The last month or so has been frustrating for me. With our Cornish coastline typically starting to raise its sleepy head sometime in April, the persistent swell and dodgy winds have made getting out to my usual spring haunts very tricky. It seems like every time there’s been a decent tide, weather or work has ruined my plans. Normally by this time of year, I would have had a few decent outings and a few tidy fish to my name. As it is, I’ve fished a handful of times in 2018 and caught only one or two fish worth talking about. Things are starting to look up though, the weather gradually seems to be changing for the better and there has been numbers of mackerel and launce inshore. After a lacklustre winter and a long wait for 2018 to get out of first gear, things appear to finally be heading in the right direction.
Seeing as the shore fishing is due to start waking up, I thought I’d introduce a change of focus here and start writing more about my actual fishing trips. If I get on an interesting roll with anything, I might combine a few sessions into one post, but the general vibe is going to be more about trying to put my experiences into words and (hopefully) these will be things that you readers can enjoy and relate to. My latest trip was a significant one for me as it marked the real start of, what I consider to be, one of the most fun parts of the year. As the sea begins to calm down from its winter fury, the rock marks on the north coast of Cornwall become safely fishable, and I can seriously start to think about testing out the mood of the area and getting an idea about what kind of year it’s going to be.
It isn’t a well-kept secret that the St. Agnes to Perranporth area can be particularly productive for early-season smoothhounds. Generally, these are smaller fish than the rest of the country can look forward to, running from around 5-10lbs, but they are still thrilling sport and well worth the investment in crab bait. My experience over the last couple of years, however, is that this particular area seems to have lost a little of its lustre when it comes to attracting hounds, with other stretches of the north Cornwall coast seemingly producing better results. It’s a fact of fishing that marks can slip in and out of form over successive years, and with that in mind, I decided to gamble on revisiting one of my favourite spots to see whether with the changing of the year, the grey dogs had swarmed back to their old haunt with a vengeance.
Joining me on this session would be my new Century J Curve, making its second trip out with me. Again, this rod would be mixed in with a couple of AFAW Match Rod models, which hopefully would give me more of an idea about where the J sat in relation to my older rods power-wise. Bait-wise, I had a bucket of prime peelers to tempt the gummy sharks and a few worms to try for a bonus flattie. After a brief drive, I parked up and made my way across the familiar clifftop path to the point where a little offshoot path began to wind its way down the steep grass bank. I carefully picked my way down the trail which runs in a series of stages down to the rocks below. Having been fishing here for a few years now, there was a comforting familiarity in setting up in my usual spot, climbing up to my rock-of-choice to make a cast, and seeing the line gradually pull tight as the mid-tide draw caught hold of it.
To add a bit of spice to this session, I decided to make a bit of a change to my usual hound tactics, exchanging my familiar pulley-rig-and-grip-lead set up for a pulley dropper rig and a plain 6oz bomb. I also elected to try slightly bigger lumps of crab than I would usually bait up with and I upped my hook size from 2/0 to 3/0 accordingly. These tactical alterations were all based on an article I read not long ago that described big hounds as much more cautious biters than their smaller counterparts. Before reading this, I’d tended to assume that hounds of all sizes mostly just picked baits up and quickly made off with them, but this new food for thought did make me remember several times when better fish had given much less-pronounced bites. I wanted to maximise my chances that a good hound picking up the bait and testing it out wouldn’t be spooked by the grip lead, and so I opted for an unwired one. My idea to up the size of the crab baits a little was just to put out a bigger scent trail and to get me a slightly longer soak time on my casts, barring interference from other pest fish or crabs.
An hour passed without event and I went through a couple of cycles of casting the J Curve and then the two AFAWs. What was most noticeable to me was that I seemed to easily get through the Century and I could clearly feel the energy of the rod bending and releasing in my bottom hand. The tip appeared to whip round and recover immediately, with no noticeable wobble at all. I came to the conclusion that the J Curve was definitely a nicer rod to cast than my MK 2 Match rod, and I felt like I was getting a tad more range. I think the fact that the Century is that bit thinner and lighter meant that I was getting a quicker finish too, and I felt comfortable and in charge of the cast using it.
