Sloppy Joes…03/10/2013

Sloppy Joes…03/10/2013 All night I could hear the waves pounding from the office, the easterlies hammering the beach. I couldn’t wait but struggling to stay awake between 3 and 5 in the morning I had to get my head down for an hour once I got home at half eight. A quick call to Si to check he was still on for a session and one to Nick to update him on the likelihood of me being out picking up a friend’s Yakboard when he arrived and I got my head down, managing twenty minutes which was too short but enough to get me moving again at least. Easy clothes on, dressed like a tramp as I had a gate to climb over and I went down to make some pancakes for my breakfast. It was just before half nine. Texts from Gary telling me the sea was huge and then one saying he was a minute away…umm, an hour early! He was far too apologetic though as I was already up and about so he hadn’t woken me and it’d give us an earlier start. I made him a tea and forced him to eat one of my chocolate chilli muffins while I squeezed the last drops out of some previously used lemon halves. Si called, couldn’t make it so we went out to see if we’d be able to fetch the yakboard on his roof; no need, Nick had arrived so with Gary getting into his wetsuit we went down the road and I did my cat burglar impression, nicking a yak and paddle but not finding any thigh straps. We’d need them, fortunately I had some upstairs that with a lot of fiddling we managed to fit and then it was down to the beach. No way would Nick’s Trident get out and we’d flood it if we tried so it became our beach locker instead. The sea was really pumping but very messy. Fairly big but peaky and not much width to them, short too with many being absorbed by the one in front or behind, but rideable at least. The sun was shining, despite the forecast of rain, and the sea was surprisingly warm and under orders to go first and show them how it was done I waded out, got to the end of the groyne and held station, paddling against the wind constantly to stay where I needed to be. The first two attempts I was too slow and missed the waves. Third time lucky! I caught a lovely one and screamed in… Great stuff! The next one I caught, once I’d battled my way back out, was even bigger and |I sat there on the lip with a good five foot drop below the nose for quite a distance before I dropped down, pulled into a turn and scooted along the face before bongoing in for the rest of the ride to the beach. Okay, here they came! Nick on the Yakboard and Gary on his bodyboard. I left them both the wrong side of the middle breakers and carried on playing. They swapped over, Nick knackered from the battering he was getting and with a lot of shouted encouragement to keep going Gary made it out; He was beaming, the satisfaction of getting over a wave you just know is going to smash you up and flip you over is immense and he’d had a lot of those. Not bad for his second time paddling; he’s yet to see flat water. Fast tracking him I am! A couple were coming and I told him to go, he caught it before dropping back and picking up the next one and running all the way in. Meanwhile another came up behind, too good to resist and I went for it… Another great ride, along and then all the way in. better than the previous one that size that had flipped me as did a few on the way back out. …here came a great big huge bitch of a gnarly dumper and I was in the wrong place, too close to the groyne. I had to go and I caught it wrong. My arse lifted, my nose dropped and buried itself in the face. I did a perfect vertical flip, upright on the nose and straight and went head over heels into the water, being pushed along upside down and submerged. I dropped my knees out of the straps and resurfaced, grabbing he kayak, flipping it upright and battling out again. Great wipeout this. Nick and Gary took it in turns with the Yakboard and with Gary out back once more I let him take the next one that came in. It went great until about halfway in and then he went over. As for me, I had no choice and had to take the one behind as it was already rearing up. I saw him overturned in my path and tried to scoot along past inside him; too risky, I turned in instead and went straight to cut around the back…I just saw this little head poking up with a fearful grin as I cut around ten feet away and turned back up and over. I started getting fancy then, still wanting to do a 360 flat spin. I managed some 180’s that I kept upright until turning back, an achievement in itself, but just couldn’t swing it right around and keep going; I need better waves for that. faster and cleaner. One day. It just meant I kept swimming. I tried the bodyboard but couldn’t do a thing with it and then went out for one last go before the waves disappeared completely; there were fewer now. I had a hell of a time getting out, being wiped out repeatedly before I made it. Sadly Gary didn’t make it to join me, not a surprise as it was so tricky getting through that middle zone and I constantly had to find gaps, But I made it as the waves stopped. I must have been out ten minutes before a small but okay wave appeared and I came in on it. Back home then for pancakes and a drink. Thirsty work this, especially with a well-brined throat and nose. There are many things to do in life and many with a kayak but I have to say that this is by far my favourite and the most exciting. So good to share a sunny day with friends too.

