Save Our Wrasse - The Dark Side Of Farmed Salmon

There is a great robbery happening beneath our noses. The fish we take for granted are being stolen in huge numbers, destined for salmon farms in the waters of Scotland. The South-West has become the 'Wild West', with opportunistic commercial fishermen taking advantage of a dire need of 'cleaner wrasse' for the salmon industry. This is a problem that will affect both anglers and non-anglers alike. Is there hope for our local wrasse species and the predators that feed on them? Or will our seas continue to be plundered for a quick buck?

These fish have been the lifeblood of my fishing since the age of eight.

Firstly, a disclaimer. I wish to make it clear I am not taking shots at the local commercial fishermen here. Although I have come across some supremely ignorant and small minded individuals in that profession whilst researching the topic, I realise they make up a small minority. The majority are just trying to make good money, like any of us in other careers. I cannot blame them for taking an opportunity when it arises.

So let's talk wrasse. All of the inshore species of wrasse are currently being targeted for the farmed salmon industry. These include the ballan, goldsinny and corkwring varieties. The ballan is both the largest, the most heavily targeted and most recognisable (when people talk about 'wrasse' they normally mean the ballan). The goldsinny and corkwring are much smaller species, yet are also key components of the ecosystem and welcome catches to pleasure anglers, who admire the tropical beauty of them.

A stunning male corkwring wrasse in all it's colourful glory.

All of the wrasse species are not particularly hard to catch and fight incredibly hard for their size, catching a four pound plus ballan being a real test even for heavier fishing tackle. This makes them hugely popular to sea anglers. From complete novices to experienced pros, I guarantee a wrasse has brightened up their day at some point. This value cannot have a monetary figure placed on to it, because in the end it is priceless. Purely from a personal perspective, my first foray into sea fishing was catching small ballan wrasse from a local pontoon at the age of eight. That fishing taught me about fish care and respect for the ocean, it also paved the way for an absolute obsession with angling that had persisted for almost twenty years. I can't put a price on that.

The quintessential summer fish

So why now is there such a high price for wrasse? Well it's to do with their use as a 'cleaner fish', eating the sea lice from farmed salmon without damaging the infested fish. This, in principle, sounds fantastic. The farmers no longer need to use pesticides, the salmon stay relatively healthy and the wrasse get a consistent meal. It is also a superb market for hard off fishermen, hit by quota restriction after restriction, with companies paying up to fourteen pound a fish. To the casual observer, it's a win for all involved.  Except of course this isn't the only side of the story.

Firstly, hundreds of wrasse need to be taken from their natural environment - most likely a rocky area that the local population have lived in for generations. They are then transferred to aerated tanks and driven or flown over seven hundred miles to the farms in Scotland. During this time there are obviously losses, stressed wild fish do not do well with being transferred in crowded enclosed tanks. The survivors are then placed into the nets with the salmon. It's worth saying that a wild wrasse's diet will include everything from crustaceans, to small fish and worms, a captive 'cleaner fish' has only a diet of sea lice to survive on, plus whatever scraps they can find from the fishmeal fed to the salmon, hardly a natural diet. They then live their lives until the salmon are ready to be harvested. This is the end of the wrasse's life, they are killed and replaced by new fish in order to prevent contamination to new salmon stock. This shockingly wasteful system is created and it requires constant new live wrasse, mostly coming from the south coast of England.

A fish this size may be five years old or more.

Wrasse are slow growing, taking up to six years to sexually mature and living to over thirty years old. As mentioned before they are territorial and habitual, regularly coming into the same bays and gulleys with the tide most of the year. Removing local fish very quickly creates a vacuum that takes years to recover, with very few 'migrant' fish coming in to fill the void. They also struggle to metabolize food items in water temperatures lower than ten degrees Celsius, a fact that makes them a poor choice for constant feeding in the cooler waters off the Scottish coast!

The variety of a ballan's colours are part of their enduring appeal.

But, the opposition might say, wrasse have previously had no commercial value and had been left alone (besides being bait for the crab pots!). Surely this is a species that is plentiful and unimportant, a perfect target in a an increasingly fraught and delicate marketplace? To that I would say this, wrasse are not pelagic, fast spawning fish like mackerel or herring. They cannot take this kind of pressure on their numbers. This is not the 'eco-friendly' option. Removing this kind of tonnage of fish from our waters will hurt everything, but in particular species like the grey seal, who need these fish to survive.

One of the UK's most popular seaside inhabitants, the grey seal. Wrasse are a large part of their diet. 

