Well, given the ludicrously enjoyable trip I made to the South Coast about 4 weeks ago, which resulted in me landing 2 stupendous jumbo Thick-lipped mullet in one morning, I could scarcely expect anything remotely close on my next visit....could I? Certainly the conditions upon arrival very much suggested that wouldn't be the case, as a cold, stiff breeze ripped up the grey water and threatened to deliver a chilly downpour from a murky horizon. This was in stark contrast to the previous day, where Colin had basked in glorious sunshine and glassy seas, surrounded by shoals of eager fish. Nevertheless, the shore was unusually busy but Steve and I soon located Colin in the distance, identifiable by his unique and effective casting style. Dave was already there too, as was the gentleman I have spoken to several times, but know only as 'the mullet king' as introduced by Colin, a title earned by his results by all accounts (and given Colin's level of success, must be something to be held in awe)!
I'd made the journey down from Wales in time to catch an hour and a half of receding tide before fishing it back up, in the hope of getting the best of both sides of the tide cycle. We threaded up our 8 weights and attached the little red-glass-bead headed diawl bach variants on both the point and the dropper, such is the consistent effectiveness of this pattern for mullet (all three species).
Steve and I joined Colin and Dave and started to scan the water for the splashy tells of mullet on the feed. Alas, aside from one or two half-hearted movements, the fish seemed not to want to visit - certainly not in the numbers they had the following day. As the hours rolled by and the tide turned and marched upwards, it began to have all the hallmarks of a blank. There was a period of excitement not long after the flood started as Colin spotted movement in choppy open water and struck into a decent fish which put up a substantial fight, but after 20 minutes or so, there were signs that something wasn't quite right, and eventually Dave had to wade out and intercept the fish with his net as it was proving impossible to turn. It was a nice TL mullet of about 5lb, but the difficulty in bringing the fish to heel was revealed as it having been foul-hooked near it's adipose fin.
Colin's foul-hooked mullet was a nice one!
Other than that, things were looking bleak and the cold was beginning to drill into the back of my neck.
Eventually I decided to wander up into the estuary channel and try the same approach as I had a few short weeks before, and trot my flies downstream hard up against the opposite bank of the channel. There were a few fish betraying their presence in the channel as I wandered off leaving the others in the open water, and Steve followed. The water in the channel was extremely clear, but I still couldn't see anything under the surface as the heavy low cloud turned the water to riffled tin, negating even the magical properties of seriously good polaroids. Nevertheless, I cast and let the flies trickle down, maintaining contact by slowly stripping 6inches of line at a time. The first drift passed and I cast the line across again. This time the flies had only travelled 6ft and I was in mid-sentance in conversation with Steve when my words were interrupted by a sudden strong jerk on the line, and with a loud 'Whoa!' I lifted the rod into the weight of a fish at last!
It's on! Gently now....
Initially it felt quite small and I commented as such but nevertheless put only gentle pressure on in case the hook-hold was a tenuous one; having waited this long and with fish so scarce that morning, the last thing I wanted was to part company with it prematurely! The light pressure seemed to be all that was required initially and it seemed a small mullet would soon be to hand...but I was wrong. All of a sudden the fish seemed to become aware of what was happening and registered a sudden distinct displeasure, bolting upstream and pulling flyline firmly through my fingers. I dumped coils off my flexi-stripper and quickly wound everything up so I could play the fish against light clutch pressure on the reel. Colin and Dave had become aware that I was connected and I caught a glimpse of a tentative thumbs-up from Colin as he and Dave started over from some distance away. I grinned and reciprocated with a thumbs-up of my own before quickly grabbing the rod again as it lurched and the fish ran against the clutch again. Mullet have a horrible tendency to pause in a fight, dipping their heads and waving their tail above the water before slapping it down. This creates an awful 'twanging' sensation as they catch the line, and it's a heart-stopping moment as that twang is followed by a momentary lack of contact. It makes me groan with nerves every time, as that little hook could so easily be plucked out of it's hold. Thankfully it wasn't, and the trade-mark mullet tussle ensued .... few feet of line in....few feet of line out.....and so on for about a further 20 bloody-minded, stubborn minutes of discourteous non-cooperation from the fish. As it slowly began to tire, I got more and more glimpses of it and realised that despite my earlier reservations, it was actually a good size indeed and in excellent condition. I tried to net it solo, but the mullet had other ideas and started to play games in the shallows. Worried that getting the leader through the tip ring might result in a lost fish if it lunged, I handed the net to Colin, who expertly intercepted it and lifted in out of the water.
It turned out to be a lovely fish of around 5lb, not long, but deep and broad across the 'shoulders', if such can be said of a fish! I was delighted naturally, relieved I'd not screwed up the opportunity and pleased as punch that this was two trips on the trot that I'd found and landed excellent fish using the same technique.
Bigger than I thought, although the picture doesn't do it justice!
The fish was admired and photographed before being gently released. Not long after the water grew cloudy and the chance of any further success diminished. We stalked fish in the margins for a while, but they were industriously pre-occupied with filter-feeding in the mud and ignored any further flies, no matter how well presented. I didn't mind - It had been a tough day with conditions far from ideal and a minimal number of fish making themselves visible, but the end result had more than made the 300 mile round trip worthwhile, and boosted my confidence no end. It seems the Grey Ghost and I are destined to get more closely acquainted now!
Joe
More mullety fun!
- especially when you certainly deserve it! Yeah, sorry I wasn't able to get away John - bad timing that weekend I'm afraid. Perhaps if the tides had been better too it might have helped....especially now I've got some nice marks to go to! Next time...
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