Riding High…02/10/2013

Riding High…02/10/2013 It’s so infrequent that there is anything big enough to ride off Lowestoft that any and all opportunities need to be taken and so, with half an hour’s kip after my shift I was once again wandering down to the end of the road. I’d missed one day as my daughter, off school for a strike, had refused point blank to go surfing after seeing he size of the waves but she was once again off my hands. Down the road with the RRRapido over my shoulder, camera pointing forwards initially and I was in and paddling through the rip on the inside of the groyne. Timing was okay and I got through the breakers halfway down and out to the end where the waves stand up and after a couple of minutes I was up, up and away! Marvellous! A nice fast ride but not that long as the waves were peaky and ran out of steam after a hundred yards tops – the tide was dropping and the banks were already stopping the better waves. Back out again and disaster, the camera mount failed on me and had to go back into my pocket. A shame but there you go…I picked another wave and rode it in, bongo sliding back to the beach; at least I have some stock shots from previous sessions! A boardie swam out after half an hour and joined me and after a brief chat I caught another, rode it in and put my back into getting out again; this was hard work! The wind was blowing hard too and it took about five minutes to break through each time. The boardie was soon joined by three more, only one who managed to break through the middle section, the others staying in closer and I moved along a bit and kept an eye on where they were each time I picked my wave. I had to miss a few but had more than enough and checked I wasn’t keeping them from riding them…nope, and we coexisted nicely. After an hour and a half most of the waves seemed to be gone, the banks eating them. I moved in closer to the groyne, took one a bit too steep and dug the nose in, flipping out; only my second wipeout of the session. Back out I went; the last ride involved a wait of ten minutes but was a goodie, taking me all the way in and then home. I love it!

Quite like drunken sex…30/09/2013

Quite like drunken sex…30/09/2013 That’s a statement, not a question before any of you ask what my plans are tomorrow! Plans for the day weren’t as hoped – they didn’t involve the water at all either for once – but it gave me a badly timed bit of fun all the same. The lead up to high water is when we get some waves to ride at the end of the road, trouble is I was free towards the middle of the ebb when the water is low, obviously, and receding, like my hairline. This means the waves get absorbed by the sandbank that has built up in the wrong place over the last couple of years and nothing is big enough to trip up properly nor long enough to carve for ages. Last night, for example, I had people over and had a look around an hour before high to see some of the local surfers I know arriving and or surfing already – waves breaking 6-8ft and though nothing was clean it was certainly rideable for the first time since march when it seemed to last most of the time I was off with my hernia. But like I say, needs must. I squeezed into my wetsuit for the first time in ages, grabbed the Rrrapido and my Mystik and headed to the beach, launching and breaking through the dumping crap to the end of the groyne. Mostly it was large peaks – 4-6ft, but a few had a bit of width and I only waited for my first one. It was good to clear my sinuses with a wipeout and I remembered that I needed to avoid purling; be quicker going into a bottom turn you dumbshit! A few minutes passed and I caught my first, riding it as well as it would allow. Great! Better than mooching round at home sorting my kit that had been drying back in the car – taken out while emptying it for tomorrow’s MOT. Caught another. And another, then a few more with only one wipeout. Good to have some practice but nothing fantastic. That’s where the drunken sex analogy comes in: Lumpy, bumpy, wet, messy, disappointing ride and of course I've had better. But, like drunken sex it was worth it and I wasn’t all that choosy.

Hopton Chopton…26/09/2013

Hopton Chopton…26/09/2013 I had to attend some staff training and meetings last week, bumping into Gary again who I’d last seen through mildly intoxicated eyes on a night out. We’d spoke about kayak fishing then, he was already aware of it as he knows Si. Anyway, four people expressed an interest in going out while we were supposed to be concentrating on training (difficult when a Spitfire was doing aerobatics over Oulton Broad as well) and with Gary being free on Thursday mornings arrangements were made and I met up with him at Hopton just before nine. An hour earlier there was no wind to speak of; 5mph from the northwest. Lovely it was, ideal for a bit of bait fishing at anchor for a meal of the whiting that are now appearing. By the time I pulled up though it was a different story. The wind had trebled and shifted around to the north east. Choppy! Quite large chop too, white tops further out. Fishing was out. No point wasting the opportunity though, Gary got his drysuit on and we launched through a reasonable dump and went for a paddle. It wasn’t far past slack so we went uptide for a couple of miles towards Corton with the sea bouncing off the defences in places and giving some confused water to paddle through. Quite lumpy out there the whole time but Gary seemed at ease – previously into diving he is comfortable with the sea and this showed; even doing something alien, ie kayaking, there was no hesitation or even much in the way of distraction from the conditions though it was a bit more challenging paddling back against the swell. Back level with the ramp it was time to think about the landing. Nice sea for fun, the south end giving rideable waves, the north end having a few easier moments. The Tetra just wouldn’t get up enough speed for me to play though so I landed sedately and watched Gary come in, straight and on the back of a wave under control. Didn’t even need any help! I grabbed the Scupper and tried to play but it wasn’t happening so we loaded up and I accepted the invite for a drink at the holiday camp…what a pleasant way to spend the morning!

