A lot of dive reports to catch up on…
Finally Brighton was blessed with a few days of still weather, so finishing work later than planned on Friday I went down to my nearest spot as the tide was ebbing. Sea like a millpond, only a couple of frustrated rod and line fisherman packing up who’d not had any fish all day, ripples from baitfish, and a dolphin cruising away in the bay a few hundred metres off. The viz was milky but good. First dive saw the sweep of a disappearing mullet tail – nice size, flanked by a few smaller cousins. Next dive, and through the milk came a pale school of bass – mostly small, with a larger fish trailing. On the stringer. And so on. I saw fish on over half of the first dozen dives and added a mullet to the stringer.
And then, as always seems to happen, the silver fish disappeared. Still, it was a beautiful spot – tiny shrimp hanging in a cloud in the lee of a rock, surface of the sea boiling as the fry panic from a mackerel onslaught, the tiger striped mackerel pack bursting aggressively past in a blur of speed. Then I dropped down on a mussel patch, and two bass flicked in to investigate. One more on the stringer. So, two bass and a mullet – a great afternoon’s dive.
The forecast was doing its worst, so I wanted to make the most of the flat water. I waited for low tide plus an hour or two, and headed back to the beach about midnight with Orion just rising over the horizon. Nocturnal life had taken over, with all the strange array of creatures that night brings – the three inch long fish that hang translucent in the light of the torch before disappearing in a fit of speed; the bass the size of your hand cruising in ankle deep water; and the legions of wriggling sea bugs that throng to the torch beam. Turning off the light and wafting my hand sent sparks of luminescence tumbling through the surrounding water.
The milky water chewed up the torch beam, making it hard to see far, and the larger fish were skittish. Once or twice I caught a disappearing flash of a bass’ silver flank, spooked by the light. On one dive down, almost at the bottom, the sea bed suddenly exploded into the broad blue spikey back of a large startled bass. Finally I spotted a nervous looking sole that stayed motionless long enough to put on the stringer. My first sole – chunkier in my hand than I would have expected. I spotted another sole, but he saw me coming and flapped off like an angry tongue before I could bring my gun to bear. Heading for the shore, in ever shallowing water, I swam over another bass. No time to aim I brought the gun around and fired from the hip, missing the fish and hitting a large stone, putting a banana curve in the end of my spear. Time to get out. Three o’clock – the time had flashed by but the stars had wheeled around since I’d got in. Hot shower and bed…
It was sunny and late when I woke up on Saturday, with only an hour before David (BarnacleBoy) was due. I was still troughing the sole when he arrived, and after coaxing my spear vaguely straight with loving strokes of a hammer, I joined him on the beach. I’d been praising the fishiness of the spot, giving him detailed instructions about where to dive, how to line up and pop the queuing lines of mullet…and for over two hours we saw nothing. Well, not quite nothing. I had a close clean line up on a slow moving (and very average) mullet. And I missed. Next I spot the upturned snout of a flattie poking out of the sand by a rock. So I line up, shoot, and miss… BarnacleBoy’s getting a bit sceptical by now, but at least the dolphin was back, closer in this time, no more than 100m away. “Where?” says David, sounding dubious. “Right there!!!” as the fin and back broke the surface, within spitting distance. “Hmmm” says David “I can’t see anything….”
Honest David, the spot normally holds fish, and I promise, there really really was a dolphin…
I get home and there’s four missed calls and text messages on my phone – Jay (yellowdevil) is on the train on his way down… Quick re-fuel (half finished sole and rice), then cycle down to the spot BarnacleBoy didn’t want to fish earlier. It’s getting dark as Jay and I get in, the water looking murky and unpromising in the deepening gloom. We dive for three quarters of an hour or so but the viz is bad and the bottom holds lots of obstructions, so we decide to move a bit closer in where it’s sandy and safer. As the tide drops the visibility clears up and soon we have a couple of flatties each. Heading over to rougher ground I see something that looks like a sort of flattie but isn’t. Then it changes colour. I shoot my first uk cuttlefish, who’s not at all happy about being speared, pumping out clouds of ink and fastening himself onto my torch with all his many limbs. He gives me plenty of evil stares, jets of midnight ink blotting out the torch, but ends up on the stringer. Amazingly beautiful creatures, it’s almost a shame to catch them, but dammit they taste good. I may have imagined it, but I’m sure the cuttles turn a sort of red colour in that “oh shit I’ve been spotted” moment when the torch beam settles on them. A couple more flatties, three more cuttlefish and I’m thinking of heading back when my torch catches two graceful silver shapes swimming slowly away from me. Nice bass on the stringer. Cold and tired, we head for shore to get changed in a biting east wind surrounded by a group of pissed up teenagers. A gorgeous dive. Here are some photos – otherwise BarnacleBoy would never believe me…