CKB
Well-known member
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2020
- Messages
- 246
- Reaction score
- 1,578
- Points
- 93
- Location
- Channel Islands
- Favourite Fishing
- Shore
If you'd said to me on February 1st that I'd have two new PB's this month, I'd have laughed, as Feb 2021 was so poor, blighted by dogs. The island is fishing sensationally well at this time of year, and I haven't even been near a bass mark.
I nipped out at last light yesterday, armed with a bag full of scad and cuttlefish that I found at the bottom of the freezer. The plan was ducking in the lee of the east coast and fishing "big bait or bust" for four hours of the flood. At the risk of repeating myself, I have always maintained that storms bring big fish. Earlier that morning, I'd thought better of heading out at 2am touch legering for bass, the winds and rain were just too much, and the fact I'd already started yawning was the final nail in the coffin of that idea. At around 5pm I stomped down the hill Ros, brimming with enthusiasm but a little trepidation about how harsh the wind and rain may get. It's always a pain dressing for this time of year, needing warm gear as well as waterproofs. I had a right sweat on, I have no idea why I took enough bait to last me 24 hours, when I was only planning to fish in 4-6.
The island's lee side looked so coloured, a deepish green sea with distant white caps beyond the rocky islets. It was one of these evenings where you just know in your bones that there'll be fish feeding. After recent success, I decided to spread my bets with the setup; I went with the 6/0 catfish hooks on 90lb coated wire on a running ledger. I wasn't trying to cast more than 10-30 yards. I wanted huge baits close to the structure in case any tope were running close or, to perhaps interest a decent conger. In reality, bull huss was always going to be the most likely takers in terms of double-figure fish.
Within minutes of casting a whole scad out, I was into a good fish, playing it off the corner, the brisk wind beating my face, the familiar crocodile death rolls of a huss on the surface, it was a good one. Ros positioned the net nicely and just 2ft short; a very big huss just spat the bait and slipped back into the green abyss. I wasn't bothered; this is just the way the cookie crumbles when hussing.
No sooner had I cast back out, the other rod arched over, and I was into another double figure fish, a slightly better one, I thought. An eel surfaced under my torchlight, some 30 yards out, a decent length snaking through the swells. This time the fish was easily guided into the waiting net, and Ros easily secured it and grabbed the rod off me. I hauled it up the harbour wall and quickly weighed it, 16lb 3oz. It fought better than that. I was sweltering in my warm clothes and waterproofs.
My other rod was going, and this time I had to get up on the slippery sloping wall; I took it dead slow and was into another hard fighting fish, and to be honest, I wasn't immediately sure what it was. The whole keeping the balance was tricky with the wind and the hard pulldowns. I saw the huss; surely it wasn't the same fish I'd lost a short time ago? It looked like it, same colouration and a body on it that looked like it had swallowed a fire extinguisher. This time with some careful manipulation around the edge of the 5ft net, it slipped in. As I hoisted the fish up to the pier level, it felt a really good weight and I wondered if it might be a new PB. I'd been stuck on 13lb 5oz (Herm Island) since about 2013 or 14. This was certainly bigger, but just how big? Was it the Guernsey record? The scales immediately flashed up over 16lb. However, the fish was thrashing, and as the scales dropped, they settled on 15lb 1oz. I could hardly be disappointed; it was a cracking new PB for me and 6oz shy of the record. I'll get it another time I thought.
I heard a drag clicking as I was releasing; I had an eel on the other rod, which after a short fight went 8lb 2oz on the scales. Then another huss of 8lb 6oz, followed by another around 5lb. I had no rods in the water; I simply couldn't keep up. Then the wind switched on me, I had full-on 50-60mph gusts straight in the face, and the fishing just went dead. I was tired, and high tide was just about upon us. I thought it an excellent time to head back up the hill, perhaps before the next bout of rain.
I have found the February fishing so exhilarating this year; I just feel so alive fishing this rough weather and excited about what the sea may throw up for me. Fishing doesn't get much better. Do I head out again tonight?
Thanks for reading.
I nipped out at last light yesterday, armed with a bag full of scad and cuttlefish that I found at the bottom of the freezer. The plan was ducking in the lee of the east coast and fishing "big bait or bust" for four hours of the flood. At the risk of repeating myself, I have always maintained that storms bring big fish. Earlier that morning, I'd thought better of heading out at 2am touch legering for bass, the winds and rain were just too much, and the fact I'd already started yawning was the final nail in the coffin of that idea. At around 5pm I stomped down the hill Ros, brimming with enthusiasm but a little trepidation about how harsh the wind and rain may get. It's always a pain dressing for this time of year, needing warm gear as well as waterproofs. I had a right sweat on, I have no idea why I took enough bait to last me 24 hours, when I was only planning to fish in 4-6.
The island's lee side looked so coloured, a deepish green sea with distant white caps beyond the rocky islets. It was one of these evenings where you just know in your bones that there'll be fish feeding. After recent success, I decided to spread my bets with the setup; I went with the 6/0 catfish hooks on 90lb coated wire on a running ledger. I wasn't trying to cast more than 10-30 yards. I wanted huge baits close to the structure in case any tope were running close or, to perhaps interest a decent conger. In reality, bull huss was always going to be the most likely takers in terms of double-figure fish.
Within minutes of casting a whole scad out, I was into a good fish, playing it off the corner, the brisk wind beating my face, the familiar crocodile death rolls of a huss on the surface, it was a good one. Ros positioned the net nicely and just 2ft short; a very big huss just spat the bait and slipped back into the green abyss. I wasn't bothered; this is just the way the cookie crumbles when hussing.
No sooner had I cast back out, the other rod arched over, and I was into another double figure fish, a slightly better one, I thought. An eel surfaced under my torchlight, some 30 yards out, a decent length snaking through the swells. This time the fish was easily guided into the waiting net, and Ros easily secured it and grabbed the rod off me. I hauled it up the harbour wall and quickly weighed it, 16lb 3oz. It fought better than that. I was sweltering in my warm clothes and waterproofs.
My other rod was going, and this time I had to get up on the slippery sloping wall; I took it dead slow and was into another hard fighting fish, and to be honest, I wasn't immediately sure what it was. The whole keeping the balance was tricky with the wind and the hard pulldowns. I saw the huss; surely it wasn't the same fish I'd lost a short time ago? It looked like it, same colouration and a body on it that looked like it had swallowed a fire extinguisher. This time with some careful manipulation around the edge of the 5ft net, it slipped in. As I hoisted the fish up to the pier level, it felt a really good weight and I wondered if it might be a new PB. I'd been stuck on 13lb 5oz (Herm Island) since about 2013 or 14. This was certainly bigger, but just how big? Was it the Guernsey record? The scales immediately flashed up over 16lb. However, the fish was thrashing, and as the scales dropped, they settled on 15lb 1oz. I could hardly be disappointed; it was a cracking new PB for me and 6oz shy of the record. I'll get it another time I thought.
I heard a drag clicking as I was releasing; I had an eel on the other rod, which after a short fight went 8lb 2oz on the scales. Then another huss of 8lb 6oz, followed by another around 5lb. I had no rods in the water; I simply couldn't keep up. Then the wind switched on me, I had full-on 50-60mph gusts straight in the face, and the fishing just went dead. I was tired, and high tide was just about upon us. I thought it an excellent time to head back up the hill, perhaps before the next bout of rain.
I have found the February fishing so exhilarating this year; I just feel so alive fishing this rough weather and excited about what the sea may throw up for me. Fishing doesn't get much better. Do I head out again tonight?
Thanks for reading.
Also a very good read.
