Flying High…29/08/2013

Flying High…29/08/2013 Charter boat fishing is a whole different ball game. Though we often fish amongst the local skippers, catch the same fish, use similar tactics, rigs and baits and some of us are on first name terms with them the tactics and feel of the fish are different and it provides both a level of comfort and access to deeper, further, faster marks and species we don’t otherwise see around here. With Garry holding the space from my skydive raffle for High Flyer and the fine summer weather, good tides and tope around at the end of the summer holidays it was perfect timing for a trip to be put together for us yakkers to go and have a play and learn a bit more. Originally hoping to fill three boats, the nine wanting to go who were available would all fit on Jon Old’s Offshore 105 High Flyer out of Gorleston and with the clearer water and Marty and Jon’s recent tope catches to the north of Great Yarmouth the booking was made and Jon planned to give us a day to really get our teeth into…and not just OUR teeth! I had to work a shift afterwards so an earlier start and return were requested and Jon was brilliant, it was no bother and so we left around seven for a four o’ clock return. It turned out perfectly like that as it happened as we caught the tides right and with us all parked nearby for free (though there was sufficient parking by the boat as it turned out) we said our hellos and wandered down to the berth, clambering down the ladder and making ourselves at home. A safety brief and outline of the initial plan followed and as soon as the shipping entering the harbour was clear we headed out into a brightening morning on a flat sea which showed all the swirls and eddies of banks and wrecks as we steamed north past the Scroby Sands windfarm for the first mark, a bank of 20-30ft by a drop off to a hundred! It was a 45 minute journey and in those conditions was very comfortable indeed with a multitude of harbour porpoise being spotted, the first for many of the party. Beautiful creatures which have been a common sight for me this year, seeing them in the progressively clearer water was even better. Surprisingly we didn’t spot any seals at all this time but we did keep away from the sands themselves. The first mark was somewhere off Winterton and with the boat sitting at anchor the ten of us onboard dropped down our baits, a mixture of supplied squid, hardback crab, mackerel and sandeel and sat back to wait. There was a pot running for the largest fish of the day and a pot for the most fish (mackerel not included as we wouldn’t all be able to fish for them and the larger stuff at the same time and if we hit a shoal counting would be a nightmare). A quid a time was enough to be fun and to give a 20% discount off the trip cost for the winners without being an expensive burden for those who missed out. My tope rod was rigged and ready to rock! Nigel’s son was along and although a carp fisherman primarily he knew how to fish…a rattle after quarter of an hour and he was in. It was the first time any of us apart from Jon had seen a brill and what a beautiful looking flattie it was, a couple of pound or so of prime dinner that I think we were all quite jealous of! Wonderful markings on it and superb camouflage for the sand and shingle. That was it though, a bit too quiet for Jon’s liking, seeing as we were where we were…he hauled anchor after half an hour or so and dropped us again a short way downtide so that we could fish into the drop off. Fresh baits on and we sat and waited. Another half an hour maybe and with suntans coming on a treat the excitement was getting dulled…though to be fair most of us were fishing big baits for big fish…then a couple of small taps on Garry’s rod and he struck. Kind of a whiting sized bite. Some whiting; the line straightened while the rod bent over and the drum of the reel started revolving in the wrong direction! TOPE! So this is what we were waiting for…all lines in because this was a good fish and the previous day two had been lost so we weren’t taking any chances. 8/0 hooks, 80lb mono and small baits on long flowing traces were the order of the day, the tidal flow strong enough that spinning into the line and cutting it were unlikely. As Garry fought the head-thumping, running, diving fish the rest of us enjoyed the show, willing him on and taking the mickey in equal measure. It started to come closer. I pranced around with the video camera to record the struggled and passed my rod with the other camera attached to Tim who stuck it under the water to get some footage from that angle – I love my waterproof Olympus compacts! It got closer and we swapped over; Andy was standing up on the seating so I passed mine up for an overhead view and took the other from Tim and continued to film; a fish like this was worth covering from every angle! Closer, closer, close, nearly…and it’s in the net! And it’s out of the