They might also say that this has been going on for at least two years, why all the uproar now? The answer to that is easy - because we have noticed. Speak to any wrasse angler that fishes the potted areas and ask them if there's a difference. They will of course say yes, unanimously. Wrasse catches are down and the fish are smaller. This is despite more anglers than ever targeting them on lures, the majority practicing catch and release. On what could be an unrelated note, numbers of goldsinny in certain areas counter actively seem to be up. My theory being that the commercial fishermen do not see these as the target species and are releasing them, back in a habitat with less competition from their larger cousins. This is ironic considering the goldsinny is the perfect cleaner fish, small and fast growing, feeding in both low temperatures and in darkness.

The diminutive goldsinny, a species more suited for lice removal, but we still can't afford to lose them in such numbers. 

So, what is the answer? A species of fish called the lumpfish or lumpsucker could be one. They are a cold water species that are much more efficient in lice removal. Unfortunately they too shouldn't be wild harvested, but countries such as Norway are working on farming them - as they are struggling with the exact same problem. There's definitely no quick fix to the lice issue, but this 'Wild-West' attitude to wrasse removal will only result one thing, the decimation of our local bio-diversity.

The bizarre looking lumpsucker could be the answer, only time will tell. Photo source. 

On a local level though we can actually make quick and lasting fixes, firstly by banding together and pushing our local MPs to ban this type of exploitation right now. Please click on this link and sign the petition, it literally takes under a minute to do.
http://action.wildlifetrusts.org/ea-action/action?ea.client.id=1823&ea.campaign.id=73231

Let's not make this a thing of the past, it's time to Save Our Wrasse!

Please also share this blog post and make people aware of the dark side of farmed salmon. A small gesture I have made is to give up Scottish farmed salmon, until the industry can prove it's working on a more sustainable model. In the grand scheme of things it may seem futile, but never underestimate the power we have as consumers.

Thank you so much for reading. If you want to talk about any concerns or ideas you have, contact me through my Facebook page - Ben Bassett Fishing.

Here's more reading from other sources both local and nationwide.

http://www.devonwildlifetrust.org/wrasse-campaign-2017

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2017/jun/10/salmon-farmers-put-wild-wrasse-at-risk--sea-lice-scotland-anglers

http://www.plymouthherald.co.uk/scottish-salmon-farmers-accused-of-raiding-plymouth-beauty-spots/story-30407738-detail/story.html

Taking The Mullet For A Spin

My target - the thin-lipped mullet.

The grey mullet, a group of fish that I both love and hate, none more so than the thick-lipped variety. Thick-lips grow to rather generous weights and fight like Floyd Mayweather. They are plentiful in our estuaries and are easily found by the roving angler. Yet, if you have any knowledge of angling at all, you know they are a nightmare to catch! They filter feed through their unusually shaped mouths and they tend to feed aggressively only in short spells, on certain points of the tide. If you are a sucker for punishment (I am) then these are the fish for you. Having put in time and commitment I was lucky enough to catch a few last year.

A local Plymouth thick-lipped mullet caught last year, they will take bread but not lures.

In Plymouth we have fantastic numbers of thick-lipped mullet, yet their thin-lipped cousins are a bit of a rarity. Thin-lips grow to a lower maximum size than the thicks and tend to be a little more enthusiastic about fresh water, travelling far up-river in their search for food. The thin-lips are also significantly easier to catch, due to the fact they can't resist a baited spinner! Despite this, I had never caught a thin-lipped mullet before (despite a few tries and missed opportunities!), so I was keen to finally tick one of my wishlist. It was obvious I would have to travel farther afield, there was only one place to go, Weymouth harbour.

Weymouth is a two hour-plus drive from Plymouth but I'm lucky to have friends in the area, giving me the perfect excuse to fish it when I can. Although I don't know the place like the locals, I'm starting to get a fair idea of the hot spots. One thing I do know is that the upper harbour is mullet heaven! Thin-lipped mullet of all sizes cruise about in the shallows, giving me a perfect opportunity to target them. With these in mind, me and dad brought out the customised baited spinners and got to work.

What is the 'baited spinner'? 

If you aren't aware of this contraption, and honestly this catches almost everything that swims, let me enlighten you. You can buy these in most tackle shops but I prefer to tie them myself. Firstly take a high quality spinner like a Mepps, don't go cheap you will regret it when it doesn't spin! Then use a pair of pliers to snap off the treble hook. This leaves a hook-less spinner. You then tie a length of line to it using your preferred knot. You can use any line but stiff hook-links work best. I use 25lb test Fluorocarbon as I find it's less susceptible to twist and tangling. I have heard of people using pike trace wire to great effect for the same reason. Either way I aim to have a length of around six inches from spinner to hook. This seems to work best for me, although be ready to change it if bites aren't coming so readily. Hook wise you can use anything from a size 12 to a size 6. again it depends on if you're missing bites. I always prefer to go smaller, so a long shank size 12 is my go to hook for mullet. Bait the hook with a small section of ragworm, running the worm up the line until the hook is at the very end, this will get you maximum hook-ups. To catch mid-water species like mullet and bass use a steady retrieve through those layers. For bottom dwellers like flatfish and wrasse, try a stop start retrieve along a fairly clean bottom. Honestly you will be amazed by how many species you will catch. 

