Weymouth Holday 2026

 On arrival at Weymouth we parked up in the pavilion car park for a quick look before booking into our caravan. This was wise as it showed the whole area was fenced off due to flood defence works, not a good start having an entire area unfishable but at least I knew in advance.

The next hour saw us stroll over to the stone pier where the usual assortment of sea anglers were present, I didn't see many fish but knew I'd catch this holiday, it's Weymouth after all. We helped a dad who's lad had somehow knocked a box of hundreds of hooks onto the floor, turns out the magnet of my phone case is perfect for this job.

The night was spent drinking and eating in the Harvester overlooking Bowleaze cove, as the sea view turned into a sea of lights as the sun set over Weymouth bay, it had been a good night but tomorrow meant fishing.

Then it rained and boy did it rain.

We were already commenting on how much greener it was down here, compared to Herts and whilst the rain was forecast it was quite impressive how it pounded our caravan roof all night and well into the next day, not to mention frustrating, we finally got down to the stone pier at 1pm. Parking up at a free spot I found and walking past Nothe Fort, I surveyed all before me as the skies totally changed with a new weather front bringing wind and a welcome bit of sunshine.

By the time we got round the corner the wind had picked up even more, it was already blowy but this was now impossible. Setting up on the stone pier was hard as threading the rings saw tangles behind the reel before my heaviest float, when finally set up almost whacks my wife in the face, we therefore moved to calmer waters further up the quay. It was still choppy but the first fish came and a couple of gobies were welcome.

Then I got distracted by mullet, it was always going to happen. I spotted three and dropped in above them. The tide wasn't Ideal and nothing was showing aside from a shoal of much smaller mullet. These dace sized fish kept me occupied as I bumped off a couple, knowing if their attacking of the bread on the surface didn't draw their bigger cousins in, nothing would. It panned out beautifully.

I must admit I played it like a bit of a nooby, the audience of a dozen passers-by didn't help, it was also my only mullet of the year so maybe I was rusty too, but in my defence It was a good fish and one of those ones that hates the sight of a net. It finally saw mine and I was jolly pleased.

I tried for another but the tide was now coming in, ideal for the stone pier but for that chop and gales, no thanks, not for me although a few hardy souls passed by on the way there.

It was time for fish n chips so I made the call to pack up as didn't fancy walking across the busy bridge all set up in this wind. We had to get to the other side as it was quite chilly, we sat there eating in a more sheltered spot watching the boats go by. I only caught three fish but I was happy with a good mullet knowing I can target the smaller species next time.

The next day started with us getting a tyre fixed as it was flat, so yet more waiting however this could have been a lot worse had it happened on the four hour drive down here. With that sorted we did some shopping before returning late afternoon for the tide and parked up again in our free spot. This time I wouldn't be sidetracked by mullet, it was much calmer on the stone pier today so wrasse were the target this time.

The pier was rammed with anglers so we got more or less the only spot left on the south facing side. It was at the shallow end but deceptively deep with the gin clear water showing the rocks and weed and a few small holes in between. I fed a few prawns and straight away got a few small pollack.

Then the wrasse appeared, literally. I could see them swimming around my bait and I was striking when the prawn looked to have disapeared. A few small ballans and corkwings kept me busy before I got the one I came for. I really wanted one of these green ones just for the amazing colours.

It was interesting watching the wrasse, it was surprising how far they would come up in the water, also how on occasion they would almost stand on their heads one minute or totally turn opposite when faced with the bait, the tide was incoming but the water was now flat calm and still, a stark contrast to yesterday but it made the wrasse look like they were floating in space with their various angles of attack as they nosed the bait.

A couple of pouting also showed and I could even see their stripes in eight feet of water as they took the bait which was cool.

I was getting a nice mix of fish and also the usual mix of characters appeared for a chat whilst I was catching. First a friendly fellow with an ankle tag, then a welsh chap in a bright orange top talked for a while. Things went a bit slower whilst the orange dude was peering over but I didn't mind too much.

As the tide came in further the wrasse got a bit more hesitant, I wasn't sure if this was due to the tide or my prawns spoiling. I was keeping them in my bib due to the number of wasps pestering me, so much so I left an open tub with a few in to lure the wasps away from us. Even a curious herring gull didn't fancy a face full of stings as it looked at the old prawns in the now wasp lined container.

The holes in the weed grew deeper with the rising tide, I wandered to the really shallow bit that folk ignore and spotted a couple of good wrasse over a pound that seemed to be doing a circular dance nose to tail, in the process ignoring my hookbait that was placed optimistically in front on several occasions.

Then a big wrasse appeared, once again it was oblivious to my attempts and no doubt aware of my presence, I clumsily followed it as it swam ever so close to the wall. It looked 4-5lb. With my 6lb line and those rocks and weed I was seriously undergunned. I fancy my chances at landing much bigger fish on much lighter line but feel wrasse are one of the strongest most underrated fighters in our waters. The impressive wrasse along with the other two disappeared out of view for good, perhaps not a bad thing, he says, deep down thinking I'd still have a crack.

