Its fair to say that I didn’t manage as much fishing during last season as I would have liked, the summer was made difficult by the heavy flooding which affected most of England and also coincided with the start of the season. I’d hoped to consolidate and build upon the Barbel fishing I’d really enjoyed with my good friend Sash the season before and as always, I’d hoped to enjoy a fantastic autumn after my favourite of all fishes, the zander. In June though, my various plans and ideas were to be shot to pieces when I found out that I would be heavily involved in helping organise and run an overseas trip of a month or so in duration, it would be set in the Ascension Islands and was due to take place the following October. Involving a lot of work to get everything up to speed, this would mean a lot less time for fishing and I could have cried as I realised most of summer and all of September would be used for practise and come October, I’d be gone!
During the summer though, I did manage a couple of decent short trips after the zander, when the rain stopped for a few days my drain of choice always looked absolutely fantastic. Bream were very much in evidence and as one would expect when they are about, there were also a few decent zander in residence. So often it seems that when the Bream are about, the zander follow. The highlight of my ‘domestic’ season was one dark, humid but bewitching night, when I managed just the two runs and two fish but what prizes they were, the first immaculate fish weighing in at 10lb 3oz and the second, a whacking great big venue best of 11lb 6oz. I was absolutely chuffed to pieces, in 15 years of fishing for Zeds; it was the first time I’d ever landed two doubles in one night. The only downer being that my camera had been accidentally switched onto the wrong setting and the pictures were poor and out of focus. Still, my house is plastered with nice pictures of my zander captures and catching another nice fish of 9lb 1oz a couple of nights later, I didn’t get too upset about it all.
ASCENSION ISLANDColonised in something like 1507 and located some 750 miles from the West African coast, Ascension Island has a thriving little population of around a thousand people ranging from native St Helenian’s, American Servicemen and women, to BBC technicians. The tip of a massive great big subterranean volcano (which thankfully as I was visiting), is now rendered inactive, it has the most bizarrely differing spectrum of countryside that you could possibly imagine. The island has massively contradictory landscapes, which range from some the most beautiful beaches on the planet, to lunar like terrains resembling the surface of the planet Mars and a tiny little mountain rainforest completing the bizarre landscape. Famed worldwide for its annual migration of turtles, the fantastic fishing offered by the island perhaps comes a very close second; and what fishing, it really is second to none. Perhaps my October wasn’t to be so bad after all……..
EQUIPMENTObviously I had to carry all of the usual gear I’d take to allow me to work in an alien environment with some degree of comfort but more importantly, I would need a month’s worth, or indeed longer if a delay were to occur. This left little space for fishing kit, none of the lads had planned to take any fishing gear so there was no debate as to what or what not to take, it was all down to me. I cut my gear down to an absolute minimum but tried to imagine what sort of fish I’d hopefully be getting amongst. I took just the one rod, a small but delightful Shimano Olivio lure rod I’d recently bought for Jigging from my boat. Impressed with its deceiving power, I thought I could press it into most uses, light legering and of course, fishing with lures if the opportunity arose. In addition, I took a selection of hooks, weights, lines, jelly fish lures and a couple of forceps and of course, my trusty camera. In retrospect, I should have squeezed in my scales and weigh-sling but no matter, as initially specimens were a long way from the front of my mind. Entering the unknown, I was just looking forward to spending some time off, out of the bar and instead, on the beach or pier having a crack at the fishing. Little did I know how good it was actually going to be!
