A Tale of Two Numpties: The Eddystone Conquered at Last.

 

Unbelievably good weather forecast for the first time in many months: sunshine and virtually no wind. Time to have yet another crack at the Eddystone.

Austen and I set off from Cawsand at sunrise and on rounding Penlee point could quite clearly see the lighthouse ten miles away on the horizon like a little stick. A sound like British Airways’ entire fleet of Jumbo Jets on full thrust intensified behind us as the Destroyer HMS Liverpool powered out of Plymouth Sound directly towards us. Luckily our humble presence was noticed and it slowed right down so we weren’t subjected to it’s Hawaian style wash.

State of the art killing machine (behind)

OK we probably messed up a multi thousand pound pre-planned sea trial.It then powered off making the most appalling racket… what sort of ear muffs do the crew wear to stop their brains short -circuiting with the screaming noise?We could still hear it quite clearly long after it had gone over the horizon.

And I thought the Navy were going stealth.

We settled down for the long haul to the horizon… I trolled a couple of lures the entire way and not only did I fail to catch anything they probably slowed me down a lot. Paddling for three and a half hours to a pin on the horizon which never really gets much bigger is quite a mental hurdle to…er…hurdle.

En route to Eddystone

But I buck the trend and enjoy every second of it. Anything could happen at any moment. I don’t seem to have cottoned on to the fact that it hardly ever does.

We stopped for a coffee break and as we approached the lighthouse passed several fishing boats who seemed a little surprised and bemused to see us.

Nice shiny fishing smack

My over- exuberance at achieving my months’  long ambition nearly led to me being the first  eddystone shipwreck for some time ; I paddled between the main light and the stump of the old one just as a sizeable swell came sloshing over the surrounding rocks.

Never mind,  I caught a six inch Pollack so the expedition was now officially a fishing trip!

Don't drop my camera in the sea, Austen

We were keen to get out and stretch our legs after four hours paddling but although there were steps onto the foot of  both structures the swell precluded any chance of landing. So we concentrated on fishing- I paddled round and round the rocks trolling while Austen did a spot of bottom fishing. I lost three lures which I found enormously irritating . Austen caught a load of little Pollack and a scad. I reckoned that the place was overfished as there were half a dozen fishing boats around…well that was my excuse and I was sticking to it.

Time to head for home and the sea was like a silk blanket. Paddling in these conditions requires virtually no effort at all.It was so still we could hear the distant ‘traffic’ noise from Plymouth.

Ten miles offshore and it couldn't be flatter.

Half way back Austens line buzzed out when something grabbed his mini Rapala lure. I had been aware of a group of jabbering gulls shadowing us and chortled when I saw one hooked up. I am the UKs number one bird enthusiast but I do find catching gulls excessively entertaining. They really do get in a strop when you grab hold of them and try to unhook them. They are very quick with their beak and when they catch hold of your finger they don’t let go. It is very painful but it always brings me out in a fit of giggles.I think its because they know that I know they’re a bit embarassed for being duped into trying to eat a wooden lure shaped like a fish.And even other fish couldn’t be bothered to make the effort to try to eat that lure today.

Feathered fiend

Amazingly Austen caught another Herring gull shortly after the first and fortunately this one was as easy to unhook as the first, but equally as stroppy.Bad timing though- the performance was witnessed by a charter fishing boat which was passing very close.

Wearing normal tousers beneath a dry suit which was only covering my legs allows for reasonably straightforward comfort breaks. However Austen was in a different situation in his chest high neoprene leggings which would be more suited to a potting shed. I was aghast to here that his bladder had so far held firm for the entire trip which was now approaching nine hours without getting out.

No wonder he seemed to accelerate as we approached the little beach below Rame head. By the time I arrived Austen had washed most of it away.

So our big offshore fishing expedition had been unbelievably useless. Even more ironic then when Austen hooked a beauty bass on a trolled lure in the more familiar location of a few metres from the shore.

Pleased with your bass or just relieved to empty your bladder?

We hauled ashore in Cawsand at about 6 and a total distance of over 27 miles.Pretty pooped but managed to top up the tan…not bad for mid October.

Kayak Fishing Porthleven-Kynance Cove, the antidote to Hedge Funds

I was trapped in my car awaiting a school bus with nowhere to cower and no bleeper to pretend to go off unexpectedly, being talked at by a remote acquaintance about high finance (well, high finance Holsworthy style).OK, so hedge funds are nothing  to do with vouchers from your local garden centre, but who really cares?