net! Dives, shakes, thumps, comes back up and it’s close again. The net, as large as it is, is too small. The leader is grabbed and Jon gets under the rail, leans right out like someone being seasick and tries to grab hold of the pectoral fin while avoiding those teeth…it messes him about a bit and we start asking each other who can drive a boat, who knows how to haul the anchor and so on if he goes swimming…he grabs it, , scuttles back like a crab and gets Garry’s tope up and over the rail and into the boat! Neatly hooked in the scissors it’s a female and a decent one at that; we’re all thinking thirty and Jon goes to get the scales. It goes twenty five; the word ‘only’ does not figure, a fish like that scraps hard, there’s no ‘only’ with a tope! Weighed, photographed, kissed and released and it swims away and down strongly. Congratulations all-round and the lines go back down in nanoseconds, no time to waste, we all want some of that! Squid and crab did the trick. I want fresh mackerel head and shoulders – and not to make my bald head sprout renewed growth – and with the tide easing I grab a feather rod and start to jig on the bottom for my bait and maybe some lunch for tomorrow. I love everything about mackerel. Besides, I’ve not caught anything yet. Nothing on the bottom, the mackerel are in short supply this summer. I give it twenty minutes with no joy then decide to try further up in the water column in case. Bang! Straight in. Only one but big enough for four baits. I unhook it, drop down halfway and hand the rod to Nigel, bat the fish on the head and do some surgery. It’s on the hook and out before Jon comes back from the bow where he’s just scampered with three more; fresh bait all around and the leftovers get chopped up small and chummed in the hope of more fish. Then he gets a weever and shows us it in case we ever catch one and inadvertently grab it: It stays quiet. Half an hour on and the tide is really dropping away, Jon offers to take us over to a wreck he likes for a bit of cod-jigging if we want. We’re all easy; someone asks for a decision! I suggest that we’ve just put some chum down, had one tope and have all caught cod before (well Andy hasn’t as yet but he will) so we elect to stay for a bit longer. Then Paul is in with a mackerel, he keeps it to do it justice with a pike or two come winter. Half an hour goes by but nothing happens so Jon asks again as we’ve only got a window long enough for a few drifts and at least we should get some fish on the boat though the wrecking has been sporadic of late. We reel in, he hauls anchor and we head towards the wreck of the Dutch-Flagged Montferland, sunk on 27th June 1941 by German aircraft with no loss of lives and lying pretty much intact between sandwaves. Wreck number 10549 WGS 84 position: Latitude = 52°47'.192 n longitude = 001°50'.347 e Depth: 20,6 m Water depth : 31 m Length: 128 m Tonnage: 6790 gross Cargo: sugar, meat, steel, wool, milk powder Built in 1921 by Swan Hunter & Wigham Richardson ltd and owned Voortzetting van den Kon. Five boilers, two turbines on single shaft. 1066 hp. Machinery by Vickers Electrical Co ltd. On passage from Mackay to London. Cargo 4700 tons sugar, 1755 tons meat, 1389 tons steel, 774 tons wool and 20 tons milk powder. Foundered after attack by german aircraft. First and last surveying details: 2/7/41 swept in 52 47 13 N, 01 50 19 E. Fouled at 20ft in gen depth 49ft by e/s. Lies 305/125degs. (HMS Franklin, 2/7/41). 22/05/95 located in 52 47 09.8 N, 01 50 27.4E using DGPS. Examined 14/4/95. Swept clear at 20.6mtrs, foul at 20.9mtrs. Least depth 22.8mtrs in general depth 31mtrs by e/s. No scour. DCS3 ht 3mtrs. Length 160mtrs, width 40mtrs. Lies 130/310degs. Strong magnetometer deflection. Lies between sandwaves. Shaun Zoka’s dive video here, he has quite a few wreck dives locally on his channel: [video]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=to_3hPxC6fE[/video] Jon set’s us up for the first drift; I’m using a Fladen Portland eel, the leadheaded red one on a dropper rig with 20lb fluorocarbon and a ball lead. I’ve watched it just below the surface and it looks irresistible to the fish! Glenn up in the northeast has recommended them and I’ve rigged it how he says. On the 40lb braid I can feel every bump and wriggle as Iift a foot and drop down, jig, jig, jig, trying to keep it tight, jig, snatch, jig, rattle, jig, snag…slack for half a second and snatch and it’s clear; jig jig rattle pout! Next drift: jig, jig, rattle, jig, snatch pull…pull…pull snagged! The rod bends over and I can’t release it and I have to straight line it. Snap. Another drift; I get species number three but only the second to count for the pot; I’m ahead of Top Gun Garry though! He’s on tope and sandeel – the sublime to the ridiculous! Carefully, with pliers and forceps, I unhook and return it, showing mercy on the scary little monster! Then Garry gets his mackerel, kisses it, but it doesn’t