Might As Well…24/09/2013

Might As Well…24/09/2013 Andy popped over to pick up his anchor. I’d not managed to persuade myself to go fishing which was quite fortunate as the sparkies turned up to sort out the downstairs lights which had gone of a couple of weeks before. Nattering, drinking coffee and then deciding we may as well try for a bass, seeing as how the weather was nice even if the tides were wrong, we got ourselves sorted out and wandered down to the end of the road. It was flat. We launched and headed over to the pier, up the side, chatted to a couple of anglers then shot past the harbour mouth and started to troll up to Ness Point. Murky water of course, perhaps the noise from the lures would attract the fish because sight wasn’t going to do anything today! But no, not on this run, even in the usual spots. Up at the point Andy decides he needs to deal with certain private matters which, in shorts and a wetsuit, he can’t really do afloat. It’s not a very good place to land but to the amusement of myself and a couple watching the sea he negotiates his way between and onto rocks… Off again, troll back, fingers crossed…but no, nothing doing. Back around the pier and into kiddie’s corner. We swap kayaks, he’s still unsure what to go for so takes the Scupper the rest of the way back; it fits like a glove and he sees the reason it has such a following…not a wasted day then.

A Late Day…23/09/2013

A Late Day…23/09/2013 I had a text from Charley asking what I was up to and suggesting Trimingham while on my way home with my Sea Palling Bass; there was a message from Ian as well when I got home, same suggestion. It was expected that the catching could prove good and the mileage worthwhile. An important consideration for the time a hundred mile round-trip takes in this part of the world! Shaun was free, Colin was free, Si and Bruce might be. Weather looked fantastic – dropping tides, hardly any wind, no swell, clear water…the plan was pirks and feathers. No problem on the latter but pirks? Nothing. No bother, a quick divert via Wroxham Angling to raid Mark’s shop for some which he confirmed he had in during a 9pm phonecall. It’s good to have tame retailers! I left as soon as the kids had gone off to school and, after battling through the traffic, picked up Colin and headed north. It only took an hour and a half, shopping included, before we arrived at the bottom of a well-hidden track and started unloading. Everything was in disarray as all my lures from the previous day were dumped out on the parcel shelf to dry and I’d stuck in a second load of kit for Colin. Fortunately Shaun had a spare buoyancy aid though as that was one thing I’d forgotten. So there we are, setting up, squeezing Colin into my drysuit and tieing on this that and the other when Martin calls up – he’s out there with Ian and Charley and they’re catching; hurry it up! Shaun launches, I park up and we follow. A couple of other guys have nipped out ahead of us on kayaks and are already jigging away and there are boats out on the drift. The water, flat and clear, looks perfect and we get on the same line as one of the boats and drop down. Five minutes and Colin’s rod is bent over. It looks like it’s bucking but no, not a fish, it’s snagged. I head over to deal with it, being used to balancing a yak with a snagged rod in tide. Fingers crossed I’ll get my pirk back…well, jig…and yes, it comes free with just the loss of the hook rigged at the top on a short piece of fluorocarbon. A new one goes on and we carry on. We’re a bit far out though, past the bank in deeper water; we come in onto the other yak’s line. It’s flat! Martin heads up past us for another drift; he’s had around fifteen bass so far! It’s gone quiet though, they’ve gone off the feed since we launched it seems…then my rod bucks and I’m into a fish. Up comes my first jigged bass, a nice little scrap and a prompt unhooking and return as it’s not a keeper – sizeable perhaps but not much of a meal this year so I don’t even measure it. Colin is next, maybe twenty minutes later. Same sort of size; he’s made up, his first fish caught off a kayak, fishing totally differently in totally different water to his patch…sure, he reeled in some I hooked a fortnight ago but it’s not the same. In it goes, maybe dinner will come soon. Shaun asks to borrow or touch my lucky hat, I refuse, naturally, in case of contamination. Turns out it’s not needed though as ten minutes later he manages a brace on the same string, both keepers too. We’re struggling though, there’s not much happening. We head uptide again and drift once more. I’m chatting to Colin when he spots Shaun snag up…then flip over. Because he’s beam on it doesn’t take a lot and happens quite quick. I head over, start collecting his floating gear and unravelling anchor system while he sorts himself and his kayak out; then I spot the bass, floating; lucky he hasn’t gutted them yet! I scoop them both into the kayak. I dunno, seeing as I caught them last maybe I should have kept them? Anyway, he gets back on and I let him have them back. The next few hours pass languidly with more drifting around, slowly, while we wait for the tide. A few mackerel are appearing elsewhere but all we’re getting are Sandeels, very sporadically. They don’t attract anything either. Shaun gets a weever, Ian is apparently getting loads. Finally, while next to Ian and chatting away my rod starts to bang and the line shoots off sideways. What on earth have I got on here? Must be a better bass than the last one…but no, it’s not! One mackerel. A good one and able to fight properly as it’s not battling a bunch of others on the same string. Lovely stuff, that’s my dinner sorted and with fresh mackerel being such a rare treat for me it’s better than a bass because I ate one last night and have some in the freezer for later. Maybe not worth the time, money and effort but kayak fishing isn’t about economics for me even though it all balances out over the year. A couple more Sandeels, four in total and with the tide just starting to reappear and the bass expected to come back on the feed sometime soon I ran out of time and we headed back up towards the slip. Level, Martin calls and tells us he’s into fish by the ramp, close in. He’s just had four. We race in for a final attempt but it’s not to be and we have to head in without anything further. I race home and get in trouble for being late. It’s justified too, but then late was the order of the whole day for us, arriving just an hour earlier we might have bagged up; them’s the breaks.

