Cod on the fly

[Guest Mike Connor]

Freezing cold and heavy snowfall. My feet were slowly going numb, and my

fingers had long since turned blue with the cold. The old trick of plunging

them into the freezing water to increase the circulation, and thus warm them

up, had worked as usual, but the effects had long since worn off and I was

really cold now. Neoprene gloves with fold back finger and thumb were little

use, and so I removed them.Visibility was low because of the fairly dense

snowfall, and the footing was treacherous over the rocks.

 

Memories of my last fall in this spot on a day trip the previous year, when

I crashed heavily onto a rock with my right knee, and had to more or less

crawl to the car being unable to walk, came to mind, and made me even more

careful than usual. Without the cushioning of the 5mm neoprene my kneecap

would surely have been badly damaged, as it was it brought tears to my eyes,

and my knee was swollen and all the colours of the rainbow for weeks.

 

Digging my ski pole in carefully at every step I kept moving, staying at the

waters edge, and only wading when absolutely necessary, to negotiate large

boulders and the like. falling into this water would likely prove fatal very

quickly, should I be stupid or careless enough to do so.

 

The wind had dropped somewhat, to about a howling gale, and the rapidly

swirling snow flakes stuck to my clothing and covered my head and shoulders,

freezing to my spectacles and forcing me to shake my head occasionally to

stop too large a build-up. Clammy cold damp reached through my neoprenes and

made me shiver occasionally. Very heavy overcast coupled with the snowstorm

had turned the day very dark. I had started to fish just before dawn, and

had made my way slowly along three miles or so of the rocky coastline

stopping to cast every ten feet or so, using main force to try and reach out

as far as possible into the murk, lingering a little longer at some places

which had proved successful in the past. Result ? nothing.

 

Checking the watch on the lanyard in my top pocket, told me it was eleven

thirty, and I had told my wife I would probably be back to the chalet for

lunch, she had declined to accompany me, and decided to stay in the chalet

with a good book instead. Sensible person my wife.

 

Just another hundred

meters or so I thought, and then I will turn for home, the group of large

rocks at the headland is usually the best place anyway, as the sea-bed dips

away into a deep channel quite close to shore. Takes come as the fly comes

up over the lip of the channel where a large band of weed lines the shore,

mostly cod, but occasionally a good seatrout, the lip of the channel is only

about sixty feet from shore, and a good flat powerful cast should reach it,

even in this wind.

 

Overwintering seatrout are often large, in excellent

condition, and sometimes fight like fury, many maintain they taste better

than any other fish bar none. Largish cod are not to be sniffed at either

though, they fight much more doggedly than a seatrout, but are still

exciting, and a five or even ten pounder on light gear is an experience not

soon forgotten. Several such fish had fallen to my rod at this spot the

previous year under similar conditions.

 

Conventional gear was useless, and I had long since taken the fly reel and

line off the rod, in fact within the first twenty minutes, and was using a

casting float and fixed spool reel. Even with this rig it was hardly

possible to cast more than fifty feet or so into the teeth of the wind.

 

A slow sinking sliding float of thirty grams, a nine foot leader, and a

shrimp fly had brought nothing as yet, not as much as a nibble. I decided

to change flies, and put on a much darker version of the shrimp fly, with a

touch of red in the tail.

 

The normally peaceful Baltic was crashing into the shore with unusual force,

white horses whirling and dancing on the wave tops as far as it was possible

to see, and although the water cleared quickly after every breaker, allowing

one to see the bottom fairly well close in, I fancied something with a

darker silhouette might do the trick, although my hopes of catching anything

at all had diminished considerably.

 

As usual I dangled the fly in the water in front of me, waiting for a break

in the surf, allowing the float to settle slowly and then moving it to check

the action of the fly more or less at my feet. A small crab appeared as if

from nowhere on the blank patch of sand,and seemed to want to grab the fly,

scuttling after it and attempting to settle on it, and fascinated by this, I

pulled the fly along slowly, just to see if the crab would be able to grab

it.

 

Intent on this, I failed to notice the next breaker coming in and

temporarily lost sight of the crab and fly, as the breaker stirred up sand

colouring the water.

 

A sudden jerk and my float shooting away along the shore at a rate of knots

very nearly frightened me to death, the rod was almost jerked from my hand,

and the drag on my reel started to whine unpleasantly, and I was absolutely

flabbergasted. I did not strike or anything at all, in fact for quite a

while I just stood there with the rod pointing straight along the shore,

while the line cut into my index finger almost to the bone and the drag

continued to whine.

