A long [sting]way away!
A long [sting]way away!
Not much beats a road trip with a good mate… except if it’s a fishing road trip! Cal popped me a message to ask if I wanted to join him on a mission up country to target stingray. Let’s be honest, it took no convincing. I was completely down for this! With just four species in mind (and a few bonus species), we covered over 530 miles within 14 hours of driving!
Armed with 3lb of ragworm from Reefers Fishing Tackle, we had initially planned to do the trip in a day, but upon realising it didn’t leave much time for fishing, we opted to stay overnight on a beach with the rods out, and head home the next day. In the early hours of Saturday, Cal picks me up on the way, and we make the 2 hour drive to the first stop, Brixham, a location I had stayed before on holiday, but never fished. We both knew some spots for the Rockcook Wrasse, so after finding some parking, we moved over to the mark, with our LRF gear; though we weren’t fishing what I consider LRF, instead we used small pieces of ragworm, due to time constraints. We allocated ourself just two hours, so you can imagine our nerves. It was a low tide and good clarity, so we focused on sight fishing in and around the rocks. There were plenty of wrasse to be had, Quite quickly we’re into Ballans, Corkwing, Goldsinny, and the abundant Pouting; Cal even has the biggest Corkwing he’s ever caught, as he focuses in amongst the weed-line, but time is now ticking by.
I’ve been photographing every single fish I’ve caught, as I love to collect data, but this was the first time I didn’t; every second I take a photo, is a second I could be fishing for Rockcook. I can’t deny, it was easy to get distracted by sight fishing all these wrasse in the shallows, but knowing this might spook any nearby Rockcook, potentially taking a while for them to feel confident again (time we didn’t have), I was incredibly selective. With just over 20 minutes to go, things are looking dismal, so I decide to try something different. I wonder if they pushed out into deeper water, with this pressure. I cast out my line to a spot which looked deeper, and as I retrieve a little, to make sure I’m not in any snags, I had a fish on without realising. As I swing it in, immediately I see the gold and blue on the flanks, and shout to Cal, “THE’YRE HERE!”.
That's species #55! As I’m getting some photos in the viewing tank, Cal goes in the exact spot. He has a few other fish, just seconds apart, but then the third or fourth fish he lands, is another stunning Rockcook! We definitely didn't expect two to come out; certainly a species I would love to catch on lure or artifical next time I'm here. We wait for them to recover in the net after some photos, and we’re back on the road for 3 hours to Swanage—with Baillon’s Wrasse on the agenda now.
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| Two very happy fishermen! |
With the pressure somewhat reduced, that we both caught the first target species within the time we set, we were grinning like the Cheshire Cat the whole way to the next spot, chatting about fishing the entirety of the scenic drive. We find a car park close to where we had hoped to fish, allocated ourselves a similar sort of time again. I was fiddling around with depth on a sliding dropshot rig, seeing where the Baillon's might be holding. I heard in this spot, that there's roughly one Baillon's for every thirty Corkwing you catch, this kept us hopeful. Unfortunately it was also one Corkwing for every thirty Pouting you'd catch too! Hmm, is this going to be a numbers game? Apparently not for me, as after a few Pouting and Corkwing I get lucky with a little female Baillon's! Species #56! Barely 10–15 minutes fishing; can we both catch one, then move to the next spot early?
Cal persists at the same spot I had my Baillon's, whereas I have a general scratch around a different spot, hoping to pick up a male adorned with those beautiful red fins. Time whizzes by, and it feels like we've both had hundreds of Pouting; Cal has been counting the Corkwing as he catches them, it must be around thirty by now, but we're in overtime. We're getting worried at this point. As we make a bittersweet walk back in the direction of the car, Cal has one last drop, and gets another indistinct wrasse bite, typical, another little Corkw— ... it's a Baillon's!!
We're both ecstatic at this point; each having caught five wrasse species in a day! The extra time paid off, though I'd be lying if I said we weren't both nervous now. The next target was the stingray, the whole reason we made this trip, and we're running out of time. Cal had been driving a combined 8 hours at this point, but was still energised for fishing! After we make our trek along the beach with our beach casting gear in the last few hours of daylight, Cal gets his first rod setup. As he comes to help me, a humble beach casting newbie, his rod immediately bends, a lovely Smoothhound! Before we can even get my first rod out, Cal has another Smoothhound, this one a brute at 11lb. This would be a new species for me, so my fingers were crossed I'd get one too. Alas, it wasn't to be today, the tide had turned before I got the rods out, and the strap congers had moved in for Cal. No luck on the stingrays, and the session was a blank for me.
Exhausted, we pressed onto the next spot for the Undulate Rays. Knowing these would be a challenge, we still powered through. We get to the spot just before 2am, but not before forgetting some equipment in the car. Cal, who pulled the biological short straw for actually having a sense of direction, makes the hike back while I fall asleep on a suprisingly comfy rock. He could've gotten lost, or taken a serious fall, and nobody would've known, but everything seemed okay while I had my narcolepsy-inducing rock. However-long-I-was-asleep-for later, Cal triumphantly returns with whatever we forgot (though I've forgotten what that was). We set up our tents, and decide to just crash out for the night. 10 minutes hadn't even passed, before Cal decides to get the rods out; groggy-eyed, I walk up to him, and say "Fuck it". I guess we're fishing for the Undulates. The only light we could see was the stars and our headtorches, but with nothing but sand and sea for the light to hit, we cast out into the blanket of darkness. Just as quickly as I get a bite, I lose it. It felt like a bass which had picked up the bait, but didn't get hooked. I cast out again, and feel my eyelids leaden as I curl up into my child-sized pop up tent.
Dawn breaks, and my legs are soaked for some reason. They had been sticking out of the tent all night! Oh well, maybe Cal has had a fish at least? Uhhh... bollocks. The golden sunlight revealed that right in front of us was the tip of a breakwater, and our baits were planted nicely on top of it. At this point we just laughed it off, utterly knackered. Eager to get some breakfast at Subway, we pack up, and turn around to see a conveniently placed car park we could've parked in. We might've laughed through our teeth at that one...
Now we're at a bit of a cross roads, as we allowed ourselves time to hit the wrasse marks again incase we didn't catch, but we both caught, so it was a toss up between our bonus species. Either the Thin-Lipped Mullet in a nearby river, or drive an hour to a spot I know for Grayling and Bullhead. We were both still eager to fish, but settled on the mullet, to avoid more unnecessary driving. That might've been the wrong choice, as when we got to the river with our tipped mullet spinners, it was heavily busy with the weekend boat traffic. Every man and his dog was on the water, quite literally–there was a dog sat on the bow of a kayak. We just couldn't get the distance with these LRF rods to search for the mullet properly, and the nearer mullet which Cal eventually managed to get interested, would just vanish every time a boat came too close (which was far too frequently).
Tired, sore, smelly, and dehydrated, that was enough fishing for the weekend. We started off strong, but we might've tried to squeeze too much in a short space of time. Will we learn? No... and I can't wait to do it all over again!
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