Reef Breaks…23/09/2013

Reef Breaks…23/09/2013 Last week was a write-off; training, meetings, wind, rain. The weekend was a no-go too; I try to avoid fishing weekends most of the time now and my youngest had a birthday that needed my cake-making skills anyway. I am not too bad at cake making and this year I even managed an okay job at decorating, so much so that nobody mentioned the memory of the good cake with the abysmal first attempt at icing which was supposed to be blue but just looked like blue sludge of a few years before. No, I went for chocolate sponge with caramel and chocolate spread and marshmallows in the middle, the same spread and rainbow drops on the top. And Star Wars figures having a lightsabers battle because that’s what my daughter likes. Good for her! That’s all in the past though. I was awake around five and couldn’t get back to sleep, even though I am currently shattered. I couldn’t leave until half eight either so that made matters worse. It was a still morning though and though it was overcast I knew this was only temporary as I set off for the thirty mile trek to Sea Palling. I took my pound with for once, the tourists have thinned now so the charity car park would be useable and that damned dune wouldn’t see me today. It’s quite nice to be able to drive up the ramp, drop the yak onto the sand, load up and go and park before setting off, especially with a sea like this. Lovely and flat it was, a bit cloudy still but perhaps some more clarity on slack water a few hours hence – I launched practically bang on high water and headed downtide and into the sun. None of the bottom reefs were particularly exposed and the bottom one didn’t even uncover when I came in five hours after high. I had to rely on guessing where the rocks were to some extent, having been broken up somewhat by the storms back in the spring, and got it wrong a few times, the first casualty in minutes when I lost the lip on one of my most successful bass lures this year – a 13cm Jointed Minnow. I was relying on any feeding bass going after vibration and noise rather than sight. I trolled the four reefs there and back twice before deciding to play it wise; I got to the uptide end of my favourite reef and then drifted around to the other side before slowly winding the lure in. Bang! Fish on! Then it went light – a hit but no fish…then I felt a fish on there. I think I had a hit which didn’t connect before an immediate connecting hit following it rather than the fish coming towards me. The result was the same. One hell of a battle, I love these light rods! The bass went left, right, forwards, backwards, up, down, sideways…then appeared on top…Nice fish! I grabbed the leader, got it onto my foot and flicked it on. By the time I weighed it back home it went four and a half pounds for it’s bright, plump, muscular 59cm. A pity I had my polarisers on and didn’t notice the out of focus photograph due to still being on macro mode! Oh well, regular readers will have seen pictures of decent bass before. Nothing more came in the following quarter-hour here and I did some more trolling. I should have loosened the drag off again but I didn’t and hooked the reef while paddling through a rip…the usual stop and go back, the feeling of the rod being pulled and unable to slacken it quickly enough I heard a crack and stared unhappily at my now trashed spinning rod. Luckily I have three of these and had them all with me, the tears would have to wait and I swapped over the one I was planning to feather with and continued on my way. I tried the same tactic next time I hit that reef and lo and behold, same place and another bass, a 42cm two pounder. Same lure too. The mackerel patterned Jointed Minnow. This has also produced me a lot of bass this year. I wandered in and went off to buy a drink as I had a slight headache from yesterday’s birthday carbicide. Too much cake makes old Snapper a fat and sickly boy in need of exercise! Rather a civilised fishing spot this. Coming back out I decided to try and feather up some mackerel so paddled out a mile and gave it a go in clearer water, though not as clear as it was a month ago. Nothing doing so I went back to the reefs and trolled up and down once more. Same reef, a quarter up and yes! The rod went over and I turned and grabbed it. Then I back paddled. Then I grabbed it again. Then I swore at the other line that had drifted around it (I was heading downtide and it didn’t stop like the kayak did). Then I backpaddled again, then I fought the fish some more, then, with a bit of a tangle and one line fighting the next I grabbed the leader on a fish not yet played out and brought it in as the hook hold didn’t look too clever now. It was almost balancing half in and half out on the gunwhale. Slightly more half out though, when it shed the hooks. Caught and released, that one. Another two pounder. Not to worry. I tried for another hour but the water clouded up pretty soon after and nothing else came along so it was time to call it a day and head home with amongst the last of my summer fishing done. I figure my next set of shifts will be the break into autumn. I’ve had enough breaks today though, thanks, so I’ll just put it off a few more days. .

