four go mad in cornwall

RA-TA-TAT-TAT

I’m woken from a pleasant dream involving Rhianna and a pair of Simms waders by an urgent knocking sound.

wha’ wh’ whu’?

5 seconds of confusion follows and I’m blinded by a head torch shining through the window. What’s someone shining a torch through my window for? I sleep on the first floor?? Ahhh, wait a minute, memories come flooding back like blood into a cramped muscle. Reassuring but painful. I’m curled up on the front seat of my car in a somewhat crumpled army surplus sleeping bag and my back feels like I slept on a bag of rocks. A cheery face appears behind the head torch and I realise not only where I am, but also what I’m doing here.

I’m deep in darkest Cornwall. I’m here chasing Bass on fly fishing tackle. The manically grinning head torch is Luke. It’s 4:10am and it’s time to get moving.

By 5:00 I’m stood on top of a cliff near an oak leaf sign. The lights of town A twinkle merrily in the middle distance and you’d be forgiven for thinking that apart from the four of us, the world is asleep. Now some may find it strange that some force exists in this world that will have four grown men up in the dark on a cliff top discussing the merits of washing up bowls and ikea children’s stools and their use as line stripping trays. In the world of the saltwater fly fisherman it seems walking around in the dark dressed in rubber with a washing up bowl strapped to your backside is the norm.

Every once in a while you do something that you know will stay with you to the end of your days, a memory that you will always hold onto. I’m threading my way along a narrow cliff path in total darkness, faint moonlight illuminating the seascape far beneath us, rocks silhouetted against the diamond studded surface of the fathomless depths. The only noises are the faint rushing of the surf far below, the scraping of studded boots on rocks, the knocking of the washing up bowl that’s strapped to my rear end and the cursing of Al as he tumbles over roots and rocks.

We fish the tide as it comes back up over a bladderwrack covered ledge, rockpools alive with fish and crabs which dart away under cover as the lumbering humans intrude into their otherwise peaceful lives. Sandeel patterns are cast out, untidily in my case, and then are stripped back through a blue grey sea, glinting in the steely pre-dawn light.

Fish follows fish, follows fish follows fish. Tick Tock Tick Tock. The tides now fully in, the day is underway properly and in the distance we can hear the bustle as life appears and cars, boats and planes make their presence known audibly.

We wander back around the headland and the rain comes in from nowhere, lashing rain, driven by the ghosts of fishermen past. I stop with Graham to have a few casts on a small headland where the ledge drops off into deep water, water the colour of a ming dynasty vase, a deep hypnotic blue, a blue you want to fall into. As we stop a seal pops up and swims towards us, unconcerned at our presence, just curious.

There’s something about fishing those few hours, something that makes you feel enormously smug, like you’ve stolen hours that others don’t get. It’s a magical time of the day, and one that no matter how knackered it makes you, leaves a smile on your face and a memory in the old grey database.

The bass are well and truly in now, and the pull of the sea has me firmly in it’s grip. A few more trips over the next weeks and then we’re into Pike season. Late Summer and Autumn have to be one of my favourite times of the year, but then I’m well aware that I say that about every season. I think more and more it’s the change that I enjoy, the anticipation of the season to come. If it’s a grey and cold February I am undoubtedly looking forward to the joy of a verdant spring, in the August heat (where???) I’m anticipating orange leaves rustling underfoot, wooly hats and warm coats.

Vive le changement

This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 24th, 2011 at 5:54 pm and is filed under The Diary. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.