Tow-rag
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 30, 2020
- Messages
- 234
- Reaction score
- 1,174
- Points
- 95
- Location
- Cornwall
- Favourite Fishing
- Lure
Hi folks,
I was hoping that this weekend would provide some decent weather for an evening sesh at high tide.
My hopes were dashed when BBC weather app predicted more misery from the heavens. With this in mind I booked Monday off work in the hope a window might emerge somewhere keeping Sunday evening free to watch the final (come on England).
10.00 this morning Baz rings... "Col, you up for some Macky bashing?"
I wasn't at my best as yesterday at band practice I had to fill in as drummer because our resident skinsman was on holiday in France and my arms were aching like a b'stard as I have puny wrists... I'll need a pair of support bandages if I'm spinning.
"Baz, have you seen the rain stats?"
"It's only showers, if it gets too bad, then we can pack up".
Attaboy... I have no problem with rain at all... in fact I prefer a good drizzle. It means no emmit anglers, plus the fish are bolder at our spot when it's overcast. It's blowing a westerly, so signs are good. Baz continues "I'm planning for 4 O'clock". This is far too early as experience has taught me that it's far too early for the fish to feed here, plus Wifey wants to go to Trago to choose a new sofa for our spare room...that will take ages. (my sis-in-law has moved out, and Wifey is keen to reclaim the space).
"Tell you what mate, I'll meet you down there about six-ish".
" Okay, but you'll be missing out".
Mmm, we'll see.
5 O'clock and I'm getting my gear sorted, float and spin rods, light tackle, sandwich and bottle, strap up my wrists and off we go.
Jeez, the traffic is bad, rain is crashing down, my wipers are on max to clear the glass in this sudden downpour. The sky has turned as black as Newgate's knocker...just hope this eases by the time I get there.
By the time I drive past St. Awful, the roads are dry, and the currant bun is shining...who-hoo! What a turnaround! Focus now on fishing. Problem is that I am kitted out in my wets, and by the time I have hiked down to the mark I'm boiling over... a sweaty dripping mess. I
clamber down the cliff to find Baz in good cheer as he shows me a good Mackerel he's bagged.
" I got that one on my second cast, but since then... nothing".
It doesn't surprise me as the sun is blazing down, far too bright for the fish to be bold. "Didn't you get all the rain?"
""Nope, it's been lovely... didn't even need a coat".
I am sooooo hot, sweaty and uncomfortable, and stripping off outer garments pronto.
Baz says " steady mate, you'll have the female joggers swooning!"
Couldn't be helped, it was proper Betty Swallocks syndrome and my shirt is off.
"What you done to your arms?"
I tell him about the drums.
"You need to leave it alone mate, stop bashing the bishop".
" Nothing wrong with a bit of DIY mate".
Anyway, lure selected and launched out, but time and time again it's back home with no dividends, but its a glorious summer day, who's to complain? especially as Baz lands a mid size Pollack. "Way to go Baz, get in".
I'm getting zilch, hampered by a close in lobster bouy and Baz's float...not much room for manoeuvre on these rocks on high tide, so after a while of inactivity I plop in a float, sit down and grab a sandwich. meanwhile Baz hooks another pretty Pollack.
Just biting into my second sarnie as something bites into the float bait. By the time I set down my lunch and grab the rod, the float is back up and unbothered...∆rse.
Back on my feet and back on the spin rod, I finally get a take...at last! It's only a small Pollack which falls off back in as I'm about to unhook, and the poor little fish is left flapping about on the lower rock ledge stranded and out of reach, exactly where I fell in reaching down for my tripod a few months ago. I'm not going there again. I lean over as much as I dare with my rod, lower the lure and try to tease the treble under his gill flap. Dispite the flapping about, I connect with him, lift clear and return him to the drink. Happily he speeds off unharmed At least it's a start, and judged as beating the blank. As Baz hooks another Pollack he says:-
" Blimey Col, you're the only person I know to catch a fish from dry land!"
Things look up as my lure captures another small Pollack, looks exactly the same as the one I just saved, so that's defo the blank sorted, but where are the Macks? It's the end of HT, it's retreating and now exposing the barnacles on the rocks, the Mackerel window is slowly closing.
Sun has disappeared, and mist is coming down...this is more like it, conditions improving as far as Mack-bashing goes. A few knocks, but sudden weed infestation is hampering me no end. Change to float again and give the weed time for the retreating tide to draw it away.
$od this for a game of soldiers... I'm looking at huge rainclouds above.. I grab my lure rod again and launch out, to be rewarded with a couple of small Pollack. Nevertheless, it's great to be catching something, and who knows what else could be lurking in the depths. I'm glad that I brought my wets, because the sun has scarpered, and drizzle has descended, and tide is ebbing... perfect for unwary Mackerel...if there are any about.
Bingo... a take. I guessed right, this is more like it. Feels like a feisty Mackerel, it is Yay!
