The whitebait glistened with the setting sun

The trips continue, along with the blanks. I arrived about an hour after high tide, at a mark that often has bass running the shoreline after whitebait as the tide drops - so things were looking good.

I cast and walked, but saw no signs of action. In the distance, I noticed a jogger who had stopped and was on her phone. As I reached her, she put her hand up and said, “Stop,” and continued her call.

“Sorry, I was just telling a fisherman to stop,” she said, then looked up at me. “I think there’s a hand grenade washed up, and I’m talking to the police.” Later, I directed the police to the spot, and when they walked back, they showed it to me - it was just a child’s toy, but it looked bloody realistic.

Later, I moved to the other end of the bay and sat looking out, making the occasional cast for good measure. Nothing was showing, so after a couple of last casts, I decided to make my way home. As I was walking to the car, I noticed a flat spot in the sea about 100 yards out, indicating a deep patch in the seabed. But as I turned to walk back, I happened to see whitebait jumping 200 yards further along the shoreline.

With a gentle jog, I made my way to find the culprits. Sure enough, bass were cajoling the whitebait up and then smashing into them. I couldn’t get my topwater out fast enough. About an hour later, and after a series of lure changes, I resigned myself to sitting there and watching the spectacle. They were fixated on their prize. It felt like three or four bass working together, and at times it was like watching fireworks as the whitebait flanks glistened in the setting sun right by my feet.

I’m going to try again, but this time with some feathers I’ve just picked up, about the same size and colour as the whitebait. Hopefully, they’ll slip up with this new approach, if I can find them again.