Glorious Flatlands

Up on the north Norfolk coast again, thirty miles of endless sand dunes, marshes and reedbeds, bursting with wildlife and yes, very, very big skies.

I was on the hunt for thick lipped mullet, or at least that was the nominal reason for a few days in ( one of ) my favourite places in the world. 

Monday I went out at dusk looking for nightjars. I waited, then waited some more, until just on dark thay showed. That weird churring, as the bird sits somewhere in the heathland and then the high pitched, short calls of birds on the wing. It was almost totally dark before a pair flew over me and then disappeared in the blink of an eye. A real buzz.

I walked back to the van through the woodland, torchless, the scent of honeysuckle and pine trees in the nostrils and the sound of muntjaks barking in the distance.

Tuesday I met Waaaak for a pint in a proper pub and then embarked on the long trek to the beach. And what a beach, miles of flat, golden sand, backing on to dunes and creeks and back channels running mosaic like round the marshes.

I missed my only take, but what a place.

In the evening I joined Charlie boi on the beach to record an episode for the podcast. Hadn't seen him for a while, so lots of piss taking ensured and tales were told. The man doesn't give a feck.

Next day, I walked for miles, bins at the ready, looking for mullet. A few showed, not really enough to give a chance of catching, but the lack of angling was compensated by a huge amount of wildlife.

Spoonbills, three types of egret and three species of tern, ringed plovers, reed buntings, stonechats, eider duck, a tree creeper and countless others.

In the marshes I saw Chinese water deer, roe and munjak, hares, a toad ( not Nigel ) and a lizard.

Once again, a great trip in a wild, beautiful  area. Lucky to live only a couple of hours away, looking forward to returning already.

This England

No, not the England of little Tommy, Mr Toad and the flagshaggers, an England that still exists, hanging on, whilst the shitehawks, grifters and ruthless corporations do their worst. 

North Norfolk,  one of my favourite places, unchanging ( almost ) and always a joy to visit.

We were bus wankers for a week and I bloody loved it. Thumbs up to Sanders coaches. 

Titchwell, Wells, the magnificent Picnic Fayre in Cley ( with entitled middle class twonk parking on double yellows, shouting work instuctions into his mobile, blocking the tiny street ), a pint with Wak at the Dun Cow in Salthouse and we even battled it out with the hoardes at West Runton and Sheringham.

A magnificent week in one of Old Blightys best spots.

Back on the Mud

It's warm, sunny and we've lost that nasty northerly wind, so that can only mean one thing.

Time to get back on the tidal river.

Bass on the top water lures.

Mullet on the fly. Feeding well at the moment. 

Two yesterday and two this morning.  I took Dicky Boy today, to show him the static fly method.

He loved watching the mullet nosing along the edge, occasionally swirling and bolting. He was less keen on the mud, more specifically the Mud Pit of Doom. He stopped for a breather and found himself stuck. 

Rule Number 1, keep moving

He is not alone in this, every "guest" hates it. 

Packing the camper for a few days in north Norfolk, with the fly and lure rods of course.

Forecast is hot and sunny. That'll do.

In The Dutch Groove

With no further sign of grassies, the next morning I scaled down somewhat, to 7lb line and a strong size 10 with double corn, in the hope that I'd have a few more tench.

I'd had a couple over the last two days on heavy carp gear, with three grains of maize on a size 6, so they weren't especially fussy.

The bream were still active ( surprise surprise ), but by fishing a few yards away from the main baited area you seemed more likely to get a tench or carp.

It wasn't hectic fishing but they were all in good condition and really scrapped hard. I was using an old Fox 12 foot Floater rod, a cracking tool, with a very soft tip with power in the butt, just about perfect for this type of work.

Scaling down a bit resulted in five nice tench to 5lb 8oz, my biggest canal fish, so a good mornings fishing in my book.

The fishing is what we come for on these trips obviously, but it really is just a part of the experience.

