Mayhem

Now, where to begin ?

Well, this was a day that will be etched in the memory forever, a day of chaos, a few fish, laughs and lots of mud.  LOTS of mud.

With the river having suddenly switched on, I invited Bully and Waaaak Baines over for a session. Conditions and tide were pretty much spot on and after a coffee and breakfast at the house we made our way to the first mark.

Small bass hammered the baits almost immediately and Wak caught a "bonus eel" 🤣. I let him unhook it.

He hates the mud and refused to walk the ten yards to the water's edge to land fish, so the unfortunate fish were wound through the mud or, if slightly bigger, he'd summon the ghillie to pick them out the water. He'd pay for this dearly later.

It was all quiet with Bully, fishing thirty yards to our right, until we heard a "splosh"....or was it "slopppp" ? Bully was laying in the mud having lost his balance and hit the mud. Luckily he had his chesties on.

Man Down, Number 1.

Wak caught a slightly bigger bass and then five minutes later, as he cast, there was an almighty crack, as the top half of his rod headed seawards. Pure comedy. Broken at the spigot. Shit happens.

A few mullet had begun to appear, not many, but enough for a speculative cast. I managed to position the flies perfectly and after maybe twenty minutes I was in. It looked massive in the water, but was a bit skinny. Nice fish anyway.

Back round mine for tea and then we were on to another mark downstream to ambush the fish as they came up with the tide.

Another old mate, Goozgog, turned up for a look at the spectacle and soon ended up on his arse.

Man Down, Number 2.

We positioned ourselves just above the shallows and right on cue fish appeared. Small 4 to 6 inch bait fish at first and then mullet. Lots of them. Well, fecking loads actually.

I had a nice fish around 3lb before I heard a cry of "I'm stuck !" . It was Wak. OK, I said, carrying on fishing. " No, really, I can't move !" 

Man Down, Number 3.

Oh dear. Bloody inconvenient too, as there were fish everywhere. I handed the rod to Goozgog and went on a mercy mission.

To be fair, he was right, he was properly stuck and panicking a bit. He grabbed on to me in the determined way a drowning man holds on to a rescuer.

He's a big, heavy lump, more so when covered in stinking, sloppy mud. We made it to the bank.

I left him to get himself together and recover a bit.

Bully kept a low profile, feigning concern, but his unmistakable chuckle could be heard across the mudflats.

There were fish everywhere,  you could hear as well as see them. The wind dropped and we just stood quietly in the shallow water, with just the classic autumn sound of starlings calling and squabbling as they gathered to roost.

Back at the van, for the first time, I had a man sitting in the passenger seat in his pants.

His clothes were disgusting, absolutely covered in it and the poor old boy had an hour and a half drive home.

Another unforgettable day that will go down in the annals of history 😂 Shining Times !

Making Hay ( Again )

The fishing locally is picking up. The mullet, which since early June, have been unpredictable and sparse, have re appeared in big numbers. The last few days, huge shoals have pushed upriver on the flooding tide.

I've had a few bass too, so prospects right now are excellent. 

Over the last few days I've had five thin lips on the fly, all on the Green Lantern shrimp pattern, which has produced almost all the fish this year. The flexi worm, on the dropper, did fool a fish, but not the species I was expecting.  A sand [ or perhaps common ) goby. Greedy little sod.

Yesterday, whilst fly fishing, schools of bait fish were being hit. Not being one to pass up an opportunity ,I picked up the lure rod and had one first cast.

Next cast on the fly and a decent mullet was hooked, the third of the day. It was warm, hot even, the sun shone from a cloudless sky and the wind was a gentle south westerly, weather almost too good for October.

As I packed up there was still the odd mullet surfacing and the bait fish were active, clinging tight to the margins in an effort to avoid the predators. 

A perfect autumn day.

I'm going for another session tomorrow as the weather is forecast to hold.

Go West Young Man

The forecast for the whole week was dry and sunny, with light winds, so I headed off in the camper for a week in Dorset.

Bully arranged to meet me there, so he was free to load up his car with even more ridiculous amounts of gear than normal.

We found a nice campsite on Portland. Quiet, great views, with a fifteen minute walk to the rocks. Light rods and float gear was the order of the day and on the first afternoon we had lots of ballan and corking wrasse, with the occasional pollack. Nothing big but a bite a chuck.

We were using bits of rag and lug, but I added a second hook with a piece of brown Isome artificial worm, just to see how they compared. I was surprised, the lug/rag did outfish the Isome, but not by much. A very useful bait to have tucked away in your bag.

The following day we endured a very poor day on Chesil beach, with just a bream, a garfish and hideous conger for me and blank for Bully.

It was back on the rocks for the next session with similar results to the first day, lots of fish, but nothing big. Great fun though.

By the end of the third day, the rock hopping and traipsing across the shingle had destroyed Bully and by the evening he lay on the shingle, a broken man and dead to the world. He's 72 you know !

Bully left for home the following morning,  while I tried Chesil again, this time with slightly better, but unspectacular results, six bream and three turding conger.

I did manage to catch some bream with my feeder rod though, although it did groan a bit as I cast the 4 oz lead out.

