Mr Fish
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 4, 2020
- Messages
- 18,955
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- 116
- Location
- North Devon
- Favourite Fishing
- Shore
I might need to start reconsidering where I fish at the moment because I really am struggling lately with a lack of stamina, easily fatigued and aches and pains.
A lot appears to be my usual symptoms and it’s always much worse in the winter, due to lack of sunlight, so may simply be a low point, I don’t know.
Anyway, sit back for an epic tale of ineptitude and struggle that really suggests I shouldn’t have left the house yesterday!
This weekend was my club’s end of season comp, various monies built up through the year, you need to fish so many in a year to qualify and winner takes all - this year it was £200.
High tide was 7.20pm and realistically this time of year a decent rockling or eel is probably going to offer the best chance.
The problem for me was, the marks I might have preferred to go to, I just didn’t think I’d have enough energy to do the lengthy hikes they needed.
After a lot of thought I compromised on a reasonable mark in a local bay that can throw up the target species plus the odd surprise - I had a 4lb 8 pollack there once.
You can access it via a steep coast path with a LOT of steps and then a hike through some woods, or - if you’re early enough - you can simply walk around to the rock and get cut off on it.
The rock is huge, it has plants growing on the top, so perfectly safe, you just can’t walk back until three hours after high at least, unless you want to hike up the cliff.
I buggered around sorting tackle and spread my floaty suit out on the car roof for an hour or two, as it was still damp from last week.
You may see where this is going…
Yup. I set off, drove the few miles to the bay, paid via the app for parking, got out the car to get ready…
Where’s my suit?! Oh shit!
so I drove back home again slowly, scanning the roadside verges, no red and black trousers or jacket.
Now it was only leaning on the car roof bars so I fervently hoped it was just on the drive.
In fact, the jacket was! So where were the trousers?
I left the car on the drive and walked back down the road - about 100 yards down a bloke was washing his car and I stopped to ask if he’d seen it. He hadn’t, but as we spoke, I thought I saw it next to a wheelie bin a bit further down.
Sure enough, there were me troosers!
A good omen? Or sign of worse to come?
I scooted back to the car park, got ready as quickly as I could and set out to walk around the beach to the mark.
Of course by now the tide was later but I thought I COULD, just, get around there. Worst case, if the mark was cut off, I’d have to either take the steep coast path or go somewhere else.
It started well enough. A few tricky bits to climb over and a couple of gullies to paddle through, but the water didn’t even go over my boots.
Then up and down some worse rocks and I was starting to feel my lack of stamina again.
I got up and over one particularly awkward bit, but that’s okay because the mark is just ahead… I hot footed it up through a shingled gully and there - it wasn’t?!
In fact I could see around the coast. That ain’t right, you can’t see around the coast even from the mark!
What the hell had I done? Nothing looked right for some reason, even though I’ve fished this spot probably 15 or 20 times.
Starting to panic a little, because by now I probably WAS cut off and no doubt people on the far beach were wondering what the idiot was doing.
Plenty of high spots to climb up but a right prize numpty I would have looked sat there waiting for the tide to drop
Okay… so… think. Got Google maps on my phone. Yep that large rock I’d already passed must be it, surely?
Absolutely knackered by now and sweating for England, I climbed back up the large rock I’d just climbed over and… hang on a fucking minute!
This IS the bloody mark! I’d literally climbed over on my way to ‘the mark’, how the hell did I not twig?
As I say, I’d fished here loads of times and could easily describe it to you, so why did I not recognise it?
Too busy rushing to pay attention I guess.
Anyway, by now I felt too tired to clamber up it with all my gear, so ended up moving everything piecemeal up onto the platform, drank about a litre of water, took lots of hot sweaty and too warm clothes off, then collapsed in a gibbering heap…
Once I’d recovered myself a bit I called the coastguard.
‘Hello, coastguard? One prize numpty to airlift straight to the asylum please!’