count… There are a couple of codling on board, two pounders but not for me. Keiron and Jon Damn. I tie on a Fladen 3 Hook Deep Sea 1/0 luminous sandeel type rig and drop it down on the next drift. Bump, bump, bump, rattle, pull, fish on! Up it comes, fighting, a pout that felt bigger from that depth and with that lead, it looks okay and is popped back in but takes a while to go down; no gulls around thankfully. Tim gets his: I drop down again, we’re off the wreck and wind in. Nigel has had a cod, Matty a pout; father and son doing the business! Next drop and it’s another pout, around a pound so a decent one. This one’s blown so it’s set aside for bait. Some of the guys are using bait on a commercial trace Jon has shown us – a dropper rig with a 2/0 and a chunk of squid, mackerel or sandeel. I persist with the artificals. Tony’s had one hell of a pout, going on for two pound by the look of it; he guts and gills it straight away in the hope that it may be an eater; it’s blown so isn’t going back down anyway. Tim lands a large edible crab; he’s happy but we’re still over the wreck so no time for pictures just yet and I forget later. Next drift and the rig is gone; I tie on some pink Fladen Hokkis…down it goes, I feel some jiggling but it’s not anything much, I continue until we’re off the wreck and then reel up; I have another weever, badly hooked with torn guts; I put it out of its misery and throw it back. Tony gets a brace of pout. The tide starts up again and though we drift a few more times the fish are staying down. We all lose a rig or two during this time so at least we can have a break from retying and won’t bankrupt Jon! We steam to another bank to try for tope, roker and hounds again. Time for hand washing: Down go the baits and I wait; I’m ahead but only just…the uptider (I have one nominated rod while bait fishing, the uptider, which changes to the other when wrecking and I’m only using one rod). I get a bit of movement but I’m not sure if it’s a bite. I leave it thinking it’s the lead shifting. Every now and then it jiggles again. Eventually I bring it in and it’s number four, a decent dogfish. It’s slow though and no-one else is getting any knocks. Nigel doesn’t get a knock. I’m not sure what he’s doing but he’s left his rod. Loose drag and on the clicker though. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TOPE! He grabs it, pulls intot he fish and against a strengthening low sets to work for ten minutes or more. Jon gets the tailer ready, not going to use the net this time and doesn’t fancy dangling again. A long, hard scrap with plenty of nodding from the fish and then finally it’s coming up and closer. It sees us and runs again, stripping line and a few more minutes follow. I’m over the side with the camera and the leader in my hand, Jon’s over the side because the tailer is proving impossible in the flow. He grabs it and wrestles again and Nigel’s tope comes aboard, another good fish though a smaller male of around 18lb. he’s not romantic enough hough, an air kiss and after weighing and photos he goes back and swims off none the worse for his experience. The tope that is. A renewed air of optimism, fresh baits and the lines go back down. Only Andy and Terry (who’s joined the kayaker’s party for the day) are still to catch; I’m hoping they get something but I want a tope! But it’s not to be for the three of us…but Matty is another story and the same rod as last time goes and he’s on it! An epic battle in this tide, it’s ripping through and he’s hanging on as it strips line, thumps against him, dives, rises, shakes and pulls and quarter of an hour pass before Jon again leans over the side and does his shark wrangling act! A bit bigger this one, another male of 20lb this time and Matty is made up. Far more romantic than his dead he goes in for the kiss but rubs it with his cheek instead…what? First shave and he uses a shark? He relents, kisses it and back he goes! We carry on for another half an hour and then we have to go. None of us really want to, it’s a glorious day and we’ve had some serious fish but it’s been a long day too, it’s time and we’ve an hour’s plus steam back to port and the tide’s going full bore now so unlikely to throw up any more fish until it starts to slow again. Up comes the anchor and we’re away. Cups are gathered, bits are picked up, rubbish is centralised, the decks are swabbed, the boards are scrubbed and a reel is relined on the way back. We run through the turbines on Scroby, quite a sight up close and personal and go into harbour behind a windfarm cat for the short run up to the berth and off the boat to the cars. We were still in at five but no matter, coffee would see me through my shift so no complaints from me; or the others, we all had a whale of a time trying new things and seeing some good fish boated. Maybe the first time we’ve collectively turned our backs on the yaks but certainly not the last! Jon did us proud!

