Author: lmuslibar

Theres a recurring pattern of hiatus’s on this blog which I really need to get a grip of. I don’t get out fishing nearly as much as I’d like to these days, twice in the last 4 months is dismal even by my usual standards. Not for a lack of motivation, I just haven’t had the time, though I have rather ambitiously decided that my resolution for 2025 is to get out more so you never know!

At the time of writing it’s the first week of 2025. The winter Cod fishing season started several months ago and although local reports have been somewhat mixed, it offers little consolation to me as I STILL hadn’t actually ventured out to the rock edges for the first session of the season yet. Every time the conditions were favourable I always had something else to do. This last weekend however I decided it was finally time to do something about it.

Steve was up visiting family so we met down at the mark and were quickly set up and sending baits out into the blackness over high tide. Temperatures had dropped numbingly low post new year and the forecast was for thick snow from midnight, so the plan was to grab a few hours of the ebb before Steve had to make the 3-4 hour drive home to Matlock.

Baits were a combination of cart, mackerel, squid and blacks, with Steve adding some variety in the shape of hermit crab. The first hour past with little excitement, but in my experience a couple of hours into the ebb has always been the sweet spot for the mark and, encouragingly predictable, Steve was into the first fish, a lovely 4lb12oz codling which judging by the size of its gut had been filling up well during the extended onshore.

Steve had one more cast before he decided to call it an evening, prior to which I managed to winkle out a fish for him to witness as proof I didn’t blank – albeit at only 42cm it wasn’t much of a consolation prize! I managed another out of a similar stamp before the cold and solitude won out and I decided to leave shortly after.

So a brief but moderately successful few hours out. Now I must set about publishing the backlog of reports from the last 6 months or so (it’s not that impressive…)

April is not a good month for sea fishing on much of the east coast, so presented with a rare opportunity for a days fishing I decided on a day at my local Trout fishery – Sharpley Springs.

The fishery is a mix of 5 fly fishing only lakes, the largest being ‘The Doxford’ and the more modest of them being ‘The Noose’, along with a small children’s worm lake and a small training lake; a nice touch for those who are new to fly fishing and able to reap the benefit of some practical 1:1 coaching. It’s a great setup, and the relaxed, friendly atmosphere is why Sharpley boasts a strong group of regular visitors. Once you’ve paid for your ticket at the golf lodge down the road, you make your way to the actual fishery and sign in at the cabin, where you can get free tea/coffee throughout your session.

Although at one point fly fishing was a regular pass time for me, it’s 2-3 years since I last had the fly gear out so I was feeling a little rusty. Given the early season chill brought on by a gentle but steady northerly breeze though, I suspected I’d have to keep things nice and slow to get the fish to respond well. Suits me, as I much prefer the natural style of fly fishing that comes with fishing buzzers.

The great thing about buzzer fishing is the variance involved presents the angler with a constant challenge in terms of ‘matching the hatch’ so to speak. When we talk about buzzers, we’re talking about representing the various development stages of the larvae of the non-biting, chironomid midge species. These start their life out in the silt at the bottom of the lake/river bed as ‘bloodworm’ before developing into the ascending midge pupae, which rises tantalisingly slowly through the water column towards the surface, making itself generally irresistible to hungry trout. If it survives long enough to reach the surface, it now has to run the gauntlet of breaking through the surface tension, hatch into the winged adult and fly away before it gets snaffled.

All of these stages are imitated by different fly patterns, and the fish can be particularly selective in terms of what size, colour and depth they want the flies fished at before they’ll take. There are days when finding the right match can be maddening, so generally when starting a session I’ll start with a team of flies – at least 2, ideally 3. Unless it’s really cold, I’ll usually go for a couple of varnished buzzers alongside a lighter pattern such as a diawl bach fishing the top dropper. If the fish are higher in the water the 2nd dropper and even the point fly might get replaced by similar lighter patterns to really slow down their descent, or if the fish are in the top few feet then I might put something lumpy and buoyant on the point and fish 2 buzzers on droppers as a washing line. Of course if the fish are preoccupied with emerging adult midge then the dry fly fishing can be outstanding

My favourite way to fish a team of buzzers if there’s a light crosswind is straight line drifting, where you literally cast out at 90 degrees to the wind direction, straighten up and then allow the flies to swing round in the wind drift. You don’t need to ‘retrieve’ the flies – just apply an extremely slow figure 8 , enough to keep up with the flies rather than impart any actually movement as they swing round. Takes can be heart stopping and it makes for some really exciting fishing, especially early season.