A paddle steamer came to dock the other side to round off a nice evening session, not long after it set off again we left, just before dark.

I had done ok getting 14 fish, mostly wrasse, from the one spot today and 17 in total from the two shortish trips, feeling though that there is a lot of room for improvement especially with the prawns, even though I had a red letter day for bass earlier in the year further along the coast. That's fishing for you.

The next day was spent entertaining the missus, playing crazy golf and having a few drinks, we saw 'Orange Dude' again in the pub, this time also with his yellow welsh bucket hat, this guy is brighter than my float collection I concluded. 

A walk around the marina whilst the wife was shopping saw me locate a shoal of mullet including a really big one, the width of a carp, perhaps over 8lbs. But I was happy not to chase these settling for the good one I had earlier in the trip. 

It was a cracking holiday with some great memories and a lot of fun all round, a good mullet and the wrasse I wanted plus the variety that Weymouth always offers, both on and off the bank.

8 Mile - A Return to The Canal

 Three generations of family fished opposite the pub as we had our final drink of the day. There was dad with his overalls on looking like he was fresh from working on this,the last bank holiday Monday of the summer, grandad watching on and of course a little one full of enthusiasm and lacking attention running around like a lunatic. a few sips later we watched as the little'un held a small roach up to the camera, probably his first ever fish, a whole new adventure was opening up for that fella whereas we were at the end of ours. For the day at least.

The day had consisted of an eight mile walk along the canal, not fishing just walking, plus erm... the odd drink or five, to the next town then back, hence some predictable wordplay in the title. Nothing to do with a sequel to the film 8 Mile with the rapper Eminem (remember him) for my follow up was simply fishing the same bit of canal the very next day.

Using knowledge gained from such a long walk was crucial as we had passed really barren areas of cut that once held so many fish, areas I used to frequent nearer my home. Pollution, poaching and predation, the three problematic 'P's meant It was sad to see the canal looking so clear and lifeless, although a small shoal of perch and a few chublets offered hope, they were no match for the large chub and bream shoals of a few years back. There was only one other angler aside from that family on a area that would see at least a couple of dozen rods, three or four years ago. I did spot some good bream, be rude not to return with the gear.

My fishing trip the following day was naturally direct to the pound where I had located the bream, good ones too, many miles from anywhere, past all the piles of rubbish left behind the boat moorings, past collections of junk the Canal and Rivers Trust guys had hauled out and past a boat that was leaking diesel (reported to CRT) finally passing a sewage works, releasing clean water into the canal as those water companies never discharge anything bad do they!

I had bread and maggots and set up where the bream were previously and sure enough they ghosted into view before drifting away from me. On went the little dibber float with just the bread to cock it, hoping to mug a few on the drop like I used to do with the bream shoals in town. They were fairly cagey though, so I went deep and fished over the spot I'd fed. It didn't take long before a beautifully coloured bream (for the canal) glistened in the sun, with no belly a 5lb 6oz bream sure fills the net.

No more followed on bread, they had drifted off and I couldn't relocate them, I've had this before on other sections and they can go a long way if you can't hold them on your feed. There weren't even roach or chublets nabbing the bread so I changed to maggots picking up a few small roach and perch, before moving further along to a narrow section, concentrating on finding signs of fish, hoping to get whatever.

Even the small stuff was finicky, perhaps due to the diesel film on the surface which is never ideal although It didn't seem to bother the house martins at first as they skimmed the surface in an aerial ballet drinking it up, maybe they'll get more mpg now.

The birds understandably didn't stay long, before a lot of bubbles appeared in front of me, right down the track where I'd just had another couple of roach, the float now sitting among the fine froth that only a bigger fish could cause, just as I was contemplating switching back to bread the float dips as my single maggot is found, another bream is on, twisting and turning and fun on the light hooklength, a similar sized bream although this time a darker fish.

I was happy with a couple of really nice looking bream, it was what I had come for so target achieved, once again this season has thrown up really good fishing, although this is the first time in ages I can't moan about the heat, after all there was no way we'd be walking eight miles a few weeks back, never mind returning when there was a slim chance of it being real shady.

The last hour of this short session was spent chasing bubbles in a tactic that basically didn't work, but gave me an insight into how the fish moved up and down the cut feeding, as the bubbles moved along I could almost picture the fish under the cloudy water, for they were the reason for that colour. As I passed clear cuts on the way back I was grateful for have found a small pocket of fish and rekindled a bit of passion for a local canal which has served me well in the past.

Who knows I may see that little kid when he's older fishing the canal, which is hopefully still holding enough fish to whet the appetite of both the seasoned angler and young novices for years to come.