off upriver against the wind and flow. It wasn’t the easiest paddle I’ve ever had up there to be fair but the sun was shining and it was better than being asleep where the only fish that bite are bloody marlin that never weigh anything and can’t provide a meal. The sun may have been shining but I was regretting not leaving my hoodie on, it was far too cold to be paddling in a t-shirt. I’d figured on the paddling keeping me warm but it’s suddenly become autumn over here and it really feels like winter is on the way, sadly. Hmm. Might be some cod soon I suppose. I’d used a pearl/orange Sliver for a while, in the deeper water, with a J13 on the bank side to search out the different areas but was running a pair of J13’s off the Fladens, a blue and white on the bankside rod and a repainted all-black one over the deeper water. I’d painted this up for dusk bassing but hadn’t used it yet; the idea being it would make a stronger silhouette. Neither had attracted yet, nor had any of the others and we were slowly getting closer and closer to the pub. Finally! The rod with the blue and white J13 started to buck and I reached around for it; Mike was chucking lures into the margins a couple of hundred yards away but soon popped up for camera duty once I’d landed and unhooked this monstrous jack of a pound and a half. The fish itself hadn’t given me any bother but the wind was a pain; I’d been pushed into the trees overhanging the water’s edge and the other lure had now passed under the hull and overtaken me. I hate that! I’d already needed to pass the fish and rod through the line that was coming down on me during the fight as it was. Anyway, photos done jack went off for a swim and we went off for a paddle. I got quite camera happy as it was such a slow morning! Mike disappeared ahead for a while but I caught up with him by the sluice at Barsham where he was flinging lures once again. Someone else had done the same recently I noted as I saw a flash of red while paddling across opposite him; in I went and unhooked a 150g Redhead Abu Terminator from the reeds. I tried trolling it but didn’t like the action and changed lure again soon after. It wasn’t the most inspiring day to be honest, too slow to enthuse us. Little did I know how much excitement the next run would bring! It came about half an hour later as I ran up along some overgrowing trees; the rod started to buck and I pulled in a feisty little 8 incher. The smallest pike I’ve had for a couple of years it clearly had eyes bigger than its mouth. At least I could feel it on these rods! Now, what do I normally do when I’ve unhooked a fish? Simple really, I reach around and place the rod in the holder before paddling off. The thing is, I’d had to move the other rod due to the wind and had both in my lap. This was now running a Super Shad Rap in the deeper part of the river so I wouldn’t put it out until I was moving. The rods weren’t leashed as I’d been rushing at launch which was the first mistake. The second was quite casually placing the rod in the river and letting go. I didn’t miss the rod holder. No. I just placed it intentionally and bizarrely in the water and started to paddle away. That was why I watched it sink a moment or two later as I wondered why I’d done this. Eighty quid was now on the bottom. I stuck on a diver that always hooks up on the bottom and failed to get it down far enough; I tried casting and trolling but no luck came my way. Mike lent me a small pirk but this failed as well. After ten fruitless minutes I decided to get drastic and hope there were no trees down there. I didn’t fancy a swim, wouldn’t be able to see anyway and we’d now established that we were in around twelve feet of water (the deepest hole in the entire river system of the UK it seemed) and so I fitted a Rapala Magnum to the link on the bottom with three more running up the line above it. A bit of a risk this… I cast in; nothing. Again. It was the fourth or fifth chuck that had me recognise the different lure breaking the surface; first the Super Shad Rap came up and then, vertical in the water, I saw the Ice Pike rod rising up. It was photo time! I stopped swearing and we carried on into Jack Alley (named after a manic hour a couple of years back). Five minutes later Mike was in! His first pike from the yak and the first fish from his Trident. I’d have expected him to look slightly less disappointed but again it was a small fish. I tried to make him happier and tried to make the pike look bigger too…not sure if it shows? Nothing further happened until we turned at the fork to head for the Locks. I had another run on the blue and white but slack lined it when bringing the rod over my head (the wind turned me as I stopped padding) and lost it but shortly afterwards Mike was in: It shook the hooks as he was lifting it in and so we carried on towards the beer with no more excitement and ten minutes later, through a brief but slight shower we arrived and tied up alongside the staging. Beer followed. Viking for me and Trawlerboys for Mike, who kindly paid for both as I‘d not thought to bring any money. It was cold outside but we didn’t hurry our pints. This was still better than being at work after all. A while later we started the paddle back after negotiating our way back into the yaks, perching precariously on loose wood with nettles by our hands. The paddle back was uneventful. I felt drunk, being tired, unfed and unused to drinking after a long period of rarely drinking any alcohol. I was also quite verbose and making a racket so perhaps I scared the fish off. Not that they seemed to be about anyway. In fact we were almost back when I finally had another fish, on the black J13 this time. Again, a tich, but better than nothing. Mike was trolleyed up by the time I landed at the slip and so I went to get the van while he walked off to the car park. It may not have been the greatest session of the year but I was glad I’d made the effort to join Mike all the same; now I just wanted to go home, get warm and get