Such was my approach today – i started the session with the 2 patterns that spend the most time out of my box, a wicked white black buzzer on the point and a dark olive on a dropper spaced around 4 ft apart on a 12 ft leader. Both flies are in size 12 as it’s April and usually the time of year where hungry, over wintered fish are looking to capitalise on the larger buzzers that start to hatch off early spring.

Not much happened for the first hour or so, and the trickle of late morning sunshine did very little to threaten the chill of the prevailing northerly breeze. What it did do though was spark a mass uprising of caenis flies, aptly nicknamed ‘anglers curse’ due to their tiny size and extreme difficulty to imitate. Naturally this got the attention of the trout and suddenly there was a half decent rise on. Much to my frustration though, they weren’t interested in any dries I hastily offered; even the tiniest of grey shipman’s buzzers which I’ve found success with in the past when the caenis are out were being ignored. So there was only one thing for it – cup of tea!

When I returned to the main lake half an hour later, the fish seemed to have gone down again and upon inspecting the margins, confidence was renewed as I could see several large “shucks” drifting about indicating that the slight increase in temperature had also coaxed some buzzers into hatching. Since there was little indication that the fish were preoccupied with emerging adults though, I set up a new leader of 13ft, again with a black buzzer on the point and a dark olive buzzer on the dropper above it, but this time with an additional dropper at the top fished shallow. To this I attached a brown Diawl Bach with some bright biot cheeks to make it stand out. Although they weren’t taking off the top, I didn’t think the fish would be really deep given the amount of shucks I could see drifting by my feet; some of the biggest I’d seen on this water, so they had to have noticed! By having the lighter Diawl Bach at the top of the setup rather than a 3rd epoxy buzzer, i can fish the cast a little shallower as the nymph won’t pull everything down as quickly as a heavy buzzer would do. This enables me to test out varying depths the fish may be feeding at, which to me is the most effective way to fish buzzers and produce quicker takes than perhaps you would just fishing a single fly.

This turns out to be a good tactic, as within a couple of cast the first stocky fish slams into the point fly (a size 10 black, this time with silver cheeks) and is quickly netted.

And I quickly brush off the prospect of it being a fluke, hitting another fish straight after. And another. And another!

The morning has been slow all round with very few anglers connecting to much, so naturally I gather some interest as I start getting asked what I’m using. I’m not one of these super secretive types that guards their favourite fly patterns though and happily share what I’m doing and soon a few others are bending into fish more regularly.

The fish continue to respond well to the combo all afternoon, with no one fly really out performing the other – all 3 produce regularly and I quickly get into double figures, including some lovely conditioned over wintered fish. Surprisingly there are some lovely Brownies in amongst them as well, and I net 3 over the course of the afternoon which is the most brownies I’ve had in a single day session.

I’m on a kill ticket so using a spoon to inspect the contents of one of my bagged fish reveals what I already knew – that the fish were preoccupied with the large, darker coloured buzzers as they ascend ready to hatch.

I stick it out until 7pm before calling it a day, happy with a tally somewhere in the mid teens. It’s been a rare day out fishing and a nice change from the usual saltwater exploits. With thing warming up though, I’ll definitely be getting out on the Bass soon!

Ok so the title is a bit of a mis-sell; the fishing was more of an occasional feature on a weekend that was all about wild camping really.

When my mother turned 50 a few years ago, me, my sister and our significant others hatched a plan to take her to Iceland in what would be her first holiday abroad in nearly 2 decades. A 5 day agenda of Ice cave tours, mountains, black sand beaches, volcanos, lava fields, waterfalls, ziplines, geysers and seeing the northern lights twice can probably in hindsight be marked as the catalyst for her new found obsession with all things outdoorsy. If you’d have told me a few years back MY mother would join a weekly ramblers group or go wild camping I’d have laughed in your face. But that Iceland trip set off a rocket and her adventure bucket list appears to grow daily.