Wednesday Species Day…18/09/2013

Wednesday Species Day…18/09/2013 It was windy. Too windy for the sea. Wilmy might be able to fish so a mini species comp was on the cards. He couldn’t come in the end so it was just Nick, Bruce, Shaun and I. Shaun’s first coarse fishing session ever – we’d been shopping a couple of days before for bits. I met him again getting maggots. We launched at the quay after I’d had a roach while waiting for the others to get ready. As I forgot to take my camera I’ll not wax lyrical for once – Shaun landed one and dropped two pike on the glittering monstrosity of a witches broom he used and the rest of us failed to get a sniff of one – except Nick finally. I managed roach after roach before finally getting a half pound chub and a rudd or two. Bruce managed rudd, roach and perch and finally managed a decent chub after we’d called it a day. Nick managed pike, roach, rudd I think – anyway, we all had three species, a fine day out in nice weather and slow fishing in clear water – surprisingly. Even Barsham drain failed to produce apart from my one tiny solitary roach. Oh yeah, Shaun had his first ever coarse fish – a tiny chub a couple of inches long and a roach as well. I’m not sure what he made of coarse fishing on the whole but he seemed over the moon with the pike so I guess he’ll become a regular!

Madness in the Method…16.09.2013

Madness in the Method…16.09.2013 Slater’s again. I wanted tench and carp for the competition. They don’t want to know about maggot or corn or anything else. Paul had managed a carp at 3am on floating crust the night before but that’s a silly time of night. Bruce was off to fish a match though and had made up some paste and pellets (pineapple flavoured) so I scrounged some off him and a method feeder too. He showed me how to use this and how to use the hair rigs and so on. I don’t fish like this you see, all new to me. Anyway, I went off to meet up with Paul at Slater’s Pit. I’m bored with this report. The night was more boring. I’ll not bore you further; nothing happened.

A Brucey Bonus…16/09/2013

A Brucey Bonus…16/09/2013 Bruce came out with me twice last week, now he’s bought a Trident 13. We decided to christen it at Ellingham with a decent chub or rudd. Thjings started okay apart from the cows knocking my yak from the gate I slid it over. I launched, paddled down and waited for Bruce. I fed some corn, fish were about, I had a few missed bites. Bruce came along and I saw his line streaming out – a willow had snatched it and messed him right up. I caught a small chub. Bruce was less than impressed with the evening. He was right, we should have gone home. Wee didn’t, we stayed far too long, had no more fish and then went home.