THE PIERDuring the day, an absolute myriad of fish could be seen close by from the village pier, where the waters were crystal clear. Tuna caught during the day by the boat captains would be cleaned on metal tables installed on the end of the pier, the offal being washed into the sea and masses of small fish would present themselves for a free feed. In the evenings as the sun dipped, larger fish shaped like heavily muscled Bream could be viewed absolutely tearing into the shoals in true predator fashion. The local guys informed us that these fish were called ‘Black Jacks’ and in no uncertain terms we were told that they’d fight like fury if we were lucky enough to hook one. The first evening I fished, I set up a fairly light running leger rig using an inch piece of dead Tuna as bait. I’d wanted the bait to be rolling around on the beautifully clear sandy bottom in about 15ft of water and right in amongst the shoals of fish in order to see what would happen. Now my sea fishing experience you could write down on the back of a postage stamp and send home to your mum, but this legering tactic of using a rod was only one simple step up from the locals’ method of hand-lining. I like to keep things nice and easy so it seemed an obvious way to start. It wasn’t long either before I got a bite, literally about 10 seconds after the bait hit the water a savage tug bent the tip of the lure rod right round as a nice sized soldier fish of about 12oz gulped down the bait. I really enjoyed a few hours catching these fish, the most beautiful coloured fish I’ve ever seen, a lovely crimson red colour and almost a replica in genetic makeup of our own lovely Perch. In fact, apart from the obvious colour difference, the only real difference were the savage spines in their dorsal fins, these could really do you damage and it was well advised that I used a towel to handle them. Nevertheless, they were eager biters and also put up a great little fight on the light lure kit. This also made for a welcome diversion from the often long and inactive hours spent in-between runs on my beloved Fenland drains! (If only bait-catching sessions were the same as the Soldier fish sessions!!!)
It didn’t seem to matter what bait you used, these little Soldier fish would hammer into the bait every time it hit the water, generally they averaged about 8oz or so but by fishing a little further out away from the pier you could pick up better specimens of 1 – 2lbs. I was in fishing heaven, or to me the great unknown, for who knows what else could be lurking around.
THE BLACK JACKSObviously a couple of evenings spent catching Soldier fish every cast with a nice cool bottle of beer in my hand was great fun, but enough was enough. I now felt it was time to have a crack at the Black Jacks, which were wreaking havoc on the shoreline each dusk. These fish looked so menacing in the water, making even our own Pike look like Shandy drinking puffs in the process. They’d hug the side of the shore in just a foot or two of water and could be regularly witnessed absolutely hammering into the shoals of small fish at what must have been 30mph, the prey fish being scattered in a million different directions. Talk about awesome; standing with a cool beer in hand watching this event, even the non-anglers amongst our party were impressed. “You’ve got to get amongst those Black Jacks Dave”, the pressure from my non-angling workmates was beginning to increase. “Thought you called yourself a fisherman, let’s see you get one of those mate”. I am sure that we often put ourselves under a bit of pressure but with half a dozen of my somewhat lairy muckers stood behind me drinking beer and calling my somewhat limited fish-catching skills into question, the pressure was really on. It was a razor edge time that is probably best described as similar to that of being a Newcastle striker, I needed a Black Jack like Owen needed goals! However, having taken a bit of time to watch these fish, I did feel fairly confident though. I was of course presuming I’d already hooked one or two whilst catching the soldier fish, judging by the odd lightening fast run experienced that was generally soon followed by the 15kg braid parting like cotton, what else could it have been? That was it then, a trip to the supermarket the next day to get some heavier gear and the next evening would be spent after the Black Jacks. The following day work was a drag as I thought of how I’d prepare my attack and get amongst those Black Jacks that evening. Having observed them a fair bit, I knew that as dusk fell they’d be in the vicinity of the surf feeding on the baitfish. I had a plan to walk around the back of the pier and walk down the immaculate white sand and to fish from the actual beach itself. Even fishing at the bottom of the pier required a 3 ft lift of any fish hooked, before it could be considered landed. I hadn’t managed to fit a landing net into the luggage and so now the pier was out of the question for targeting these hard fighting fish. My only problem now was that I didn’t have my vantage point up on the pier and couldn’t actually see the Black Jacks I would be casting to. My simple rig consisted of a size 5/0 hook, a 2oz drilled ‘sausage’ lead straight to 35lb line stopped 2ft from the hook by a stop-knot and bead. Luckily my ‘entourage’ were enjoying a few beers on the pier as I made my first cast and I was able to have a mate direct me exactly to where the fish were as they menacingly prowled in less than two feet of water. Bait was a succulent inch square piece of tuna taken from an 8oz steak kindly donated by a boat captain earlier that evening. I cast just to the edge of the surf in about 2 inches of water as I’d noticed that these fish really hugged the edge of the surf where it met the beach. As the waves came in, my bait was then rolled round in a couple of feet of water. What happened next was possibly the most exciting fishing moment I’ve ever experienced, two seconds after the bait hit the water a totally explosive take resulted in the fastest run I’ve ever had. I struck immediately and the fish was on, a few of my mates up on the pier very quickly became interested when my lure rod bent from the tip to the butt as this fish went on its first rampaging run. All things are relative but I’ve had cats to 138lb, decent pike, zander and carp and even tuna to 109lbs; but on this equipment, this fish rivalled them all! The only words that would do honest justice to the fight experienced as this Black Jack went on its formidable first run are breath taking!