One activity that has been high on said list is wild camping, so a plan was hatched late last year to chalk off her first wild camp with a trip to the Scottish highlands in the spring.

As it was her first rodeo, I plotted a route on the south shore – starting from the middle of the loch around Taynuilt and making use of the main Land Rover track pretty much all the way up the loch to Ardmaddy Bay. There’s little in the way of civilisation here save for one or two Croft farms and small holdings along the way.

The track meanwhile is easy to navigate and well maintained – if you’re into combining wild camping with biking you could certainly choose worse places.

With half our troupe less seasoned when it comes to distance walking with heavy gear, I’d assured everyone that I had chosen a route with no hills, which considering the Glencoe and Ben Starav backdrop, I figured was a perfectly reasonable statement to make. Apparently some of the steeper banks and “inclines” of the track did constitute something of a hilly nature however, judging by the low level cursing coming from the rest of my companions as we trudged along.

With a couple of stops thrown in for a coffee and a breather though we had the opportunity for photos and a general take-in of the landscape.

If you were leaning towards a shorter distance walking wise you probably wouldn’t need to head all the way up to Ardmaddy to find a suitable pitch for wild camping, although given the track ends just before the bay it’s definitely where to go if you’re looking for more isolated territory.

I think in all with a couple of stops it took us around three and a half hours to reach the bay. Amongst the many gorse bushes that fringe the beach we found plenty of accumulated driftwood which had clearly been washed up at some point whenever the loch was last over-flooded. Clearly it had been some time since, as a lot of it was perfectly dry enough to feed the campfire without smoking the place out, supplemented with some dead standing birch logs and tinder me and Luke managed to forage from a nearby woodland to get things going.

A bit of fishing

Camp erected I did what any self respecting opportunist angler would do. Like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, I produced an old telescopic rod from my childhood that I’d stowed away in my pack, clipped on a small spoon and set about the local trout population with vigour. Surprisingly, my initial lack of confidence turned out to be ill judged – there was actually quite a few wild Brown/Sea Trout in the area, although i didn’t do the best job at keeping a lot of them on the hook long enough to beach most of them them. Most of my lures I tend to switch to single hooks, and trout, with their aerial acrobatics, are especially adept at throwing these whether they’re barbed or not.

I did manage to land a couple though. None were really worth skewering for the campfire, but what they lacked in size they made up for in appearance with some of the most beautifully marked wild Trout I think I’ve seen.

After giving my mother a few casting lessons she had a dabble for a bit but wasn’t quite getting the distance required and soon lost interest when all she could catch was weed! Give her some credit though – over 50 and she’s hiked over 3 hours into a remote Scottish loch with a heavy pack for her first time, set up her own camp and helped forage and prep wood for the fire. I was quite impressed to still see her enjoying it despite being knackered!

A surprise camp-mate

The trip wasn’t really about fishing so very little time was dedicated to it anyway. We busied ourselves for the last few hours of daylight surveying the surroundings, with intermittent forays into the surrounding bush for more firewood. We’d noticed a little Ringed Plover sticking close by to camp which seemed reluctant to leave. On closer inspection it turned out she had a small clutch of eggs on the beach just above the high water mark 20 yards away from where we’d set up. So we made a point of giving her plenty of space so she could sit in peace.

Evening antics

Grey Dawn

I didn’t sleep particularly well. Testing out my new thermarest for the first time time told me one thing – that apparently I appreciate a wider mattress. My previous one from OEX was quite broad shouldered, with a good amount of room either side, whereas this one is clearly designed to be low profile and very much align with the general contours of someone who sleeps immobile on their back all night. There’s probably only a couple of inches overlap by the time I’m lying on it and unfortunately if either my elbows or legs trailed over the edge of the mattress during the night it was enough to trigger my brains “you’re falling!” response and would jolt me awake. Never-mind – I’ll just have to get used to it!

Opening the tent we were greeted to a moody but still Etive. Having been to the loch many times over the years, I never get tired of seeing it in such settled conditions. Looking across to Barrs and the surrounding area I could make out some of the new manmade features in the landscape since my last visit – namely the new access tracks and logging breakwater which I presume are part of the longer term plans to do with the Glenn Etive hydro scheme, although last I heard this initiative still hadn’t been fully given the green light so who knows.