Double Bass…27/08/2013 The wind was dropping and the forecast was good; I wanted to head north. At first I thought about Bacton again to drift down towards Happisburgh and maybe try my luck on a different wreck from the book, or go from sea Palling, hit the reefs then head out to a wreck mark or two off there – there are some doable ones about there as well. What decided me though was my wife wanting o go to Norwich and do some shopping for work clothes. I could drop her and that would put me hallway to Bacton OR Weybourne. Now, Weybourne has a wreck close in that has given me a sea scorpion before, has some cod and bass on it, a lot of pout and has been known to throw up a wrasse. Could be rockling too maybe, or something else and I could possibly find a few mackerel to eat drifting around with the feathers and the tide was right. The Rosalie it was then. I dropped Flo and drove another hour through North Norfolk. A pleasant drive with the only hold up being at Sheringham. A fiver for parking and my kayak and gear over the wall and I was off. There was an inflatable kayak out there with a guy drifting with feathers but no one I knew. I’d called Dave and dave the night before but neither were available and I’d only posted on the forum a couple of hours prior so it was too short notice; no matter. Nice sea, gentle swell, little wind, clear water, not too much tide and slackening; off I went railing feathers, my favourite multi coloured ones. I paddled towards the wreck which was completely invisible and wasn’t showing the black can that used to be visible. I got into the vicinity and reeled up, waiting until I thought I was in the right spot and dropping straight down and starting to jig. I was certainly in a right area if not the right area because almost immediately the rod arched over and I had one hell of a battle going on down there; I figured on a string of good mackerel. But no, better than that! A double hit of bass around the 2-2.5lb mark! I grabbed my camera to record this and one spat the hook, a pity that. I got the other in okay and was happy with that! I untangled the rig and paddled back up, not sure exactly where I’d just been and did some more jogging without success. I paddled up again and started talking to Doug in his inflatable. He asked how I was getting on – he’d only had one mackerel and needed two for dinner. I told him about the bass and said he was welcome to tag along with me if he asked if I was okay with his questions (he was new to this). We both drifted about and I had another bass hookup; well I’d regained my brace now. I snagged up here and there but managed to retrieve my gear each time by paddling up, the hooks getting caught in anenomes rather than wreckage. Then Dough got snagged and couldn’t get free. I went over, took his rod, paddle dup and freed it. He only had the one set so I suggested he’d best move off the wreck and just try for the mackerel again before he lost them. A pity really, I’d have loved to have seen him get a bass as a reward for his efforts. Anyway, as happy as I was with a couple of bass I wanted something else. I wanted species. I tied off to a buoy that was showing, a pot buoy. It didn’t mark the wreck though and I sat there fishless. I gutted one of the bass and tried bits of gut and bits of flesh from the bit between the pectorals and gill plate – the scrap bits that get wasted in filleting. Nothing doing and with Doug passing by again he told me there was another buoy further out. I tried it and it was also off the wreck. I had an idea; drift into the wreck and get snagged on one rod then tie off and fish with the light rod. It seemed a bit wasteful but would be cheaper than throwing an anchor in. The first snag held me long enough to get pout number one but it pulled me off the snag. I reset myself by accidentally snagging with. Then I snagged up with my heavy rod so jammed it under my thigh and started to fish the light rod. I lost the rig after the second pout, then had a couple more. I snagged again, lost my rig, retied and managed a brace of pout. No scorpions or wrasse though and I had no idea what was what. I went drifting for mackerel. Nothing doing so I returned and by this time part of the wreck was just subsurface and I hit it on the bottom of a trough between swells. I saw it coming though, I like this clear water malarkey, and stayed upright. I drifted again and then it broke surface, the tide dropping quite rapidly now. I drifted past and around the wreck a few more times but had no time to tie off to the post and with it still dropping and the swells as they were I didn’t fancy it all that much so decided on a paddle out to the deeper water and a half hour drift about for mackerel. Dave had called to say he’d finished early so he was popping down after all but didn’t arrive until just before I had to come in at four to pick Flo up in time. Perfect timing though, he gave me a hand up the steep shingle bank and back to the car park! It’s great to have friends like that. Nice little session that.