I switched over to a mode I seem to use increasingly often as I am bludgeoned by thunderously tedious conversation by thunderously tedious people who (fortunately) require very little in the way of response. My jaw is involuntarily locked in the semi-yawn position, my sleep centres are activated by the monotone drawl and my eyelids start to droop, yet I have developed the knack of jamming my mouth into a cadaverous smile, nodding and saying ‘yes ‘ every so often , and apparently gripped by the subject matter while inside I am dreaming of  far away sun drenched sandy beaches. Like this one….

The best beach in SW England?

Heading off towards the horizon on an all-day kayak trip by yourself is a weird thing to do but it guarantees no encounters with thunderbores and enables you to visit your fantasy beaches in real life- what could be better?

I set off from Porthleven at first light and caught a succession of mackerel and garfish on a Gulp sandeel. Dawn is always a great time to catch fish.

Porthleven Gar

As the sun rose the fish died away. I passed a number of lovely sandy beaches and then a couple of big cliffs with whopping hotels on top. One had  so many house martins swarming around it resembled a swarm of bees.

The four miles from Mullion to Kynance have got to be amongst the most dramatic in the whole south-west. Mighty cliffs and a number of sweeping bays with graggy buttresses at the ends and usually a sandy or gravelly beach for a quick tea break in the middle.

The tide began to be more evident as I neared Lizard point and I hooked some bigger fish, and lost a few. Biggest was a pollack nearly 4 lbs.

I engineered my arrival at Kynance to coincide with low tide so the strip of sand connecting the mainland with Asparagus island was exposed. I am generally disappointed when hyped up places don’t live up to expectations but Kynance Cove has every reason to be smug with itself….tropical style sand and sea but with no tropical style Germans on beach towls.

Kynance cove

Time to head back to Porthleven and I was not particularly thrilled at the prospect of a fifteen mile paddle into a gusty northerly wind. I hugged the cliffs to stay in the shelter, and caught a load more pollack, this time using a Dexter wedge.

The first rocky cove north of Kynance really is spectacular.I looked around and saw absolutely no evidence of the existence of mankind…..oh,apart from the trail of vapour 30,000ft above from a Globemaster American military transport plane- the turbofans make a characteristic whine.

But I could sense several pairs of eyes scrutinising me. A peregrine sat atop a bluff called ‘the Horse’ and there were my old friends, a pair of Great Black-backed Gulls eyeing me up for vulnerability,yelping their horrible primeval gulpy bark at each other. This was not chat about investment opportunities,this was more like ‘you have his eyeballs,I’ll have his tongue’.

The nagging headwind was tempered by the blue sky and sun behind my back showing up the coast to its absolute best. Mullion cove is indeed a dramatic location tucked in behind a variety of sea stacks. Its harbour walls were draped in loafing tourists and fishermen who never catch anything.

Sunny Mullion Cove

It was a serious slog from Gunwalloe Fishing Cove along the three miles of beach back to Porthleven-lucky I didn’t catch any fish as every time I halted I got blown back twenty yards.

True fishermen probably know this but trolling from a kayak is very unproductive on sunny days, apart from dawn and dusk. And incidentally the whole of Mount’s Bay seems to be generally pretty rubbish for fishing apart from its extremities where the tide gets going a bit.

However to buck this trend I did manage to catch my only bass of the day when I ventured past Porthleven to visit the stunning sandy beach hemmed in by cliffs and accessible only from the sea.

Of course it was returned to the water, like virtually all the fish I catch.

Arrival at this beach is a big milestone for me and represents the completion of the south coast part of my ‘Up the Creek’ project.I have paddled from Holsworthy to Land’s End and gone up every estuary,creek and gutter till I could go no further. Most of the sea bits I have done twice in ‘there and back’ trips.

Holsworthy to Land’s End is a distance of,approximately,368.2 miles.I make no apology for having measured it by GPS as I go.Nerdy, yes,but that’s what I do. Just got to complete the North coast bit from Shebbear to Land’s End now.

Porthleven

Bude Old Gits Autumn Kayak Fishing Epic 2009

PLYMOUTH SOUND 9 SEPTEMBER

On the plus side today was lovely and sunny; on the minus side a hefty swell and north wind meant we had to lurk in the shelter of Plymouth sound.

We launched at Cawsand and trolled a variety of sandeels and plugs round the corner to Rame head, catching a few pathetically small pollack. We soon got bored of bottom fishing off Rame as the sea was devoid of hungry fish.

Sunny Rame head

So we about turned and tried trolling along the southern edge of the breakwater-surely nobody fishes here. We soon concluded that indeed nobody fished there because the largest pollack was about four inches long.

Plymouth breakwater

Lunch beckoned and we had hefty appetites and anyway neede to gorge out as that’s what depressed fishermen do when they don’t catch any fish. But wait! what are those glistening flappy things on your feathers, Austen? A couple of mackerel. Crikey.