 

After what seemed like an age I finally had enough

presence of mind to take my finger away from the line, and hit the fighting

drag lever on the reel, the drag which was giving off what I hoped was just

steam, slowed to a rather more leisurely rate, and eventually stopped.

 

Everything went slack, and rather annoyed with myself. but still more

surprised than anything else, I started to reel in. Must have been one hell

of a fish that, I thought, reeling in at moderate speed, you bloody idiot,

fancy losing a fish like that, I cursed myself, and then everything went

tight again !

 

Bloody hell, hung up as well ! Then the "snag" started moving again. After

about ten minutes of pumping, a few peculiarly powerful long, and some short

dogged runs, which were most unlike any fight I had experienced before, and

during which all sorts of ideas of monster seatrout and salmon went through

my mind, and more pumping, I finally saw the fish, a large cod foul hooked

in the dorsal fin !

 

Too large to risk beaching it, I unslung my net and

landed it knee deep in the surf, in considerable danger of being swept off

my feet by the breakers.

 

I despatched the fish, which coughed up a fair number of small crabs, and

after weighing it laid it on a large rock behind me. Just over eleven pounds

showed on my scale which is fairly accurate. Oh well, I thought, not

exactly the fine English art of fly angling, but a nice fish anyway, and

inspected my leader and fly for signs of chafing or other damage.

 

Getting

ready for another Herculean cast into the teeth of the wind, I suddenly

thought better of it, and just swung the float and fly about ten feet from

shore, letting the fly be pulled along by the float and tumbling in the

surf. Bang ! it had not gone three yards when the float shot away again,

and after a much shorter battle a nice plump six pound cod joined its mate

on the rock behind me. Six casts and six fish followed in fairly quick

succession.

 

Sweating now, all thoughts of cold forgotten, I decided on "just one more

cast" before packing up. I had over forty pounds of fish to clean and pack

back to the chalet, and that was more than enough for our freezer

requirements for this year.

 

The sky had lightened up somewhat, and the snow had stopped falling,

visibility was steadily increasing, and although the wind had dropped

somewhat the spray was still lashing in with force, occasionally giving me a

good soaking, my face was numb, and all attempts to dry my hands on the

towel from my bag failed miserably as it was already soaking wet.

 

Plunging

my hands into the icy water one more time, and hoping for the best, I

changed my chafed leader with no little difficulty, tied on a new fly of the

same type and size, a rather brown "Baltic woolly", with a touch of red in

the tail, a type of woolly bugger which is a very good shrimp imitation, and

might just conceivably be mistaken for a crab, and decided to try reaching

the lip of the channel.

 

A forceful whirling side cast using all the power of the thirteen foot one

and a half pound test carp rod, keeping the trajectory as flat as possible,

ended abruptly, as the float struck the water about thirty feet out, my numb

fingers had caused me to mistime the release.

 

Relatively slight tangles

formed as the wind caught the line and blew it off the reel spool. This was

soon sorted and I took up tension on the line prior to retrieving fairly

fast for another try.

 

Wham ! an almighty jerk on the end of the line bent

the rod well over, and the drag started whining immediately as the fish

headed straight for the deep water channel. Just as well, if it dived for

the weeds it would be gone.

 

This was no foul hooked cod, but obviously a decent seatrout, and as if to

confirm my observations it leapt from the water about a hundred feet away,

coming down with a large splash which could be heard even over the sound of

wind and waves. A very nice fish indeed, which must be kept out of the

weeds at all costs.

 

I loosened the drag lever somewhat, seatrout often come

off if forced too hard, and settled down to the fight. Several long

screaming runs followed by spectacular leaps followed, with the fish coming

ever closer to the weed bank lining the shore.

 

The trick at this location is to tire the fish out as much as possible in

the clear water beyond the weed banks, before bringing it in.

 

This is

however often much easier said than done. This was a very powerful fish, and

was still showing little sign of tiring, I loosened the drag a little more,

hoping that the hookhold would not fail due to the prolonged fight, and

awaited developments.

 

Several more runs and leaps followed.and then head

shaking and short deep bursts of speed toward the bottom finally indicated

that the fish was tiring now. A few more minutes and I carefully skimmed

him over the last weed bank into the clear band of water near the shore, and

timing the breakers mentally, I slid my net under him and lifted him out.

 

A magnificent eight and a half pound over-wintered ( a fish which has stayed in the sea, instewad of ascending a river to spawn),seatrout in absolutely prime condition.

 

Such a fight is fairly rare from winter seatrout, as they are normally rather

sluggish when the water is very cold, but the exception may indeed prove the

rule.

