Ruffe redux 3.0

If you said you were getting excited about going on holiday and doing some serious fishing I think most anglers would probably assume you were heading off for a week long carp session at Masion de lac bleu after humongous carp or flying of to Canada to fish the Fraser river for white sturgeon so large they give you a hernia just thinking about them. For me though that means something totally different and certainly something of smaller scale, or with smaller scales. So with the leaves on the trees about to turn and the UK enjoying the hint of an Indian summer I was excited to be off east again hoping to chase down this little Herbert for a week or so.

Day 1

My beer glass was still sitting on the table of the bench where I'd sat drinking it. Barely enough time had passed for a wasp to hover down into it to sup at the dregs before I was out having a few casts just to see how the fishing was. From the very moment the worm that hid my hook fluttered down onto the bottom amongst the patch of chopped worm, my float had been bobbing on and sinking under the surface. Quite quickly this toe dipping session had turned into an Osaka fish concern job. By that I mean the fishing was like this... Worm a'goes in, a'fish comes out, that what the Osaka fish concern is all about (http://simpsonswiki.com/wiki/Osaka_Seafood_Concern) 

If every one of the fish caught was a target fish it would have been pure heaven, but they weren't and it seemed that there was certainly a queue of these diminutive perch waiting for the next worm to fall.

Day 2

Prior to a hotly anticipated luncheon I spent three hours getting smacked up by the perch once again. Even after changing spots and keeping away from the previous night's area I couldn't seem to get away from the incessant little predators. Already I doubted whether I had got things right by bringing the near hundred weight of worms I had, which had last time enticed some nice ruffe.

A shower, a defiantly over loaded plate of carvery and a stroll along the sea front of the nearest coastal town later and I was fishing again. This time I had a companion in tow by the way of a newly licensed JB. It was always going to be a case of sods law that me who wanted to target a specific species using a tried and tested specific approach would wash out, whilst my companion who was let me just say baiting generally and liberally with maggots and didn't care what she caught actually hooked a small ruffe in between slapping me in the head with writhing roach that were attached to her Banzai tele whip.

The cold or maybe boredom sent JB off whilst I stuck it out a little while longer as the dark drew in. That last hour as the chilly scent of autumn washed across the broad the fish responded well. I caught everything but what I wanted. Perch, roach, skimmers and all manner of mixes of the latter graced my net and the session and day was aptly ended on a right old dog of a roach which despite having obviously having had rough up bringing had survived and grown quite large.

Day 3

The next morning it seemed right to have a look on the previous nights spot. I dumped a bit of leftover bait in when I left and even though I knew it was gone, the niggling thought that maybe some little scroungers might still be around persisted. Without putting so much as a free maggot in I swung out a split red worm. The tide had pushed the surface up by another two feet. Not long after the float cocked, it drifted sideways and dipped a little. I smiled before even striking knowing full and well the culprit was a ruffe, albeit a small one.

In my excitement I didn't check the scales were set to pounds and ounces
rather than kilos and grams. Converted this one weighed six drams. 

The spot came good again a little later in the day when I nabbed a second slightly larger one on an evening session. If finally catching one ruffe myself wasn't a relief enough catching two on one day certainly was and proved to cement the area I was fishing as the new hot spot and main target area for the next few days.

Day 4

Having earlier this year concentrated much of my efforts on specific spots on the massive lake for tench and seen the rewards that could be returned from doing so I scaled down my previous experiences and applied it to what I was doing here; straight away it seemed to be a good decision. I concentrated all efforts onto a square meter that was for accuracy sake one and a half rod lengths out. Before leaving the previous night  I put out half a pint of chopped worm, maggots and soil and it seemed to pay off  by way of and early and much chunkier ruffe not long after casting out.

I returned later in the day to fish once again on the spot and happily caught another ruffe. Although I must make it clear that this one was accompanied by a large amount of perch that were in no way oblivious to all the tasty worm sludge I was concentrating on the area.