In comes my prize although barely pan size, but beggars can't be choosers and he'll go nicely on toast. As I cast back out I feel the first raindrops. I let the lure sink, set down the rod and scrabble across the rocks to my bag of rain gear and kit back up.
Baz is cursing and looking uncomfortable.
" What's up mate?"
"I didn't bring a coat".
" You knob, you knew rain was forecast."
"Yeah, but it's been beautiful all day, you've brought all this shyte with you from Bodmin".
" It may not turn out too bad Baz".
" It's not too bad for you, as you're more used to full submersion".
Ooh...bitch. He's right though, I've had more than my fair share of dunkings. I love fishing in the rain, only downside is that these black rocks grow slippery...and Baz whining. Back to the rod and my sunken lure, a few winds of the reel and then wallop. "Fish on Baz!"
This is a decent fish, just need to steer him clear from this pesky close-in bouy. Wow, what a corker of a Mackerel...shame I can't get a photo with all this rain, have to wait until I get home. So that's where they're hiding, down near the bottom. I waste no time dispatching my booty and cast again letting the lure sink all the way to the bed whilst Baz retreats under the cliff overhang with his flask from the rain.
" You carry on mate, I'm having my lunch".
as before, l pull up from the seabed I get clobbered again. Another good Mack.
I try the same trick again, and again...and again. My bag is filling nicely and I'm having the time of my life. Isn't it great? balancing on the rocks in the rain? catching nice plump Mackerel?
Unfortunately my joy is short-lived...
" Col, I hate to be a party-pooper, but I'm packing up, I don't have coat".
If it were dry rocks I was fishing from, I would continue alone, but they are as slippery as an eel's back when wet, and too dangerous to be fishing on my todd. So it was with regret that I too packed up. After climbing up to the coast path the rain suddenly stops...∆rse. Never mind, I'd had a great time, and have a heavy bag of fish to feed my smoker.
"Sorry 'bout that Col, but I'm sodden".
"Yes, you are definitely a sod, fancy not bringing a jacket, this is Cornwall not the French Riviera."
" You have a nice bag of fish mind."
" Yeah, and there's always the next time, plus it's getting late, and I need to get home and clean these fish."
" Cobblers... you'd still be down there now Macky bashing if it weren't for me, here...have mine."
"No, don't be daft! it's yours."
" Go on Col, I'll feel better."
"You sure?"
"Besides... I can't be ∆rsed to gut and fillet it."
Ha ha, now this is more like the truth. God bless Baz!
Cheers.
TR.
This little fishy went on toast.
Baz with his Pollack before the rain put on the dampers.
I was hoping that this weekend would provide some decent weather for an evening sesh at high tide.
My hopes were dashed when BBC weather app predicted more misery from the heavens. With this in mind I booked Monday off work in the hope a window might emerge somewhere keeping Sunday evening free to watch the final (come on England).
10.00 this morning Baz rings... "Col, you up for some Macky bashing?"
I wasn't at my best as yesterday at band practice I had to fill in as drummer because our resident skinsman was on holiday in France and my arms were aching like a b'stard as I have puny wrists... I'll need a pair of support bandages if I'm spinning.
"Baz, have you seen the rain stats?"
"It's only showers, if it gets too bad, then we can pack up".
Attaboy... I have no problem with rain at all... in fact I prefer a good drizzle. It means no emmit anglers, plus the fish are bolder at our spot when it's overcast. It's blowing a westerly, so signs are good. Baz continues "I'm planning for 4 O'clock". This is far too early as experience has taught me that it's far too early for the fish to feed here, plus Wifey wants to go to Trago to choose a new sofa for our spare room...that will take ages. (my sis-in-law has moved out, and Wifey is keen to reclaim the space).
"Tell you what mate, I'll meet you down there about six-ish".
" Okay, but you'll be missing out".
Mmm, we'll see.
5 O'clock and I'm getting my gear sorted, float and spin rods, light tackle, sandwich and bottle, strap up my wrists and off we go.
Jeez, the traffic is bad, rain is crashing down, my wipers are on max to clear the glass in this sudden downpour. The sky has turned as black as Newgate's knocker...just hope this eases by the time I get there.
By the time I drive past St. Awful, the roads are dry, and the currant bun is shining...who-hoo! What a turnaround! Focus now on fishing. Problem is that I am kitted out in my wets, and by the time I have hiked down to the mark I'm boiling over... a sweaty dripping mess. I
clamber down the cliff to find Baz in good cheer as he shows me a good Mackerel he's bagged.
" I got that one on my second cast, but since then... nothing".
It doesn't surprise me as the sun is blazing down, far too bright for the fish to be bold. "Didn't you get all the rain?"
""Nope, it's been lovely... didn't even need a coat".
I am sooooo hot, sweaty and uncomfortable, and stripping off outer garments pronto.
Baz says " steady mate, you'll have the female joggers swooning!"
Couldn't be helped, it was proper Betty Swallocks syndrome and my shirt is off.
