Time for a bit of Sole searching

That's another week flown by, and it seems that the writing of these blogs is coming around quicker and quicker as the year slips away, mid way through September and I guess the year is rapidly approaching its conclusion. With my new target of 72 now seeming a little tricky, especially having missed several species that I tried for, and now with only around 14 weeks until the close of play ,the pressure is on. I have a list of the remaining species I want to target, and there are a couple that I am pretty confident in getting, but there's no such thing as a certainty with angling so I will just have to keep the fingers crossed. That's why when there's a chance of something species wise I hadn't previously considered, I need to get out and go for it, makes for some exciting fishing. A chance conversation on our recent shark trip, sowed a seed in my head that within 48hrs was bordering on an obsession, the fish in question was the Dover Sole and call me naïve, but I had always assumed they resided in the waters around Dover a bit like Kentucky Fried Chicken. Bristol channel angler, Craig Willis had kindly tolerated me picking his brains numerous times during our Happy Danglers trip, with one of my query's focused on the question of sole. Craig had told me that there were a few areas that I could try for one and went on to give me advice on baits and best tides. When I got home I began the research , which is so important when targeting a new species, I read, watched and digested as much information on this fish as possible over the next few days. Without wishing to wait any longer for the best tides as advised by Craig, I decided to take a chance and go on a bigger tide that would mean I couldn't fish all the way up to high water, the weather was also not great, with a stiff westerly blowing, not great for angler comfort. With my mind set on going, I tied up some rigs with the first being a 4 hook setup, comprising light mono snoods and size 6 hooks, this was pinned flat with a weight at both ends and a swan shot on every hook link. Everything I have read about the sole points towards the importance of the bait being fished flat on the bottom, there was no doubt this would remain flat.The second type of rig I had prepared was a 3 hook rig comprising of 3 weighted booms, the hooks were larger being long shank size 4s and the rig also had weights top and bottom. I had ordered some King Rag to arrive on Thursday, sure enough Solent Baits didn't disappoint, with some quality worm in pristine condition. I had the car pre-loaded so once I got back from work it was a quick bacon sarnie courtesy of the lovely Mrs D, and I was off on my solo sole mission. Commercial Chris, was busy, being a quirky quizmaster at his local pub and couldn't join me, its a shame as Mrs H, had been shopping for him last weekend to buy him some new outfits, I think she considered him not fit for purpose in his current attire. He had then turned up at work everyday in a different shiny new outfit, ranging from a French Onion seller, to one of Captain Nemo's sailors, ending with a nice retro Val Doonigan look. For anyone too young to have heard of the great Val Doonigan he was like a modern day Justin Bieber, but sat on a stool by a fire. I am sure Chris would have had a new outfit for fishing, probably along the lines of a set of Burberry dungarees and flat cap. I steadily trundled the 80 miles up to the mark on the Bristol Channel and thanks to information supplied by Nick Smith, I went straight to some free parking adjacent to the beach. My first look at this beach and it seemed windswept, cold and muddy but once I was down amongst it, I soon realised it was in fact extremely windswept, bitterly cold and bloody muddy.

The westerly breeze really felt quite bracing and glancing in both directions highlighted my madness even further as no other anglers were present, in fact no humans whatsoever. I started with the smaller rig, and one ragworm managed to bait all 4 hooks, the plan was to wade the rig out and place it, then walk back paying out line. I had read that if you fish your sole rig at only 40 yards then your fishing 20 yards too far, the speed with which the channel water comes in, is staggering and you really need your wits about you. I waded out in amongst the thick chocolate soup, squelching mud and rafts of weed, carefully placing the bait in about 3 feet of water, before slowly walking back while letting out line. This isn't the sort of mark that you take too much kit, everything gets covered in mud, I had opted for my big plastic bucket, cheap tripod and single rod.

If you like slop, weed and chocolate water then this is the place for you, but what these conditions do attract are the Sole that I so desired, Bass, Rays, Conger and Cod. The Bristol channel is a truly awesome fishery and Chris and I will be spending a good deal of the winter up there this year. With the rod in position it was soon obvious that the biggest issue was going to be the amount of weed floating in the surging water and my line was quickly draped in various clumps like eco friendly Christmas decorations. The weed built up to such a degree that the gripper lead was pulled free from the bottom, the lack of casting probably added to its poor embedment. I wound in the rig and removed the copious amounts of weed noting that two hooks had no ragworm on anymore, something was clearly feeding as it certainly hadn't been cast off. Once again I waded out and placed the bait, and with the tide now pushing in strongly, by the time I walked back to the tripod the water was already there. This time I kept wading out and clearing the weed, to leave the rig in the water, by doing this I was able to give the baits a chance to get a bite, I also managed to keep the line slack and rod low helping get the baits hard on the bottom. While waiting for something to happen I always look for a photo opportunity, its just nice to have memories of fishing trips that aren't just fish based, some pictures work and some don't.

Anyone who knows the Bristol channel will recognise this building proving its not just America that has a Whitehouse, in this case a Lighthouse, makes a great fishing platform.

