The Alternative Angler – Briny Beginnings

Briny Beginnings

Young Kevin

It’s certainly the case with me. My earliest dalliance with anything remotely ‘fishy’ was crabbing in rock pools, but being about three years old and living at least 80 miles from the coast meant that it wasn’t really a hobby I could develop too far.

I was taken coarse fishing ‘proper’ (in that we actually caught something) by my uncle when I was about six, got bitten by the bug then and never went down to the sea again…….Well, actually, that’s not strictly true.

A week’s holiday in 1968, taken at the glorious seaside resort of Clacton with a friend and his family, presented me with a chance of a bit of sea action. The two of us teenage boys were kitted out with some hired tackle and sent off to the pier with instructions to catch some supper. Conservation was obviously much in evidence, even in the late Sixties, as the equipment we were given was specifically designed to protect fish stocks by not being of any use whatsoever for fishing.

The one-piece rods we had were about as tall as us boys, and probably weighed about the same too. Made of (very) solid fibreglass and as thick at the tip as they were at the butt. The handles were just that, probably old broom handles, solid lumps of hardwood wrapped in the same orange cord that you used to get on those crab hand-line winders.

The ceramic lined rod rings were past their best, long since gone from white to grey and probably not too line friendly, as they were as cracked and crazed as a 300 year-old Ming vase. Mind you, the mono line that we had you could probably hack lumps out of and it would still have a breaking strain of around 60lbs, as it wasn’t a lot thinner than the twine that was wrapped round the rod handle.

A sturdy Bakelite reel of the sort that could double up as a steam capstan completed the outfit and we set off to do battle. With a long past its sell by date lugworm impaled on a really vicious looking hook, it became clear the ‘casting’ from the pier had to be replaced with ‘lowering’, because once inertia took hold of that reel, you wouldn’t want your fingers anywhere near the blur that the handles became if you attempted a ‘cast’.

So, fishing around 6″ from the pier structure didn’t bring much success, which was just as well because we hadn’t got a drop net, as was pointed out by some muttering locals. Having said that, I don’t think that was really a problem because with the gear we had, I’m sure that the two of us could have hooked up to either end of the Titanic and hauled it up to the surface. Therefore, anything we were likely to encounter off Clacton Pier wasn’t going to cause too much trouble in that department.

No further expeditions to the coast for me until 1973, when my then brother-in-law booked a boat trip out of Blackwater in Essex. None of that M25 malarkey in those days, so a three and a half hour trip bent double in the back of a Ford Capri, with a stop for a nice fry-up on the way was perfect preparation for a day on the boat, topped off with hip flasks all round as we steamed out of the estuary.

All was going well until we dropped anchor. As soon as the forward motion was swapped for the pitching and rolling brought about by a brisk Force 5-6 breeze, I grabbed hold of the gunwale and set about laying a one-man chum trail for the next seven hours. Had I been able to see the shore I would have jumped ship and swam for it, without doubt.

Six boats left the estuary that day, with up to eight anglers on each and the total catch brought back was two dabs. So there really was no need to empty all those freezers in readiness for our return, was there? And speaking of return, on the way back we nearly didn’t as our driver fell asleep at the wheel and we went rally crossing up an embankment for around 200 yards before he came round. All a bit scary, as none of us wanted to die, certainly not in an aubergine Ford Capri, anyway! Even if it was a 2.0 GTXLR with Rostyle wheels and a vinyl roof…..

A re-location to Bristol in 1976 brought me a bit closer to the sea, so I went mad and brought a beach casting rod and all the gear and headed off to Burnham on Sea to hone my lead lobbing skills. Fortunately the beach there is fairly sparsely populated, and even if it wasn’t, it soon would have been with my earliest attempts at the pendulum cast.

