My Mojo Rising…09/06/2014

My Mojo Rising…09/06/2014

Well a week ago I was basking in a six pound bass on a hard weekend and then got brought down with a thump by fishing really badly on a boat, a whiting and a flounder against the nine bass, decent cod and thornback landed by a proper angler. I followed with an estuary blank (recce) and a solitary shanny from the sea before ending my week’s fishing with a single pin whiting where we should have had a red letter day. I wasn’t despondent as that’s how fishing goes sometimes but the weekend with the family and three shifts I had to work were a good excuse to not go out…

Yes, weekend with the kids. A very full day culminating in a couple of hours at the beach with friends and a chilled San Miguel before a pre-shift sleep. The relevance to this is that I have never, ever seen the water here so clear. This was south coast water, not east coast soup. I really didn’t have any choice whatsoever, I was staying close after work.

I knocked off at half eight, my mind made up on a bass trolling session followed by testing the water for mackerel. A silly option as it’s a bit early here and I’ve not heard of them being caught here close in, they just can’t see the feathers. But it looks as though this year might see a change in that if this water stays clear. I’d start on the troll though, my Tempo loaded with just a handful of lures, two Xtraflexx 10-30g rods and the attendant Maxixmus baitcasters. And a paddle. And me. A beautiful hot day that required no more than my Ion Bib and buoyancy aid – no boiling in the bag for me! But first – sleep. Two hours I set my alarm for; I was up in an hour having slept half that. Enough milk for one coffee…Mike was going to Yarmouth, James was asleep after his shift, Andrew was sorting something out for someone, Si had stuff to do…solo! I got rigged and walked down to the beach.

Very clear water, even better than yesterday. A bit of wind, more than expected. Loads of people on the beach, a pre-school group by the look of it. Trolley away, on top of the lucky penny I’d found on the road as I came down and threw into the hull (lucky coin should go into any boat, a found penny is the best I reckon).I switched on the bow camera – bad news, I’d taken the memory card out. Oh. Still, I’d not get anything different to normal probably so I didn’t go home for it. I launched, paddled out, cast and headed for the rocks.



Nothing there. I ran up the wall; nothing there. I crossed the harbour mouth, ran up the side (had luck here before) and around the jetty; nothing there. Then up to the jetty on the point; halfway and the rod starts to buck, that pink and silver Fladen Warbird Minnow 12 doing the business yet again (top lure this season so far). A quickish fight in a choppy sea and in came a schoolie.


I carried on, rounded the point, ran up tight to the rocks or as tight as I could go in the waves rolling in. Halfway up to the turning point and the inside rod slammed down. HARD. I grabbed it, felt a good fish on the end, drifted in and returned it to the holder as it thrashed at the surface and ran for the rocks; paddled out a bit further to get breathing space and grabbed the rod again. This was solid! Solid but bucking, it had made it into the rocks partially and was trying to throw the lure; I needed some drag but couldn’t lighten it now as my ahnds were full. It pulled me inshore and the waves helped; rod high, paddled with my left hand, turn and push out and then fight the fish some more, skull-drag it away from the rocks and it’s comings, slowly and thrashing. Really putting up a fight and a half, this is one fit fish that’s feeding in the fastest stretch here…it comes closer and in this clear water I saw it for what it is. A double. My second double figure bass, looks bigger than the first and this one is on a lure, my favourite way to catch bass and it’s just me, tackle and fish with no heavy lead for the fish to fight. Marvellous!



It gets closer, the hooks look firm but I can’t relax, this has to be fought and fought well, fought properly, fought to a standstill so I can get her close and grab her; I don’t use a net, if the fish can’t be hand-landed I don’t deserve it as much as it deserves its freedom. Sure, I’ve lost good fish like this in the past but there you go. She’s a wide old girl though, huge set of shoulders on her…I can’t get her like that but she turns anyway…tail root? Too slippery, I try twice. The lure is in the mouth, can’t go there. Tough, pike style – hands go straight into the gill slit, all four fingers and I lift her in, great weight to her, cracking fish! There’s a bloke on the harbour wall, goggle-eyed!

She’s going in the tankwell under the net but I’m making sure she’s secure – the only option is to take my paddle leash off, thread it through gills and mouth as a stringer and clip it on to the kayak; that done I lift her into the tankwell and she takes up the full length and half the width. This is a BIG fish. Then I notice that during unhooking I’ve ripped the underside treble off and badly damaged the already-rusted split ring. I change lures.





