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.

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.