Typically, we fish the morning, then retire to the van for a big breakfast, usually a dirty omelette ( copyright me ), coffee and a bit of lazing about, followed by an afternoon bike ride, with or without rods. 

Its a great way for checking out new waters and enables you to add to your knowledge of the area. I've stumbled across loads of spots over the years doing this.

Normally there's a bait bucket in the rear basket, so we can pre bait any swims we fancy.

I can never be arsed to move the van, so the bikes are used to stock up on provisions in the nearest town too.

Then it's a meal at the van before the evening session. The day ends with a drink or two and more eating. And lots of talking bollocks.

Repeat the next day and for as long as possible. 

All Together Now

Bully had seen that the best results came in the early morning, so the next morning saw both of us on the bank at dawn.

The pre bait seemed to have done it's job, as my swim seemed full of rolling fish. After half hour or so the rod went round and as I pulled in to the fish it became apparent that it was too heavy for a tench. Not fighting hard enough for a carp, so....

Could it be a grass carp ? As it surfaced there was no doubt and after a brief tussle my first ever "wild" grass carp was on the bank.

I left it in the net and text Bully, but before I could press "Send"  a message from him popped up on the phone.

"Just had a grassie"

Weird, we'd both had one at the same time and similar size, mine going 14lb and Bully's estimated at 15 plus. Fantastic. 

Job done.

Holland Ahoy

Well, we certainly picked a good week weather wise, dry and sunny for the most part, with temperatures in the mid to high teens.

After the overnight ferry to the Hook of Holland, we headed to an area I'd been told holds some grass carp and tench, just an hour or so from the port. 

A little campsite on the canal was found, then we had a walk with the plumbing rod and found a few spots and baited them with the trusty seed/maize/sweetcorn mix. 

The canal was fed by little djkes, maybe six foot wide and eighteen inches deep. It quickly became apparent that some decent fish were feeding all the way along these tiny watercourses,  although we couldn't access them, as they were all entering from the far bank. 

After watching with the binoculars over several hours, I was convinced that those fish were grass carp feeding on the bream spawn.

The first evening produced just a few scabby bream, but before leaving we baited heavily , ready for a dawn start. Well, an early start for me anyway. Bully hates getting up and usually appears on the bank a bit later.

The bream were a pain. Smallish fish of 2-4 lb were ravenously feeding on anything and everything, but you need to fish through them, because there are often carp and tench on the edge of the bream shoals.

I was up early and as I arrived I immediately spotted fish rolling. 

Within half hour I was into a fish. Heavy and fighting hard, it had to be a carp. Yes, an immaculate common of 14-15lb and my best from a canal. "Well chuffed".

A couple of nice tench and a small carp followed, before the sun became too much for me, and we packed up late in the morning, ready to tuck in to a big breakfast. 

In the afternoon we got on the bikes and had a scout round. Another nice canal about five minutes ride away was our first stop.

We used the little nine foot rods that fit on to my bike rod holders and first chuck out on a feeder a dreaded bream was hooked. Off came the feeder and a change to floating crust ensured.

A short while after a few crusts were chucked in, the first surface swirls appeared. Not big enough for carp.

A ten yard mid river cast was met with rod pulling over, as an angry asp surged downstream. The fight was typical, fast and furious, but over quickly

 A nice fish around 4lb.

Later we spotted carp in the tiny djkes and thought they'd be an easy catch, but despite sneaking up to them as quietly as possible,  we seemed to spook them and we returned to the van carpless.

Great fun dicking about like a couple of kids though.

Packing

Me and Bully are off on the night ferry to Holland on Tuesday,  this time on the canals after grass carp and tench and maybe a go for barbel on one of the rivers.

Lots of cooking going on, I'm expecting to use a bit of bait prebaiting several swims. The bream are excited already.

We know the grassies and tench exist in the venue, but have no idea where. I'm confident of getting a few, I had a recce of the place last year and found a couple of nice areas, so fingers crossed. 

Got to go, I'm currently stinking the kitchen out with all four hobs bubbling away with maize, hemp and pigeon condioner on the go.