The change alters things. I’m half thinking I should go home now, got what I want but sport is good and this water is a rarity so has to be taken advantage of. I’ve hit the shallows now and the lures aren’t working right; I get to my end point and turn, getting all the way back to the harbour without a touch and change back to the Minnow 12, the treble swapped over from another lure. I head across and around the bend; fish on! I’m not so desperate for fish now so I play and take photos.







In it comes, a 4lb’er. Speaking of photo I want some crackers of this special bass so I’ve called up Jules. My old buddy Jules with whom I travelled around Egypt snapping stuff and drinking Carlsberg ‘Luke Warm in Alex’ is currently having lunch before heading back into his studio. No, I tell him, you’re coming down the beach to take photos. Payback for me doing his wedding photos the other week! Bless him, he eats up, jumps on his bike and rides to town. I carry on.

Bang, Kiddies corner and it’s fish on again, another 4lb’er with a buddy swimming next to it. Beaten I grab the leader and start pulling it a bit too hard to the yak, the hookhold isn’t great and the trebles have been hammered on rocks and fish and are bent out a bit; fish off. I’m not too worried, I’m fishing for the sport now. Then Si calls up…

“It’s great out here, you should have come”

“I know, I’m twenty metres away”

He’s on the pier with Emma. He asks how I’m getting on and I lift the biggie up…he doesn’t speak for a moment…

I head back up the wall, have another decent take and drop it then back down and back up again and another, sixth and final hit on the Minnow 12. I drop it again. Jules has arrived and I head in, reluctantly!



I land, give a fish to Si for his tea and one to Jules for his – he first ate fish only a few weeks back – and we set to work, me posing and Jules doing what he does best. Time to go overboard with the photos…















I dwarf the 4lb’er with it too…



I head home, fill the sink with one fish that impresses the girls and not my wife and then it’s back to normality and running the girls to after school clubs. I’ve given away my dinner and dropped the biggie around Paul’s until the weekend because it won’t go in my freezer. I decide to treat myself to a special fish dish to celebrate, my Swanage plaice, gently panned….



Marvellous. Mackerel tomorrow instead then perhaps.

D-Day Deseperadoes…06/06/2014

D-Day Deseperadoes…06/06/2014

Sixth of June, seventy years on from the invasion of Normandy. It’s a few years since I’ve been across, twenty years ago I was just about to join my first ship running the Portsmouth-Ouistreham route. A few days short of seventy years since a relative, John, had been killed in action at the age of eighteen a few miles inland. His grave had been the last place I’d visited the last time I was there. It would be a more peaceful beach for James and I today.

I pulled up at Caister at nine, had a lovely chat with an old boy who popped out of his garden, initially about fishing (his best off the shore here was a 17lb cod) and then about the anniversary commemorations; he’d missed participating in or even knowing about the invasion at the time as he was in Ceylon at the time. We chatted for a while and with a promise of a fish if we caught something and an invite for a cup of tea we set off down to the water.



Bait-wise we had scraps. I’d used the last of my squid the day before on Cleveland Princess, had one manky wrap of refrozen black lug that I forgot to bring and relied on James’ cut up remnants of squid, mackerel and black lug. He’d tried for sandeels the evening before with his cast net to no avail…that was just for tipping though, we were intending mostly to work sabikis and tinsels on the bank half a mile out after Sandeel, launce and mackerel. Dave had had some of the latter the day before a bit further up the coast and the water was starting to clear here.



Nice and flat at first, we headed out to where we thought the banks was, drifted a bit in about forty feet of water; loads of suspended matter but no bites. The terns were working a bit further out and James headed out more…then, my first bite. The rod hooped right over then sprung back; up came the baited sabikis and the bottom hook, with a strip of squid, had gone, the light line missing from just before the knot. No mackerel…


I paddled out to James, rigged up the fishfinder and the returns were everywhere and constant, loads of marks but nothing feeding. We jigged and jigged, drifted down to Scratby and with the wind and chop picking up paddled back to fetch our anchors to try some static bait fishing.





James ran home and got a bottle of Desperadoes each from the fridge; we were getting desperate and it was a nice enough day with easy close in fishing and little tide.



Baits down and we sat there facing the waves. It took an hour before the first rattle and, saving a blank, a pin whiting came in; not long after James followed suit but that was it.







We headed back to shore soon after, passing a tourist who decided against laying on the fine sand and chose a piece of concrete on top of a pillbox on the beach instead. Fair enough.