We arrived at the harbour and were not let down by the mullet. There were many swimming about, including some very decent sized fish of around four pound. At first I was determined to catch a mullet using an artificial worm like Isome, but after a few casts and many follows without a bite it was clear only the real stuff would do. A quick trip to the ever reliable Weymouth Angling Centre (dodging the various stag do's on our way) provided us with the fresh live ragworm we needed.

My first ever thin-lipped mullet.

The transformation in our fortunes was startling. On most casts we were getting follows and delicate takes. I did notice that they often go for the spinner blades, ignoring the bait. This is definitely an avenue I would like to pursue in the future, catching a thin-lip on a unbaited artificial, it does happen so it's worth trying myself. Both me and dad were making strange and bizarre noises as we watched the fish follow then turn away at the last second. Casting and retrieving were also made difficult by a metal fence, probably put up to deter anglers like ourselves, but we worked around it, entranced by these fish.

The dreaded railing that would likely deter most other fishermen...

Finally a fish snapped fully at my bait, hooking itself in the process. There's no need to strike with this method as the fish pulls against your retrieve anyway. It wasn't huge and I have to say I was a little disappointed with the fight, the mullet didn't try to run like a thick-lip, it just wallowed and flipped about. My trusty gilly reached down over the fence and netted my first ever thin-lipped mullet and I beamed with happiness. I love that feeling of catching a new species, a previously unknown creature now in your hands. I quickly discovered that, unlike the hardier thick-lips, thin-lips readily shed their scales, so I was extra cautious when handling it. I removed the spinner and quickly returned it to it's harbour home.

Sun shining, a new species, that's my kind of Saturday.

Dad soon had a hook up from a much larger fish, unfortunately no sooner had he hooked it that it turned and snapped his braid! We couldn't believe it. I felt terribly guilty as he was fishing with my back up reel, with much older braid on it. Just goes to show we're not all perfect and you should replace your line regularly. A lesson learned. It put a slight downer on proceedings as we had plans to leave soon anyway, this only being a quick trip in between visiting friends.

This larger specimen topped off the day nicely. 

My mood was quickly lifted though by another great take, this fish putting up a much better fight. Still not thick-lip standards but great fun. I enjoyed watching it twist and turn in the shallows beneath me, it's silver sides flashing back the May sunshine. Eventually it came to the net and I had a better specimen, although still only around a pound or two. After he was returned though the fishing switched off, as if the mullet just decided 'we're not hungry anymore'. The wind was picking up and the tide was quickly retreating, it was our cue to leave. A new species ticked off that's left me excited to try it again!

As always, thanks for reading and please check out my Facebook page for regular updates and blog posts.

Osborne & Cragg Easter LRF Species Hunt

Two weeks ago it was that special time of the year again, the Osborne & Cragg Easter LRF species hunt. This being the third competition I had participated in, I was eager to beat my previous attempts and finish at least in a top three place. So how did I get on?

It started on April 1st and I had no plans to play the fool, getting out nice and early to get my first species on the board. The fish had other ideas though and my two favourite marks completely blanked on me! It was time to bring out the big guns just so I wasn't wasting the day, so I headed to Rame. I knew the spring tide would reveal loads of new rockpools that could hold a few species, even if the open sea was being a foaming angry beast. The first large rockpool gave up it's resident giant goby in a couple of casts - not a blank, phew! It was then to find the ever reliable shanny, which again did not take long and I then couldn't stop catching them all day.

I had two species ticked off, not too bad but I had hoped for at least one more. I walked around the entirety of Rame, hot and sweaty but still admiring the ravens cawing above me and the spectacular views. I then saw a gulley that had been cut off by the low tide. It was a sketchy climb down amongst sharp rocks that obviously don't see many anglers. The water was cloudy from the waves that had been battering it previously, but it looked fishy. I had a couple of hits just under the rod tip, then struck into a very strong fish. It caught me by surprise after all the blennies and it nearly snagged me up. After a brief moment of strong arm persuasion it came to the surface, revealing itself as one of the most beautiful corkwring wrasse I've ever seen! Day one was done and I had three species ticked off. 