Anyway we hauled up on Bovisand beach but didn’t have a lot to eat ‘cos we had forgottten to pack it. I even had to share my Spar  king sized Bakewell Tart (yes….gone off Somerfield fruit cake) with Austen but at least I got the glace cherry.

Giant Bakewell tart with 1972 trainspotting manual for size comparison

With our calories reloaded we decided to paddle right round the edge of the sound so at least we would have a decent kayak trip if there weren’t alot of fish…….and then I  hooked a bass-albeit a bit teeny.

Don't care if it's small-it's a bass

And as we approached Mountbatten breakwater we both hauled in a garfish-don’t think it was the same one!

Austen's slithery garfish

We had a great hot sunny paddle sheltered from the wind along the front of Plymouth Ho, ogled at a few expensive yachts, and then managed to find ourselves strugging against the tide, as we had been all day, back to Cawsand.

Crumby fishing, top paddle,top weather.

Old Harry Bass Brace

Nice relaxing paddle around Studland Bay and round the back of Old Harry rocks in the tide race.

Pretty lousy fishing generally so far this summer so I was pleased with a couple of decent bass (plus three non-keepers) caught on my old , and very smelly, favourite lure……. a GULP sandeel. No weights , and on a  one metre length of fluorocarbon line attached to the main line with a big swivel. Simple is good!

Old Harry (in the background)

Red Arrows and Rain(bow)

Take a break from staring into the depths and cast your eyes skywards.OK you will get a very wet face……..

should have done your wetsuit up, Tim

If you happen to be in Fowey during regatta week, and you are feeling niggled because all the yachty types are clinking wine glasses while you are supping a Fanta between bites of soggy Marmite sandwich, you may just be entralled by a display of unfeasible aerobatics by the world’s top display team.

Boscastle does the business…….again!

Quick evening raid to Boscastle and I didn’t really expect to catch much as the sea was quite lumpy ( and I hadn’t caught any fish for ages anyway, so didn’t want to raise my hopes foolhardily).

Minimalism was the order of the day: a single rod armed with a Dexter wedge so I could sling it out behind and get fishing in less than three (approx) seconds.

Wallop! I hauled aboard a 3lb bass, a 5lb and two 3lb pollack ( plus a couple of littly bass and unbelievably small pollack, which went back) within an hour. Oh….and a mackerel.

Yes, those are my feet for scale (and flavour)

So Boscastle is not only the top scenic destination in the south-west, and one of the top marine life areas, it also does fast fishing.

THE EDDYSTONE CHALLENGE 2009-defeated by a pile of rocks (with a lighthouse on top)

The Eddystone Lighthouse has always held a mysterious appeal both from it’s dramatic history and its windswept remoteness that holds my eye when we pass on the Plymouth-Roscoff ferry.

The Eddystone challenge seemed the perfect way to ‘do’ the lighthouse-an expertly run and supervised gig and kayak race from Mountbatten breakwater round the rocks and back.

Pre-race briefing

Only one problem-you’ve got only three hours to cover the fourteen miles to the light and  that (for me at least) would be pushing it to the limit.

The omens weren’t good as my kayak was allocated the number 13 and I was the only loner without a ‘buddy’ to paddle with,which is compulsory.I teamed up with a very friendly pair of paddlers who didn’t look too competitive.

My paddling chums

 

We're off!

The hooter heralded the mass start of about 10 gig or rowing boats and about 25 kayaks. Past the west end of the breakwater we dug in for the long slog to the distant tiny stick on the horizon. I was fully aware that the force 3 occasionally 4 headwind was not favourable for maintaining the required speed. Every so often a breaking wave would come over the front and blast up my capacious nostrils. Worse still my vast slab of fruitcake had a split in its bag and turned to briny mush.

The flotilla spread out quickly and I settled in to the same speed as a bloke from Bath canoe club and two older gents in rowing skiffs! Watch out for that ferry!

Who gives way to who?

Two hours in I had clocked up over eight miles and the light still seemed depressingly far off. And worse the wind suddenly increased a scale producing waves big enough to obscure the lighthouse. Come three o’clock it was turn around time and I was still a mile off. A pity but lets get back in one piece.

It was time to carb load so I shovelled in three huge chunks of salty fruit slab in quick succession. Alas the first one got jammed at the entrance to my stomach and the next two lodged on top, stretching my oesophagus so painfully I whimpered in pain and my eyes streamed. I hosed in some Lucozade sport on top and it just filled up the tube and refluxed into the back of my throat. (no,I am not a Lucozade sport type person…..this was an exceptional circumstance). I envisaged being the first person to call for help due to a cake log-jam in the gullet, but suddenly the obstruction moved on and I gaped with relief,hoping nobody had been close enough to observe my fleeting crisis.