We landed, loaded up, apologised for not bringing fish and headed off to the chippy where the lure of some shiny coins saw me heading back to James with a nice piece of battered plaice. Oh well, there’s always next time…

Mojo Falling…03/06/2014

Mojo Falling…03/06/2014


Well the weekend had been hard going but I’d at least had one good bass and a few smaller ones. Monday was a disappointment with a blank in Lake Lothing after Gobies and Smelt but had been ever so slightly lifted by the catch of a Shanny by the pier wall but nothing else and having given Brian a couple of pounds of spare ragworm that wouldn’t otherwise get used he asked what I was doing the following day as he was heading out with Andrew for a spot of bassing. I wasn’t doing anything after half eight and had been unable to join Colin on Lead Us the day before so I figured it was a goer!

Nine o’clock and I’m down at the yacht station, Brian ran up the engines and a few minutes later Andrew arrived. It looked lovely and flat inshore and with everything loaded and my rods tackled up we headed out a couple of miles to drop anchor over some promising marks on the edge of one of the banks…down went the baits, one uptide and two downtide for me on the starboard side, same for Brian with his downtide rods centrally and Andrew taking the port side where all the fish were.



It was reasonably clear so I started off with some hokkais in case there were any mackerel about but no…the kettle went on and we sat back; there was a bit of swell, being wind against tide and without waiting overly long Andrew brought in a doggie and then Brian was into a bass of a couple of pounds…here we go then!



Andrew again; a good bend in the rod, nodding all the way up…get the net…here it is, the water still quite clear but running now…nood nod nod, net down and under, the last couple of feet and the net goes under and lifts…five pound summer cod! Job’s a good ‘un!



With a nice out-of-season meal assured Andrew concentrated on sweeping the bank of bass while I sat staring at unmoving rod tips…Brian’s not moving a lot either. Mixing rag, lug, squid, blacks and herring didn’t gove me any benefit and it was a good couple of hours before I finally had a rattle; strange fight, on? Off? On? Yes, on…and here came a flounder! A surprise to me, only the second I’ve ever caught and a new species from the boat. The one I had inside the reefs at Sea Palling in the winter had been delicious, caught over sand and bled before roasting in wet newspaper, so this was also bled and went into the bucket for a fine meal. And then it was back to sitting still!



Then, oh joy, two rods going at once; Andrew is in, I’m in, which side should Brian go with the net? Umm…blindingly obvious really…



So, my second fish, a baby whiting…not yet another bass like Andrew.



Mind you, he was feeling the pressure as I’d had a flattie and he hadn’t. Not that he worried for too long:





A couple of hours more and the sea got even more lumpy as the wind picked up and the tide dropped down; the boat had been moving at the mercy of the wind all day as it was, a bucket out the back acting as a drogue had helped a bit but it really was hard work and the lines were constantly crossing each other and getting caught up. Perhaps the braid Brian and I were using was bumping the baits around too rather than absorbing the shock like Andrew’s mono…an excuse is an excuse but the fact is I was just embarrassingly outclassed by a very good angler (and I fished even worse than normal!) and couldn’t even be spared my blushes by lady luck!



By mid-afternoon it just became unfishable and with nine bass, a roker, a cod, a dab of Brian’s and my flounder aboard we headed in to clean down and pack up. I’d like to say it was a great day’s fishing but, for me, it was merely a great day out!!! Ah well, learnt some tips and tricks that should increase my catches next time.


A footnote. Down in South Africa and unknown to me at the time my uncle was out for the first time in nearly two years. No longer working his own boat, Big Blue, since my aunt got sick and passed on he’d been invited out by a friend. They steamed out to Protea Reef, their second home and he finally scattered the ashes of my grandfather, grandmother and aunt, anglers all. And then the fishing turned on big time with multiple bonito and yellowfin tuna to 15kg. So it was just me today then…

Shanny-La…02/06//2014

Shanny-La…02/06//2014

Downheartened I drove back from Lake Lothing and grabbed a quick coffee before ehading down to the beach after whatever scraps I could find. One rod, size 4 hooks and pinches of rag, that was the plan. Anchor off kiddie’s corner and hope for a scorpion and a shanny. I took my coolbox too with the rest of the rag Garry and James had left on Sunday as Brian said he’d be heading down to the boat and I’d offered it to him; I’d paddle in and hand it over when he arrived.