The next day were the prearranged meets for the comp'. I could only attend the evening one on the Barbican. Luckily it turned out to be one of the best meets I have been part of, with lots of new faces and a fair few fish caught. I've become much more appreciative of Sutton Harbour's value as a fishing venue recently, with that night being one of the reasons. The water was teeming with fish, with huge mullet teasing everyone (well, mostly just Kieran!) at the surface and shoals of mackerel sleepily cruising by every ten minutes. I managed four species, a small ballan wrasse caught in daylight at Elphinstone, a rock goby, a goldsinny and one of those mackerel. The mackerel being a massive relief as I couldn't catch one in the last competition. So by the end of the night I was on seven species, feeling pretty confident about my chances this time.

With the weekend over, my fishing opportunities would be limited to evenings only. This was no bad thing, LRF is quite often even more effective at night, with a lot of mini-species being semi-nocturnal. In no species is that more true than the tompot blenny, they really come onto the feed once the sun starts setting, and it didn't take me long to catch one from a reliable mark. Species number eight. 

I had a little more time the next evening and set about catching a black goby and a scorpion fish. Quite unbelievably I caught both! Which, considering I struggle with scorpions in the competitions, was a huge relief. The black gobies were in their usual haunts around Millbay, aggressively attacking the Ecogear Shirasu Aqua lures. The tide was low and I had the rare pleasure of watching a small scorpion fish ambush the lure in front of me. I say it a lot but I absolutely love these fish, I never get sick of catching them. Those two species had taken me onto ten species.

I wasn't done that night though, with a late high tide I ventured out to Mount Wise. What lay before me was the single most inspiring sight an angler can experience - fish topping everywhere! The water was alive with fish and I knew they'd be herring. It took me three casts and three hook ups to land one, it was turning out to be an amazing evening. I had plenty more 'Tamar tarpon' before I decided that I better try for a pollack. I begrudgingly tore myself away from the herring and was rewarded with a chunky little pollack. Day five was done and I had a very respectable twelve species, which had completely exceeded my expectations. 

The next night I went out with Kieran. After watching him get snagged up by a mystery brute of a fish we decided to try for the herring again, Kieran having only ever caught one in his life. The herring were still there even though the tide was low. What then proceeded was a hilarious game of 'shake the hook' between the herring and Kieran. He really struggled at first to land any, which wasn't helped by me landing mine quite easily - no doubt my practice the night before had put me in good stead. He got there in the end though and I managed a bonus sand smelt to add to my total, a great night's fishing in good company. Day six and thirteen species.

Not until day ten did I get my next species and it was another huge favourite of mine, the garfish. These fish frustrate the hell out of me but I'm a sucker for the punishment, they are just so much fun on light gear. I turned up to a very sunny and therefore busy West Hoe Pier. What's handy about that though is it's very easy to see if the gar are about, as the pleasure anglers will definitely have caught a few if they are around. One of the chaps fishing had a bag covered in green scales that gave me the answer I needed. I cast around and quickly had four sand smelt. I moved around the pier and then had a mackerel. It was clear the gar were present but not in numbers, I had numerous hits that were undoubtedly them but it wasn't easy going. With time rapidly running out on the hour parking ticket I had bought, I had a take! The relief when I felt the fish rush for the surface and shake its head was palpable. I landed it finally and celebrated my fourteenth fish of the competition.

Day eleven arrived and I wanted a topknot or a poor cod to boost my total. I was fishing with Shane who is a casual LRF'er to say the least. I managed four species - shanny, pollack, corkwring and goldsinny, all lovely fish but not needed. We decided to try the harbour for bass instead as Shane had never caught one and I hadn't caught one for the comp' yet. As we fished around we bumped into Chris Price who had already caught a bass, a good sign. As we cast around the back wall we couldn't believe our eyes as hundreds of schoolie bass and mackerel swam in a ball in front of us. The stunning silver scales reflected the streetlights above us and I was temporarily in awe of such a sight. I quickly regained my senses and pulled my lure through the shoal, I had a big hit and after an energetic battle I subdued the bass I needed. Shane then followed mine up with one of his own and you could not knock the smile off his face, it was a great moment to be a part of. Day eleven and my fifteenth species.

It was getting tight at the top and I was level with Rob Eastman, who seemed to be matching me day by day. We were like two evenly matched football teams who kept coming back to equalise once the other had got into the lead. I needed something special and I couldn't rely on a flatfish (I seem to be absolutely useless at finding them! Much more practice is needed). I had tried and failed to catch a clingfish in the past but I knew that could be the bonus species I needed. I headed to a rockpool filled mark where I knew they were plentiful, equipped with isome and a size eighteen hook on a split shot rig. It was not easy! I searched rockpools everywhere for them but due to their small size and shy nature, it was hard going. I finally found a crevice where one was hiding, lucky for me this one was hungry! It quickly sucked in my minuscule piece of isome but I pulled it out of it's mouth, it took me three more times to hook it! The feeling when I held this tiny fish in my hand was equal to any species I have caught this year, such was the satisfaction in catching it. I had looked like a mad man and almost convinced myself that I was, but I had my sixteenth species.