Of Mice And Men…12/09/2013

Of Mice And Men…12/09/2013 The best laid plans…nothing to do with Steinbeck at all. All change at every stage; nothing went as intended and everything kept changing, it seemed like I spent the whole time on the back foot. Right from the start too, a couple of days before. Originally planning on some LRF on the rocks at Lowestoft I changed my mind after failing to repeat the success of last week a couple of days before and with some rougher water and rain for two days it’d not work out anyway; besides, the tides were wrong. Next plan thought up was right for the four of us planning to fish…a bit of hound and ray fishing off Corton, hopefully though they seem to be further out now. What else? The tide was going to be strong still and mid-flow by the time two of us could launch. Gorleston then? Tuck in by the pier and hope for some shelter from it, have a hunt for rockling, sole, that kind of thing on a small rd with some larger hooks and baits out for other stuff. That was decided on even though two of the four were beset with car problems and no longer able to come along. Fine, it’d work. Except for delays after work and at home. Then a text from Andy, he was stuck in traffic and going to be late. Then the same happened to me and I was still stuck when he sent a text to say he had arrived. We changed the plans again, I asked him to come to Corton, back to plan B from C. That was the best we could do, otherwise it’d be one o’ clock before we were on the water and I’d need to be heading home by three. Andy pulled up a couple of minutes after me. Unloaded and tackled up we headed across and walked down the track to the beach. A slight swell and more wind than predicted but perfectly reasonable. Lead Us was out there, I would have been too had I not had shifts either side. They’d had a few spotty dogs on the three mile bank and come in hoping for better on the rough ground. They were uptide and further out than we planned to be though and after a brief chat over the radio we launched. Out a few hundred yards, paddling across and uptide just to hold level with our launch. The flow was stronger than expected and with Andy in a short boat and being a first timer here I figured it best to see him safely anchored up before dropping down to pull level with him myself. He was set to go with the trolley already locked to the rear and dropped down. I paddled uptide again and turned to watch; it wasn’t right. I watched as the yak started to slew off to one side and paddled straight back over. By now it was well out of alignment and I could see the problem, an easy mistake to rectify off the water but impossible to do now – the bungee loop holding he trolley back was too long and had stretched too. So, around ten percent of the kayak length from the rear; the lines were also now too loose and with a large ‘staekout ring’ and a free running carabiner thrugh which the anchor line passed it was also triangulated around a foot out to the side. I grabbed hold and took a look at a way to resolve things. The low, open stern of the Scrambler meant that reclipping to the rear carry handle was out as it would pull the back down and below the waterline which would tip him. It looked like it was game over until it occurred to me he may get away with it if he was bow on to the tide. Staying rafted we hauled the trolley to the other end and tried that. Far better, straighter in the flow and possible to fish, though not all that brilliantly. At least it wasn’t a wasted trip. I returned uptide and watched to make sure things stayed okay and sure enough they did. I paddled a bit further north then dropped down letting out three hundred yards of warp and pulling almost level with Andy. I baited up with whole squid and stuck my two 2/0 pennels out. Within minutes it seemed that Andy was further away; I waited and watched. Yep, he was drifting. Would the anchor set? It didn’t. I thought I saw a bite but nothing developed. I continued watching Andy. He seemed comfortable enough and was tackling up but getting further away. Three groynes down I called him on the radio and advised him to cut his anchor trolley and leave the whole lot in-situ so I could recover it for him later as I couldn’t easily up-anchor and would probably also have to cut free if trying to assist. He did and paddled in, agreeing it was the best option and saying he already had his knife to hand. In he went. I got a bite. Missed it. Got another. Missed it. the tide was pretty fast so neither developed to a second bite. It was the third I managed to hit and up came a nice plump dab of around half a pound. Around the time Andy hit the beach. On whole squid. Oh good, I love dabs! Another ten, fifteen minutes and then another bite missed. Next one came in, a whiting; a shoal fish by the look of it, seems they’re on their way. Another followed after more missed bites; both keepers as was the dab; I gutted, gilled and bled them, strung them and washed them out in the tide. I gave it until around half two and then decided, after an hour and a half without a bite, to up-anchor and go. The bruce came up fine and with it in the boat I set off to look for Andy’s anchor. I paddled in a bit, down a bit and spotted the buoy fifty yards downtide and twenty offshore. I turned, paddled up and took hold of the floating line, pulling it and the buoy in before grabbing the anchor reel. That explained the drifting; loads of warp still on the reel. I pulled up, the cable tie weak link had parted and reversed the anchor, that’s why the yak drifted faster after a bit. I landed. I hate it when plans comes unstuck, at least there were lessons in this and a nice lunch.