Rough as rats

Ventured out last night to fish at what's become my favourite storm beach. The forecast suggested winds of around 20mph following the morning's 45mph blow. Well, they got that wrong.

I was amazed by the strength of the wind as I parked up. Later, after checking a local weather station, it turned out the wind had been sitting at a steady 37mph and gusting over 40mph for most of the evening.

The conditions looked absolutely perfect and, unsurprisingly, I had the place virtually to myself apart from a couple of hardy dog walkers. As I made my way to my chosen spot, I noticed a fair bit of weed in the water and hoped it wouldn't prove too much of a problem.

The sea was really rolling in and I couldn't wait to get a half mackerel bait out into the surf. First cast, out went the mackerel and a four-ounce gripper. Almost immediately the line was festooned with weed.

Not just any weed either. This was the type that clings stubbornly to the line, bunches up at the tip ring and refuses to budge. The only solution was to reel in, walk back up the beach and get every yard of line clear of the water before stripping it all off.

Second cast went a little further out in the hope of clearing the worst of it. Almost instantly I had a knock, followed moments later by a determined run.

Blimey.

Using circle hooks in rough conditions and heavy weed isn't always ideal and, sure enough, the extra resistance from the weed, combined with a freespool that wasn't set quite lightly enough, meant the bass managed to drop the bait before the hook could find a hold.

Still, it was a hugely encouraging. It confirmed exactly what I'd hoped - the fish were there, and the conditions really were as good as they looked. I kept the bait fishing for as long as I dared before repeating the now familiar process of reeling in and clearing weed.

To spare you the full extent of my moaning, the rest of the evening carried on in much the same fashion, only without any further interest from the bass. Eventually the inevitable happened and I was rewarded with my first braid weed knot of the season. That was enough for me.

I packed up early and headed home in a slight huff.

As I sit typing this, the rain is hammering against the windows. Naturally, none of that was in the forecast either. Despite the weed, the wind, the dropped fish and the weed knot, it only takes one run to keep the enthusiasm burning. So, weather permitting, or perhaps weather ignoring, I'll be back out there again tonight.