First sailing, and it was my pleasure to welcome aboard returnee's Scott and Nick, plus, new to BIF1 and to fishing full stop, Olga. And based on where I was last playing with the brit shoals, I had a good idea where to prospect. Seas were calm with just a hint of breeze.
The down side was we had an hour of lazy ebb to deal with before we got the flood tide pushing in, and this did show. We found fish. Indeed, all day we were sitting over hundreds of bass feeding on billions of tiny fishes, and yet... Even the successful connections were from the tiniest of taps if the lure was falling. But actually, I think all of the eight fish we landed were on the retrieve. Although, first sailing was a long time ago as I write this.
Not many fish, but on the upside, four were for the table. More positives, Olga is a cracking caster now, and is already wanting to invest in tackle and further sessions, including shore. Luckily, she now knows Brighton's shore guide...
Second sailing, my pleasure to welcome aboard returnee Rupert, and fellow boat owner Richard and his very grown up son James. Two birthday boys, Rupert's fiftieth today and James twenty seventh next week. Would Neptune reward? Of course. He isn't that harsh.
Indeed, with the main thrust of the flood falling back, and then the full force of the ebb, this sailing had it all. And once we found a good shoal we could settle on, they did seem a little more willing to open their mouths. This was reflected in the final tally of seventeen bass landed, plus three bream, with four killed for the table and plenty more table fish returned.
Final sailing, and it was Ian, Sam, Jon and Tim joining me. One worry. The previous sailing a very un-forecast SW breeze had sprung up. Heading out, it was quickly apparent it was still there. Sea state was still reasonable though, so I made the decision to push out.
With it being a little bit bouncy, and with uncertainty about the winds intentions, I began inshore. We did pick a couple of fish there but nothing special. After an hour, some gulls appeared in the near distance. It was enough to warrant heading out there.
From this we got an hour of reasonable sport. Far too many dropping off though, and stacks of missed takes. With an hour to run we were at ten fish landed, with five killed for the table. But then the wind stepped up a notch. With the first two hours being on the edge of what I am comfortable with for good lure control, we were now in the realms of returning to port as the sea state would imminently worsen. Early bath was called.
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