Rain in the Essex Desert

Early morning bassing beneath an angry sky. One keeper in the bag before the rain was unleashed.

North Essex, officially the driest part of the country. But not today.

Where The Sea Meets The Sky

A dawn session on the river. A calm, humid, misty morning, the silence broken only by the distant calls of oystercatchers and redshanks.
First chuck right on low water and the ragworm was hammered within a few seconds and a furious bass crashed and splashed through the weed before hitting the shore less than a minute after casting out.
The action lasted for an hour, resulting in three decent bass and a surprise wrasse. What a great spot this is.

This Precious Stone, Set In The Silver Sea

With the forecast giving fine weather for the week, I set off for Dorset at dawn, intent on a bit of coastal hiking and fishing. By eight I was in Wareham, tucking into a great breakfast at the "Five and Dime" cafe.
I then walked the coast path from  Kimmeridge to Lulworth. Some of the hills were ridiculously steep, especially the ascent west from Worborrow. But what views.

I checked out a few rock marks, it looked fantastic, but where do you start with all this great looking ground ? I had a fish here and there but just had a few smallish wrasse. 

Away from the access points there were very few people about, despite it being the kid's holidays. At Lulworth, however, hundreds of lemmings milled around without ever getting more than five minutes from the car park. That's what I like to see.
I took the inland route back and tucked in to fish and chips and a damn fine bottle of Cote Du Rhone in the evening. What a great day.

More wrassing the next day, but more of the same, a few fish here and there. Mediocre fishing, but frankly who gives a damn in such fantastic surroundings ? That's what you're meant to say isn't it ? In the evening I had a walk around Arne and enjoyed some ( yes, more) great views of Poole harbour.

Thursday I walked the full Portland circuit. A strange, but very interesting place. Some parts extremely grim, one estate reminding me of the images we used to see in the bad old days of Belfast Falls Road. Nice.
On another part of the route, the coastal path takes you past a prison, complete with high walls and razor wire on one side and amazing clifftop scenery on the other. Well worth a visit, the place is a real "one off".

Next day I had a great walk along South Dorst Ridgeway, high above Chesil beach and around Abbotsbury and Bexington. At one stage I could see the Purbecks to the east, Devon to the west and Portand straight in front of me. Extraordinary views.
I completed this walk in double quick time, because I'd parked at the beach, ready for a mackeral fishing session in the evening, and being a bit of a saddo I was ludicrously excited at the prospect.

A large quantity of ice was obtained and put in a big cool box, ready to take a load of mackeral home and in pristine condition. Hopefully.

I was lucky, conditions were perfect. For mackeral and me. Calm, sunny, warm. Beautiful.

I loved it, it was like being a kid again, catching them three, four, five at a time.

Look at the bod on that

There were huge, black clouds of whitebait being driven into the shingle by ravenous shoals of mackeral. The water erupted as the mackie attacked from below, with terns joining in, diving in on the whitebait. After several attacks, the shingle was littered with fry that had beached themselves trying to escape. It was like an English version of Attenborough's "Life On Earth". An incredible sight.

A tide of whitebait

Two little kids were fishing with their Dad next to me. They were struggling to cast and I really hoped they'd catch a few, but doubted that they'd be able to get out far enough. As I watched them, to their left a huge shoal of mackeral attacked the fry on the surface. I shouted out and pointed and the whole family ran along the beach.
One of the kids cast out not more than five yards and pulled a string of makkie in, jumping up and down in excitement. Great to see.
Unfortunately, I filled my coolbox all too quickly and reluctantly trudged off the beach, heading off home, stopping only for a cold pint of cider, a slice of "Auntie Pat's" coffee and walnut cake and the first chat I've had with Chris " Greg Davis" Howell in twenty three years.
Summer in Old Blighty, it ain't too bad.

The Fruits of Summer

A lovely evening,  so I thought I'd have an hour and see if I could catch a bass. Arrived to find I'd left the bait digging fork behind. Oh dear.
A rustle about in the car and a packet of plastic worms was found. Half hour later I had a savage take and a few minutes late a beauty of around 4lb hit the shore.
I was well pleased and not a little smug.

It'll save alot of messing around if these artificials prove as effective as ragworm.

Of course,  I had to go back for another go the next day and again nailed a corker which fought like a demon. Well chuffed again.

Life On The Ocean Wave

A glorious day, put the Yak on the roof rack and off to the river I went.
The tide was well out and I dragged it across the mud, jumped in and looked forward to catching a few bass.
Some facts and figures for you...
Date puchased - May 2013
Total number of launches - 3
Fish caught from the Yak - 0
So far, it works out to 200 quid a trip.
Advice for people who want to get a yak for fishing. Don't, it's bloody uncomfortable,  very difficult to handle the yak and fish and requires alot of dicking about to get the thing to and from the water.
On the other hand, if you leave the rods at home it's good fun.
Today I landed the yak on a beach and fished from there, catching plenty of schoolie bass. A lovely day in the sun.

The Curse Is Broken

The sole curse that is. Not caught one since 1978, when I was 14, on Clacton Pier. Me and Turdy went to Aldeburgh last week on a muggy, windless evening hoping to change that.
First cast and I'd got one, not very big, but a sole nevertheless. Next cast a hideous eel that had garroted itself on the main line and came in dead.
We ended up with whiting, pout and a couple of soles and lots of mozzie bites. Not a bad night.

Early Friday morning I had a quick hour down the river and in very windy conditions managed five bass to 2,5lb. The first bass for a while and very welcome.

A very early start Saturday and me and Lord Conc hit the shingle in North Norfolk, hoping for mackeral. A blank two hours and things weren't looking good. We eventually started to catch a few and ended up with just over a dozen plus a good number of launce.
Interesting day in the sun, topped off by a pig out in "Picnic Fayre" in Cley. We admired their impressive fruit and veg display and walked inside and ordered pies and cakes.

Where is The Whittler ? He's not been seen for a few months and we are concerned for the welfare of this simpleton.. If you see him please ring social services.

Missing : The Whittler

High Summer

Back from a good week in south Devon, East Prawle to be precise. Sunny and windy pretty much all week, so can't complain.

A few houses, a good cafe, a general store and a great pub. That's it. That'll do for me.

There's no place finer than Blighty when the sun shines. Watched a pair of peregrines on and off all week, whilst fishing from the rocks.

Great time of year, Tour De France and the Ashes at the same time. Sporting heaven. Especially when we win. The mighty Chameleons' album, "Script of the Bridge" in the CD player all week. A forgotton classic.

 

Photos a bit watery, taken on the phone with sea spray over the lens. Not an artistic decision, just lack of care.

Toodle pip.