At last-after surely the worst summer on record the sea off the north Cornwall coast has assumed a less angry mood and the multitude of smug sniggering fish that have been lurking underneath the waves had better watch out-the B.O.G. (Bude old gits) fishing fleet are coming to get you!
B.O.G.s are a bunch of ageing fools who have discovered a new lease of life with the advent of sit-on -top fishing kayaks. In consideration of the fact that I am probably the oldest and most foolish (and certainly the baldest) I am known as the Grey Gurn-nerd.
Anyway I rolled up at Boscastle yesterday morning as it was just getting light and was itching to get going on my first exposed coastal paddle for a month. Even my nose hair muscles were twitching. The sea was more or less smooth and little swell-brilliant. As soon as you get out of Boscastle’s sheltered rocky harbour the scenery is BIG. Great daunting cliffs,highly indented coastline,towering craggy islands and a couple of blowholes blasting out spray at you as you pass.
I was in a bit of a dilemma-do I loiter and fish or do I clock up the miles and increase the chance of seeing a basking shark or dolphin. As I am a kayaker rather than a fisherman at heart (sorry,folks) I cranked up the power on my Scupper Pro and cruised towards Tintagel at 4mph. I trolled a toby and hooked several decent sized mackerel. There was a big spring tide ebbing so I drifted the last mile to Tintagel and dropped feathers to the bottom. I immediately pulled up a couple of Scad and then my weight never had a chance to hit the bottom as I hooked dozens of mackerel.
Time to head for home and my speed was down to 2mph-didn’t know the tide was so strong here!. I kept a mile out to sea hoping to encounter wildlife but was past only by gannets and a few shearwaters and investigated at very close quarters by fulmars who probably had a whiff of my mackerel.
I had a final quick bottom fish and pulled up a small whiting who stupidly skewered itself in the brain. Maybe not such a bad thing as they have nasty teeth and are the closest thing to a piranha hereabouts.
I had my usual socialisation reality check as I weaved in and out of the randomly milling tourists as I walked up Boscastle high street back to my car with my kayak on wheels behind me. The waft of expensive perfume and glower of grumpy holidaymakers muttering about another rainy day doesn’t compare to the wide open sea and absolute silence of kayaking (apart from when I got that hook stuck in my toe).
Oh no the weather window has closed-back to wind and rain so the bass can snigger for a bit longer.