Darkness drew closer and with nothing on the rod fishing worm baits other than a rogue dogfish, I decided to pack that rod away and concentrate on the two fishing crab. It was not long before it became apparent that the dogfish were very much out in force, with the tips twanging away soon after the rigs touching bottom. The upside of this was that it gave me a good chance to see how the tip of the J Curve (which, like the AFAW MK 2 Match, is actually quite stiff for a ‘match’ type rod) reacted to bites. What was really pleasing for me is that the J is pretty sensitive, and I found that it was similar enough to my old rods that I could read the signals intuitively. At one point just after high water, the dogs slowed down for a spell and I did manage to attract a particularly small example of my target species. I was initially hopeful that this was a sign that some of its larger brethren had swarmed into the area, but this was to prove the session’s only grey dog.
Soon after catching the dinky hound, I had a bite of a different kind. The AFAW fishing on the left nodded a couple of times and then dropped very slack and after feeling for developments, I reeled into an impressively solid weight. My first thought was that this definitely wasn’t a hound, and the pattern of resistance felt very much like that of a ray. As I coaxed the fish closer to shore, I could feel the occasional twanging of a tail on the line and the fish was staying right down, causing me to wonder if I might even have hooked something like a rogue cod. Close in, the fish was still deep and I was beginning to get concerned about how much clearance there was between my prize and the reef. I piled on the pressure and the leader knot finally appeared, soon followed by a familiar brown shape: a huss. Although a substantial size, this fish didn’t look anything too special, and it was not until I landed the disgruntled huss on a rock and went down to grab it that I realised why it had put up such stern resistance; both hooks had lodged outside the mouth and I had been dragging the fish in sideways. A couple of years ago, whilst in college, I read some detailed research on the feeding behaviour of catsharks. One of the key observations was that that these fish often rub their bodies along food items (presumably to further immobilise their prey) before eating them. Whether this huss had been doing that and been unlucky enough to get pricked, or whether it had been actively searching for the bait and flopped onto the hooks by accident, I would never know. Still, it was a quality fish on an otherwise unremarkable outing and I was well pleased to have caught it.
After the huss, the dogs seemed to come on thick again, with both tips doing merry little dances soon after each bait settled. It had also started to rain, spurring me to begin rounding up my scattered kit and packing down. I left shortly before ten, making the steep ascent as the light shower started to intensify and arriving back at the car soaked to the skin. On the whole, however, I was well happy with my evening. I hadn’t had much business with my target species, but I had snagged a nice bonus fish and I was pleased with the way the J Curve had handled the session. A few days later, I closed a deal on a second Excalibur J to pair the other up with. This rod has now been fitted with a decent reel seat and is raring to go for my next session. Hopefully this will be something worth reporting back here, but if not, there are some good months soon to come and I expect to get at least a few stories out of them. ‘Til next time!
Seeing as the shore fishing is due to start waking up, I thought I’d introduce a change of focus here and start writing more about my actual fishing trips. If I get on an interesting roll with anything, I might combine a few sessions into one post, but the general vibe is going to be more about trying to put my experiences into words and (hopefully) these will be things that you readers can enjoy and relate to. My latest trip was a significant one for me as it marked the real start of, what I consider to be, one of the most fun parts of the year. As the sea begins to calm down from its winter fury, the rock marks on the north coast of Cornwall become safely fishable, and I can seriously start to think about testing out the mood of the area and getting an idea about what kind of year it’s going to be.
It isn’t a well-kept secret that the St. Agnes to Perranporth area can be particularly productive for early-season smoothhounds. Generally, these are smaller fish than the rest of the country can look forward to, running from around 5-10lbs, but they are still thrilling sport and well worth the investment in crab bait. My experience over the last couple of years, however, is that this particular area seems to have lost a little of its lustre when it comes to attracting hounds, with other stretches of the north Cornwall coast seemingly producing better results. It’s a fact of fishing that marks can slip in and out of form over successive years, and with that in mind, I decided to gamble on revisiting one of my favourite spots to see whether with the changing of the year, the grey dogs had swarmed back to their old haunt with a vengeance.
Joining me on this session would be my new Century J Curve, making its second trip out with me. Again, this rod would be mixed in with a couple of AFAW Match Rod models, which hopefully would give me more of an idea about where the J sat in relation to my older rods power-wise. Bait-wise, I had a bucket of prime peelers to tempt the gummy sharks and a few worms to try for a bonus flattie. After a brief drive, I parked up and made my way across the familiar clifftop path to the point where a little offshoot path began to wind its way down the steep grass bank. I carefully picked my way down the trail which runs in a series of stages down to the rocks below. Having been fishing here for a few years now, there was a comforting familiarity in setting up in my usual spot, climbing up to my rock-of-choice to make a cast, and seeing the line gradually pull tight as the mid-tide draw caught hold of it.