Day 5

The morning of day five was a ruffe wash out! I was now considering whether my pre baiting was becoming detrimental. I was getting tons of action but got the distinct feeling that the ruffe were possibly not getting the chance to find my bait as the gangs of small perch were definitely dominant. I made the decision to therefore not bait up at the start of any of my next sessions and instead bait up before I left, hoping the perch might have shoved off by the time I returned and the scrounging ruffe might still be around.

Validation wasn't long coming when after plumbing up and recording the depth on the rod I cast out and hooked a target fish first chuck!

Then after patiently waiting on the second cast for a while the next bite proved to be another one as well! 

I was concerned that maybe, just maybe, the first little ruffe had, after being released in the edge, gone straight back onto the spot and found my bait again, as it weighed exactly the same as the first. After I did what we obsessive's do best and stared at the photos for ages. I quickly concluded that even though certainly related they were definitely two different ruffe as their skin patterns are totally different 

Day 6

Five minutes was all the time I could spend sitting on the hot spot this morning. The sky was wall to wall azure from the moment the dark dispersed. Frankly it might have been enjoyable if it wasn't for the east facing nature of the swim. Fearing for my retinas I fished another area that has in the past proved fruitful. As per normal the bottom seemed paved in tiny perch. A moment of madness drove me to try and feed them off as I had quite bit of bait to spare on my last day of fishing. But the more food I put in the bigger the queue of perch became and in the end I reeled my neck in on that decision. It took a good two hours for the swim to calm down and it was around then that my float began to toddle off as if old Mr pope had found my section of worm. It wasn't so though! What was on the end of my line felt very strange and I had to get a closer look at it to be sure it was what it seemed to be. It was by far the smallest eel I have ever caught. I mean this thing was so small it couldn't even be called a boot lace, as you couldn't lace an espadrille with it, it was that small.

With my final session at hand I for the last time headed to the pre baited hot spot to try and add to my tally. As I watched the float in the ripple I pondered the weeks fishing. Although I hadn't landed any real monsters this time I truly could say I wasn't disappointed with my results. I had after all landed six ruffe which in most places seem to becoming rarer and one of those at least was over an ounce in weight. Most of all I really enjoyed fishing for these forgotten fish and I know I will come back again and again to try and beat my PB.

It would barely be worth saying that I again was plagued by perch if it wasn't for the fact that I finally hooked into one of the bigger fish that get caught on this Broad at this time of year. The bite was like any other and it took a 10mm section of lob worm much like every other fish I had caught before it. The only difference was this fish put up a real battle ploughing the whole place up and drawing a lot of attention as it did. 

I am quite used to seeing two plus perch but it was surprising to hear how big some of the others who were fishing thought it was. I wasn't going to bother with weighing it but to prove my point it was only a mid two I slid it into the bag and put it on the scales. I was pretty much right when the dial pulled round to 2.10 and the three chaps who were watching seemed almost disappointed it wasn't as they said well over three. Truth be told I would have loved it to be a three, but three or not it was a perfect fish to finish my latest ruffe hunt in Suffolk.

That wasn't the end of it though! Even with my wonderful beloved giving me that look and questioning whether I thought a week of fishing wasn't enough, I still slipped of to the canal Sunday morning under the guise of testing out a newly acquired and elasticised pole Id bought for commercial perch fishing. And you will never guess what the first fish I caught was...

A little Tommy ruffe!

The older Dan and the sea.

"Every time I cast into to the sea I find myself falling further under it's spell. Nowhere else feels like it; It's alive! Each visit reveals more of its ever changing environment and the species that are present at any particular time of year. The tides intrigue me the most. I hope to one day understand them. Though I believe I, nor anyone else for that matter will ever truly understand them. But most of all each time I go my passion grows and I know for certain I will be back, for I am drawn to it."