 

The fish was despatched, and added to my string, and I stood for a

moment admiring it, before tackling down, and making my way back along the

coast to the chalet.

 

When I arrived at the chalet just after four o´clock, My wife had a hot rum

grog waiting for me, and after two of these and a hot shower, I began to

feel almost warm again. As I sadi, a very intelligent woman my wife ! We brought the fish in, admired and photographed

them, and cleaned and prepared them before committing them to the freezer.

 

I fished the following two days from dawn, actually well before dawn, until well after one in the

afternoon, and again in the evenings with my wife, but apart from a small

garfish to my wife´s rod, several small cod, and a few herring, we caught no

other sizeable fish.

 

Probably due to the light conditions, among other

things, it was much brighter on the following two days, and in my

experience the fish prefer deeper water then.

 

All in all an excellent weekend.

 

Regards and tight lines !

 

TL

MC

[Guest Newt]

LOL - anyone reading that who did not already know that anglers are completely crazy should be able to figure it out.

 

We have a wonderful tasting fresh water fish over here, the crappie, that normally fights about like a stick or piece of rag on the line.

 

However, if you can be on the water and near the sort of cover they like when it is starting to snow or sleet - and best if there is a nice wind too - they forget themselves and give a respectable showing.

 

My wife is also smart enough not to fish when the weather is nasty but I will try my best to be on the water under these conditions. Especially crazy since I rarely eat fish and usually buy the ones I do want for the table.

[Guest Mike Connor]

Originally posted by Newt:

LOL - anyone reading that who did not already know that anglers are completely crazy should be able to figure it out.

 

We have a wonderful tasting fresh water fish over here, the crappie, that normally fights about like a stick or piece of rag on the line. <END QUOTE>

 

 

I have heard quite a lot about panfish fishing. For some time, I wrote for a couple of American web-sites, and exchanged correspondence with other contributors. Some of these were devoted crappie fans. I have quite a few standing invitations to go fishing with them. If I ever get to America.

 

 

We shall see.

 

TL

MC

[Guest Newt]

May I sincerely add an invitation to fish with me if you are ever in a position to get to the southern section of North Carolina. "Have boat, will fish" to slightly mis-quote an old television program.

 

Crappie though - interesting fish. Called "paper mouth" with good reason. Thinnest, most delicate mouth tissue of any fish not having the sucker features. Can get to 2-3 lbs and are great eating. Not IMO usually good fishing though but they do have the virtue of loving cold water. Since we are really short on perch down here, it is nice to have something that likes it during winter time. I expect that I will get desperate at some point and anchor in 25 ft of water with a live bait down around 15-18 ft just waiting on ole brother crappie to take a bite. By January probably.

 

I can't offer you a chance to climb over slick rocks with a howling gale pushing spray over you but the boat does have comfortable seats and I bring hot coffee.

[Guest phil dean]

a great tale, it just cheered me up having frozen my fingures and face yesterday off the east coast of England, I only wish I'd had your success

 

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phil,

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[Guest Mike Connor]

Originally posted by phil dean:

a great tale, it just cheered me up having frozen my fingures and face yesterday off the east coast of England, I only wish I'd had your success

 

Glad you enjoyed it Phil. One might write about all the times one caught nothing at all, despite perseverance in atrocious conditions, but this would not be quite as interesting I fear!

 

Fishing the Baltic is usually fairly rewarding actually. One certainly catches more, and more sizeable fish, than in the North Sea, for instance.

 

There seem to be far more venues which give one a very good chance at "close-in" fishing, and one can usually get away with fairly light gear.

 

Thirty years ago, the North Sea was far more rewarding, and one could usually manage a few sizable fish per outing, with the occasional "bonanza" day.

 

When I was in England some time ago, I fished several venues on the North East coast, fairly intensively, which had always produced for me, and did not catch a single fish! There were not so many people fishing either.

 

Those I spoke to, mainly older anglers, were of the opinion that the fishing had deteriorated very badly indeed.

I keep hearing the same from many others.

 

Most unfortunate. Situated as I am, I can get to some very good fishing very quickly, and it is rare for me to blank nowadays, although of course one does not catch a seatrout on every outing. A good catch of cod is usually fairly easy though, if you know the marks.

 

Much the same goes for flatfish, there is a very large stock of these in the Baltic, ten to twenty fish in a four to five hour session, is not unusual. These are rarely caught on fly of course. Worms are the best bait here.

 

Hope you have better luck next time.

 

A good opportunity, if somewhat belated, to wish wish everybody a nice Christmas, peace, health, happiness, and prosperity in the new year, and of course good fishing!

 

Best wishes, regards, and tight lines to all!

 

MC