A five minute paddle and I clipped off to a buoy; did these belong to the thief who’d taken my pot? I don’t know, but I don’t mess with other people’s gear, it’s not cricket, and they could have been taken by anyone. I cast my three hook flapper (under a 7bb float) and watched. A bit swelly for this and I struggled to get it where I wanted it or even keep it in place so unclipped and anchored closer. This did the trick.



Well I say it did the trick but it didn’t as far as catching anything was concerned. To be fair it was too lumpy anyway but you have to try these things – apart from shanny and sea scorpion I’ve also had pout and my only local wrasse from here and I’m intrigued as to what else might be down here in this small but beguiling spot. Anyway, an hour’s fiddling and a snag that left me with one hook decied me, I headed to the inshore side and tried drifting briefly before Brian gave me a wave from the pier. I paddled in, dragged the kayak onto the sand, stuck my bait next to the sea wall and passed the rag up while having a good long chat about all manner of things. Then I noticed a twitch…I started to walk to the rod but things seemed normal so I left it for a couple of minutes before I became intrigued and reeled in…oh yes! I wasn’t blanking today after all!



A beautiful shanny, three inches long and with glorious markings. This bit dries out at low tide so it was a surprise being only mere inches deep…I passed it up to Brian to have a look – he doesn’t mess around with tiddlers like I do – and he mentioned my tank…what a fine idea! I emptied my bait box and filled it with water, popping him in. I’d just started filling my new tank the night before, a 4ft tank given to me by a mate which is in the dining room where it’s a bit cooler and a bit darker than my office upstairs. I love these mini species.

That was it, a quick play after Brian wandered off and then back after an easy landing to let him make himself at home while I got tea on…

Goby Seeking…02/06/2014

Goby Seeking…02/06/2014

The weather was lovely but the tide was too big to go to the three mile bank where Colin was and with Flo needing me home on time I couldn’t jump aboard Lead Us for the day either…so what to do with the masses of ragworm left by Garry and James after the weekend. I woke up too late to go dump some with Colin so took some down to Lake Lothing for a play with the rest left in the fridge. I wanted to see if the gobies and smelt were about you see, a couple more species for my hunt…

A bit windy down there and very green water, some scum and weed on the top but I could see far enough with my polarisers on. Size 24 hook and my 3 piece festival kayak rod and DX30 reel, a 3bb waggler and some shot. Tiny bits of ragworm and the Tempo was ready to go. So I went.

I paddled out about five yards and started to hunt. Nothing to be seen…I moved around and along a bit an then spotted a possible bonus; stickleback! A saltwater sticky would be a new one on me and it was clearly in the club, big round silver belly by the look of things and clearly nesting. But it just darted off. I moved off.



I checked a few places, no smelt sighted, into the bay, no gobies…more stickies, all darting away…I moved over to the wrecks…



I saw nothing until I started to move away and then I spied the first mullet of the year, and a second, both around 3-4lb and up at the top. I must have a proper go for them this year. They ignored me this time of course.

I carried on around, found more uninterested fleeing sticklebacks and then headed to the big bay at the end; there were fry and small fish everywhere feeding and shoaling but all fleeing once more. Then another big mullet in a few inches of water; off it went.

I was wasting my time. I landed.



I decided that I’d just have a wonder and a look before loading up and spied some small mullet around six inches long feeding amongst some weed; I kept casting at the various places they went to but though my float was battered around by them they refused to touch the bait and I gave up, frustrated. Beach then.

Big Bass Banging…01/06/2014

Big Bass Banging…01/06/2014

I awoke at sunrise which was my planned launch time. I covered my eyes and told the sun to go away. This was too early and no-one had made me a coffee.






It took ages and much begging and pleading before Amos came to the rescue and then, by half five I was in top gear and heading to sea again, in my drysuit now after soaking my other gear last night. Still swelly and one of the guys had six bass already…things looked good as I paddled off up the reefs.