The next day was Easter Sunday and day sixteen of the lure competition. I had the idea to fish the sandier waters of Polruan and Fowey with my dad, in the hope of something unusual. It started off so well, I quickly landed a sand goby, my seventeenth species of the comp' and I nearly had a tiny plaice! I couldn't get one though, although we bumped into Matt Downing who I knew through Instagram, he managed to tease one out and although I wished it was mine, I just admired it's miniature beauty and congratulated him. The rest of the morning was a bit of a write off unfortunately, no other fish for myself or my dad. So we headed home for some food and Easter eggs instead.

Due to a severe hangover on bank holiday Monday (when will I learn?), I didn't go out again until the evening. It turned out to be a pleasant session with a lovely pollack of just over a pound being the best fish. I also finally got to meet my rival for the title, Rob Eastman. Turns out he's a lovely guy and it made for enjoyable banter and stories as we fished together. My alcohol-caused tiredness soon beat me though and I called it a night and settled on my total of seventeen species. I just hoped Rob wouldn't catch the one more species required to catch me up!

At eleven o'clock the next day the bell was tolled and the comp' came to a close. I had won! What a fantastic feeling and a great achievement. I've learned a huge amount in the last year and a half fishing LRF, so rarely has a fishing technique captured my imagination as it has, and it's always a great pleasure to have all the hours put in rewarded in the end. Rob Eastman and Glenn Triscott are also excellent anglers so finishing above them is a fine honour. A huge thanks to Simon for putting on the competition and a huge well done to all the anglers who took part. We are lucky to have a awesome community of lure fisherman in the Plymouth area, which hopefully will continue to grow.

As always, thanks for reading and please check out my Facebook page for regular updates and blog posts.  

Rockpool LRF Part 1

This post will be part one of two, where I will share a few tips about species hunting in rockpools. Whether you are taking part in a competition or just want to add more species to your personal tally, ignore the rockpools at your peril, they can be full of surprises.

When the open sea is particularly finesse unfriendly, I will often try the more sheltered gulleys and rockpools. It can be tempting to just find a quiet spot in the harbour and try there, but then you are missing out on some truly entertaining fishing. In this brief feature, I will cover tackling the deeper pools, in the second instalment I will talk about the slightly trickier shallow ones.

What species are you likely to find in these rockpools? Certainly the most common I've found would be the shanny or common blenny; other species that are frequent in my neck of the woods are giant gobies, long spined sea scorpions, most of the wrasse species, shore rockling and clingfish. In theory though any rock dwelling or shore hugging fish types can get trapped in rockpools, sometimes making them easier to catch. Small mullet can also often be caught out by the receding tide, but try not to get too side tracked by them, a calm mullet is difficult to catch, a frightened and trapped one is impossible.

Tactics wise, split shot rigs and very light jigheads are the order of the day. Being so close to the water and the depth normally being less than a couple of feet, heavy weights are not necessary. Personally I don't use anything over two grams, my preferred weight being around one and a half. For the larger, more aggressive inhabitants, one or two inch unscented straw or ball tail lures can be excellent, especially in crystal clear water. If the water is coloured, particularly if the waves have been battering it at high tide, then Isome is definitely a winner, as it so often is.

What I love about tackling the rockpools is the fact it is low tide fishing. When your favourite mark is bone dry, the rocks near it can be saviours. I recently made the most of a very large spring low tide, the amount of rockpools it revealed was amazing, with whole gulleys and their inhabitants being temporarily cut from the sea. With a stealthy approach it means you have a captive audience of hungry fish, giving you a real chance of catching them.

I definitely have found a correlation, quite unsurprisingly, in how remote the pool is and how large the fish are that dwell within it. It makes perfect sense that the areas that see less humans have the highest density of fish species. We are after all a very scary sight to even the largest goby! If you are more focused on your HRF then you have an excuse to recce new marks at low tide, survey them then fish the rockpools near it. Not only will your HRF fishing improve because you know the mark more in depth, you also will have a better understanding of the prey fish living in that habitat - it's a win win.

But what makes a good rockpool? Firstly, as I've mentioned you need depth of around a foot or deeper. It should also be full of rocks, boulders or crevices to hide in. If there is an over-abundance of seaweed I try another, the fish might be there but you will quickly get frustrated with snagging on thick weed.

My favourite technique in clear water, is to flick the lure to the other side of the rockpool, slowly bouncing it across the rocks. You will quickly get the attention of whatever mini-predator is lying in wait. Scorpion fish in particular can be ultra aggressive and chase your lure, in one bite from their cavernous mouth they're on! It can be very compelling. Another excellent result in deeper pools can be the surprise strike into a wrasse, with nowhere to go they just go ballistic, trying to squeeze into any crevice they can. When you've been hauling out blennies, a wrasse can feel ten times it's size.