It transpired the others hadn’t slept amazing either, a mix of first time camper nerves and Luke feeling claustrophobic in their 2 man tent, though this did little to dampen my mothers spirits as she emerged from her tent and deftly trudged to the shoreline in a full swim piece, announcing she was going for a dip. Credit to her – she followed through. I reckon they heard the exclamations of how cold the water was back at Taynuilt!

With everyone already knackered, none of us were particularly relishing the prospect of the 3 and a half hour tab back to the car or the subsequent 5 and a half hour drive home, but rather than make excuses we broke camp reasonably early in the morning following a hasty breakfast.

The hike back was pretty uneventful apart from coming across an abandoned lamb. We suspected a ewe who was nursing another lamb not to far away was probably the mother and had either rejected the twin or it couldn’t keep up with her, as it did unfortunately appear to be lame and seemed to be on its last legs. Reluctantly we left it at the side of the road covered In one of Luke’s t-shirts hopeful that the farmer may turn up soon.

And that was that. A bit of a baptism of fire for mum, sister and brother in law who’d never wild camped before – but despite the grumbling on the hike back I think they mostly enjoyed the experience. Mum still seems keen to go again at some point anyway so I haven’t totally sickened her off!

I finally got out after nearly half a year in post paternal hibernation, in which I’ve neglected the blog entirely as you can tell! The truth is, my 2nd born arrived in the late Autumn of 2023 and is now nearly 4 months old, so I figured it’s about time I dust off the rods, scrape the rust off a few hooks and get back to being an occasional nuisance to things with fins.

I went for the easy option of opting to chase a few Whiting somewhere locally, which I figured would provide the best prospect of a few rattles. Not the most exciting, but I’m not in serious mode at the minute and just happy to get out for a bit of sport. Steve was up visiting family so we hatched a plan for a few hours on the walkway at South Shields, hoping to cross paths with one of the numerous Haddock that have over-wintered our shores this year. Having been something of a rainbow fish for the last few decades, It’s great to see the Haddock enjoying less commercial pressure locally and coming back in numbers, and hopefully it continues year on year. I wonder if we’ll see a subsequent increase in any other species on our shores in the coming years – it would certainly be great to see the Plaice fishing get somewhere back to what it used to be.

Anyway. It’s unseasonably warm considering it’s February. So much so, I’m aghast to notice that as I walk along the promenade to meet Steve and Martyn, I’m bloody sweating! 10-12 degrees is just ridiculous for the time of year! But, coupled with the lack of any real breeze, I concede that it does make for some rather comfortable fishing conditions so I suppose it can’t all be bad.

I opted for one rod, out of laziness more than strategy, with a 2 hook flapper comprising of size 2 long shanks fixed with a pair of orange floating beads. I use these Floating beads from Turkana regularly, with orange and white being my favourite. They don’t function as pop ups as such, but give small baits that subtle bit of buoyancy which makes them flutter enticingly around in any current, and obviously the bright colour can add an additional level of attraction especially in murky conditions. By no means essential, but I’ve got on really well with them and they’ve made a big difference to my catch rates on several occasions with this type of fishing.

It was a bit of a slow start as dusk descended, but into darkness the fish started to show. I was first of the mark with a 5 bearded Rockling to add to the annual species hunt tally, then the Whiting obligingly start to take everything in front of them and we each work our way through a fair few fish.

It’s Martyn’s first time sea fishing so he’s happy to get off the mark with a few. All of the fish are comfortably over the legal size limit too, although very lean for the time of year.

Fortunate or unfortunate though, the Whiting are so prolific that baits are getting pounced on within minutes of hitting the seabed, with regular double shots, so if there was any Haddock in amongst them they weren’t getting a look in. A slight pang of disappointment maybe but in all honesty I was just enjoying being out and catching fish after such a long time.

As slack water came things tailed off a bit which gave the critters time to come out; I pulled in a nice pot sized Lobster which would definitely have been coming home for a bath, had she not been laiden with eggs, so a quick snap and off she swam seconds later.

