Tweet
I've recently returned to Gods country after 25 years of living in Devon. Took the kids out for a day at the beach last week and ended up at one of my old favourite fishing marks - Blythe Beach.
Brought back memories of what has to be the best shore session I have ever had.
Are we sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
Was about this time of year in the early/mid 80's , my cousin and I decided to have a session on Blythe beach, had a few peelers and mussels in the freezer so nipped into town and picked up a few bags of lug fromJohn Robertsons (think that was name, used to be in the Haymarket), and set off home to pick up the tackle.
Some person of doubtful parentage t-boned the car on the way and wrote it off. Never mind we went by bus and foot (bloody long walk if my memory serves me). Now our usual mark was occupied my a beached, burn't out coaster which had come ashore (this should help date it, if anyone remembers) so we decided to fish in front of it. Waited a couple of hours till the sun was setting and set to.
First cast and the tackle had hardly hit the bottom before the rod tip rattled, no need to strike as the fish headed off to Norway, 10 mins later and a plump 6lb codling was flapping in the surf. We was happy bunnies.
Then the Tilley blew up, bugger it, we carried on using head torches. Next cast and the same happened, my cousin was a bit peeved as he hadn't had a single tap, which made a change as the bugger usually out fished me 2 to 1!
His luck changed and soon it was almost a fish a cast, nothing bigger than 6lbs, but nothing smaller than 4.
By first light I'd landed 37 fish and Paul had 32. Trouble was how the hell were we gonna get them home? Paul walked a few miles to find a phone and tried every one we could think of, got the same answer from em all at 7am on a Sunday morning - bugger off. So we hatched a plot. If we gutted them it would reduce the weight to carry, so we gutted em on the beach (seagulls loved us that morning). Now neither of us had a any bin bags to carry em in so we decided to empty our tackle bags (buried contents in the sand dunes to be retrieved at a later date - never did find the bloody place again) and filled our bags and waterproofs with codling and set off on the long walk to Whitley Bay for the bus home, trouble is no buses till about 9am and the codling were still leaking. Never mind collapsed in a bus shelter and waited for the first bus.
The old buses had a luggage area just by the front door so bags went there for the hour bus journey home. Codling carried on leaking...
There was, by the time we got to Gateshead, a foul smelling puddle of slime and blood leaking all over the front of the bus - we didn't know cos, well, we were fast asleep at the back, by the heater vents.
Bus driver was not amused, took our names and addresses (and a couple of fish) and Northern General sent me a bill for the best part of £100 for cleaning the bus.
Was still the best session I've ever had though, doubt it will happen again, but I've still got the memory.
Brought back memories of what has to be the best shore session I have ever had.
Are we sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
Was about this time of year in the early/mid 80's , my cousin and I decided to have a session on Blythe beach, had a few peelers and mussels in the freezer so nipped into town and picked up a few bags of lug fromJohn Robertsons (think that was name, used to be in the Haymarket), and set off home to pick up the tackle.
Some person of doubtful parentage t-boned the car on the way and wrote it off. Never mind we went by bus and foot (bloody long walk if my memory serves me). Now our usual mark was occupied my a beached, burn't out coaster which had come ashore (this should help date it, if anyone remembers) so we decided to fish in front of it. Waited a couple of hours till the sun was setting and set to.
First cast and the tackle had hardly hit the bottom before the rod tip rattled, no need to strike as the fish headed off to Norway, 10 mins later and a plump 6lb codling was flapping in the surf. We was happy bunnies.
Then the Tilley blew up, bugger it, we carried on using head torches. Next cast and the same happened, my cousin was a bit peeved as he hadn't had a single tap, which made a change as the bugger usually out fished me 2 to 1!
His luck changed and soon it was almost a fish a cast, nothing bigger than 6lbs, but nothing smaller than 4.
By first light I'd landed 37 fish and Paul had 32. Trouble was how the hell were we gonna get them home? Paul walked a few miles to find a phone and tried every one we could think of, got the same answer from em all at 7am on a Sunday morning - bugger off. So we hatched a plot. If we gutted them it would reduce the weight to carry, so we gutted em on the beach (seagulls loved us that morning). Now neither of us had a any bin bags to carry em in so we decided to empty our tackle bags (buried contents in the sand dunes to be retrieved at a later date - never did find the bloody place again) and filled our bags and waterproofs with codling and set off on the long walk to Whitley Bay for the bus home, trouble is no buses till about 9am and the codling were still leaking. Never mind collapsed in a bus shelter and waited for the first bus.
The old buses had a luggage area just by the front door so bags went there for the hour bus journey home. Codling carried on leaking...
There was, by the time we got to Gateshead, a foul smelling puddle of slime and blood leaking all over the front of the bus - we didn't know cos, well, we were fast asleep at the back, by the heater vents.
Bus driver was not amused, took our names and addresses (and a couple of fish) and Northern General sent me a bill for the best part of £100 for cleaning the bus.
Was still the best session I've ever had though, doubt it will happen again, but I've still got the memory.
Comment