Hopefully this has given you some inspiration to try it out. In part two, I will talk more about the stranger fish species you can catch and how to tempt them, clingfish and sticklebacks being two examples.

As always, thanks for reading and supporting the blog. Check out Fishing Tails for more articles from myself and others.

Back To School

On Tuesday night I had an impulsive drive to go fishing. The kind of impulse it would be foolish to ignore, especially with the knowledge that a few of the regular LRF faithful were out too. There had been lots of talk of schoolie bass around recently and I didn't want to miss out. What followed was about the best fun you can have in a hour with your clothes on, topped up with excellent banter and some wise teachings by our very own LRF Gandalf, otherwise known as Maurice!

I'm not ashamed to admit when I'm cashing in on other people's hard work, the guy's had already put the graft in that night and found the fish. A quick message to Joe had confirmed everyone had caught so far and I was welcome to join. No self respecting angler can refuse that offer. I arrived to find that Simon, Kieran and Maurice were there too, which was a pleasant surprise. After five minutes of catching up and spinning the yarn it was time to get to business.

I've recently bought a couple of packs of the two inch Crazy Fish Vibro Worms and I was eager to try them. Mounting one on a three gram Savage Gear Darting Jighead it looked excellent in the water. Using a bright luminescent yellow colour I was very confident I'd at least get hits. It's worth saying how fantastic this range of lures are, they are heavily scented with squid, are ultra soft and have an incredible movement through the water. I can't recommend them enough.

My first few exploratory casts were near Joe and he managed three fish in just a few minutes. It was great to hear his drag start screaming off as these spirited little bass ran off. I had a couple of hits but missed them, to be honest I was paying too much attention to Joe's escapades. It was obvious the fish were stalking about underneath the pontoon and boats in front of us, accurate casts near these features were producing hits regularly. Finally a cast produced a fantastic run of my own, the fish aggressively trying to shake the lure out. Fishing in fairly shallow water meant it could only do one thing - run. This led to lots of line being taken for such a modest fish. Joe had also managed to hook one at the same time as mine. We landed them both together, creating a great photo opportunity and one of my favourite photos I've taken this year,

The fishing really took off from there, every few casts brought a fish in a hectic twenty minute spell. With the right setting on the drag you can get such an entertaining fight from these fish. The takes were quite interesting too, you would feel more of a weight then a classic bass smack. I presume this is because of the slow retrieve and the fish engulfing the lure in it's large mouth, so that by the time you feel the hit the fish is almost already hooked. By the time Simon came along to join us I had had ten. Unfortunately his arrival seemed to lead to all the fish disappearing, something we took great pleasure in letting him know! We moved back down to where Maurice and Kieran were to find the fish.

Maurice was still catching fairly consistently, it was time for us to go to school and listen to his teachings! His theory is that, just like fly fishing at night, you use a dark lure for dark skies and a bright lure for (you guessed it) bright skies. Simon had changed over to a darker lure on this advice and quickly caught a fish. Never argue with the LRF wizard! Although I had my final fish of the night on my bright Vibro Worm, probably just going to prove that schoolie bass will smash anything given the chance!

Overall I was only out for just over an hour and a half, catching eleven schoolie bass, all averaging around a pound. It was excellent sport in great company, definitely whetting my appetite for the upcoming LRF competition.

Enjoy your fishing everyone and thank you so much for reading, apologies for the lack of photos on this one. Night time fishing and quality photos are not great bedfellows!

Please check out www.fishingtails.co.uk for up to date fishing reports and articles, including some by myself.

You also find me on Facebook and Instagram by searching: Ben Bassett Fishing

Saluting The Shanny

When it comes to maligned fish species, the common blenny or, as it's commonly known, the shanny, is certainly on a lot of angler's lists. These fish are plentiful, small and bait stealing. Yet isn't it time we looked at them a little differently? Appreciated them for the aggressive, tough as nails fish that they are? Today, I'm in the shanny's corner, fighting the good fight. Hopefully you will humour me as I do.

Firstly, it's definitely worth clarifying what is a shanny? The shanny is a member of the blenny family and is one of the most numerous fish species in the inter-tidal zone (the area that is revealed at low tide then covered at high water). It is most commonly confused with the tompot blenny and the various goby species. The easiest way to tell apart a shanny from a tompot is that the tompot has two protruding tentacle like structures above it's eyes, the shanny does not. The tompot also grows larger and is generally more stripey, usually a deep red to brown colour. The shanny is a lot more uniform in colour, either grey, brown or black with speckled markings all over. They are both scaleless and quite slimy, with tall guinea pig-like heads and large eyes. Their dorsal fin is long and runs the entire length of their bodies. Gobies on the other hand, have much flatter heads, a distinct dorsal fin and tiny scales.