Steve also managed a double shot of bugs in the shape of an edible brown crab which was flirting with being legal size, and a surprise in the shape of a north east Spider Crab. They’re not unheard of up here, but they are somewhat of a novelty and you only hear of the odd one once in a blue moon.

Things slow down on the fish front with only the odd one coming in so we decided to wrap it at about 9:30. My recently arrived daughter is of a nocturnal disposition at the minute so I didn’t fancy staying out too late!

I kept 8 of the fish that wouldn’t have gone back due to deep hooking so that’ll keep the family in fish cakes for a bit. I think I probably threw double the amount back – they were certainly out in force!

Never know – I might get out again soon!

It’s a summary – that probably tells you all you need to know!

Over the years, I‘ve spent countless hours on surf beaches bait fishing for Bass, but when it comes to lure fishing for them, I’m still very much an amateur. It has become a bit of an obsession the last couple of years though, which has precipitated a mass exodus of British currency from my bank account on lures, rods, braids, bags etc.

Some might describe it as something similar to having all the gear, albeit less of the idea.

This year I’ve been really slow on the uptake though. First off, we’ve had a completely rubbish summer – apart from one week in June, it’s basically rained since the beginning of May. And the flat calm, crystal clear conditions conducive with the shallow, weedy areas I fish in summer have been hard to come by, as the wind seems to have been stuck in a permanent pattern of north and south easterlies. Great for surf fishing but I haven’t tried the beaches much since spring.

Anyway I’ve taken advantage of what little opportunity the weather affords and had a few early morning/late evening flick abouts. The first schoolie of the year fell victim to a Sandeel Pencil at the end of June on an otherwise unproductive session, before the weather once again put the kibosh on any further sessions and it was another 7-8 weeks before things settled enough to be worth venturing out again. Really I should have tried the beaches, but every time there was a window I seemed to be busy.

Anyway, a couple of weeks back I dragged my corpse out of bed at 4am for an early morning session before work and was treated to my first glimpse of a Northumberland sunrise in I don’t know how many years.

The Bass weren’t as impressed as me clearly, with only one fish taking interest in my lure, a white DoLive stick, and promptly ejecting it into a thick raft of bladderwrack a few seconds later. It gave me confidence though and I decided to venture out the following evening to fish into darkness, accompanied by Marc, in what we would have usually considered perfect conditions. Gin clear and flat calm – but still the Bass weren’t in an obliging mood as for the first few hours our lures may have well been in the back of the car for all they were being intercepted by hungry fish.

As the light really faded I clipped on a patchinko 125 in 500g colour. I’ve not had a Bass on a surface lure yet but I’m determined to give it a try every time I’m out. Having thrashed the hell out the venue for hours I admit I was ready to give up, as was Marc. Just as I was contemplating my last cast, I started to see small baitfish scattering in the shallows to my right, clearly startled by something. I was then taken completely off guard by a big splash behind the pachinko. I’ve read that this is pretty typical behaviour for Bass as they attempt to ‘stun’ the prey by swiping at it then come back round to pick it up. This happened a few times over the next 10 mins, then just as Marc came over admitting defeat, a Bass finally hit the lure solid on the surface no more than 8 yards out in 2 foot of water.

A short but spirited fight ensued before the net is slipped under a nice chunky Bass approaching 3lb – a lure PB for me, and off the surface! At this point the light has more or less gone and the tide is ebbing so we decide to call it a night.

Round 2

Bit by the surface bug, I was out again the following week to see whether it was a fluke. Another 4am wake up call saw me on the same mark less than an hour later. It was still completely dark, but a very bright, waning moon was still a fair way up above me which rendered the head torch more or less unnecessary and I could make out a very faint glare on the eastern horizon signalling the approach of daybreak.

I was a bit disheartened to see the water was a little cloudy from yet another stir up a few days previous – I’d expected it to have settled out by now but clearly not. I must admit this more or less shot my confidence of expecting to catch anything, but I messed about for a bit with a couple of slow twitch soft plastics until there was enough of a haze on the horizon that I could realistically send out the patch 125 and actually be able to see it snaking about on the surface. I was mindlessly casting, dreaming away and contemplating my sanity, thinking “why the hell did I bother getting out of bed – there’s not going to be anything here when the waters this murky” when a black, fish shaped silhouette torpedoed my lure about 20 yards out and I was, rather remarkably, attached to a Bass!