After an early journey east we unpacked and got settled in our accommodation on the Suffolk Norfolk border. It wasn't long after the last thing was out the bags that I was off with Jacky in tow to try and source some free bait for the week ahead. Before leaving home I had heard via the blog grapevine that the crabs were on the moult and I fancied my new crab trap might obtain me a few from the structured waters of  Lake Loathing which was conveniently a five minute walk away.

I know the clear shallow waters of this salt water lake are rife with crabs, but would I be able to nab a few? No was the answer to that! Crabs I caught, but were any of them peeler's? Were they heck! In three hours I'd bagged three hard backs and lost two more who were clever enough not to enter the net.

I am no expert at distinguishing a peeling crab from a hard back but I soon discovered the difference. The moulting crab which are referred to as peelers are shy and retiring due to their soft bodies, whereas a hardback is the hooligan of the Crustacea world, nipping anything that draws too close.

My crabbing attentions were soon lost when I sighted a pair of large mullet circling some pilings nearby. Both were close to ten pounds and both thought my vain attempts to get their attention with a strip of squid cast out under a float were comical. A fact confirmed by their ever seeming smirking lips.

- My first proper session came first thing Sunday morning when I dared to venture out into the by now horrendous 30 mph south west wind. I arrived at Pakefield beach early to fish the end of the flood tide and down the ebb for a few hours.

My first cast was pitched full force straight out in front of me and splashed in twenty metres to my left. This was by no way going to be an easy session! I endured only an hour of battling with the wind as it tore my rods down and put so much of a bow in my lines that it dislodged up to 8oz of lead from the bottom.

Not wanting my first trip out to be a total loss I upped sticks and headed up the coast to try the more sheltered waters of Lowestoft harbour. The outer wall was even worse than the beach, but fishing into the mouth of the harbour afforded me enough cover to at least hold bottom.

The change of venue had made no difference to my catch until I dropped a much shorter cast close to a tidal defence barrier. After only minutes the tip rattled the went over and stayed bent over. My hope that good fish my take interest in my bait was vilified as the beastie pulled back. As I reeled it towards the wall I kept hoping I would see a flash of silver in the water until I got the distinct feeling this fish was swimming backwards!!!

Damn right it was! My first sea bound eel was swung in at about a pound, it was followed quickly by two more, the best being 2.1lb. If dealing with a eel is not hard enough try adding three snoods, a heavy grip lead and a gusting wind mixed into the equation.

After this I did add a couple of small whiting but the biggest stir of the day was caused when I threw the eels back in, much to the dismay of some eastern European anglers; one quite literally threw his arms in the air whilst cursing me in some foreign tongue.

- My next session was due Monday afternoon and I had even roped Jacky in for a trip to the beach but we only got as far as the cliff top car park before I set eyes on the now tempestuous sea and thought better of it.

After making a hasty retreat I did what any self respecting angler would and went back to holiday diggs and spent the afternoon waiting out the weather in the steaming turbulent waters of our hot tub.

I waited and waited and waited a little bit more for the wind to calm and finally at that time just before the light went I nipped to another mark called the Rifle Range for as I described it to Jacky "to get in even one good cast". Just before the dark crept in and during a evil shower of rain my freshly bought peeler crabs did the trick as the left rod began to nod in the failing light.

In the surf I potted something silver flash but as it came up the beach the rig seemed to still be dragging badly until I spotted a something flat and dark flapping close to the lead. My first double shot of the trip produced a small whiting and a nice flounder.

To be honest that was enough for me. I was cold and wet and with no form of shelter on the beach it was time for the off, satisfied with a single bite for two fish on a day when even the locals were rather absent from this popular mark, There was was only one way a true English man can warm himself on such a night.

A cup of tea and cream scone!

- The next outing saw me return back to Pakefield with a freshly acquired store of crab to chuck into the brine. Before this session I had put two and two together and realised that as the crabs were moulting and the best bites I'd had came on them  that the fish may be a little preoccupied with them and other baits may prove fruitless.

I was right! My first chuck onto a much calmer sea didn't take long to get rattled, resulting in a nice plaice and it didn't stop there. For the first time ever on the sea it was a bite a chuck. Not one cast failed to receive attention of some kind.