The Three Mile High Club…28/08/2013

The Three Mile High Club…28/08/2013 Well maybe not high, out more like. Three mile out club. Doesn’t have the ring to it though really. Better explain what I’m on about then! The three mile bank. Running north to south, roughly, for quite a way in the vicinity of Lowestoft, is this lovely little bank and drop off that’s been featuring heavily in the reports from Lead Us and Cleveland Princess of late and which I’ve fished from both boats with excellent results. I’d never heard of it until a few months back when Fisher mentioned it when he had a very good spurdog; it’s been on my radar since then (not a real radar, that’d be stupid on a kayak). With roker and hounds out there now not to mention the off small tope I was just waiting for the right conditions… Forecast was great. Low winds, dropping towards late afternoon, warm, bright, tides easing down towards neaps from big springs, onshore wind to help me back. Okay, maybe some slight chop and a bit of swell over the banks but doable. I knew Colin was going to be out there as he had a party that was affiliated to the company I work for so I’d have a welcome hand if things went wrong (this would be a solo effort due to the difficulties) and when I’d spoken to him earlier he said that Brian was also out there. Safe as houses then! They’re also more visible than me and show up on radar so if I was reasonably close I’d be safe from shipping. And Colin said there were fish about, also giving me the numbers so I could find them easily enough, fortunately as it turned out as I’d assumed he was further north where we’d been a few weeks prior. Tides-wise I couldn’t go as early as I’d have liked. Tides run longer out there than inshore and the flood seemed to have been held back a bit. I’d have liked to have gone at ten really but twelve was looking more feasible; as it was the flow was such that one was the correct time and that was when I went, bang on. Launch point was the end of the road. From a paddling point of view I’d have been better suited to go north and launch from Tramps or Links, have the flow giving me less hindrance but this would involve leaving a car up there and I didn’t know for sure where I’d land or when; I may have to abandon and come in early, I may end up downtide, I may not wish to wait for the flow to get me back and we’ve only got roofbars on one car. So across the tide it was then. Flat sea at the beach, I paddled straight out aiming for the green Stanford Channel marker buoy, trying not to go too far south so I had to aim off. I had 3.3 miles to go, straight line (it was around a mile extra in reality) but only a mile’s drift to play with. It was fun over the inner banks with just a few feet below me and once I hit the deeper water again the flow picked up rapidly. The Stanford cans were 1/3 of the way and the tide was racing here as I was positioned to pass between them. I elected to reposition myself instead to get the best lighting on the red can for a photo. Then to carry on, try and get offshore of the South Holm Cardinal while still north of it; done. I kept going, finally spotting Brian about level with the Newcomb cardinal, just further out, and soon after spotting Colin just uptide of him. Aim off, keep going… Finally they were getting closer. Looking at my chartplotter I could see they were about on the contour line. This showed as a flat bank of 57ft with the deeper water beyond them. I thought about getting on the radio or phone but the tide was quicker again and I’d drift downtide which just showed deeper water. Besides, I’d promised my wife that I had friends out there and the life assurance policy would pay the mortgage off anyhow. I would have kept going and said hi too but I didn’t want to go past and I didn’t want to come backwards and I wasn’t going to drop anchor too close. A few reasons for that, one being that if I went north and slipped anchor I’d risk hitting them or snagging my warp on theirs and if I went south I’d have their lines coming down towards me. If I went either side and the Scupper did its swinging trick I’d be a pest and if they were uptiding I could be in the way. The main one though is that it’s just bloody rude to crowd someone on open sea. Not, as Brian suggested, because I was naked again! So I dropped anchor, south of where I wanted to be because paddling against the flow here was hard work. I’d already gone across the tide at a 3.4 knot average for an hour and I had fish to catch. It seemed to take rather a long time to hit bottom, I was not in 57ft. the swells were noticeable too. Not uncomfortable but I knew they