A shanny in classic mottled colouration.

A tompot blenny, a much more heavily set fish.

The shanny is an incredibly tough species. It has an impressive ability to remain out of water for hours, as long as it remains damp. This obviously gives it a huge advantage in shallow rockpools and harbours that dry out, all it has to do is find a safe crevice to hide in and wait for the water to return. Their teeth are needle-like and strong, they are true opportunists: eating fish remains, worms, small crustaceans and even barnacles. Being a territorial species means they do not leave their favoured area much, so eating whatever appears in front of them is a sensible tactic.

A large male shanny in full mating colours - dark body with red eyes.

Their opportunistic nature is exactly what makes them so easy to catch. These are a fish that do not have the choice to be fussy, so any bait of any size is fair game. Quite often they are competing with their neighbours too, when this happens they come across as suicidal! If you are targeting a larger species, this trait can be a frustrating one. It's easy to imagine a group of shannys whittling your expensive bait down to the bare hook. Yet if you are struggling to catch, the shanny can be a saviour. Yes, they are small, with an almost non-existent fight. They also will happily bite if you get your fingers too close! But they are also a rock solid, classically British warrior of a mini-species. Always there no matter what the weather, attacking what ever lure or bait you place in front of them, for that they get my respect.

A small shanny, greedily gobbling up a ragworm bait.

There's one last reason why personally, this fish has a special place in my heart. When I was much younger I would visit my grandparents in Looe. I already had a huge passion for angling at that point, but my love was directed at coarse fishing. My Gramps would take us down to the quay at high tide to go crabbing. Obviously I scoffed at the crabbing lines and brought my cheap and very light coarse rod, along with tiny hooks and split shot. My Grandad would point out the shannys peeking out of the harbour wall, snatching at the fish entrails left by the crabbers. I would take a tiny piece of either bacon or mackerel and lower it down the wall, the shannys would shoot out and attack it. It was the simplest form of fishing I'd ever known, yet it brought me such joy. To hold such bizarre and alien looking fish in my hands, surrounded by family, gave me some of my best childhood memories. Little did I know that over seventeen years later I would be repeating the trick, just this time with artificial lures and high tech tackle instead.

Enjoy your fishing everyone and thank you so much for reading.

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January On The Rocks

January days can seem like our sun has left us, in its place we are left with just dull omnipresent cloud, with no real sense of time. Occasionally the cloud breaks momentarily and shafts of winter sun reveal their creator’s presence, then as soon as they appear they retreat, concealed by faceless vapour. Today is one of those days.

I’ve grown restless and bored since the new year, ‘all work and no play’ is the saying that sums up the last two weeks, January can be like that. I’ve longed to be by the water, pining to hold the first fish of 2017 in my hands. Which species would hold that honour? I could try for pike, an old favourite, yet time is limited and the sea is calling me. I could fish in the city, there’s plentiful sea angling opportunities only a short walk from my house - yet I desire the wild. I want to escape the concrete, to walk alone along clifftops, breathe in that frigid salty air.

I cannot resist the call of the rocks, so I drive excitedly to my favourite Cornish peninsula, Rame. A short journey interrupted only briefly to give way on narrow lanes, to dog walkers, joggers and the odd fisherman like myself. All escaping the trivialities of life, looking for a brief respite of wilderness and ocean. I park up and make my descent to the first mark.

The clouds are endless as I gaze to the horizon, but the air is clear, no rain and no snow. It feels like it could snow though, the grass feels crisp and the exposed tips of my fingers already burn with cold. Luckily I’m prepared and the rest of my body remains warm and comfortable under many layers. Days like these you are thankful for modern inventions such as thermal clothing, our ancestors had no such luxuries. My ancestors probably never had the luxury of catch and release fishing either, everything caught would be kept for the table no doubt. For myself, on this most chilly of January days, my fish will be going back and in any case would make barely a meal at all, should I be so inclined.

My first cast is to the east, into a moderate swell that’s breaking onto the rocks below me. I’m fishing light, flinging a tiny lure into the breeze, hoping for a herring or a mackerel. I let it sink, imagining it descending into the depths, catching the eye of a would-be predator. It’s easy to forget about the cold and how much my nose is dripping, when my mind is being cast out into the sea, attempting to tempt my first fish of the year. I twitch it back at a moderate speed and on my third cast, life! I feel a fish attack my lure, pulling at my braided line. I cannot connect with the perpetrator though. I suspect it to be a small fish and that is confirmed as I glimpse a green flash harassing my beleaguered lure. Tiny mackerel! Further casts bring the same result, frustration. I down size further but my efforts are in vain, the fish have disappeared. It’s time to head west.

