Despite the amazing conditions we struggled to get bites, perhaps the wrasse were a little sluggish due to the cold water. I did see one follow the lure in, and a garfish swiped at my lure as I lifted it out the water. However, a change in spot resulted in 3 in 3 casts!
Lure- Lunkercity Swimming ribster 4" on a Texas rig.
It was another great looking April day, and I'd done more than enough reading of papers to give the urge to escape. Unfortunately my replacement rod tip section for the predator fly rod hadn't yet arrived, so I decided to shift from my original plan of targeting larger carp at a local water to trying to put a bend in the 3 weight rod. Skirting my way around the main roads, following the back lanes, I made it over to a friend's lake. This water was a regular during my early teen years and I knew that there'd be feeding fish about. I had a great afternoon, landing 4 common carp between 3 and 4lbs which gave me a great fight on the light fly tackle. Individuals could be picked out with a gentle flick of the fly over their nose, before they piled for the lilies in the centre- great fun! A short (poor quality) video of the trip is included below!
Myself and Stuart were neck deep in exams
and assignments for our course, I had a week of events to plan for the Falmouth
Christian Union, and stress levels were creeping up. So naturally, we thought,
we needed a fishing trip to save us going crazy. I’d been in Dartmoor over the
weekend, but all the while eying the wind forecast for the week- it looked like
we’d have a window between Tuesday and Wednesday. Stuart protested a trip on
Tuesday (for the record I still think that a group project is an invalid excuse),
so Wednesday it was.
The days running up to the trip were spent
in the library studying frantically, interspersed with myself and Stuart hyping
each other up for our fishing trip- it had been over a month for me since
wetting a line! March had come, and so Stuart had plaice on his mind, having researched
where we might find the sandy ground that they favour. Meanwhile I was driven
towards the urge of catching a ray, after Stuart’s success during the previous
trip. Matt kindly leant me his boat rod (a formidable beast with a solid beech
wood handle), which I balanced with the a suitably beefy baitcasting reel and
40lb mono line. This ran down to a 2-hook flapper rig and 6oz lead. I felt
suitably equipped to bring any monster of the deep up on this set up!
I awoke on Wednesday and crammed as much
toast as I could down my gullet, washed down with a cup of black filter coffee.
Rucksack shouldered, boots on and rod in hand; I headed over to Stuart’s. For
the very first time when I reached Stuart’s door he wasn’t eating his
breakfast- something was up! Eventually Stuart came down, sporting a hilarious
combination of clothing- though perfectly functional for the trip ahead. We
went through plans for the morning ahead, either to head over to Gylly and fish
the sand patches just off the beaches, or to head out into the Fal. Given the
strong tide we decided upon fishing the Fal, where we could later drift with
the tide down to St Anthony’s head. Stuart then produced a well-illustrated
guide of the benthic structure of the area of the Fal we were to fish, along
with sight markers to position ourselves and the location of the deep channel.
It transpired that Stuart had only slept a pitiful couple of hours, being
restless for the trip ahead, giving him plenty of time to draw out this map and
prepare himself for the trip.
Suitable attire for the water
We carried the kayaks down by the usual
route through Falmouth to launch them, only stopping to lift them over
inconveniently placed barriers and to stop Stuart’s rodtip from snapping
(having got caught on some ivy in an alleyway and bending to a most alarming
angle). The tide was right up at the quay, posing a slightly more challenging
launch than usual- but launch we did! We headed out into the main channel of
the Fal, optimistic of our chances after seeing garfish and mackerel at the
surface. After we had just passed the naval ship Stuart shouted over that he
had just seen a Dolphin. I scanned the horizon of the water with as much focus
as my tired eyes could muster, returning nothing. But we continued to paddle
ahead and eventually there it was- dolphin! This was soon followed by another,
and more, until we couldn’t look far in the bay without seeing a breaching fin.
It’s fair to say that at this point we were reasonably excited; our chances
seemed to be fair at the least!
We followed the pod of common dolphins
north up Carrick Roads past the green marker buoy, knowing that we’d drift
rapidly with the strong spring tide. At this point the dolphins were all around
the kayaks, and close too! Harry had kindly left his GoPro for us to use during
the trip with a set of instructions, though we still fumbled the controls
(probably due to tiredness and dolphin adrenaline) as we were transfixed with
wonder at the sight around us. I saw one come up to breathe about 30 metres
away from the side of me, heading straight for the kayak. Again, it surfaced:
20m. Then 5m. My breath was taken away as it swam right under the front end of
the kayak, moving with such sinuous fluidity and grace through its aquatic
habitat. We soon saw why there was such a number around us as we were both
quick into mackerel, and all of this before most of Falmouth had awoken!
A selection of Stuart's catch later being prepared
We continued to drift South down the Fal,
and were soon getting tired with the unavoidable mackerel- they were even taking
large fillets of mackerel on the flapper rig intended for rays! I tied up to
the West-Narrows buoy with the intention of getting my ray fix, being able to
fish a static bait out of the tidal drift. However, the sea around this spot
seemed dead and whilst I could see Stuart still pulling up mackerel on his
feathers, neither my baited feathers nor mackerel fillet and sandeel on the
flapper had any luck. I gave it 45 minutes and then untied, joining Stuart at
his productive mackerel patch. Lowering my feathers over the side of the kayak
into to still water below, I tried to catch up with Stuart’s lead, whilst he
paddled over to a pair of hand liners. They marvelled at the standard of the
size of mackerel Stuart had piled into his hold, and with information on the
best spots for mackerel and plaice exchanged, they headed back up the Fal.
Tying up to the buoy on a glassy calm sea.
After 20 minutes, we paddled over to St
Anthony’s head in search of plaice, following Stuart’s detailed diagram to the
point. However, time passed without any joy, and after a few drifts and repositionings
we decided to head back up the Fal. We battled against the tide flooding out of
the bay, to reach the deep channel just outside of St Mawes. Here I embarrassed
myself, being most excited to finally hook into something on the bottom that
put a bend into the beefy boat rod- could it be something significant? What
greeted me in the net however was instead the biggest mackerel I think I have
ever seen. Hence I named him Cthulhu, christened with a bash from the priest.
After pulling up complete strings of mackerel that left the feathers in an
utter tangle, and a surprise pair of whiting to each of us, we decided to head
on home to Falmouth.
St Anthony's head looms ahead
The paddle home was painful, excruciating
at points. I cursed my lack of strength against the tide, and despaired of the
numbness that stretched uncomfortably from my buttocks to lower back. As we
finally landed at the quay, the falling tide had left the beach exposed for us
to land on, and the kayaks blissfully kissed the sand below as the glided to a
halt. We finished our paddle that day at a total of 15km, and proceeded to pee
in celebration, before cramming down some much needed malt loaf. We gutted our
catch, with myself ending the day on 19 mackerel and 2 whiting, Stuart on 25
mackerel and a single whiting. However, I won the prize for biggest mackerel,
with Cthulhu tipping the scales at 1lb 7oz.
Never has a person looked upon fish with such adoration