Timbc2
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 16, 2020
- Messages
- 281
- Reaction score
- 787
- Points
- 113
- Location
- Cheshire
- Favourite Fishing
- Shore
I've been on a break down the Llyn with the Mrs so I couldn't take the mick with the fishing and anyway the conditions have been absolutely horrendous in the main. So with it supposedly going to blow a less strong Westerly instead of South Westerly for a day there was a chance that I could set up out of the worst of the wind and be in some kind of shelter, and hopefully this part of the sea would be a bit calmer being in the lee of the headland.
Unfortunately mother nature didn't read the Met Office forecast and gave me about 30 minutes of Westerly with the rest of the time being a strong South Westerly, which meant I was no longer sheltered and it kicked the swell height up a lot higher than what Magic Seaweed said it was going to be.
I'd made a decent amount of effort to get there though and decided it wasn't going to be for nothing, so I set up well above the splash zone and (probably stupidly and very unwisely) hoped for the best. All was quiet for several hours and the conditions were getting more and more dodgy. When the tide turned the swells went mental, with some big ten footers badooshing the rocks with a tremendous boom.
At one point I'm baiting up and look up to see a wall of heavy spray about 10 foot above my head - a moment which seemed to almost freeze in time before the inevitable soaking which followed.
I was very close to packing up and was trying to reassure myself with the logic of: this is as high as the water is going to get and so long as I don't go standing down below I'll not get swept in.
Not too long afterwards fate took the decision to leave from me as my ratchet screamed and signified that a beast had now taken the bait. Although I was aiming for this I wasn't really expecting it, as my casts were pretty feeble against the strong wind and the bait was not very far out.
Landing it wasn't a problem, as a particularly large swell delivered it almost to my feet, but returning it definitely was. With the large vertical movement of water, where I'd landed it was not where I could return it. I had to be much lower down the rocks to be in with a chance of launching it over the edge of obstructions and clear of the rocks, so it could swim off freely without collision at the edge.
Lower down the rocks was a deep gully and this was where it had to be returned, but to get to it and deliver the fish, I literally had to jog down, release it, then sprint back up. My heart was in my mouth, as the tendrils of the chasing sea were doing their best to grab my ankles and pull me in. Thankfully luck was on my side and I made it back up to safety.
Here is the prize, just shy of 38 lbs:
We so often hear the advice "make sure you work out where you are going to land the fish in advance" but how often do we think "how am I going to return the fish?" as the two actions could end up being very different. I must admit I had not dwelt on this until I was faced with the problem and I bet it's not something that many others bear in mind either. I thought this point was worth bringing up for anyone that's thinking of putting themselves in a similar situation one day.
Cheers for reading
Unfortunately mother nature didn't read the Met Office forecast and gave me about 30 minutes of Westerly with the rest of the time being a strong South Westerly, which meant I was no longer sheltered and it kicked the swell height up a lot higher than what Magic Seaweed said it was going to be.
I'd made a decent amount of effort to get there though and decided it wasn't going to be for nothing, so I set up well above the splash zone and (probably stupidly and very unwisely) hoped for the best. All was quiet for several hours and the conditions were getting more and more dodgy. When the tide turned the swells went mental, with some big ten footers badooshing the rocks with a tremendous boom.
At one point I'm baiting up and look up to see a wall of heavy spray about 10 foot above my head - a moment which seemed to almost freeze in time before the inevitable soaking which followed.
I was very close to packing up and was trying to reassure myself with the logic of: this is as high as the water is going to get and so long as I don't go standing down below I'll not get swept in.
Not too long afterwards fate took the decision to leave from me as my ratchet screamed and signified that a beast had now taken the bait. Although I was aiming for this I wasn't really expecting it, as my casts were pretty feeble against the strong wind and the bait was not very far out.
Landing it wasn't a problem, as a particularly large swell delivered it almost to my feet, but returning it definitely was. With the large vertical movement of water, where I'd landed it was not where I could return it. I had to be much lower down the rocks to be in with a chance of launching it over the edge of obstructions and clear of the rocks, so it could swim off freely without collision at the edge.
Lower down the rocks was a deep gully and this was where it had to be returned, but to get to it and deliver the fish, I literally had to jog down, release it, then sprint back up. My heart was in my mouth, as the tendrils of the chasing sea were doing their best to grab my ankles and pull me in. Thankfully luck was on my side and I made it back up to safety.
Here is the prize, just shy of 38 lbs:
We so often hear the advice "make sure you work out where you are going to land the fish in advance" but how often do we think "how am I going to return the fish?" as the two actions could end up being very different. I must admit I had not dwelt on this until I was faced with the problem and I bet it's not something that many others bear in mind either. I thought this point was worth bringing up for anyone that's thinking of putting themselves in a similar situation one day.
Cheers for reading
. I stopped weighing them in the end
