Reminiscence of a fool... Part 6 (his first playground kiss)
This capture proved to be a significant turning point for me as it proved I was doing most things right most of the time. My only disappointment was I never got to weigh or measure her properly, so it true weight will always remain a mystery.
… like a school child after his first playground kiss
October 18, 2011
I stood there in awe, in fact if anyone was watching earlier they would have seen me running around like a child having just received his first playground kiss.
My last trip out was very frustrating with 3 good bass runs missed. The first, left a visible swirl the size of a dinner plate in the flat calm sea, the second took the line from left to right for about 3 metres with the strike empty, and the third had the bait runner screaming as I lifted the rod to let a dog walker and his dog pass underneath (I kid you not!) As I set the baitrunner and watched the line tighten to the rod tip, I struck once again into thin air.
The last two missed bites came after I had thrown in all my leftover bait before having just one last cast. That was one interesting walk back to the car I can tell you.
The tide was coming to the end of its Spring set so I knew I had to take advantage while the bass were still around, so this morning I sent a text to my boss asking if I could work the morning and take the rest of the day off (well nothing ventured and all that), and amazingly he said yes. So before I knew it I was set up again in my favourite spot.
The weather had changed, gone were the late summer conditions and smooth rolling seas, replaced by a brisk freshening wind and an increasing threat of rain, but I couldn’t care less. With an hour or so before the ‘hot’ time, I put the rod in the rest, clicked the baitrunner on, sat back in the chair and watched the tide roar in on the strengthening wind. The rod was being knocked into a steady pattern as the waves were pulling at the line, but two knocks out of sync, combined with a screaming reel had me dashing out of my chair. I lifted into the fish, and it was unbelievably fish on.
From the start the bass made a purposeful run out to sea taking line from a tight clutch. Steady pressure, combined with the fighting curve of the rod soon stopped her in her tracks creating a fabulous white flurry of sea spray which was quickly drowned by the heavy seas. Changing track, she decided to make her way shore bound, and for a moment I had trouble keeping up, until with help from the kiting effect, the bass made a dash at amazing speed to the shore. Even with the heavy seas the cut created by the line was amazing. Up until now I had yet to see the bass, but when the next wave drew back, the site that laid before me took my breath away – it was huge.
I was now in very new territory, as my normal practise was to use the next wave and the curve of the rod to spring it onto the beach, but when I tried, the bass didn’t move. It just waited for the next undertow to resume its dogged battle. Thinking back, this was when I started to panic, but I like to think in a controlled way! Every time I had the bass in position for me to bring it ashore, another wave would come crashing down to allow it to hang in the undertow. So I decided to take courage in both hands and on the next available wave, without thought to the rod, line and hook hold quickly pulled the bass onto the shore where I could drop the rod, grasp the bass from under it gills and drag her to safety. It looked bloody huge.
I have read that large perch looks massive, but a large bass seems like a different species! I just stood there for a moment, and laughed, as it just didn’t seem real. I then proceeded to run around like a school kid in the play ground as I went through the process of unhooking, taking a picture and then trying to weigh her. The carrier bag as a sling was just farcical, so I made a note of the length on my rod before attempting to return the amazing creature to her watery home.
I tried to hold her upright in the waves, but was unable to grip the wrist of the tail properly due to its size. She kept laying flat and was having trouble getting water through her gills as a series of waves kept bringing her back to shore. For several moments I thought she wasn't going to make it, but eventually (and thankfully) she managed to smash through a wave to a well deserved freedom.
I was soaked, but I was a very happy man.
The tide was coming to the end of its Spring set so I knew I had to take advantage while the bass were still around, so this morning I sent a text to my boss asking if I could work the morning and take the rest of the day off (well nothing ventured and all that), and amazingly he said yes. So before I knew it I was set up again in my favourite spot.
The weather had changed, gone were the late summer conditions and smooth rolling seas, replaced by a brisk freshening wind and an increasing threat of rain, but I couldn’t care less. With an hour or so before the ‘hot’ time, I put the rod in the rest, clicked the baitrunner on, sat back in the chair and watched the tide roar in on the strengthening wind. The rod was being knocked into a steady pattern as the waves were pulling at the line, but two knocks out of sync, combined with a screaming reel had me dashing out of my chair. I lifted into the fish, and it was unbelievably fish on.
From the start the bass made a purposeful run out to sea taking line from a tight clutch. Steady pressure, combined with the fighting curve of the rod soon stopped her in her tracks creating a fabulous white flurry of sea spray which was quickly drowned by the heavy seas. Changing track, she decided to make her way shore bound, and for a moment I had trouble keeping up, until with help from the kiting effect, the bass made a dash at amazing speed to the shore. Even with the heavy seas the cut created by the line was amazing. Up until now I had yet to see the bass, but when the next wave drew back, the site that laid before me took my breath away – it was huge.
I was now in very new territory, as my normal practise was to use the next wave and the curve of the rod to spring it onto the beach, but when I tried, the bass didn’t move. It just waited for the next undertow to resume its dogged battle. Thinking back, this was when I started to panic, but I like to think in a controlled way! Every time I had the bass in position for me to bring it ashore, another wave would come crashing down to allow it to hang in the undertow. So I decided to take courage in both hands and on the next available wave, without thought to the rod, line and hook hold quickly pulled the bass onto the shore where I could drop the rod, grasp the bass from under it gills and drag her to safety. It looked bloody huge.
I have read that large perch looks massive, but a large bass seems like a different species! I just stood there for a moment, and laughed, as it just didn’t seem real. I then proceeded to run around like a school kid in the play ground as I went through the process of unhooking, taking a picture and then trying to weigh her. The carrier bag as a sling was just farcical, so I made a note of the length on my rod before attempting to return the amazing creature to her watery home.
I tried to hold her upright in the waves, but was unable to grip the wrist of the tail properly due to its size. She kept laying flat and was having trouble getting water through her gills as a series of waves kept bringing her back to shore. For several moments I thought she wasn't going to make it, but eventually (and thankfully) she managed to smash through a wave to a well deserved freedom.
I was soaked, but I was a very happy man.
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