Ha, no, I log in with them because people can see a light on the rock from across the bay and assume someone is in trouble, then the rescue team climb down the cliff only to discover someone obliviously fishing, and that they’ve wasted their Saturday night! Yes, this genuinely has happened to me!
So these days I call Falmouth, tell them where I am and the time I’ll be leaving, and they appreciate the courtesy.
So… time to actually start fishing! Out went a flapper rig with mackerel and the other rod had a bigger mackerel bait.
I wasn’t exactly targeting eels but the larger bait had a heavy mono trace, just in case.
It started quite slowly by the standards of this mark. I had a skinny dog, then another.
By now the tide was well up - as you can see, quite a long wait for all the water to disappear before you can leave…
Next fish was a gut hooked whiting, about 8-10oz.
Interesting, don’t always see whiting here.
I decided to chop him in half to make two eel baits.
The head part was out for half hour or so then I began to get the gentle plucks, twitches and pulls that are typical of a bigger eel. The bigger ones often don’t bite all that hard at all.
Then the whiting took a walk towards me, with growing slack line and slowly increasing as the fish moved towards shore.
I wound down and struck into… nothing.
The bait was a bit mangled in the middle but it appeared to have missed both hooks.
Ah well, out went the tail section.
This wasn’t out too long at all when I got a few pulls and a similar slack line situation. I struck again and, fish on!
It was a feisty eel, I didn’t think huge but half decent. Sure enough, at the surface it looked like a very low double.
What I didn’t like to see was the clouds of blood coming out, jeez it had taken those hooks deep.
Up on the rock, it looked no more than 10-12lb and I didn’t weigh it, but cut the trace quickly and was saddened to see it cough up blood.
Okay I’m not keen on eels but I don’t want to harm them either, and this had upset me a bit, especially as I struck the bite pretty quickly.
It’s the downside of fishing - sometimes you cause more harm than you’d like. I put it back as it had more chance in the sea but I wasn’t very hopeful.
I couldn’t bring myself to make up another big eel bait so I went back to mackerel strips for rockling, or dogs, pout, whatever.
A rattling bite on the flapper became a stronger bite and I struck into what seemed like yet another eel, albeit maybe a bit smaller.
This came off and I reeled up a mangled whiting.
I put that aside for bait too but wasn’t sure if I’d use it. I didn’t, in the end.
By now high tide had gone, and god I was TIRED. And had a headache, and in pain.
I didn’t want to hike up the cliff path but did I want to stay another 2.5 hours or more until I could walk out at sea level?
I figured I’d give it about an hour until after 9, then decide.
One rod was snagged and the line snapped about 20 feet from the rod tip. Yeesh.
About 9.15 the flapper on the remaining rod got pulled over and I brought in another feisty eel, much smaller, maybe 5-6lb.
This one at least was neatly lip hooked with a size 1 and returned annoyed but none the worse for wear.
Did I want to carry on? Not really. The mojo had gone, the codeine I’d taken wasn’t helping and I figured I had AT LEAST 90 minutes if not more until the tide dropped enough to leave.
Sod it, cliff path it was.
Now this path is steep. It’s plenty safe enough, but the thick brambles grab you and the rods, it just ain’t much fun.
I’d barely climbed 30 feet and I was shattered, heart pounding. A long rest then did a bit more, and so it went on.
Finally I got up to the actual coast path and collapsed in another gibbering heap, then eventually hauled myself up and staggered back down towards the car park.
I know it’s winter. And I know that is a nasty little hike at any time, but I really shouldn’t be THAT shattered by it and needing to stop every 20 yards or so.
At the car I had a good 30 minutes rest, plenty of water and cooled down before driving home.
Hopefully the summer will see an improvement, or maybe I should go back to the GP, but I’ll probably just get ‘it’s your condition’ or ‘exercise more’ - which is a contradiction because I can’t exercise that much as I don’t have the energy to do so.
Anyway, I’m not quite ready for fishing out the boot of the car with the noddies at Blue Anchor, but I am going to have to rethink the marks I go to, I think…
A lot appears to be my usual symptoms and it’s always much worse in the winter, due to lack of sunlight, so may simply be a low point, I don’t know.
