The first session of a two day trip was down the docks, the water was gin clear and mullet were everywhere, trouble was they were thin-lips with their mind set on munching away at the algae. The bass on the other hand obliged although there seemed far less than usual, I still managed twenty of these giants to get off to a start.
It was just great to get away after laying my dad to rest recently so anything would do, even small bass. A new era of fishing had began for me, so off we went to our holiday rental, a bottle of wine and an evening of reflection waited as we bid the working docks farewell in the hot afternoon sun.
The following day we were further down the coast after saying adieu to the Adur for a run at the Arun. When not playing with words regarding these similar sounding rivers one has to marvel at the surroundings. I have said it before and no doubt will again - It is an uncontested fact that fishing anywhere within sight of a castle is cool, especially if they stand proud above the skyline as Arundel's offering does.
I'd love to say the river Arun meanders all romantically below said fortification but it does anything but, sure the river has gentle sweeping bends however that is the only thing gentle about it, the tide is a bit of a fast one and we rocked up just as it was about to turn and head out with haste, this was perfect timing as far as I was concerned.
I tried to take my time setting up, fed a bit of bread and looked for signs of fish, the first mullet sighted always gets the float put on quicker, which today was a waggler due to a bit of a breeze creating a chop. As the tide dropped the first of several metres more mullet came into view but like the day before they were thin-lips, uninterested in my bread.
I knew to be patient and continued to feed, after another hour the missus walked off to spend a penny in the town and within a few minutes of her leaving I finally had some activity on the bread. A trick I've found here is to just wait until they show rather work a line endlessly for a bite and sure enough a big swirl on the surface was a precursor to three mullet vying for my hookbait next cast. I could swear the largest of the three looked me in the eye in doing so, it was breathtaking stuff, I then bent into this fish which tore into the midstream flow like it was nothing, then everything suddenly parted company. Such was the violent way this fish beat me I was sure it was a snap off yet there was my hook, dangling in the wind, looking sorry for itself, much like me.
I had little time to dwell on misfortune as ten minutes later the same scenario arrives with another swirl on the surface, the metaphoric 'Bite Imminent' siren was sounding in my head complete with flashing lights and sure enough it was another fish on again where the swirl was. This time though I was more proactive, jumping down onto the sloping bank, keeping the rod lower, powering the fish upstream, praying that there would be no hook pull. After several attempts at landing the fish I finally had a reward for my patience and it was a beauty.
The Missus finally comes back from the shops telling me of olde bookshops, walkways and of course public loos but I had a big smile on my face and a tale of a mullet to recount.
An hour passes with nothing more showing so lunch is taken, naturally whilst halfway through more mullet arrive as I continued to feed the swim as well as myself, concentrating on the former of course, so I went in again with the float and so the mullet obliged, a wonderful ripping bite down the bottom of the trot that powered upstream through the fastest of the tide, my line singing in the breeze and clutch screaming, I endeavoured to keep it away from huge swathes of flotsam that were either large pieces of wood or mats of floating rushes.
With the wife back I got some action shots this time.