I noticed some trembling on the rod tip and despite the strong breeze it clearly looked like something was nibbling the baits, another snippet of info I read was if a sole begins to bite have a cup of tea before striking, they are finicky feeders due to their tiny mouth. I turned away and poured myself a steaming cup of coffee, fighting the urge to investigate the bite, the rod still showed signs of plucks although they had become less frequent. Now I was concerned I might have given it too long and that once again they had scoffed the worms, the coffee was downed and it was time to check out the baits. I lifted the rod sharply freeing the gripper weight and flinging the most recent clump of weed skyward, there did feel a little more weight but it could be weed that had travelled down the line. I walked down to the water as the leader knot reached the tip eye, I freed the blob of weed to allow the retrieval to continue, and there skimming along the surface like a tiny leather paddleboard was the object of my desire a pristine Dover Sole. I lifted the rod triumphantly upwards to see another on the bottom hook and for some stupid reason shook the rod to dislodge the weed on the rig, instantly the bottom fish fell back into the water and was gone. Fortunately the other fish remained, what a disaster that could have been, if that had been the only fish and I had shook it off, sometimes a moments lapse of concentration can cost you dearly. Luckily I had been blessed with two of the little wonders and this Dover Sole, species 66 made me so happy I had to do a little mud jig, much to the little fishes disgust I imagine. Having never seen a Dover Sole up close I examined the little flatfish, they are extremely slippery to the touch a bit like a bar of soap, their side slung mouth is indeed very small and I can understand why it may take a little while to consume a section of king rag. I carefully and quickly set up my camera on the bucket using the baitboard as a platform to take the pictures with the self timer, the fish was then, like its fellow escapee released back to the chocolate channel to grow and prosper.

With the target achieved I immediately changed to the 3 hook bigger rig in the hope of perhaps getting a bigger sole or another of my targets, a Bass. The best time was now approaching as the sole is an avid nocturnal feeder, although its probably pretty dark all the time in the channel, the tide was racing and having clocked the numerous gullys to my rear I knew that there was a real danger of being cut off.

At one point I moved to the other side of a rapidly filling gutter but my rig was on the other side of an exposed island of mud, I wouldn't have been able to reel that in until the tide covered it. The sun began to set with an amazing display of colours and patterns and being alone on a beach as the tide rises and the sun falls is a real privilege, photos never really do it justice as I am sure all anglers will testify. I started to get some sharp rattling bites that just didn't seem the same as the more subtle sole nibbles, sure enough I wound in a couple of small whiting, one of which went out as a bait. It was only 10 minutes later when the rod thumped over sharply and sprang back, as some unseen assailant ripped the whiting from the hook, probably a conger. Of course with my interest in a bigger fish now pricked, could I catch another whiting for bait, no way hozzay, despite my best efforts no more turned up. With the darkness well and truly all around me I watched intently as 3 strange glowing pink hoops spun in circles further down the beach, like UFOs skimming the surface of the mud, they then stopped before heading directly towards me. It looked quite spectacular almost CGI like but when they had closed to around 40 yards I could hear the loud panting of big dogs, " oh bugger". I was suddenly surrounded by 3 German Shepard's and I don't mean Bavarian Sheep farmers! The huge dogs although menacing, seemed a little bit camp with their glowing pink necklaces, I didn't think it was the right time to mention that. Somewhere off in the distance a ladies voice shouted out the names of the dogs, Slasher, Smasher and Basher! Actually I made them up, I couldn't actually hear their names above my own screams, but fortunately they could, and they turned and bound off, leaving me only seconds from a fate worse than being smashed, slashed and bashed.

That wasn't the last canine visit I had that night as right near the top of the tide with the dry land rapidly disappearing, I spotted eye shine heading towards me along the beach, the culprit this time a Fox who bounded past without even a side glance, right under my rods and off into the dunes. The tide as predicted finally beat me and with my back to the wall, I had to make my escape via the steps or face a muddy bath. The near two hundred mile round trip, putrid mud, relentless sea weed, bitter wind and driving rain would soon be forgotten, my first ever Dover Sole would not. Thanks Craig and Nick, true gents of our angling brotherhood and if not for your advice I wouldn't have got that fish.

