Chasing cod
Posted: 05 Nov 2013, 10:28After reading all the reports of the codling being caught around the Fleetwood area over the last week or so I decided to make the run up from and sample the sport. I ordered some bait from Southwesterly (top worms and a top price to boot) and was due to pick up on the way to my intended mark.
Maybe I should have learnt how to read my own writing first as I had put the wrong, but very similar address, into the satnav on my phone and it came up with a destination in Lytham-St. Annes. Terry lives in Blackpool, close enough I thought. After demanding 100 black lug from an older lady at said address who looked at me like I was a nutcase and subsequently slammed the door in my face I phoned the missus to check the address Terry had provided and input it to the satnav. Four miles and thirty minutes later I was there after the sat nav had subjected me to the delights of Blackpool illuminations and the five miles an hour assholes who have never seen a coloured light bulb before. Bait collected and now due to arrive almost an hour later than I'd wished, I headed to towards the Cadet Base.
As is now standard for my trips to Fleetwood the strong south westerlies had completely subsided and apart from a light surf the sea had now completely flattened off and did not fill me with confidence that the bin bag I had brought to lug the ten stone of cod back to the car would be filled.
It was very quiet for the first hour and a half. No bites but the baits weren't coming back untouched which I thought gave me a little hope and then half an hour before high water a decent bite saw me land this:
Within 5 minutes a stonking bite on a four lug laden pennel rig saw me battling to land this beauty:
How do dabs do that?
After that I had another dab and four more whiting of a similar size which kept me busy and made the trip very enjoyable. Say what you like about whiting but I'd rather catch them than nothing or doggies (puke) and they taste damn good.
It was now about an hour after high and I was lamenting the lack of cod and thinking of packing up when another angler came over and regaled me with the tale of his session in which he had similar numbers of whiting, a puke fish and a cod of around 2 and half pounds on crab (I wasn't jealous, not) and then very generously gave the remainder of his peelers which were a teeny bit iffy but peelers nonetheless. Last cast syndrome then kicked in and I loaded up the two rods with the donated crab and sat down to finish the last of my coffee. Thirty seconds after hitting the water rod one registered a decent nod and then the line went very slack (I love that type of bite). My by then pessimistic mind immediately thought dog but as I reeled in the slack and connected with the fish it didn't feel like a wet sack and actually pulled back like a proper fish. When this came sliding up the beach I did a little jig. Aah happiness, the first of the year:
Probably only about 2lb 4oz but enough to make break out the Hamlets. I didn't catch the guys name who donated the crab but heartfelt thanks mate.
I'll be glad when they finally arrive in the Mersey this year.
Maybe I should have learnt how to read my own writing first as I had put the wrong, but very similar address, into the satnav on my phone and it came up with a destination in Lytham-St. Annes. Terry lives in Blackpool, close enough I thought. After demanding 100 black lug from an older lady at said address who looked at me like I was a nutcase and subsequently slammed the door in my face I phoned the missus to check the address Terry had provided and input it to the satnav. Four miles and thirty minutes later I was there after the sat nav had subjected me to the delights of Blackpool illuminations and the five miles an hour assholes who have never seen a coloured light bulb before. Bait collected and now due to arrive almost an hour later than I'd wished, I headed to towards the Cadet Base.
As is now standard for my trips to Fleetwood the strong south westerlies had completely subsided and apart from a light surf the sea had now completely flattened off and did not fill me with confidence that the bin bag I had brought to lug the ten stone of cod back to the car would be filled.
It was very quiet for the first hour and a half. No bites but the baits weren't coming back untouched which I thought gave me a little hope and then half an hour before high water a decent bite saw me land this:
Within 5 minutes a stonking bite on a four lug laden pennel rig saw me battling to land this beauty:
How do dabs do that?
After that I had another dab and four more whiting of a similar size which kept me busy and made the trip very enjoyable. Say what you like about whiting but I'd rather catch them than nothing or doggies (puke) and they taste damn good.
It was now about an hour after high and I was lamenting the lack of cod and thinking of packing up when another angler came over and regaled me with the tale of his session in which he had similar numbers of whiting, a puke fish and a cod of around 2 and half pounds on crab (I wasn't jealous, not) and then very generously gave the remainder of his peelers which were a teeny bit iffy but peelers nonetheless. Last cast syndrome then kicked in and I loaded up the two rods with the donated crab and sat down to finish the last of my coffee. Thirty seconds after hitting the water rod one registered a decent nod and then the line went very slack (I love that type of bite). My by then pessimistic mind immediately thought dog but as I reeled in the slack and connected with the fish it didn't feel like a wet sack and actually pulled back like a proper fish. When this came sliding up the beach I did a little jig. Aah happiness, the first of the year:
Probably only about 2lb 4oz but enough to make break out the Hamlets. I didn't catch the guys name who donated the crab but heartfelt thanks mate.
I'll be glad when they finally arrive in the Mersey this year.
well done 
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