were there. I kept the reel in my hand and waited until the warp was out far enough and then waited some more, rocketing backwards and bouncing a bit. Thought so, too deep for this flow, I’d have to anchor from the bow. Easily solved – and the reason I have a large capacity reel – I let more line out and shuttled the carabiner to the front, swinging gently and then allowed it to tighten again before putting the reel in place forward of the rudder pedals. Well it was nearly high water and this tide was pretty fearsome. A lot of water was coming through and my feet were making a hell of a racket as they broke some of it up. I cast both rods uptide with no real expectation that the 10oz breakaways would hold and sent a text to the two skippers. “No 1 mile banks about?” Patchy signal, Colin couldn’t get me so called on the VHF. Said I was too deep. Brian said the same soon after on the phone. It seems that Navionics missed the gully that I was in and that it is pretty much vital to be bang on the contour line. I could do nothing about this now though, I couldn’t pull anchor and redeploy, not in this tide and I’d be a mile down before I was in a position to drop again anyway. I was here for the duration. I settled down to fish. I had no certainty I was holding bottom and quite frankly I didn’t want a big fish while this tide was running and I was facing backwards; a good roker would require me to cut my anchor line and follow it downtide. I pulled up and went to cast further uptide; snagged the carry handle. I called my wife, so she knew I had a signal. I called her back a minute later, as I was putting he phone away I had a porpoise broach three times ten yards off my flank. Brilliant! It was an hour and a half before I could safely spin around to fish downtide. That was better, now fishy fshy, here fishy fishy! Now, brian had said to me ‘I’m not saying you won’t catch fish there’ which I took as him saying ‘I’m saying you won’t catch fish there’. And he was right. They were both catching fish. See? Like I ‘ve said before, listen to the skippers! Haha, hiding to nothing! Me? I was almost down to the backing just to try and hold bottom! It started to ease off, Lowestoft Provider (I think) came through the middle of us, heading for port. It came up to primetime and then I heard Colin start up. He pulled anchor and headed off home. Soon after I heard Brian had his engine running and they too hauled anchor. He popped over to see me… “Do you want a tow?” “No thanks, you’re alright, it’s only an hour’s paddle” “Are you sure, the offer’s there” “No, thanks, it’s alright. As much as I’d enjoy the ride I’ll be fine.” Now that’s really nice. Thank you again mate! I’d probably have ended up in the water though, thinking about it. Perhaps one to try with an empty boat to see. Oh, I added “Anyway, I haven’t caught a fish yet” with a profanity thrown in for good measure. Laughing and waving they all went in. I still didn’t get a fish. I think I had a knock but I was doing something and don’t know if it was my arm instead; it certainly didn’t develop into anything and so after half an hour I span around and hauled anchor. Should I put feathers on? Hmm. Long way back. No. I got 300 yards and then the water was twice as clear. I put feathers on and drifted around slack; I’ve not had a Lowestoft kayak mackerel, that’d be a great result! I passed over a couple of wrecks and some contour lines, I jigged and jagged and gave up, empty handed and headed in for the first buoy…then the second…then the red Stanford marker. The windfarm cats were all heading in. I saw one coming in on my course and thought it best to advise him of my presence. Good call – he had me in sight (probably already had but we’re not all that prominent so it pays to make sure) but made sure he gave me a good wide berth and it also gave warning to the one following behind as well as establishing that I wasn’t in trouble, wasn’t a hazard and could be contacted further if there were any concerns or warnings required. I passed the cans, 2/3 of the way back now and phoned my wife to say I was on my way in and would be landing in half an hour. I then called again and asked her to put a couple of beers in the freezer for later; she told me she was about to ask about that and did I want her to bring them down to the beach with some nibbles as it was a nice evening. Sounded good to me! There’s something rather splendid about sitting on the beach with a cold beer in the evening, even for a very infrequent drinker like myself. Especially after a good workout. Just time for one more text to Colin and Brian: “Yippee! Squid for tea again!”