“Get in!” was the thrilled cry that woke the larks, followed by numerous expletives 10 seconds or so later when the fish managed to extricate itself mid water. But confidence renewed, I started paying more attention to what I was doing, deliberately casting at structures, currents and gullies, exploring the topography of the reef as best I could. Not 10 minutes later I got slammed again – these Bass were clearly well up for it this morning!

I managed to get this one to the net and, buzzing to get another off the top, quickly removed the single hooks and sent the fish off to tell its pals.

By this point it was high tide, but surely it had another fish in it? As a matter of fact, it had another 3, plus a few other misses from smaller schoolies. The average stamp was overall good as well – I measure me one fish at 48cm and the rest of were of a similar size. So 4 fish off the top in the space of 2 hours – I’m starting to sound like I know what I’m doing!

An hour into the ebb and the bites dried up so it was as good an excuse as any to turn my attention to the first coffee of the day.

I’m dying to get out again but the tides are tiny for the next week. My usual mark fishes best on the bigger tides I’ve noticed so I may have a scout around and see if I can find somewhere to go on the neap tides.

This is an annual event ran by seaanglingreports.co.uk to help raise money for the web fees. With a member list of nearly 200 you’d think this would be easy enough – unfortunately the reality is probably less than 20 are regularly active and still post on the forum. But those of us that do refuse to let it go; rather than attempting to compete with larger angling forums (or heaven forbid Facebook/instagram), SAR has become sort of a virtual angling club, and with most of us primarily North East and Scotland based it makes the annual meet a bit easier.

This years event was to be held at the old smokehouse on the north side of the mouth of the Tyne. 6 members turned to fish and a couple more stopped by for a chat – poor compared to last year, but we had to rearrange the original date due to bad weather, and those who could not attend were still generous with donations.

I was first blood with a 32cm Codling on frozen Crab within the first 5 minutes. All fish count in this measure and release match and this was enough to keep me in top spot for a good portion of the 4 hour match

There were a lot of nuisance Dabs and small Whiting about with little else of substance showing up. Some of the lads managed to find something more interesting to do by busying themselves with the local Sprat population, which were taking advantage of the peat stained water and clearly feeling confident enough to take their Sabiki’s fished down the side of the wall.

Their presence was clearly noted however as despite the murky water I managed a chunky Mackerel on lugworm of all things, which at 40cm turned out to be the biggest fish of the day, winning me the coveted Piscan Pot Trophy.

It was just as well as Reg managed a 34cm Codling half an hour before the end of the match which would have pipped mine by 2cm.

All in all it was a nice few hours out – nothing to write home about fish wise, but enough money raised to keep the site going another year. Pop along to seaanglingreports.co.uk if you fancy being part of a non-typical group of genuinely nice people. It might not be as busy as elsewhere on the internet, but it’s certainly not as volatile either!

It’s been nearly 4 years since my last visit to North Wales and me and Steve made the decision a few months ago that it needed to be prioritised over our usual jaunt to Scotland lest we be accused of being too predictable!

For the travelling species hunter looking to lift their tally, you could do a lot worse than Anglesey and it’s no real surprise when you have access to venues with records like Holyhead Breakwater, which historically has amassed over 50 species by itself! Most Anglers stick to the inside of the pier, where fast paced sport can be found with the various species of Wrasse, Blennys and Gobies that occupy the habitat all along the foot of the breakwater. Casting puts you onto clean sand where the usual Dogfish and Whiting will readily oblige, but you can also expect surprises in the shape of big Bass, Bull Huss, Rays and Smoothounds. And that really is only naming a few.

The outside wall is more for the specimen hunter; the ground is extremely unforgiving with large rocks, boulders and kelp, but this is where the larger fish lurk and good numbers of large Bull Huss and, on the right day, Conger eels can be expected. It’s also worth a chuck for Cuckoo Wrasse and 3 Bearded Rockling, which don’t tend to show much on the inside of the pier but can more readily be caught on the outside by putting in the time (and leads).