This Blog, like one of my old school reports has its highs and lows and if the first part was the positive part of one of my old reports, the Art lesson bit, that stated Steven is showing an artistic flair and an aptitude for creating. The second part of the blog would reflect my Maths and PE section of the school report, Steven lacks any comprehension of this subject and must try harder, and Gym, "who is Steven"? he seems to be absent from all rugby training! The second trip was a day Shark fishing out of Looe and as it transpired with regard to my shark fishing this year my Maths and PE teachers were spot on! The trip was aboard Force 10 and with skipper Pete Davis, normally being my lucky talisman I hoped that my curse of the sharking Jonah would be lifted. The trip was organised by good friend and shark festival team mate Brian Copeland, also including his best mate and sharking virgin Dave, plus son in-law James. I decided as I still had some ragworm left I would get to Looe early and try for a thin lip mullet over at the Millpool, I rigged my LRF rod with a Mepps spinner and single hook so I was ready to roll out of the car and cast. The morning was surprisingly chilly and the car temperature gauge showed 6 degrees but with a stiff breeze blowing off the moors, it felt more like 5.5 degrees. The journey down was largely uneventful other than the fact that I felt Sting was largely responsible for our plastic bottle on the beaches epidemic, having made it cool to put a message in a bottle during 1979, its sad what a long journey, grumpy git and Police's greatest hits album results in. I pulled into the Millpool car park and disembarked from the vehicle like a navy seal, reaching the waters edge in mere minutes, only problem, no water. The tide hadn't pushed up this far yet and despite having thin lips the mullet still had fat bodies and would take another hour to squeeze up to this point, I decided to go with plan b which meant dropping off the gear at the boat and doing some LRF on the rocks at the end of the day. I arrived at the harbourside and could see skipper of Swallow 2 Murray Collins busy cleaning the boat deck, I think he could do with a ride on polisher for that deck, I bid him good morning and asked if he would keep an eye on my gear while I drove up to Hannafore to park up. I decided to leave the light rod in the car for my return later as there was some great rock marks close by, as I walked back to the river I spotted a group of huge mullet picking algae of the new concrete slipway, darn it why didn't I bring the light rod down with me. Once I reached the boats, Pete had arrived and we transferred my kit to the boat and had a bit of a catchup before picking Brian and the guys from the other side of the river. We headed out briefly stopping for Mackerel but with only a handful of joey's caught we headed straight out to the shark grounds.

With the hour and a bit journey completed Pete dropped the chum bags while we tried to get a bit more fresh bait, soon a few nice Whiting were caught and sent down the chum trail for the sharks too feast on. I had decided to put out my shark rod and carry on bottom fishing to try and get something different and soon had a lovely little red gurnard, and a plethora of whiting that arrived in hungry hordes even taking mackerel heads. Brian who had been religiously feathering shouted that a big garfish had followed his feathers to the surface, I didn't need telling twice and I just had to have a go for one of these silver missiles. The instant I dropped down the thin slither of mackerel belly it was hit by a garfish and after a short energetic battle I swung it on board for a quick picture. The gars have been a bit short on the ground this year and strangely I had just asked Pete if he had seen any since my last trip with him where I caught several, he had replied they had seen none. Now back on the boat a month later and I winkled out another Garfish, this was however the only one that day, which in itself is strange they don't normally travel alone.

James was then away on the long range rod and a little blue shark capitulated and swam in with less fight than my garfish, but a sharks a shark and these pups are our future qualifiers. Then Dave's float submerged and another pup made an old man very happy, as Dave had tried several times for his first ever shark and this little male had made his day, great to see. An hour later James was in again and a bit better blue made him work a little harder, James was hoping for his qualifier but this fish wasn't it and was quickly released.

Next Brian was into a shark and again a feisty male punched well above its weight, although Brian probably made the most of it, its important to enjoy them when you finally get one.

With my shark curse hanging over me I tried different baits, different depths but no sharks even accidently bumped into my line, last year I could do no wrong but now with my mind focused on every other species they have shunned me. No time to contemplate as the newly promoted shark wrangler Dave was in again and this fish was a much better fish and no doubt the biggest of the day, a moments lack of tension on the rod and the fish was gone. The final run was once again to James's rod and his biggest of the day but the highlight of his day was when he captured his first ever Octopus. Despite my shark blank I still had a fantastic day with top notch company, a great skipper and a west country sea looking radiant, only two shark trips left this year and only one of these is in this shark club year. With the trip over my mind turned to an hours fishing off the rocks, I had 4 king ragworm left and a need to catch a fish or two. Mrs D then messaged me a picture of a bucket of fried chicken, that was a sneaky move although it wouldn't be going anywhere so I fished on with impunity.

The sea was rising and the gully I wanted to fish would be cut off within 30 minutes, no fish is worth risking your life or the lives of rescuers for, and I planned to fish the gully for 15 minutes only. The first drop of the mini species rig resulted in an instant bite and I struck to find a wriggling black goby on the bottom hook, this fell off clearly only holding on to the bait via pure aggression. The next drop and the light rod rattled sharply, this time my old adversary Blenny Henry was the culprit and a fine looking lenny he was too, incredible camouflage on these mini preds.

A quick check of the water level to my rear and I was still fine with my exit strategy so I once again dropped the rig, this gully produced a few more blennys before I was departing to some safer ground. The next rock mark was a bit of a deeper hole in-between some thick beds of weed and the first fish humbled me in the weed bed and got off, clearly one of the wrasse species. The next drop I was better prepared and pressurised the fish as soon as the take took place, a good little scrap and in came a nice little Ballan Wrasse, this was followed by a couple more before the light and tide created hazardous conditions and it was time to stick my head in a bucket of chicken.

A couple of mixed result trips but one thing is for sure a poor fishing trip still beats a night in front of the box hands down, the sole is one of my highlights of the challenge so far and fingers crossed theres still a surprise or two left in the year. A few big conger trips coming up which wont add to the species list but if I get a P.B eel that may make me a tad happy. Thanks for all the support this week everyone that helped and hopefully Commercial Chris the crazy outfit wearing quizmaster will return for a bit of one sided character assassination in the next blog.