Before this session, I’d had a trip the week before where I was absolutely chuffed to catch two blonde ray (my first Cornish ones) to 8.7 and a couple of small eyed ray, both around 7-8lbs. I’m sure many of you will already know the area and mark that produces these fish at this time of year but this was my first trip there and I wasn’t taking any chances. Due to the bit of a swell that was coming in, I never went down and fished from the ‘bottom rock’, although I did manage to cast from it a few times. At the time, I was perfectly contented as the blonde was species 52 of the year and one I hadn’t banked on getting. However, almost straight after I had left, another angler came down, fished over the high and managed two double figure blondes. This didn’t overly bother me until it occurred to me that I’d caught very few ‘large’ fish through the course of the year, maybe because I’ve been concentrating so much on racking up the species. Until that point, my biggest fish of 2016 was a huss of 10 odd pounds (although I did lose one a fair bit bigger in the same month) and the biggest ray I had caught was a good few ounces shy of a double. It was then that I began to feel that another session was in order to see if I could winkle out one of those double figure blondes for myself.
I did procrastinate a bit about timing my trip. I had an important lesson at college in the afternoon and I could only fish until half past one at the latest. I toyed with the idea of going super early in the morning and fishing over high in darkness but common sense told me that this wasn’t a safe option for a solo session at this spot. In the end, I piled everything into the car just after 6AM and roared down the A30, arriving at my destination after about 50 minutes. I was somewhat surprised to have to walk through a field of yaks on my way down to the mark, which weren’t there the week before. I have no idea whether these beasts are known to be aggressive but if they did decide to attack, I wouldn’t fancy my chances against them horns!
I got through the field of yaks unscathed and trekked down to the rocks before making the slightly tricky clamber and hop across to where I would be fishing. The tide was still reasonably high and I chose a little plateau a good height from the water and set up my gear. I was pleased to see that the sea was relatively calm, and watching for a while showed no sneaky rogue waves come through, so I was satisfied I was safe enough. The first cast went out and I had just started baiting up the other rod when I saw two cormorants flying fast towards my lines. Unfortunately, the inevitable happened and one of the hapless birds flew full pelt into my line and I cursed bitterly as I knew this would be a full-on rescue job. I managed to ease the cormorant in (swearing all the time) and lift it up to my rock platform where I quickly threw my jacket over its head to quieten it down. Fortunately, the bird wasn’t badly tangled and seemed uninjured so I quickly released it from the line and let it go off about its business again. I hurriedly reeled the rest of the way in and recast that rod with the same bait whilst I sorted my other kit.
After I’d got my other main rod in the water and another cheeky one cast off at a different angle, I reeled in the first again to rebait. I was pleasantly surprised to feel a bit of resistance which proved to be a plaice of around a pound. I quickly unhooked and released the flattie, hoping that this was the signal for an action-packed session. As it turned out, this wasn’t to be the case. The calming sea in front of me was alive with fish, mainly gars and a good shoal of mullet that paraded in front of me every so often but my bottom baits were coming back virtually pristine. Eventually the tide dropped sufficiently that I felt confident about dropping down onto the bottom rock and fishing off there as I knew I could get more range on my cast and I would have more casting angles to play with. I made the jump over and quickly fired out my three rods. From the flat platform I could really get into my casts and with the wind behind me, a high trajectory was sending the traces well out into the sunlit waters.
After a while, the first rod I had cast registered a couple of small deliberate pulls and the line dropped back slightly. I watched as the tip leaned over another couple of times before I picked up the rod and felt for what the fish was doing. A slow pull convinced me that the fish was on so I reeled into it and lifted the rod into healthy resistance. This felt like a ray and with steady pressure, I eased it towards me. The first fifty yards or so, the fish did nothing much but as it came in closer it began to make a series of powerful thumping dives and I realised it was a bit bigger than I had initially thought. I caught sight of the underside of the fish as it tried to power towards the base of the rocks I was stood on and as I checked its dive, it righted itself and I could make out the markings of a good-sized small eye. I picked a sloping rock on which to land it and drew it in with a helpful swell. Picking the fish up, I could tell it was a reasonable weight and thought it might be a double, which the scales confirmed, settling at 10.14. I was pretty pleased with my catch and even went to the trouble of rigging up my self-take gear so I could get a snap or two of me with the fish. After a quick couple of photos, I returned the ray and she swam away strongly back into the tide.
The next couple of hours passed without event. The sun drew higher in the sky and despite the cold north-easterly wind, warmed the rocks around me and made it a pleasant day to be out. The shoal of mullet passing by was tormenting me somewhat and a small pod of fish drifted past that looked suspiciously like triggers. Acting on instinct, I rigged up one of my rods with a very crude float rig, baited it with mussel and dropped it in close, reasoning that if the fish were triggers, I would find it hard to forgive myself for not at least having a try for them. After half an hour of mullet swimming past and seeing nothing that looked remotely like a triggerfish, I reeled that rod in and began the process of rigging it back up to fish a bottom bait.
