A Beast

Quick early morning session on the beach. One bite. A real lump of 14lb 8oz. Happy days.

Afloat With The Legend

I was poncing around in the garage on Tuesday afternoon, when Tom Jones impersonator, ex charter boat skipper and local legend Hungry John Sait turned up, asking if I wanted a day fishing with him in the boat. Oh go on then, if you insist.
That evening I dug some lugworm from Mersea and picked up some fresh herring off the quay from "Herring Johnny" ( no, we didn't spend long on the nickname ) so we were all set to go.
The day dawned dry and windless and as we launched I said to John he'd have to tell me exactly what to do with regard to help with things on the boat. "Just sit down and keep out the way" he said. He can be rather, erm, straight talking.

We arrived at the mark right on slack water, two rods were cast out and a minute later one of the tips sprang back. A heavy, very slow moving weight was felt and a big skate broke the surface. John lifted it into the boat. Bloody massive it was, estimated at 14lb. I looked up and the other rod had gone, which resulted in another big skate around 12lb. Not a bad start. We continued to catch skate until the tide started to pull, whereupon the cod started to feed.

It was one cod after another, with small baits of fresh lug and squid being the killer. Cracking fish too, immaculate condition after pigging out on sprats and herring and almost all between 2.5 to 5lb.
The Legend had obviously put us on the right spot, because over the radio were heard that many other boats were struggling. We packed up at the top of the tide with the cod still feeding.
We ended up with 11 skate and 56 cod. I, as "The Boy" was nominated to gut the fish, which took the best part of an hour.
After getting back to John's, his wife came out, took a look at the fish, rolled her eyes and said "What are you going to do with that lot ?"
"Put them in the freezer" said John. "It's full" came the reply. "I'll buy another one" he said.
He's called Hungry John for a reason.
A fantastic day.

The results of unhooking and preparing fish

Be Careful What You Wish For, Poodle Riley

Goozgog in Ireland, 1985. Note wicker basket.

Spoke to Poodle the other day and he was laughing at some old photos I posted a while back, especially one of Goozgog. "Have you got any more" he said, hoping for more laugh's at Goozgog's expense. Well, yes, I have.

Goozgog at Alresford pit, circa 1974

Believe it or not, in those days, Goozgog was a bit of a young legend and appeared in Angling Times a couple of times, after he caught some big bream at a Alresford pit. He told us youngsters to use red maggots for the bream because "they think they're worms". Presumably when the bream came across worms they thought they were red maggots.
Another nugget of wisdom was telling us to take our anti reverse off our Mitchel 410s, as "click scares the fish away". He also caught a hundred fish in one day at "Ted's Reservoir" in Thorrington, when us mere mortals had caught maybe a dozen between us. The secret, were were told, was to change our size 10 hooks to size 16 model perfect, hook to nylons ( he was right on that one).
After this early success, it's sad to reflect that the 13 year old Goozgog would undoubtedly outfish the 53 year old he is now.
Anyway, to restore at bit of balance, here's one of Poodle Riley taken in the middle part of the last century.

The Turdster's Pants, The Whittler's Secret Spot and Meercats

Sunday and it's Colchester Half Marathon. Raining and windy, not very nice, but The Turdster, Perry "The Cannibal" Taylor and a few other mates are doing it, so I can't bail out. I catch up with The Cannibal at the start line and we run most of it together at decent pace. I finished in 1.39.13, better than last year, so pretty pleased. Yes, I keep saying it, but I'm getting better as I get older. Me and Lady Bong then went for a pig out at a very nice local Italian restaurant for lunch to celebrate.
I sent a text to Turdster asking him what time he finished, saying I was having lunch and sent him photo of the calzone pizza pictured below left. To demonstrate what a strange fellow he is, in response, he sent me back photo of his feet and pants, with him appearing to be "on the pan". No explanation.  For your perusal, see below right.

The Whittler said we'd catch codling. Said he'd got a new spot. Said conditions were perfect. OK, OK, I told him, I'm convinced. So I popped off down to Mersea to dig some lug, stopping off to take "the" photo of the famous beach huts. A cliche, but they do look good. I dug enough lug to go with the squid and that evening we went to catch codling. It was windy, very windy. Like a hurricane.

I'd only been fishing a few minutes and the rod pulls over and the first codling of the night is on....no, no, feels a bit heavy and surprise, surprise it's a skate. I'm a skate magnet, me. 

Half hour later I do catch a codling, or more specifically a SIKI codling, which I chuck back. The next two hours I spend freezing my nuts off with no other bites. Whittler had a stream of small whiting. Nice. Take me home. Now.

Next day and I'm looking at the weather forecast. Wind, wind and more wind....but dropping off to nothing on Thursday. A few days later and I wake up to a calm, sunny morning. Work is, as they say, "laughed off" and very soon I'm at my favoutite spot. It looks absolutely spot on, chocolate coloured sea, offshore wind. Perfect. 