My intended mark is on the other side of point and involves a steep climb, the descent, as ever, was simple, the ascent is more testing. I’m now at that awkward phase of sweating in the freezing cold, the air burns as I pant like an overexcited dog. I’m out of practice and scold myself for it. As I arrive at the peak I catch my breath and appreciate the view. There’s a group of dartmoor ponies to the right of me grazing, much hardier folk than I. They give no thought to the overdressed primate panting across from them, their focus is eating grass, mine is on catching a fish.

The scenery is sensational here, looking out across Whitsand Bay, even with the grey, oppressive cloud above me. I decide on a likely looking point, full of exciting gulleys and rockpools. It’s a steep but safe descent, following pony tracks downwards. Three roe deer leap out of the undergrowth near me, gracefully bounding away out of sight, leaving only the sight of their three bright rumps bouncing in the distance.

The path levels out and it’s clear to see the fishing won’t be as easy as I predicted from up high. The swell is still strong and breaking onto the rocks aggressively. I’m not wearing waterproofs, so casting from there could get very wet, very fast. There’s a very pretty looking rockpool just below me though, the kind that can always house a surprise.

It’s full of small boulders and is about a foot or so deep, perfect hunting territory for tiny predators. I get myself into position above it, trying to keep myself fairly concealed. A small underarm chuck finds my lure on the other side of the pool, ready to make it’s (hopefully) doomed journey back to me. The water is crystal clear and I watch with fascination as I bounce the lure slowly between the rocks. There’s movement. One of the inhabitants has noticed an intruder in it’s home. I twitch the lure across the rock and the fish is on it in a flash! I can see it clearly has the whole lure in it’s mouth, with a small strike the fish is on. Even my ultralight tackle is much too strong for this angry fella and he’s quickly in my hands.

I’m excited to see it’s the species I expected it to be, a long spined sea scorpion. My absolute favourite of the mini species. I’ve caught larger specimens of the species but not many prettier than this one. Like usual the scorpion puffs out it’s gills and flexes it’s spines, a show of aggression to any would-be predator. I marvel at it’s colours, tiger-striped browns with blue gills and mottled orange flanks. They are truly the poster boys for the light rock fishing scene, fully deserved too. I attempt to do him justice with a few photos and then set him free, to terrorise the rockpool once more.

Repeated casts find no other takers in the surrounding pools, so I move on. The sun is still nowhere to be seen, it could be morning, noon or dusk for all the clues our star is giving me. Modern technology tells me it’s one o’clock and that means I do not have much time left.

There’s a delightful looking rockpool just ahead of me, the blue and purple slate residing in it give it an eerie hue. I’m intrigued. My arrival spooks two common blennies, shooting into the nearest crevice. I am a fan of the humble blenny or ‘shanny’ to give them their common name, they are always quick to bite and save many angler’s the dreaded blank! I lower my lure into the blue depths, fishing it vertically, slowly bouncing it in front of the blenny’s lair. Both of the previously flighty fish leave their hiding place to inspect this new morsel. They are hesitant and then I see why, a massive (compared to the blennies) giant goby appears from the shadow to the right, the blennies flee as it hits my lure with force. I’m both shocked and excited by the miniature drama that has just unfolded before me. I let him take the lure for a couple of seconds then set the hook. Even gobies of this gargantuan size do not fight well, which is unlucky for him as I soon have him in my hands.

The giant goby is a peculiar fish, it’s incredibly rare in Britain, only a few localised populations exist in our waters, mostly on the south coast. It actually has greater protection than even our beloved bass, being against the law to kill one. That makes them a very special fish in my eyes and this individual is the first I’ve ever seen on Rame. He is a brute of a goby, nearly thirty centimetres long and missing his left eye. I wonder how he came to lose it, most likely being mishandled by an angler but it really could be anything. The habitat he makes his home is full of peril, death being only a rough storm or a cormorant’s beak away. I know it’s a he because he’s in his mating attire. Dark coloured with a beautiful blue frame to his rear fins. Like the scorpion fish he puffs out his gills to make himself look more menacing, I can only admire his gestures and my luck to catch him. Two of my favourite mini species in one day, that’s worth braving the cold for.

He endures his customary photoshoot and I release him, the one-eyed prince of the rockpool. The blennies again beat a hasty retreat, their overlord returning to rule them once more. I must also retreat, modern life and all the trivial pursuits that come with it are calling me. I make my ascent back up towards my car. Leaving the beautiful but bleak cliffs behind me. The ponies still give me little care as I pass. The sun though finally makes an appearance, glistening beams piercing through the endless cloud, illuminating the sea in front of me. It’s going to be a good year, I’m sure of it.