Most of the way up to Eccles, the waves pounding on the rocks and nothing to show for it, nothing. Mackerel Jointed Minnow 13 and the pink and silver Minnow 12, both very productive in previous weeks. Some serious foam in places…








Most of the way down I changed over to an orange/gold Jointed Minnow 13. I got half a reef when the rod slammed down…at last! A 42cm bit of silver flashed around and ran about and dived, pulling the10-40g Vantage over nicely and giving a great account of itself on the FS30 fixed spool – such a different feel to a multiplier especially with braid. I soon had it in though and this was one to take home. Soon after I was paddling along and chatting to James who wasn’t doing all that much either when suddenly the same rod and lure started to bang away…

Oh yes, this was a good fish. A very good fish…I was drifting at a couple of knots and it tore off sideways straight into the rocks. I saw flashes of silver at the surface and felt the pull of the reef on my line…and then, disastrously, as I pulled to try and clear it the rod sprang back and everything went slack. OH NO!!! I’d lost the fish, the lure, the lot. Damn!



I wound the other lure in before it floated under me and got tangled then wound in my slack and fluttering line…which suddenly turned heavy! I hadn’t lost it at all, I guess the line had got hooked over something and then pinged free…and the fish was now out of the rocks and pulling. Hard.

Slowly it came to me, fighting, nodding, shaking, diving, running, everything in its armoury to try and get away; James was filming on his phone, I was regretting leaving the spare video in the car. Sounds dramatic? Well, yes. Deservedly so. It’s not my biggest bass. It’s not my biggest fish on the lure. It’s not even my biggest bass on the lure. But this was my best scrap on a lure that I can remember in this country, this was fighting as well as a tuna of comparable size and I say that from experience. This was a scrap and a half. And then, it broke the surface nearby and I saw it…they always look bigger in the water and this looked near-double! Stay focused boyo, that lure should hold even if it’s not the best place to hook it and there’s only one treble in there…it dived again…

I guess it took five minutes or so before it was alongside and I grabbed it over the shoulders, avoiding those gill plates. Great fish! Not a double or even near but one strong fish… six to eight I reckoned…65cm. Into the tankwell and under the net.





I paddled down some more and saw Martin, loving his new ride. We chatted and were joined by Tim. It was hard going all around but at least we were getting one or two fish. Martin then hauled up a bass as I was leaving on bait.



Down the last two reefs, the bottom one now covered. I trolled straight over it, got 3/4 of the way down when the rod arched over and I felt a bass banging away at it again. No idea how good as it dove straight into the rocks, jammed me and snapped me off with the braid being sliced on the granite. Damn, that lucky lure was now gone. I paddle din to land, I’d got bored with bass now, I wanted to drift some sabikis and try for sandeel, weever, gurnard or what have you. I surfed in and the lads got some pics of Bertie for me after I’d got a couple that showed no scale:









Funny how they all look different…we weighed it, an hour or so after catching it went a bit over six pounds. Nice fish that, Nearly fifty quid’s worth on the market last week apparently, £7/kg for small, £16/kg for large. I don’t sell fish though, I eat them or share them out.

So, back out for species, paddle two reefs up, drop down and drift…this is trolling speed and no-one’s near. The wedge and sabikis are bouncing off the bottom, the braid is transmitting everything through the 8ft 10-40g Vantage spinning rod and FS-30 reel. It’s all going great guns although nothing’s happening on the fish front. The sabikis are baited with rag too, this would have done the business on the south coast but not here today…then I snagged. Line is peeling off and I try paddling uptide past it. Can’t budge it. I end up with fifty yards of line out, thirty yards off the reef near the end where the waves are pretty grim; I see a yak heading towards me trolling, someone I don’t know – I shout over that I’m snagged and to keep away. He keeps coming. I shout again. He comes and has a chat. I’m in a nasty spot here, the braid is singing and the waves are rolling in and they’re breaking. I don’t want a chat. I don’t want a lure wrapped on my line. He moves off – I tell him to give me slack so I can unhook it – vhe winds in instead so I give up and give him slack so he can do it. But he can’t. So I tell him again to give slack and I’ll do it, he does and I get the lure almost to my hand – remember I’m anchored by my line from the bow. So, he’s out to one side and the lure is almost there and I’m going up and down and then it suddenly goes tight again and I’m being pulled sideways now as well. The lure and line is pulled away from me as he paddles out to sea with his reel engaged again; there’s line singing from both directions and things are turning nastier when there’s an almighty bang and my rod is exploded under the opposing forces and I watch the top end float away with the now sheared line.

I keep my temper. Too incredulous. I’m, quite frankly, astounded, especially when he says he was concerned that I was getting close to the rocks…with two lines attached I wasn’t going anywhere, wa sin the same place I had been and he was offshore from me. So, scratch one very nice rod. There’s a lesson or two there.

Forget it. I went in, hauled everything up over the mountain (with a little help) and went home to make lunch.