Today was a GREAT day. The Foxy brothers saw some action. Oh Yeh! You bet.
I shot 7 bass and 3 mullet, although I only managed to land 4 and a half of the bass. How do you land half a bass? Read on dear reader, read on.
Let’s start at the beginning. It was a really nice day, sunny with just a touch too much westerly breeze, but perfect for a foray to the East. Fairly dead neap tide with the low late afternoon.
My brother Mart finished work early and as I’m Old Man “On Holiday” Dave, we set off for the same spot I’d done well a few days ago. It started off a bit iffy with poor vis but with numerous mullet inhabiting the shallows. A couple fell to Mart’s gun including a golden grey and I picked off a biggy as well. We moved out to the weed beds hoping for better vis.
I had the lead and as soon as I reached the beds I saw a bass appear in easy range. Biggest advantage of poor vis is when you see fish they’re in range. As the bass passed I let fly and nailed it. Good start.
Not a big weed bed and I definitely had the advantage being first in. Advantage yes, good luck, no! First off I had a bass come at me head on until at point blank I hit him on top of the head, right between the eyes. Nice fish, maybe 5lbs lying twitching on the bottom. Trouble was the spear wasn’t in it. Spear had bounced clean off its head. Shit! I’ve had this situation before and I knew what would happen next. True to form as I grabbed the fish it recovered and I couldn’t hold it. How I HATE losing fish.
Deep breaths, recover, reload and push on. Two minutes, no more, another nice 5lb-er and this ones side on. Needs a quick shot and no excuses - I ballsed it up. Hit it high – too high. Had it in my hands, but again couldn’t hold it and it tore off. Stood up and cursed, swore and generally expressed myself to the extent that a sailor would have blushed. Mart came by and when he got the details he expressed his condolences. He turned around and promptly stoning a 5.5lb bass (using his newly invented special stoning spear – let him explain that one). Made me feel better – not! But brothers do have their uses – read on.
Well that was it for that weed bed, we’d done it to death, so off on a bit of an explore. Across some sand, passing some truly amazing jellyfish on route and looking, without success, for a flatty. Got to the next set of reefs and yes, weed beds. I was first in (again) and immediately saw a big bass, which moved off. Heartened I moved further into the bed. 3 foot deep with little channels in the bootlace. There, ahead, a tail. Follow, thick weed, a body, steely blue. Follow, short cut, yes, big bass. Snap shot. Hit. Close in, grab hold. Bad shot, big fish, it’s off. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! Stand up, curse and swear ‘til I’m going blue.
Remember Mart? Tail gunner, deadeye, Mart, following ten yards behind. Seconds passed before his urgent voice penetrated my delirious brain. “It’s okay Dave I’ve got it, help me”. Sure enough as the wounded bass ripped off my spear and went into top gear it had to get by my bruv. He’d fired an instinct shot with his big band 100 at a 50 knot blue blur and nailed it. Well gut shot actually but he just held it long enough for me to reach him and get a mouth hold on a 7.25lb bass. Half each, bruv? Yeh! Half each. Nice fish, bruv. Yeh and nice shot, bruv. Two idiots stand in 3 foot of water near an offshore reef holding a big fish and grinning at each other so hard their snorkels fall out.
Could have called it a day but well you know there’s always the next reef. So I went right and Mart went left. Mart saw little and wandered back to shore burdened by his catch. Remember I went right? Right was bass city.
The weed beds were full of bass. I took stock. One of the advantages of age and experience is calmness, been there seen that, got the tee shirt etc. Without that I’d still be out there. Anyhow, decided to only take close range headshots at decent fish. Got 3 using said philosophy and decided to leave the rest for another day. Had a last few minutes just watching as I was shoaled by about a dozen smallish bass and then hauled ass (and fish) for shore.
Mart was already, sat at the top of the beach. Luckily he’d got his camera in the van so we did the trophy shots while homeward bound commuters looked on. So somewhere near this ramble should be some pic’s.
Ho hum, another Guernsey trip report.

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Dave