Anyway, sit back for an epic tale of ineptitude and struggle that really suggests I shouldn’t have left the house yesterday!
This weekend was my club’s end of season comp, various monies built up through the year, you need to fish so many in a year to qualify and winner takes all - this year it was £200.
High tide was 7.20pm and realistically this time of year a decent rockling or eel is probably going to offer the best chance.
The problem for me was, the marks I might have preferred to go to, I just didn’t think I’d have enough energy to do the lengthy hikes they needed.
After a lot of thought I compromised on a reasonable mark in a local bay that can throw up the target species plus the odd surprise - I had a 4lb 8 pollack there once.
You can access it via a steep coast path with a LOT of steps and then a hike through some woods, or - if you’re early enough - you can simply walk around to the rock and get cut off on it.
The rock is huge, it has plants growing on the top, so perfectly safe, you just can’t walk back until three hours after high at least, unless you want to hike up the cliff.
I buggered around sorting tackle and spread my floaty suit out on the car roof for an hour or two, as it was still damp from last week.
You may see where this is going…
Yup. I set off, drove the few miles to the bay, paid via the app for parking, got out the car to get ready…
Where’s my suit?! Oh shit!
so I drove back home again slowly, scanning the roadside verges, no red and black trousers or jacket.Now it was only leaning on the car roof bars so I fervently hoped it was just on the drive.
In fact, the jacket was! So where were the trousers?
I left the car on the drive and walked back down the road - about 100 yards down a bloke was washing his car and I stopped to ask if he’d seen it. He hadn’t, but as we spoke, I thought I saw it next to a wheelie bin a bit further down.
Sure enough, there were me troosers!
A good omen? Or sign of worse to come?
I scooted back to the car park, got ready as quickly as I could and set out to walk around the beach to the mark.
Of course by now the tide was later but I thought I COULD, just, get around there. Worst case, if the mark was cut off, I’d have to either take the steep coast path or go somewhere else.
It started well enough. A few tricky bits to climb over and a couple of gullies to paddle through, but the water didn’t even go over my boots.
Then up and down some worse rocks and I was starting to feel my lack of stamina again.
I got up and over one particularly awkward bit, but that’s okay because the mark is just ahead… I hot footed it up through a shingled gully and there - it wasn’t?!
In fact I could see around the coast. That ain’t right, you can’t see around the coast even from the mark!
What the hell had I done? Nothing looked right for some reason, even though I’ve fished this spot probably 15 or 20 times.
Starting to panic a little, because by now I probably WAS cut off and no doubt people on the far beach were wondering what the idiot was doing.
Plenty of high spots to climb up but a right prize numpty I would have looked sat there waiting for the tide to drop
Okay… so… think. Got Google maps on my phone. Yep that large rock I’d already passed must be it, surely?
Absolutely knackered by now and sweating for England, I climbed back up the large rock I’d just climbed over and… hang on a fucking minute!
This IS the bloody mark! I’d literally climbed over on my way to ‘the mark’, how the hell did I not twig?
As I say, I’d fished here loads of times and could easily describe it to you, so why did I not recognise it?
Too busy rushing to pay attention I guess.
Anyway, by now I felt too tired to clamber up it with all my gear, so ended up moving everything piecemeal up onto the platform, drank about a litre of water, took lots of hot sweaty and too warm clothes off, then collapsed in a gibbering heap…
Once I’d recovered myself a bit I called the coastguard.
‘Hello, coastguard? One prize numpty to airlift straight to the asylum please!’
Ha, no, I log in with them because people can see a light on the rock from across the bay and assume someone is in trouble, then the rescue team climb down the cliff only to discover someone obliviously fishing, and that they’ve wasted their Saturday night! Yes, this genuinely has happened to me!
So these days I call Falmouth, tell them where I am and the time I’ll be leaving, and they appreciate the courtesy.