Anyway the plan was to start here later on the Friday afternoon, fish the evening flood for smaller species and then switch to bigger baits as darkness fell to target the bigger Huss and Conger. In reality, it didn’t work out that way for me, as I arrived at the pier a whole 3 hours after I’d intended due to horrendous traffic and road closures. Steve, Stu and Ez had already been there a few hours themselves, although sport had been slow as most of their fishing had been concentrated over the last of the ebb and first of the flood. The breakwater does tend to fish better the further you get into the flood in my experience, at least as far as targeting species down the side of the wall is concerned.

So, I managed an hour of species hunting before the light began to fade and amassed a small tally of Corkwing Wrasse and a couple of nice Ballan Wrasse to get me started before I switched focus to targeting bigger specimens. Darkness is definitely a factor in successful Huss fishing, maybe not as important as with Conger, but Huss are definitely more active at night. They love sticky ground as well, so often times you can target both species at the same time.

A strong pulley rig with big, strong hooks is all you’ll need. 6/0s are my go to at the business end with something like a 5/0 demon circle with an offset point as a pennel. Once upon a time I never used to use a pennel hook over rough ground, but over the years I’ve not found it makes any difference in terms of lost gear, and the pennel provides better presentation and definitely improves hook up rate, especially using a circle or chinu pattern. Fish baits are all you need – mackerel and/or squid are a standard option that will catch well, but if you can get it, what Huss really love is a fresh Whiting, Pouting or Poor Cod bait. These have accounted for many double figure Huss for me, incl my PB (a fish over 14lb). It seems to sort out the bigger specimens as well – In fact I would go as far as to say if you gave me the choice either of these 3 baits VS Mackerel the latter would get binned every time!

Anyway – big baits were plopped out the back of the breakwater as the light faded and we set about the evenings fishing. Dogfish started to make a nuisance of themselves pretty much immediately, as is often the case here. As the tide turned however they seemed to slacken off, which proved effective as less than an hour later my ratchet stripped away indicating the first proper Huss bite of the evening. They’re not the most exciting fighters but they do put up a good account of themselves, tending to hang deep until they’re at your feet. Steve manoeuvres in with the dropnet when the fish surfaces and expertly hauls the fish up the wall. It’s a clear double, and after a quick weigh it hits the scales bang on 12lb – great start!

Less than an hour later up comes a second, smaller fish a round the 5-6lb mark and then Stu follows suit not long after with a fish of his own, landing his first ever Huss, an angry female going over 7lb.

The tides halfway back now and bites dry up, save for the ever present Dogfish, and we decide to call it a night. That long walk back along the breakwater never gets any easier!

A rough nights sleep thanks to a punctured sleeping matt meant I suffered a bit the morning after, but eventually got up the motivation to have a few chucks off the back of the breakwater closer inshore while the rest of them were still snoring away. This didn’t produce much to write home about, a couple of Wrasse and of course the ever present Dogfish. The plan was to fish a rock mark for the evening flood, but since there was no rush to get there we dropped on to Amlwch for a spot of species hunting as the tide ebbed. The venue has been getting a lot of social media and YouTube attention recently and has been getting hammered as a result, but it is still producing a decent array of species for those using light gear. On arrival it was the busiest I’d ever seen it, with at least 20 people fishing. It’s only a small pier so this makes things pretty cramped, but thankfully there was still a bit of room on the inside and we tallied up a decent array of Corkwings and a few Ballans. I was hoping for a Goby or two, but sadly the most interesting thing that came up was a Long Spined Sea Scorpion!

Come tea time it was time to get to our next mark to see if there are any Conger willing to play. A precarious scramble over jagged rocks and boulders saw us awkwardly perched 15 ft above the water which would make landing any decent fish interesting.

With hours of daylight left, I busied myself with the light gear, knocking up a repetitive tally of Ballan’s and Corkwing’s again. The lads daringly set the stalls out for bigger fish at distance and got pestered by Dogfish for their enthusiasm.

Perseverance with the light gear paid off for me with probably the most interesting mini species of the weekend in the shape of a Tompot Blenny, which made a nice change from the onslaught of Wrasse.