"What you done to your arms?"
I tell him about the drums.
"You need to leave it alone mate, stop bashing the bishop".
" Nothing wrong with a bit of DIY mate".
Anyway, lure selected and launched out, but time and time again it's back home with no dividends, but its a glorious summer day, who's to complain? especially as Baz lands a mid size Pollack. "Way to go Baz, get in".
I'm getting zilch, hampered by a close in lobster bouy and Baz's float...not much room for manoeuvre on these rocks on high tide, so after a while of inactivity I plop in a float, sit down and grab a sandwich. meanwhile Baz hooks another pretty Pollack.
Just biting into my second sarnie as something bites into the float bait. By the time I set down my lunch and grab the rod, the float is back up and unbothered...∆rse.
Back on my feet and back on the spin rod, I finally get a take...at last! It's only a small Pollack which falls off back in as I'm about to unhook, and the poor little fish is left flapping about on the lower rock ledge stranded and out of reach, exactly where I fell in reaching down for my tripod a few months ago. I'm not going there again. I lean over as much as I dare with my rod, lower the lure and try to tease the treble under his gill flap. Dispite the flapping about, I connect with him, lift clear and return him to the drink. Happily he speeds off unharmed At least it's a start, and judged as beating the blank. As Baz hooks another Pollack he says:-
" Blimey Col, you're the only person I know to catch a fish from dry land!"
Things look up as my lure captures another small Pollack, looks exactly the same as the one I just saved, so that's defo the blank sorted, but where are the Macks? It's the end of HT, it's retreating and now exposing the barnacles on the rocks, the Mackerel window is slowly closing.
Sun has disappeared, and mist is coming down...this is more like it, conditions improving as far as Mack-bashing goes. A few knocks, but sudden weed infestation is hampering me no end. Change to float again and give the weed time for the retreating tide to draw it away.
$od this for a game of soldiers... I'm looking at huge rainclouds above.. I grab my lure rod again and launch out, to be rewarded with a couple of small Pollack. Nevertheless, it's great to be catching something, and who knows what else could be lurking in the depths. I'm glad that I brought my wets, because the sun has scarpered, and drizzle has descended, and tide is ebbing... perfect for unwary Mackerel...if there are any about.
Bingo... a take. I guessed right, this is more like it. Feels like a feisty Mackerel, it is Yay!
In comes my prize although barely pan size, but beggars can't be choosers and he'll go nicely on toast. As I cast back out I feel the first raindrops. I let the lure sink, set down the rod and scrabble across the rocks to my bag of rain gear and kit back up.
Baz is cursing and looking uncomfortable.
" What's up mate?"
"I didn't bring a coat".
" You knob, you knew rain was forecast."
"Yeah, but it's been beautiful all day, you've brought all this shyte with you from Bodmin".
" It may not turn out too bad Baz".
" It's not too bad for you, as you're more used to full submersion".
Ooh...bitch. He's right though, I've had more than my fair share of dunkings. I love fishing in the rain, only downside is that these black rocks grow slippery...and Baz whining. Back to the rod and my sunken lure, a few winds of the reel and then wallop. "Fish on Baz!"
This is a decent fish, just need to steer him clear from this pesky close-in bouy. Wow, what a corker of a Mackerel...shame I can't get a photo with all this rain, have to wait until I get home. So that's where they're hiding, down near the bottom. I waste no time dispatching my booty and cast again letting the lure sink all the way to the bed whilst Baz retreats under the cliff overhang with his flask from the rain.
" You carry on mate, I'm having my lunch".
as before, l pull up from the seabed I get clobbered again. Another good Mack.
I try the same trick again, and again...and again. My bag is filling nicely and I'm having the time of my life. Isn't it great? balancing on the rocks in the rain? catching nice plump Mackerel?
Unfortunately my joy is short-lived...
" Col, I hate to be a party-pooper, but I'm packing up, I don't have coat".
If it were dry rocks I was fishing from, I would continue alone, but they are as slippery as an eel's back when wet, and too dangerous to be fishing on my todd. So it was with regret that I too packed up. After climbing up to the coast path the rain suddenly stops...∆rse. Never mind, I'd had a great time, and have a heavy bag of fish to feed my smoker.
"Sorry 'bout that Col, but I'm sodden".
"Yes, you are definitely a sod, fancy not bringing a jacket, this is Cornwall not the French Riviera."
" You have a nice bag of fish mind."
" Yeah, and there's always the next time, plus it's getting late, and I need to get home and clean these fish."
" Cobblers... you'd still be down there now Macky bashing if it weren't for me, here...have mine."
"No, don't be daft! it's yours."
" Go on Col, I'll feel better."
"You sure?"
"Besides... I can't be ∆rsed to gut and fillet it."
Ha ha, now this is more like the truth. God bless Baz!
Cheers.
TR.
This little fishy went on toast.
Baz with his Pollack before the rain put on the dampers.
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