The next customer was a nice flounder

Followed by another

And another

It was real joy to see what seemed like healthy population of flatties really going for it and not one of the was caught any further than thirty yards of the beach. It was great fun and luckily I had Jacky on hand to bag some great pictures of em all.

- On the Wednesday I turned thirty four (I think!) and as always my first choice of what I would like to do is go fishing. I had pre planned this trip to head down the coast the the uber quaint Southwold to try these hallowed waters for the big bass that supposedly exist there.  

Conditions looked great, the sea looked great, I was in a good area and I had a bucket full of crab how could it go wrong, but it did! I couldn't buy a bite and nether could two other anglers further down the beach.

Like every other angler I can take a blank here and there, BUT! I do not take the birthday blank well, if at all.

By 5pm I'd fished the last part of the flood tide, the slack and two hours down the ebb and had absolutely nothing to show for my efforts bar good case of wind burn. At this point I had to do something and made the snap decision to head north wards back to fish a more reliable mark.

After dropping Jacky off I rushed down the to Pakefield to try and make the best of the day.

The sport here wasn't much better and soon I found myself in a Mexican stand off with the north sea. It wasn't yielding and I wasn't leaving till I felt the wet slap of fish on my hands.

Finally after what seemed like hours the tip trembled and I struck. Again for the second year running I landed a single fish on my birthday. A perfectly formed plaice.

After this I cut my losses and left, calling in to pick up a bit of ironic supper on the way back!

How could I not?!

- By Thursday I had figured that most of the areas I had been fishing the last few days fished best from the slack down the ebb tide, so I waited till evening to take the last of my peelers on a day trip to flattieville.

There is no more punishing place than the coast in bad weather. Caught in the no man's land between the land and the sea. On land the differing pressures effect the weather and as it meets with the open and more consistent pressures of the sea it seems ether collide with it violently or get sucked out to sea speeding up as it does. 

It had been sunny all day but the weather report had indicated a weather front would move eastwards into the evening and it did just after my second rod was cast. The sky darkened and the wind picked up stirring a healthy swell.

The rig of my left rod held well under the crashing waves but my right one even with a heavier lead was being pulled by the receding tide and kept get deposited back on the beach. With it now pouring with rain it was struggle to get it to hold at any range. But it seemed to work to my advantage a little as this was the first rod to go when a nice flattie grabbed the moving bait as it passed it.

It didn't take long for it to find a second and as I was baiting up to recast, the still fishing rod went mental. It literally hooped over instantly and was lifting off the rest before I was to my feet.

I was straight away into something better which really gave me some stick in the fast falling tide. The weird thing was as it neared the surf it seemed to be swimming in two separate directions, and it was.

A flash of silver confirmed it. Bass! Not one but two. My first ever double shot of bass scored for a rough sea whilst soaked to the skin.

An absolutely stunning a pair of beautiful schoolies one of about a pound and a half the other just under three. I went home that night as high as a kite and happy as a dog with two.... peters.

- After the highs of Thursday I could have stopped there but I still had bait and Jacky fancied the beach so what could I do but fish. The weather was good, the sea calm and I was happy.

It was no red letter day. More a good bye for now to the sea, but I did manage to eek out one last flounder on my very last crab which seemed a good way to end a great trip east. 

- That should have rightfully been the end of this one but, whilst away and having a pocket full of birthday pennies, I made pilgrimage to one of the fast appearing Angling Direct stores, which are spreading over the east like a case of acne on a teenage boy.

I went with the express purpose of obtaining a new umbrella to replace my still unretired one, but....

And here it is!

Yep you got it they didn't have the umbrella I wanted so I settled for a gleaming new pair of  Korum KXi 60 freespin reels.

Like anyone I could wait to use them. So I did before the sand was even off my feet. And how did they go on the first run out?

Well.

Very well!

6.6lb tench first cast. :)