First cast, cup of tea poured and the rod springs back and the first roker of the day is on. Lovely. Then the Goozgog family turn up and join the fun, catching three in quick succession. Mrs Goozgog interrupts two Beach Gentleman engaging in some, erm, aerobics action. I warn everyone who comes here, but they never listen. The first bit of sun brings them out, they pop up, suddenly appearing in the dunes, "Like fecking meercats", as The Turdster says.

I finished up with nine skate and a stray codling. A lovely day spent sitting in the sun, chatting and texting The Whittler to remind him what he's missing. He ignored it, but I was happy in the knowledge that it irritated the hell out of him.

Beginning To See The Light

After a token couple of hours work, I was getting cabin fever ( it doesn't take much ). The sun was shining, it's spring. I must be outside.

So I walked down to creek re set my peeler crab traps, only to find time and tide really don't wait for no man, the traps almost all having been covered in silt. Not a great loss.

On the way back I bumped into a fox. Luckily it didn't see me, so I crouched down and waited, hoping it would come right up to me. When it was about 30 yards away, it froze and suspiciously stared at me, before turning round and jogging off. Suspicion that has enabled them to thrive whilst being relentlessly persecuted.

The next day, the strong onshore wind slightly changed direction. I thought this a good opportunity for a quick fish at the local beach ( after all work was completed, obviously ). It certainly was still breezy, but not unfishable and sunny to boot. Four decent sized skate obliged and I kept two.  It's a long walk back and I didn't want to be bringing them all back home. God, I hate skining them.

Another sunny day yesterday and I had my last training run before the Colchester Half Marathon on Sunday. This comprised of a couple of miles half hearted jog and the rest walking. It was too nice a day to rush along the river. As someone once said,  "don't forget to smell the flowers along the way".

I can't say I'm enthusiastic about the race though.

Just as I finished the run one of my mates came by. He said he'd like to come fishing with me soon ( he's a non angler ). Fine, any time, I said. He then made a huge faux pas. "Are there any sea bass around". I immediately struck him hard with a straight left on the nose, followed up with a vicious right uppercut. Actually I didn't, but that's what I feel like doing when some calls a bass a "sea bass".

It's one of my my many irrational loathings of inconsequential things. Some others include......

Cafes serving coffee with milk, not cream ( bit of a first world problem I agree ).

PLC speak of any description e.g "our value added selling proposition". Yes kids, I've really heard this.

"The winningest team/captain, etc". What ? A disgraceful abomination of the English language.

Clarkson. I loathe this man beyond reason.

And to show I'm not a totally miserable old git, five simple things I really love.....

Boiling my eggs perfectly, so they're runny but without that snotty bit.

Saturday newspaper, read in a cafe (drinking a coffee...with cream obviously)

Green and Blacks plain dark chocolate after every meal

Preparing to watch MOTD, with a glass of red, when Man Utd have lost

The sun. Always the sun.

TT and BB, a few of you're trivial loves/loathings please ?

On The Beach

First beach session of the year. Me and The Whittler headed off on a mile long walk across the shingle, to our favourite roker mark. "Tonight's the night", I thought, perfect conditions. Calm, biggish tide.
I'm pretty sure there is no better place in the country for beach roker than this spot, which is very convenient, as it's only fifteen minutes drive from home.....plus the twenty minute walk.
In short, we had a good night with nine roker to about 7lb and a sizeable codling ( to The Whittler ) between us.

A mercifully blurred photo of The Whittler (he's an ugly bugger)
with roker number 1

The day before I had a walk down by the river, along the creek near Thorrington Mill. I stopped at a sheltered spot in the sun and went to sleep. Again. Several chiffchaffs calling, although I have yet to hear or see any other migrants. A gorgeous spring day.

Once Upon A Time......

The Mighty Turdster with a monstrous 15lb turbot. Caught despite ( because ?) defying skipper's instructions. Alderney, 2011.

10lb 12 oz Stour zander, 2009. I was well chuffed with that.

23lb Stour carp. I vaguely remember Goozgog being there too. 2003.

Mak with a big perch from Ardleigh in 1985

Bainsy, Shanus and me at Alton, 2009.

I love looking at old photos. There's always a hint of melancholy about it....how time flies and people physically change. None of these photos are related, just a random snapshot of some of the thousands I've taken over the years.

Mak Baines wedding.Mak, Shane, me, Lobby ( before he threw up in Shane's car )

Above - Shanus throwing out his 4lb carp livebait on the Ebro in Spain. And the result, a catfish of around 80lb.
Below - More Ebro stuff including a rather nice photo of me sunbathing in pants.

The now iconic photo of Mak Baines, in forlorn pose, after losing a winter carp after waiting hours

Perchtastic pics, from Smeg's and the Kennet.Late 90s.

Hang on son ! There's a 140lb catfish attached and it's doing it's best to pull me in.

Smeg with an 80lb conger, with Goozgog keeping his distance. Weymouth 2010.

Goozgog and my Dan. A balmy evening on the Stour in 2001.

At Blenheim Palace, with Goozgog, Smeg and Liitle Owl. Tenching, but catching bream. 2001.

Goozgog in Ireland 1985

Goozgog on "The Point" at Alresford, circa 1985