This I have never before seen, but 100m of 35lb line were stripped from the reel in about 25 seconds. Before I could stop the fish, my reel was down to its backing and I had to stop this awesome creature before the obvious occurred. As you will all know, a violent fight with a fish that is a match for your equipment and is in its own element, can be an excruciating mixture of excitement, pleasure and in no small part, pain! On this kit, I would rate this scrap as equal to any I’ve had from the catfish I hold in such high regard. I soon realised that key to landing this fish would be actually stopping its first run. I put my hand on the reel and tightened down and hoped all would hold – thankfully it did. Once the first run was out of the way the fish made a few more extremely strong and surging runs but none with the same ferocity of the first and thus I was able to start getting things under control. My mates on the pier were all amused at this spectacle but very quiet as I hand-landed my first Black Jack. The first thing which caught my mind was that the fish probably only weighed 5 or 6lbs, I wondered how on earth it had put up such a scrap for a good 10 – 15 minutes on 35lb line and under such pressure. Nevertheless, I quickly unhooked the fish, the hook luckily being snagged in its scissors and had a good look at it. What a beautiful creature, a deep body similar to a bream in profile but with a dolphin-like snout. A strange skeletal type ‘scar’ ran down its glass smooth grey-blue skin, giving it an almost prehistoric look, but all in all it was an extremely attractive fish. Taking time to photograph the catch, I held it in the water for a couple of minutes, I’ve had experience in the past of hard fighting fish which struggle a little when you put them back and the Black Jack was certainly no different. I held it for a few minutes with the surf rolling over its head and it was soon ready for release and powered off in a flurry of spray.
I enjoyed a few more evenings chasing after the Black Jacks and was extremely fortunate to manage to land another couple dozen or so. All was going well, and most importantly, the banter was good as I was no longer under pressure from my mates on the pier. As non-anglers, most of them had never seen a fish as big as the Black Jacks I landed on rod and line and so were suitably impressed, certainly as a few of them witnessed the awesome scraps firsthand. I didn’t have my weighing kit with me but I’d have put the smaller at around 11 – 12lb with the biggest going perhaps 13 – 15lbs, as with other predators I know, the bigger specimens tended to wait a little way away from the schools of aggressive smaller fish. They were truly awesome fish which absolutely scrapped for their lives, which were returned, hopefully none the worse for their all too brief meeting with me.
TUNAOne of the main business interests on Ascension Island is the tuna fishing. Quite a few of the locals work all night and then run 4 or 5 hour fishing trips from small boats, leaving in the morning when they finish work. At this point, I must point out that I am a pleasure angler and would not normally kill a fish through choice but then neither would I force my opinion upon someone who lives in a completely different environment and especially not in his or her own country. The tuna caught on rod and line by the boats are killed for food AND with no messing about – however, given that it isn’t ‘commercial net’ fishing, nothing of the tuna is wasted. Having seen the vast shoals that the few tuna landed in this manner come from, I really don’t perceive that much of an effect will be seen by the species due to these efforts. These guys have lived this fishing lifestyle for generations. Therefore I was happy to take a trip out on a boat and have a bash at a species I’d only ever previously seen in a John West tin! Meeting at the pier at the pre-ordained time of 8am, I was not impressed at all by the state of the boat we jumped in. It made my 10ft Sniper look like the Titanic, and we all know what happened there! Luckily, the leaky effort was only required to take us 200m out to sea in order to jump into the proper fishing boat, which it has to be said, looked a tad more seaworthy. Once out to sea, the rods were assembled. Due to my total inexperience regarding sea fishing, I can’t describe them as anything other than boat rods: extremely strong line and a very big hook! Technical description or what huh? Bait was a small fish looking very much like a sardine and of pretty much the same size. Used either dead or alive, a live-bait tank was stored in the bottom of the boat. Throwing the odd bait out, the extremely down-to-earth and friendly skipper, Pete, carefully used the kind of watercraft that comes only from a lifetime of fishing this ocean for these fish. He also made careful reference to the seagulls, which he informed us would betray the presence of the baitfish shoals and in turn, the predators underneath.