As close as I got

I was expecting easy surfing conditions on the way back but the wind from the left as well as behind led to awking slewing and yawing. Messages over the radio from the safety boats steadily increased as paddlers succumbed to fatigue, pulled muscles and even injury. Most worryingly I heard the sound of a distant whistle, presumably from a capsized paddler, but the safety boat was soon heading in that direction.

Blimey I was pooped at the end-26 miles in 6 1/2 hours.And I didn’t even get to the lighthouse, along with most of the other ‘casual ‘ paddlers and several gigs.

But the pain of a long tiring paddle was nothing compared to the excruciating wait for a portion of fish and chips in Launceston on the way back. Why have they always just run out of potatoes when I arrive?

p.s. how’s this for a mega yacht?

Eddystone rower plus mega-sloop

MAY GARFISH

Garfish aren’t as common on the north coast of Devon and Cornwall as the south. And even less so in the early summer months. But here’s a nice Mr. Beaky hooked on mackerel feathers at the surface at the end of May, near Bude.

Becky’s Boscastle Birthday Bash

If your truly beloved is celebrating her birthday and you are at a loss what to do or where to take her, let me give you some advice as I think  have found the winning formula: Do what you would do on your birthday and take her along with you. Then everyone’s happy…..well, you are.

It’s helpful if the weather’s nice and if you can take some like minded friends along it’s even better. And if they too are celebrating a birthday the recipe for  guaranteed wall-to-wall entertainment is complete.

Boscastle was sunny and warm. All we needed to do was catch some fish.We did……

Jeremy plus a couple of Pollacky friends

Fortunately conditions were pretty flat or the heavy thermos and bag of thermal clothes around my feet might have destabilised the otherwise very stable kayak.

We needed a fryable fish as we had vowed to have supper on a remote beach but only bring along salad so we HAD to catch the protein content. So a bass made a serious error of judgment when it tried to eat my toby.

Note huge difference in temperature between front and back seat

The foolhardy bass was in the frying pan within five minutes of being caught and boy did it taste good.

Chief cook (not bottle washer)

The beach was as stunning and warm as we had hoped and Becky partook in a bit of birthday malarky. The air ambulance was not required.

Jeremy will be needing neck physio

Strangely the sizeable guillemot and razorbill colony on Lye Rock was completely deserted. I doubt if the young have fledged yet- more likely an egg eating predator has made a mess of it. The colonies on  Short and Long Island are still busy but we didn’t see any adults flying past with sandeels in their beaks.

On a brighter note we saw at least six puffins off Short island including four in the air simultaneously. Excellent.

Perfect conditions- Jane and Jeremy

BASKING SHARK BONANZA

I knew I was going to have some good wildlife encounters today when I passed two foxes and a Roe deer in a field, two dead badgers side by side and a rabbit which was alive and well and skipping and hopping on the road in front of me  but sadly flat as a pizza in my rear view mirror, on my way to Sennen cove.

The sea was very lumpy at first and I caught two decent pollack on a Dexter wedge using cast and drift technique. But forget the fishing- I found myself in the centre of a feeding frenzy of two basking sharks. Well,hardly frenzied but the grey mullet which sploshed around at the surface munching up the disturbed plankton certainly were.

I could have scratched (or even picked)  the sharks nose as it cruised past…..

What a hooter

They just kept on turning and coming back right underneath my boat, submerging at the last second just enough to avoid clanging into me.

It’s difficult to show the size of these whopping fish compared to my kayak but here’s one heading straight for me with mouth agape…..

Torpedo?

I did a lot of fumbling with my camera and got a lot of underwater pics of not alot. However I was a bit smug with this one…..note part of my wig in top left corner to provide some scale……..

Mouths surely don't come bigger

This marine creature experience contrasts strongly with memories of Sperm Whale watching in New Zealand. Wafts of expensive perfume from well-heeled observers peering out of the air-conditioned jet boat, and a thunderous simultaneous clatter of camera shutters as the tail flukes came up (plus a bit of American-style whooping). Gimme a kayak anyday, plus a few passing shearwaters and kittiwakes for company.

Hope it's not a Great white

 At one stage  it was looking as though the shark had made the same ghastly mistake as some of my teachers* at school who accused me of resembling a piece of plankton. Fortunately it recognised me as of unpalatably high intellect at the critical moment and swerved away.

 

Please close your mouth and go graze some plankton elsewhere

(*often maths, occasionally general science and once religious studies formerly known as scripture)