I happened to look round whilst tethering a sandeel to my hooks and noticed that the line on my right hand rod had dropped limp whilst the other was tight into the tide. I made my way over and picked up the rod, reeling the slack line up before it dropped again. Finally, the line drew tighter and I felt something at the other end begin to pull slowly and deliberately and I knew this was my cue. I reeled in tight and lifted into the fish, feeling instant heaviness. My first thought was that I had hooked something hefty and powerful as a short lunge pulled the rod right over. The fish slowly began to make its way towards me, although I didn’t feel like I was in complete control over it, and the angle of the line into the water showed that it was kiting its way off to my left with the current. The feeling of weight stayed on through the fish’s downtide movement and I was very aware that I was putting quite a lot of pressure on and the line on the reel was not that new! I remember saying to myself, ‘this is a f***ing big fish’ and getting an impression of its great power as it began to rise in the water. About fifty yards out, there was a boil as the fish surfaced and I could see that it was a ray although I couldn’t get an idea of the size at that distance. It was then that the fish decided it was going to reverse direction and dive down into the tide, powering down towards the bottom and dragging line off the clutch with its last determined lunge. It was then that everything went solid; the fish had managed to suck down onto the bottom and was lying doggo. I’ve had ray stick on the deck before and it’s never been that much of a problem shifting them off but this one was having absolutely none of it. The rod was hooped over and I was putting as much pressure on as I dared, gaining literally inches of ground without ever managing to get the ray to release its hold. It seemed as if this stalemate continued for the next five minutes or so until the fish was nearly under my feet. I had the shockleader knot inside the tip ring, literally pulling from directly over the fish – I could even see the ridges of its back as it held onto the bottom in an iron grip. I never felt the ray let go in the end but I became aware that it was lifting in the water and as its frame came into view, I finally began to get an idea of the size of the thing that I had hooked… huge! The fish was clearly a big female blonde although the angle of its body as it rose in the water column looked odd. I could see that the hooklength was pointing underneath its pelvic fins and I began to wonder if it was foul-hooked, which could explain the brute physicality of getting it in so far. It dawned on me that I was going to have to try to land this beast at some point and I clapped eyes on a slanting rock that the tiny swell was gently lapping at. I wrestled the ray into a position where I could lead it towards this slope and it fought me all the way, using its immense body to resist as much as possible. Finally though, I got the leviathan lined up to (hopefully) surf it up onto the rocks and into my clutches. The fish was lolling on the top and I carefully drew it inwards and let the swell deposit it on to the slanting rocks. The ray wasn’t giving up that easily though and let itself slide down the retreating swell, leaving me back at square one. I tried again and the same thing happened but I kept my patience, knowing that this fish could snap my trace like cotton if I pulled when it was going the other way. Finally, a good swell pushed the ray right up and luckily it decided to suck down onto the rock face, staying there as the wave receded. I took my chance and pounced, wrestling it free from the surface and struggling to lift it with one hand before realising that this fish was a two-handed job! I couldn’t believe the size and weight of this creature in my grasp and wondered how the hell I had managed to get it in when it had dictated the battle literally the entire way!
I heaved the giant ray back to basecamp and lay it carefully on the rocks. It was at this point that I realised the line had pinged free of its pelvic fin and the bottom hook was nestling perfectly in its lower jaw, fair and square. I couldn’t take in the size of the fish, it was truly enormous – I’ve seen a good few doubles on the rocks and I’ve even seen a 27lb blonde that my mate Mark caught the year previous and brought round to my house to show me but none of that could have prepared me for the shock of seeing a ray that big lying on the rocks in defeat. I wondered if my scales would be man enough to get a reading, they do register well past the twenty pound mark but the construction didn’t look as if it could cope with that much dead weight hanging off it. Luckily, they rose to the occasion and stayed intact as the needle swung way past twenty pounds and hovered at 22lbs 9oz. I was elated, I had often fantasised about what it would be like to catch a truly monstrous blonde ray and here one was, and a gloriously handsome one at that! I pulled myself together and rigged the self-take gear up again before rattling off a few shots. Luckily, this fish was really well behaved, which I was extremely thankful for! If it had decided to be awkward, I would definitely have had to rockpool it and wait for it to calm a little before trying again. Finally, I carried the great ray down to the crystal clear sea and gently pushed her back out towards her home on a small swell. She hung in the water briefly before swimming down towards the seabed with small undulations of her wings. I lost sight of her underneath the protruding rocks, then as I went back to my tripod, I saw her swimming swiftly and purposefully along the bottom, making for the small reefs off to the right. I was really pleased to see her swim away strongly; I am fond of rays and I like to see signs that they’re in good condition when they go back.
All that remained for me to do then was to pack up and get back to Newquay in time for my lesson at college. The whole sequence of events had taken me pretty much up to my curfew time and it seemed fitting to end on the high note; the ocean had given me far more than I had hoped for on that day and to ask for more seemed ignorant.
Anyway, in species-hunting news, you may have spotted from earlier in the story that I have made it to 52 Cornish shore species now. Getting to the fifty mark was done by sorting out some garfish, and then an LRF session or two where I mopped up a couple of new goby species and some tompot blennies. I’m still at it too, I’ve not given up hope of getting a tub gurnard before the year is out, although I am getting pretty tired of trying for them. A dover sole is still possible and the capture of a silver eel is another particularly messy job yet to be completed. I’d also like to get a herring at some point too, I think these are supposed to be LRF-able so that would add an extra layer of fun to the proceedings. More species shenanigans as and when they take place.