Whelming…25/08/2013

Whelming…25/08/2013 Night off. Recovered from four shifts, two with little sleep beforehand and two that were manic and the day was spent recovering through sleep and listlessness. It took until late afternoon before I was ready to do anything. A nice evening though and Ellingham would be easy; I wanted to try the 2-16g rod again with hopefully a better fish. I left home earlier than normal for this spot and started fishing while it was still light. The water was very high and the pumps were running, draining the river through the weir just upstream. A couple of bits of sweetcorn on the hook once I’d anchored and I sat back to await events. I waited a while. I chilled. Not much happening. Fish on the surface and a few bubbles but the first fish hooked took half an hour or more; good scrap though and I soon had a decent chub alongside. Returned, I put some more corn on and threw some more in. Again bites were slow in coming. I missed a few too before I got a reasonable rudd. Another followed, then a chub. Then another and another pair of chub. This was over a couple of hours so isn’t as much as it sounds. I kept missing bites, dropped a couple and as it started to get dark I dropped off two good fish, felt like decent chub to me, big chub over 2lb at least. It wasn’t my evening though. More corn went in, it got properly dark and I waited and waited as the bites died away. I only wanted a quick session and now I only wanted one more fish; it was getting on for ten o’clock and then, finally, a good pull, a solid hookhold and a good struggle… Great, another bream, bigger than the last and a definite pb, weighed at 2lb8oz. Super job, I could go home now! Whelmed, not over and it’d be rude to say under with quality fish. Just whelmed will do.

Going For Gold…26/08/2013

Going For Gold…26/08/2013 Bank holidays are meaningless to me. It’s just another day – I’d rather work because I get paid more. My wife works in a school so this one, being in the holidays, was also irrelevant to her but my brother decided to invite us for a swim in a friend’s pool and have a barbecue at his afterwards. Sort of a plan though I didn’t fancy the swimming bit. Not keen on getting wet, me. Ahem. I dropped Flo off and planned to sit around in a layby tapping wreck co-ordinates into the pc to transfer to my fishfinder after furling the car up. I didn’t get that far. They had to leave the pool early so I went to fetch her (she’d already left) and then onto my brothers. My nephew, Mike, was just wandering back from the lake where he’d been trying to catch the big carp he’d hooked a few weeks back. He needed to adjust his tackle so I sorted it and then wandered down with him, having, as usual, a rod and tackle in the car. And some corn which could do the business here. I’ve only wet a line in this lake twice and blanked both times; once with bread and once with maggots but I’m in love with corn now. I thought about taking the kayak down with me but the idea of carrying it across the yard, over fences and through fields then down into a half acre lake (or large farm pond, whichever you prefer) didn’t fill me with enthusiasm and with the brightness and heat I wasn’t expecting we’d stand much chance. But I popped a 5bb float on and cast a size 12 in with double sweetcorn and waited. Nothing on my rod, lots of nibble son his; the float would go under nicely but always the fish was missed. I went down to single corn, brought it in closer and waited. Dip. Dip. Dip. Under! Blimey! I’ve never had a goldfish before in my life, a definite first for me! I was amazed at how hard a scrap I got from it and also how vivid the colouring was. My thoughts turned to the competition and I went to fetch the Tetra off the roof, Mike helping me to bring it down. Here goes! Lots of feeble nibbles…I changed down to a size 16 and put a smidgin of corn on…the float dipped and bobbed and then went down…I struck sharply and… Crucian! I’ve never had one of those either! The pictures, on my phone, are rubbish and don’t do the fish justice. A lovely brassy sheen it had, a really pretty little fish. I followed it with another, again only a couple of inches long. Now for a goldfish… Well, I waited and waited and then Mike had one; I went and got his photo. That’s the first fish he’s landed from the lake so he was chuffed to bits. The tactic seemed to be float fishing on the bottom – too shallow and they didn’t see it in the murk. Then I hooked one. I bumped it off on a ridge. I did the same twice more on the same ridge but that’s where the bites were! Now, I don’t know how big goldfish get but I had one hell of a take and had a good one on now – I thought I’d got one of the grass carp on. The rod arched over and I loosened the drag; I thought I’d loosened it too much as the reel sang as the fish bore off towards the middle at a rapid rate of knots, stripping line, but I hadn’t, there was plenty of pressure on it. It was merely a strong fish. I started playing it and saw it’ it must have gone over two pounds, nearer three, Mike was excited and said he hoped I didn’t lose this one. Which I promptly did. Damn. He caught a couple more before I finally got one to the boat; beautifully coloured again and fantastic fins on it! That made species 28… It was getting towards Barbie time. One more each eh? One of the big grass carp swirled ahead of me. I cast there and waited. Mike had his last, and biggest, goldfish. I waited some more. The float went under after a few minutes and a lovely plump goldfish came to my hand. Marvellous. Let’s eat.