Within a few short minutes of arriving at a likely looking spot, one of the lads had a dead-bait taken in an explosive run, which turned out, some 15 minutes later, to be a tuna in the 60lbs class. We were to be lucky landing a few more in the couple of hours we had. To describe the fight of one of these tuna will be an absolute pleasure. Granted after a few months off the usual training routine, I wasn’t in tip-top condition, however, I’ve never come close to failing a work fitness test either! These tuna would fight so hard that after catching one, most of the half a dozen chaps on the boat didn’t want another shot, and there were some big lads fishing! The first you’d know of a take would be a bullet fast and hugely aggressive pressure exerted on the 6ft boat rod, with its centimetre thick tip. After that, the fight would turn into a massive game of cat and mouse. If brutally honest, more often than not with our hugely inferior skills at playing these monsters, guys would literally be turned into quivering, if not emotional wrecks! without blowing the big one, people expected me as an angler to have a good idea on how to get these fish in with a minimum of hassle. But the tuna treated me with as little respect as any of the non-angling guys. Literally, as soon as you gained a few precious inches on these massively powerful fish, they’d break your heart by tearing another 50 yards from you. Getting line back was nothing short of traumatic!
Normally I can never remember too many specifics from a scrap with a big fish. I just tend to recall whether or not it was a good scrap or not, but with these fish I can remember clearly stopping for a break a few times during each fight. This was a break where I’d take my right hand from the reel handle and hold the rod in both hands, thus giving the normal rod-holding arm an all too brief rest usually whilst praying to God that the tuna wouldn’t go on another run! Not to mention the skipper Pete give me a bollocking for ‘relaxing’! Most of the few tuna we caught were in the 50 – 80lb class but I was lucky, I managed two of 100lb+ including a whacker of 109lb, the local guides laughed and showed pictures of the 250lb+ (and bigger!) fish they’d managed over the years. I have to say again, I wouldn’t normally go fishing to kill a fish myself but not a single shred of these fish went to waste. Having seen first hand, a shoal of literally thousands of these huge tuna under the boat, the dozen or so we landed wouldn’t have made too much of a dent. Absolutely mind-blowing fish!
All good things must come to an end……Due to the fact I’d seen it and done it and got the t-shirt in the process, I didn’t go tuna fishing again. Instead I concentrated on fishing from the shore, managing to catch a whopping 13 different species of fish in the process! They ranged from the very Piranha-like Black Puffers that were such a nightmare during the day as their natural predators obviously all slept, to a beautifully coloured Ling-type eel, resplendent in its silver, yellow and blue. Those little puffers in their massive shoals, all exactly the same in size, had the most awesome gnashers. They all had immaculate dentistry which unbelievably, closely resembled horses’ teeth!
However, the trip did come to an end, and not without a few laughs. During an end of the trip quiz as part of a team competition, my old mate Taff, acting as quizmaster, asked the golden question, ‘He’s landed a few kippers but how many actual different species has Disco Dave managed to bag during the month, is it 10, 13 or 15’? The answers flew in thick and fast, the beer flowed and the banter was strained as 30 competitive dads all scribbled furiously. No one managed the correct answer though as Taff the quizmaster dryly read, “Who the f*** cares – who’s getting the beers in”! So much so then, for winning over a few of the non-anglers! What a trip though, what a trip….
Kind regards to all, |
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