To add a bit of spice to this session, I decided to make a bit of a change to my usual hound tactics, exchanging my familiar pulley-rig-and-grip-lead set up for a pulley dropper rig and a plain 6oz bomb. I also elected to try slightly bigger lumps of crab than I would usually bait up with and I upped my hook size from 2/0 to 3/0 accordingly. These tactical alterations were all based on an article I read not long ago that described big hounds as much more cautious biters than their smaller counterparts. Before reading this, I’d tended to assume that hounds of all sizes mostly just picked baits up and quickly made off with them, but this new food for thought did make me remember several times when better fish had given much less-pronounced bites. I wanted to maximise my chances that a good hound picking up the bait and testing it out wouldn’t be spooked by the grip lead, and so I opted for an unwired one. My idea to up the size of the crab baits a little was just to put out a bigger scent trail and to get me a slightly longer soak time on my casts, barring interference from other pest fish or crabs.
An hour passed without event and I went through a couple of cycles of casting the J Curve and then the two AFAWs. What was most noticeable to me was that I seemed to easily get through the Century and I could clearly feel the energy of the rod bending and releasing in my bottom hand. The tip appeared to whip round and recover immediately, with no noticeable wobble at all. I came to the conclusion that the J Curve was definitely a nicer rod to cast than my MK 2 Match rod, and I felt like I was getting a tad more range. I think the fact that the Century is that bit thinner and lighter meant that I was getting a quicker finish too, and I felt comfortable and in charge of the cast using it.
Darkness drew closer and with nothing on the rod fishing worm baits other than a rogue dogfish, I decided to pack that rod away and concentrate on the two fishing crab. It was not long before it became apparent that the dogfish were very much out in force, with the tips twanging away soon after the rigs touching bottom. The upside of this was that it gave me a good chance to see how the tip of the J Curve (which, like the AFAW MK 2 Match, is actually quite stiff for a ‘match’ type rod) reacted to bites. What was really pleasing for me is that the J is pretty sensitive, and I found that it was similar enough to my old rods that I could read the signals intuitively. At one point just after high water, the dogs slowed down for a spell and I did manage to attract a particularly small example of my target species. I was initially hopeful that this was a sign that some of its larger brethren had swarmed into the area, but this was to prove the session’s only grey dog.
Soon after catching the dinky hound, I had a bite of a different kind. The AFAW fishing on the left nodded a couple of times and then dropped very slack and after feeling for developments, I reeled into an impressively solid weight. My first thought was that this definitely wasn’t a hound, and the pattern of resistance felt very much like that of a ray. As I coaxed the fish closer to shore, I could feel the occasional twanging of a tail on the line and the fish was staying right down, causing me to wonder if I might even have hooked something like a rogue cod. Close in, the fish was still deep and I was beginning to get concerned about how much clearance there was between my prize and the reef. I piled on the pressure and the leader knot finally appeared, soon followed by a familiar brown shape: a huss. Although a substantial size, this fish didn’t look anything too special, and it was not until I landed the disgruntled huss on a rock and went down to grab it that I realised why it had put up such stern resistance; both hooks had lodged outside the mouth and I had been dragging the fish in sideways. A couple of years ago, whilst in college, I read some detailed research on the feeding behaviour of catsharks. One of the key observations was that that these fish often rub their bodies along food items (presumably to further immobilise their prey) before eating them. Whether this huss had been doing that and been unlucky enough to get pricked, or whether it had been actively searching for the bait and flopped onto the hooks by accident, I would never know. Still, it was a quality fish on an otherwise unremarkable outing and I was well pleased to have caught it.
After the huss, the dogs seemed to come on thick again, with both tips doing merry little dances soon after each bait settled. It had also started to rain, spurring me to begin rounding up my scattered kit and packing down. I left shortly before ten, making the steep ascent as the light shower started to intensify and arriving back at the car soaked to the skin. On the whole, however, I was well happy with my evening. I hadn’t had much business with my target species, but I had snagged a nice bonus fish and I was pleased with the way the J Curve had handled the session. A few days later, I closed a deal on a second Excalibur J to pair the other up with. This rod has now been fitted with a decent reel seat and is raring to go for my next session. Hopefully this will be something worth reporting back here, but if not, there are some good months soon to come and I expect to get at least a few stories out of them. ‘Til next time!