I should perhaps mention that the rod and reel combo I had bought was a mail order ‘special’. The rod was 13′ of hollow glass brute force (can’t remember the make, might have been MARCO…?) and was ‘matched’ to a Mitchell 602 multiplier. My early attempts at the pendulum often had the lead going well in excess of 200 yards, just a shame that it had cracked off the shock leader in the process. On other occasions, when everything remained attached I often topped the ‘ton’. The only problem being that the cast was either parallel to the shoreline, or sometimes even ended up behind me.

I read and re-read John Holden’s book about long distance casting and despite the words of wisdom and instruction contained therein, it just wasn’t happening for me. I decided that the best thing for me was to adapt my style, so it was the overhead, off the ground ‘thump’ for me. The casting distance became acceptable, and clipped up baits were getting out beyond the third breaker. Only two tiny problems now remained. The first was still a complete lack of fish, and the second was that I had started to notice that the butt section of the rod had developed a distinct bow.

The duralumin section under the cork was beginning to wilt under the strain of the 8oz sinkers I was hurling out. I was using weights of this size because the rod was rated 6-8oz and didn’t seem to ‘work’ with only six ounce leads, plus I was fishing in the Bristol channel, where you need a bit of lead to hold bottom in the tides (I was told…)

Whilst walking round Veals in Bristol in my normal state of bewilderment I was asked the usual ‘Can I help you?’ question, and both the shop assistant and I were amazed. Me, because for once I said ‘Well, actually, you may be able to’ rather than my usual less than printable response to this question being posed the moment you cross the threshold of the shop. And the shop assistant seemed taken aback because I had thrown myself on their mercy, instead of offering the usual response to said question, etc. etc..

The query as to the amount of lead I was trying to propel towards the Welsh coastline was to be easily addressed by using a ‘Breakaway’ lead of almost anorexic proportions compared to what I had been using.

The look I received when I said that my current rod would hardly bend trying to cast such a piddling weight told me straight away that I was going for a walk down to the new rods section of the shop. I didn’t have to worry about being faced with a battery of beach casters to choose from. The assistant strolled down the rack; a rod bag was selected and handed to me with an assertive ‘This is the one, sir’

What I was given turned out to be one of the best pike dead baiting rods I have ever owned, (another story altogether) but it was marked up as a Daiwa ‘Moonraker’ Bass rod. Again, I asked if my current multiplier would suffice, and got ‘the look’ again before being taken over to the reel section. Again a box was duly handed over, a Daiwa model about half the size/weight of the Mitchell, my bank account was emptied and I skipped out of the shop with my new toys.

The new rod, reel and weights combination was a revelation to use. Even attempts at the pendulum cast were moderately successful, although accuracy was, and would still be, I suspect, an issue. After half a dozen or so trips, still without catching anything, fate lent a hand and I re-located once again to be an inconvenient 80 miles from the coast.

Actually, I should get a credit for a couple of those trips because I had been taken in by the hype surrounding the all new, ‘Fish can’t resist’ Apothogel imitation lugworm bait. I don’t normally need any help to blank, but I think that this wonder bait certainly assisted in me keeping a clean slate. Actually, to call it imitation bait is an insult to imitations. Fraud bait might be nearer the mark, as a more blatant breach of the Trade Descriptions Act would be hard to find

My original beach casting set was given to a work colleague in Bristol before I left. Being 6′ 7” and weighing eighteen stone he put even more of a bow in the handle than I ever could. His response to this was to prop the handle on a kerbstone at the end of a session and use his not inconsiderable weight to bend it straight again. Perhaps it’s not surprising to report that the poor handle couldn’t take too much of this and succumbed on its first outing in his hands.

After I moved, the Moonraker and multiplier combo was pressed into service whenever a pike dead bait needed to be launched beyond the range that other pike anglers could reach. This despite the sometimes less than complementary comments from my contemporaries about using sea fishing gear. Tackle tartness finally took hold and matching rod and reel set-ups (SS6’s I seem to remember) were purchased.

The beach casting set was sold off and the funds put towards buying some fluff chucking gear. Will I ever go sea fishing again? I doubt it very much. But I sometimes wish I still had that old Moonraker, just in case…