Then Stu matched my bet with his first ever Leopard Spotted Goby. A trip of many firsts for Stu! Meanwhile, after relenting and casting out a big rod I was bringing in what I assumed to be another Dogfish, but on surfacing it was a much darker colour and turned out to be a Dogfish sized Bull Huss.

All of a sudden we seemed to be getting snagged up on a regular basis, and with suspicions growing in regards to what the culprit might be, I managed to drop off a small strap Conger on a 2 hook flapper right at my feet, which confirmed our theory that we were being hung up by small straps taking our bait and retreating into their holes. Sadly, that was the only sight of a conger we got all night, and when darkness settled in and the heavens opened the rocks became a bit precarious and we decided to call it a night around midnight, all of us tired from the weekends exploits.

So ends another weekend trip away, and probably my last for a while. It was great to have Stu and Ez along with me and Steve for a change, the banter never stopped all weekend and we had a right good laugh. Looking forward to the next one!

The old faithful venue is still producing the goods, with my latest session producing a decent haul of Bass, albeit none of them beyond the schoolie stage of their lifecycle!

As a venue, Druridge isn’t world famous for the size of the fish it produces, but it is a safe bet to avoid a blank. In fact in 15 years of fishing here I’ve only ever blanked once and can recall the session clearly, as it’s the only time I’ve ever fished the beach in totally flat calm conditions. Mildly overcast on a late spring early morning, the water was like a sheet of glass, with zero ripple from the wind. And the small Flounder and Turbot that can usually be relied on to provide sport were nowhere to be found. Druridge is probably my most regular venue locally, but I’ve made a point to never fish it in flat calm conditions since!

At 7 miles long, the bay has the classical north east ‘C’ shape of most of the beaches in the area and is a flexible option in any onshore conditions as both the head and foot of the bay are protected by large, rocky outcrops and skeers which take the sting out of any prevailing northerly or southerly swell. It doesn’t take much to get the water moving either, and a 2-3ft swell is all that’s needed to get the Bass on the feed.

Such was the case when Marc messaged me asking if I fancied another evening bait fishing for Bass. I checked the forecast – pretty much identical conditions to when me and Mike were out the other week, with a 2.5 ft north easterly swell to put some fizz in the water and get things moving. When I arrived at around 6pm it looked positive – a little coloured from recent rain but I’ve never known that put Bass off, and it’s rarely heavy on Druridge anyway with very little silt build up over the main body of the bay. After a slight false start, which involved a trudge back to the car as I’d somehow managed to leave my rod stand in the boot in my haste to get down to the beach, I was fishing.

Short up and overs with a size 1 circle hook as a pennel and a 1/0 Sakuma worm hook as the main were generously baited with fresh Ragworm and lobbed out into the turbulence. With the onset of lighter nights, I’m starting with 2 rods as I usually find the best sport comes as the light fades and into darkness, so having the extra rod during daylight can help to pick out any early arrivals that might feel more keen than their peers. Marc arrives within half an hour and sets up to my left and, between commenting on how perfect the conditions look, we set about waiting for things to go dark in anticipation of the first fish.

Yet we needn’t have been resigned to the idea of such a waiting game. The Bass clearly had other ideas about what time dinner should be served and were quite happy to start jumping on our hooks from the word go. We each built up a succession of schoolie Bass during the last few hours of daylight, the biggest touching around 39cm so nothing huge. Bigger fish are possible if you work for them, but a fish going over 2lb frankly is a fair achievement around here.

We have a particularly mad hour where a large school of fish is clearly camped right in front of us, with some baits in the water less than a minute before they’re set upon by hungry Bass. I ended up landing 6 fish in less than 40 minutes!

Ironically, as witching hour descends, things slow down – the fish are still around and feeding, but not as hard as before. Marc manages the best of the evening around an hour before high water though with a lovely 45cm fish thats destined for the table. I add a couple more Bass to my tally to bring me to 12 for the evening and, although there are fish still there, I conceded to tiredness and decide to call it an evening.

I only recall one other session a few years ago where I had so many fish and it’s nice after such a time to have a bit of a red letter day. I think we’re about at the point when it’s time for the lure rod to come out!