"You Must Remember Her "

I said to the The Whittler. " Lived at the end of Station Road....had two brothers, one sister...good looking ?"
"Ohhhhhh" he said, " Yeah, the sister looks like a crow ". After falling about laughing I realised he was right, she does look like a crow.

The Madness Continues

"It can't last", "They'll move offshore soon", etc, etc. The Whittler had been lying low for more than a week, as had The Mighty Turdster, so as soon as some decent evening tides coincided with pleasant, calm weather we decided on another "assault" on the roker at the looooocal beach.

I say assault, because at the moment that's what it feels like. There are so many of them at the moment that after an evening fishing you feel absolutely knackered. But who knows, maybe we wouldn't catch any tonight.

The Whittler and Turdster were already tackled up when I arrived, about three and a half hours before high tide. As I'm getting my gear ready Turdy calls out. "I've got a double shot !" And I look up as he slides two roker up the beach. Here we go......

Soon I'm in, as is The Whittler and it continues on and off ( mostly on ) all night. In the end I was hoping for whiting as I was getting sick of them (I've made that bit up ). On six occasions I had a double shot of roker, mostly smallish, 2-4lb, but with several better ones 5-8lb plus. When the roker eased up we were catching some decent whiting and quite a few of those just sizeable codling.

Just as the tide turned I hooked into an obviously bigger fish and after a few minutes gently easing it in ( cue the jokes Turd ), a chunky roker of 11lb 8 oz hit the beach. This fish was ready to spawn and as we unhooked it, it was in the process of shedding egg sacks. In November ! I returned it, hopefully to successfully spawn and produce yet more of the bastards.

In the aftermath of nuclear war, the only things to survive will be cockroaches and roker.

I then had a slackliner, resulting in a treble shot of two decent codling, 2-21/2lb and a whiting. As the tide slackened the roker came back on the feed and me and Turdy called it a day, leaving that ultra keen, bad arsed fishing machine, The Whittler, to continue hammering the fish until 1.30 in the morning.

I ended up with 25 roker, a couple of decent codling ( and quite a few just on size ) and a dozen keeper whiting. Whittler pipped me with 26 roker, and Turdy had about 10, although he only fished one rod and ended up with lots of whiting and codling.

Feel totally wiped out today. Bloody good fun though.

Fill Yer Boots

Well, you've got to, when the fish are about haven't you ? It can't go on forever.

A really rough, windy week, since me and The Whittler enjoyed a successful evening session on Tuesday, but today a small window where the wind dropped, before being forecast to pick up again tonight. So, I thought it would definitely be worth a try, even in the daytime.

I asked Turdous and Whittler if they were up for it, but due to lack interest and family commitments, neither could make it. I arrived and was pleased to sea a heavily coloured, calm sea. Confidence was pretty high and first cast the tip pulled over and a just undersized codling hit the shingle. I looked up and the "herring" rod had gone slack, a sure sign of a roker. A minute or so later the first skate of the day was in the bag.

Great start and it continued steadily until about an hour before the top of the tide when I decided to put a three hook paternoster on, to see if any whiting were about. First chuck and I had a full house. Let the cull commence.

I spoke to a bloke having a walk with his son and warned them that an extra high tide was forecast and that they could be cut off for a while, unless they hurried back. He quickly walked off towards the car park. About half hour later another chap turned up and said he'd seen a bloke wading across a dyke up to his thighs in water, holding a young boy, and did I know how he could get back without getting his stylish city slicker Clarkes office shoes wet ? No, not until the tide turns old boy.

The first hour and a half of the ebb was fairly quiet, with just the occasional whiting. After the tide eased it went a bit mad, with double and treble shots of whiting and roker/whiting. During this time a Beach Gentleman, who had set up camp ( no pun intended ) a couple of hundred yards away, decided to move to within twenty yards of me, whereupon he sat staring out to sea in all his naked glory (yes, in November). This pissed me off somewhat. Plenty of space for everyone and each to their own , but keep your distance, I really don't want to see your old chap.

The last hour (about two to three hours down) really was busy, with roker hitting baits along with the whiting. At this stage it was difficult to keep up with two rods. They were still feeding hard when I packed up, having used up all the bait and not had anything to eat or drink all day.

Final score, 16 roker ( all smallish, best going just under 5lb ) and about 15-20 keeper whiting, plus others and a single codling. Another good day.

Words of Wisdom

Me and The Whittler thought we'd give it another go last night, just to prove the previous session was  a one off failure.

The Mighty Turdster made his pronouncement "you can't possibly improve on the last few weeks sessions, it's downhill from now on" and any lesser success we did have would be a disappointment "Like playing with yourself after f**king Cheryl Cole". He has a wonderful way with words.

Anyway, we had a really good few hours, with seven roker each, including a couple of fish around 8lb, loads of good sized keeper whiting and a few small codling. Lovely, calm evening. Sea flat calm, with an electrical storm raging offshore.

"It's A Game of Two Halves, Brian" or "The Ways of Fish".

After our very successful  sessions last week, we were planning another assault on the local beach. Me, The Mighty Turdster and The Whittler were deciding whether to go Friday or Saturday.

Friday was incredibly warm, 21 degrees C, light winds, more like summer than autumn. The Turdster decided to fish the Friday afternoon and in those conditions I was sure he was wasting his time. A few minutes after he arrived I had a text " I've had two in two casts". What ? In bright sunshine and flat calm sea ? He sent a photo to prove it. A while later, "I've had five", then "Seven now". Bastard.

Obviously I abused him and told him to stop texting me, it's so annoying when you're mate's are fishing and hammering the fish out and you're not.

Another double shot for the Turdster.

I kept telling myself, "They'll still be there  tomorrow", but I couldn't convince myself, so I set off to join Turdy with the intention of fishing the ebb from about 17.00 to 20.00. I practically ran the mile and a bit to the mark( yes, at 50 years old I still get childishly excited). "Got nine now" he said.

I tackled up, cast out and first cast the tip pulled over slowly and I was off the mark with a nice roker. The first half hour was a little slow until the tide started to pull, then all hell broke loose, with fish on both rods simultaneously. It was ridiculous and absolutely non stop.

A "Beach Gentleman" Don't ask....

I broke off occasionally to text the Whittler, knowing how it would annoy him. It's what you do to your mates.

I called out to The Turdster, "They're on the herring quicker than the squid". He didn't reply, just gave me a classic Turdster look that said "Who gives a fuck, I've had more fish than ever before and I'm totally knackered".

Double shot of roker

We packed up at 20.00 with the fish still feeding, having run out of bait and had more than our fill. We lost count in the end, but we both had over twenty roker each, plus a few whiting and codling.

The next day The Whittler, having not been able to fish Friday, said he was going to get down there and give it a crack. Being a greedy bloke I said I'd join him.

The Whittler hard at work

In a nutshell, same place, similar tide, a day later and not a single roker. Just a  few whiting and a couple of codling for The Whitler. I've given up trying to work out the ways of fish.