This evening was more than enough

There was no need to close the car door as the wind almost slammed it shut for me. The forecast had suggested it would be breezy, but the wind was far stronger than expected.

As I walked along the beach, I dispensed with my rod rest and chair and decided I would hold the rod throughout the session. Making my way along the wind-battered shoreline to my chosen mark, I knew that it wasn't a great tide to fish that evening. In truth, I was fishing it on a bit of a whim, but I really wanted to see if the bass that had shown on the bigger tides were still around.

The sea was grey, and the sky almost matched it, the two merging into one except for the charcoal smudge of the island in front of me and the white-topped waves whipped up by the wind. It felt great just to be out.

The weed made fishing incredibly difficult. At first, I was getting no more than a couple of minutes after each cast before the waves and weed dragged my line ashore. Having fished this spot in similar conditions before, I hoped the amount of weed would lessen as the tide eased. I also increased the lead size to hold bottom for longer. Thankfully, the combination of the two helped.

What followed was two or three hours of fishing in truly epic conditions, accompanied by the constant feeling that, at any moment, a proper bass would come along and take my bait. Roughly two or three hours after high tide, I started getting some interest in my mackerel bait. When you're holding the rod and fishing with braid, you feel everything. I felt a bass pick up the bait, move off with it, and then drop it.

Normally, that sort of tentative interest points to a small school bass, but this felt more substantial, particularly given the conditions. The same thing kept happening for the next forty minutes. After each cast, I checked the bait to make sure I hadn't been robbed, but everything suggested it was the same fish returning time and again. I hope it was a small bass struggling with the size of the bait I was using.

As the evening progressed, geese flew noisily overhead. It really was wonderful to be back out in the elements. I had the beach entirely to myself and, despite it being early evening, there wasn't even a dog walker in sight. Given the conditions, that wasn't surprising.

At around half past eight, the tide had retreated far enough for me to decide it was time to call it a day. I packed up and made my way back to the car. It was one of those sessions where you genuinely felt that something special could happen at any moment. In the end, it didn't - and today that didn't matter. Just being there, alone with the wind, sea and possibility of what might come next, was more than enough.