I woke the next day to a gentle autumn mist and set off for the end of the Bill with my float gear. First cast, without bait, to plumb the depth, a garfish took the bare hook ! 

I looked up from staring at the float and saw one of the most incredible sights I've ever seen, a huge blue fin tuna launching itself out of the water whilst smashing into garfish. Not once but twice. 

Then, ten minutes later, the same thing. Wow.

In the afternoon I had a very long,  but incredibly scenic walk along the cliffs to the beach. I was hoping for some mackeral, but saw not a sign.

I did have a beautiful little gilt head bream and as dusk approached, hoardes of hopeful squid fisherman descended upon the beach. There were bloody loads of them !

The conditions looked perfect, but I only saw two caught and luckily I had one of them.

So, no big fish to report, but a lovely sun soaked week with plenty of action

White Water Bassing

I've not been feeling it since we returned from the European trip, nothing has really inspired me.

However, a mate in Norfolk gave me the nod about some potentially good lure fishing up his neck of the woods.

He picked the day, the tide and place. The only thing he didn't do was put the fish on the hook for us. Good old boy.

Me and Bully embarked on a very long and very onerous trek to reach the mark. It was a glorious September day, bright sunshine, mixed with intermittent cloud, with a moderate north westerly that gave the sea some real life.

It looked perfect and extremely bassy indeed. However, the first couple of hours were blank. Not a touch.

As soon as the tide started to flood a big group of terns started diving on bait fish, which were being driven to the surface by unseen predators. Unfortunately,  they were out of casting range....but not for long.

It was a real cacophony, as terns shrieked and dived, with the occasional skua harassing any tern with a fish in its mouth.

When the flock came closer in our lures were hit viciously, as the bass hammered the lures in the shallows, with white water crashing all round.

Out on the bar, we were hit with the water coming in from all directions.  At one point Bully was almost knocked off his feet, after which he retreated to a safer area.

The mayhem lasted for maybe forty five minutes, by which time I'd had over a dozen bass and Bully similar.

I was on my "last cast" when I turned round and saw Bully walking off, about half mile in the distance. That's unusual I thought, he's not the type to get the hump.

I caught up with him as he stopped for a breather. "I'm fucked" he said, "I didn't even have the energy to wade over to you and tell you I was leaving".

Poor old boy, the knees, neck and hip were playing Up. We made in back to the car just on dark and after a ten minute drive back to the campsite, dumped the gear under the van.

I crashed on to the sofa and cracked open a cold beer. Bully then stuck his head round the door and said " I'm just going over to the toilet block to wipe down my lures".

What!?!? Wipedown your fecking lures ? At this time of night, when you could only just stand up at the end of the walk ?

I pulled rank and told him he'd do no such thing and he'd sit down and have a drink. He offered no resistance. 

An absolutely fantastic day.

Last Cast

It was our last evening on the river before having to catch the ferry home.

Me, S and a couple of Dutch friends sat on the beach in front of the camper chatting and drinking.

It was only a few inches deep in the bay in front of us, apart from a slightly deeper area by the inlet, which was probably eighteen inches or so.

Well, if we were sitting on the beach,  I may as well chuck a bait out.

I deposited half a tin of corn by the inlet, hoping that as the sun dropped an ide or two may venture in to the shallows. I left it for an hour before swinging the bait out a couple of rod lengths.

It hadn't been out long before the tip banged over and a big ide was lolloping about on the surface. I caught sight of it as it surfaced and it looked an extremely decent fish. Luckily it was scooped up first time and it really was a good'un, pulling the scales down to 6lb 6oz.

The rest of the corn was chucked in, the swim left for a while and then I lowered the bit in again. A few minutes later another fish was on, a big ide again, this time 5lb 2oz. Blimey. 

A brace of ide for 11lb 8oz, that'll do for the finale.

The rod was packed away and we sat there watching the sun go down.

On The Bikes

The fishing bikes were loaded, two "nod rods" in the holders, landing net strapped on, bait bucket and bits in the basket. That'll do.

The aim was to fish four djkes/canals and get fish from them all. We were a bit light on the bait front, sweetcorn, a few manky worms and a bit of mash, but hopefully enough for a bit of action. 

First stop was a decent sized "wetering" ( land drain ). A pinch of mash was flicked out and a tiny worm swung out under two inches of peacock quill. A few minutes later S struck and a small rudd was catapulted unceremoniously out of the water 

A couple of surprisingly decent roach of 8-10oz were caught on the next few cast before we moved on to the next venue.

This one was a bit larger, a proper canal. A plump roach first cast, then they started pumping and it looked like we were on the Wye.

No matter, crusty cheese and ham baguettes were greedily consumed on the bank, before we were on the bikes again.

I really liked the next djke. Maybe six metres wide, three foot deep with several lily beds.

We immediately had small perch, followed again by some very nice roach. I even caught a monkey goby ( I'd never heard of them either), another invasive species.

Last venue, a little tree lined, narrow, fairly shallow djke. 

More roach, a rudd and then some horrible signal crayfish. It was to head back to the van for a very welcome, very cold beer.

What a lovely  day.