So… time to actually start fishing! Out went a flapper rig with mackerel and the other rod had a bigger mackerel bait.
I wasn’t exactly targeting eels but the larger bait had a heavy mono trace, just in case.
It started quite slowly by the standards of this mark. I had a skinny dog, then another.
By now the tide was well up - as you can see, quite a long wait for all the water to disappear before you can leave…
Next fish was a gut hooked whiting, about 8-10oz.
Interesting, don’t always see whiting here.
I decided to chop him in half to make two eel baits.
The head part was out for half hour or so then I began to get the gentle plucks, twitches and pulls that are typical of a bigger eel. The bigger ones often don’t bite all that hard at all.
Then the whiting took a walk towards me, with growing slack line and slowly increasing as the fish moved towards shore.
I wound down and struck into… nothing.
The bait was a bit mangled in the middle but it appeared to have missed both hooks.
Ah well, out went the tail section.
This wasn’t out too long at all when I got a few pulls and a similar slack line situation. I struck again and, fish on!
It was a feisty eel, I didn’t think huge but half decent. Sure enough, at the surface it looked like a very low double.
What I didn’t like to see was the clouds of blood coming out, jeez it had taken those hooks deep.
Up on the rock, it looked no more than 10-12lb and I didn’t weigh it, but cut the trace quickly and was saddened to see it cough up blood.
Okay I’m not keen on eels but I don’t want to harm them either, and this had upset me a bit, especially as I struck the bite pretty quickly.
It’s the downside of fishing - sometimes you cause more harm than you’d like. I put it back as it had more chance in the sea but I wasn’t very hopeful.
I couldn’t bring myself to make up another big eel bait so I went back to mackerel strips for rockling, or dogs, pout, whatever.
A rattling bite on the flapper became a stronger bite and I struck into what seemed like yet another eel, albeit maybe a bit smaller.
This came off and I reeled up a mangled whiting.
I put that aside for bait too but wasn’t sure if I’d use it. I didn’t, in the end.
By now high tide had gone, and god I was TIRED. And had a headache, and in pain.
I didn’t want to hike up the cliff path but did I want to stay another 2.5 hours or more until I could walk out at sea level?
I figured I’d give it about an hour until after 9, then decide.
One rod was snagged and the line snapped about 20 feet from the rod tip. Yeesh.
About 9.15 the flapper on the remaining rod got pulled over and I brought in another feisty eel, much smaller, maybe 5-6lb.
This one at least was neatly lip hooked with a size 1 and returned annoyed but none the worse for wear.
Did I want to carry on? Not really. The mojo had gone, the codeine I’d taken wasn’t helping and I figured I had AT LEAST 90 minutes if not more until the tide dropped enough to leave.
Sod it, cliff path it was.
Now this path is steep. It’s plenty safe enough, but the thick brambles grab you and the rods, it just ain’t much fun.
I’d barely climbed 30 feet and I was shattered, heart pounding. A long rest then did a bit more, and so it went on.
Finally I got up to the actual coast path and collapsed in another gibbering heap, then eventually hauled myself up and staggered back down towards the car park.
I know it’s winter. And I know that is a nasty little hike at any time, but I really shouldn’t be THAT shattered by it and needing to stop every 20 yards or so.
At the car I had a good 30 minutes rest, plenty of water and cooled down before driving home.
Hopefully the summer will see an improvement, or maybe I should go back to the GP, but I’ll probably just get ‘it’s your condition’ or ‘exercise more’ - which is a contradiction because I can’t exercise that much as I don’t have the energy to do so.
Anyway, I’m not quite ready for fishing out the boot of the car with the noddies at Blue Anchor, but I am going to have to rethink the marks I go to, I think…
the guys who headed down south got the results why did I change venues 
Glad you got your suit back! On a serious note I'd be getting checked over by a GP as those bouts of breathlessness don't sound right to me - always better to be safe than sorry mate
but at least you're getting out and doing it
Great effort and a real memory to look back on & laugh.