Lazing on a Sunny Afternoon…12/09/2012

Lazing on a Sunny Afternoon…12/09/2012 I couldn’t decide. It was sort of fishable on the sea for the bass though a bit windy and I suppose I could have gone for smoothies or made a start on thinning out the whiting shoals if I re-rigged my anchor trollies but I kept umming and aahing (which aren’t real words, procrastinating would be better but that’s the thief of time and I can’t have that) but I had the night off so I didn’t need to make a decision immediately after all. So I fiddled and mooched and did a couple of bits around the house before making lunch for my wife and I early and setting off towards Beccles. I had 90p. I kind of hoped that’d be enough for some maggots and, not knowing where my tub was, I hoped they’d stick them in my rig tub. Fortunately they would and 70p was the minimum crawly spend so I was safe. I carried on and took the Scupper off the roof at the slip by the quay. A nice, gentle afternoon in the sun with a bit of trolling and a bit of silver bashing was the plan; just a couple of miles of paddling required and I had no rush to get home to bed for once. I parked up and set off. My match rod, shortened to 7ft by means of a hacksaw and some superglue, was loaded with 4lb line, a 4bb waggler and a size 16 hook. I hoped I wouldn’t snag this as my coarse box was still sitting at home. If I lost any shot, broke the float or lost the hook I’d be buggered. Out back were my two 7ft spinning rods with the baitcasters, 20lb Trilene XL Smoothcasting mono, wire traces and a pair of Rapala X-Rap Shad Shallows (I decided to use some smaller lures than normal as I figured I might find some decent perch at this time of year). I just had to persuade the swans to piss off first. I started nice and easy, I got into the Seat and cast a maggot behind a moored boat; a minute or so later and the day was started as I pulled in a roach, my starter for ten! I popped the lures out as soon as I was in the basin, as always and as always they dived into the bottom and caught up in weed. I don’t know why I always do that. I reset them once I was in the river and settled down for the 300 yard troll to the bridge. It hardly seemed worthwhile but you never know and I’ve had a fair few fish in this stretch in the past. I drifted slowly into the bay and manoeuvred round to a buoy, hooking onto it and got the match rod out. A single red maggot was hooked on and next to the supports it went. Immediate dip; chub. Unhooked and returned I replaced the maggot and cast it close into the brickwork on the corner. It hit, dropped down and took a roach before settling. Next cast saw another chub and then a perch. Lovely. I then spent an amusing five minutes watching a hire cruiser working its way under the bridge with a couple of inches to spare. With the tide on the way down they should have just waited ten minutes instead of risking damage but there’s just no telling some people so I didn’t. They made it through eventually though. No bream today but last time here I had a ruffe and a gudgeon from the other side so after a few more of the same I moved around. Plenty more of the same followed but neither of these though I did find my way into a couple of dace; mostly it was chub and perch though. I tried across the river on the other side next, a couple of roach and a perch but it wasn’t as quick here so I went off on the troll again. Snagged on weed after fifty yards and as soon as I set off again the other rod bent round and stopped wiggling; weed again? No! A perch had grabbed hold and skimmed across the surface. I unhooked it and cast back out. A small pike came next, two fish in a hundred yards… …I binned the silver fishing now, with two out of three of the local predators I kept my fingers crossed for a chub; I’ve never done the triple. Off I went to Barsham, picking up more pike and perch and then tried the maggots again by the sluice. Nothing except a tiny roach. I swapped one of the lures over for a 7cm Jointed Shad Rap, bluegill pattern. This did nothing, nor did the Magnum I swapped over onto the other rod shortly after, apart from weed. Fair enough, I’d try for something bigger and popped a couple of J13’s on, a Firetiger and a Blue. Time was getting on. I picked up my third trolled perch on the Firetiger J13 under the bridge then wound in and spent ten minutes plucking some more silvers out by the bridge, including one while drifting through and then set off for home. Five species with 3 jacks and 3 perch on the troll (all pike and 1 perch on the perch patterned X-rap, 1 perch on an orange one and 1 on the J13) but still I’d failed to get the triple. Oh well…