First sailing, Jude, Jordan and Max, all returnee's. And what a sailing. On paper. Light winds, and heading out at dead low. A quick stop on the beast mark, but with very little tide, nothing doing. As the tide increased, in onto the closer rocks.
Here we had enjoyed fast and furious action last sailing on the afternoon version of this state of tide. Today, it wasn't firing at all. Just two, but at least one for the table. Starting to see some more changes on the reefs. The brown weed has now all grown on the rocks, and it instantly reflects on those fish that are spending most of their time in the rocks, taking on the same beautiful bronzy hues. These fish, almost always reflect their chosen habits in their stomach, crabs mostly, with perhaps the odd blenny. Adding further weight to a theory I subscribe to, that each bass is a specialist, and has its chosen environment. This would link well to tagging returns, that show bass like to return to the same places season after season.
It was getting desperate. A couple of smalls by the marina, and then at least some more consistent action further west, although again all smalls. And bad news from Jordan. It transcribed that he was on my boat early, due to the crap forecast. "What crap forecast?" I enquired. I set my trips on the 1900 data the previous evening. Quickly looking at XCweather, it showed the swing to the SE and increasing happening much earlier than the 1600 that had been. Now it was 1100, the time of my next sailing. Some hurried call's abandoned that, and the wind began to strengthen even as I finished my last call. And that was that. Not the greatest of sailings, and an early bath for BIF1.
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