Really Wrecked S.A.C.
Newsletter number 9: Ocean Warrior

Out again with Chris for the first time in ages, with a flat sea and quite a big tide. As we hadn't had a single eel in the boat all year, nothing was going to stop us.

Chris took us to a rarely-fished wreck from which he took his first port record, a 96lb fish. It was a long way off - about 40 miles south east of Newhaven. On the way out, we stopped a couple of times for mackerel. On the second of these, Phil hooked into another club record to add to his recently acquired tope and thornback bests. It was a superb 2oz greater sandeel, landed, surprisingly enough, on his blue Viagra, scotching once and for all the stupid and unfounded rumours about it being a rod specially cursed by Lucifer in his infernal and hellish rod factories.

Conger contest
Adam and I were also fishing the British Conger Club Interport competition, which involves two anglers from any affiliated club. Scoring is easy - each angler counts his biggest eel, and your score is the average of these two eels. Unfortunately, much as we tried to pull rank and bag the best positions in the boat, the others were having none of it, the selfish bastards. So much for club solidarity.

When we arrived at the wreck, there was still a bit too much tide for anchoring, so we had a drift over it with pirks and Redgills. This produced three small codling of 2-3lb and a pollack of around 6lb. At the end of the drift, Chris set the anchor, and as he did, we cut up mackerel and scad into chunks to throw over as groundbait. If you drop the chunks in bit by bit as the anchor rope is being paid out, most of it ends up on the bottom in the same general area as your baits will be fishing, in theory attracting eels.

Eel men
With the hook down, we fell to fishing, some to eeling with tough rugged grins and manly talk, others to breaming with mincing footsteps and light, airy kisses blown between the participants We didn't have long to wait before the pouting found our bait but soon afterwards, Adam opened his Interport account with an eel of 28lb, and while he was bringing his up, I hooked one which turned out to weigh 22lb. This gave us an average of 25lb - not spectacular but a start.

The bream fishermen weren't doing too badly either. Mick Two Dogs Deacon came up with three, including one which fought very well on his light gear, stripping many yards of line as it dived for the safety of the wreck. When he got it in the boat for weighing, it came out at 4lb 2oz - the second record of the trip, and yet another record to fall to a Really Wrecked virgin. Karen was also helping herself to the bream, and between them they landed five decent fish.

Despite further bites, no more fish came to the boat before high water. And after a quick detour to look for the lost wreck of El Dorado a mile or so away, Chris repositioned the boat over the wreck to await the ebb.

Second tide
This time we had to wait a bit longer for the action to start. The tide didn't pick up as quickly as we might have hoped, so it was difficult to trot our leads back towards the wreck, even using as little as 8oz. Clive was using mono rather than braid, so he got a little more purchase on what flow there was, and so was able to get further back than the rest of us.

He was rewarded with the first fish of the tide - a thumping bite interrupting the pouting rattles. Clive wound down into what was clearly a good fish and hauled it away from the wreck. But as soon as it got near the surface, it decided it didn't like all that light and dived for the bottom. Or maybe it was just the sight of Chris Martin leaning over the gunwale ready to unhook it that scared the shit out of it.

Whatever the reason, as soon as Clive had dragged it back up, it dived back down again. When it came back up for the third time, it was knackered, allowing Chris a good look at it before he pronouncing it to be 52lb and unhooking it.

Clive qualifies
That was Clive's conger club qualifying eel, but the sound of our congratulations was drowned out by a grumbling noise from my team mate. It sounded something like "Grumble, mumble... my fish... grumble... sniffing round my bait... grumble mumble... shouldn't be allowed... fish-stealer... mutter mutter... in my day... just have a couple more pies... "

About half way through Clive's fight I too hooked an eel which Chris decided was 38lb - two pounds short of qualifying weight. I tried to persuade Chris it was really 45lb by letting it dive, but he wasn't fooled, suggesting I ought to tighten up my drag. Cue more Frost muttering.

Next up, some tidy cod of around 8-10lb, taking cuttle and flapper mackerel baits, followed by two more eels of 35lb and around 15-20lb for Clive, (mutter, mumble) and one of 42lb to me, so I qualified too (grumble, complain).

Eventually my 'team mate' did manage a 35-pounder, giving us an average of 38lb 8oz. Not enough to win, as the current leaders have an average over 60lb, but at least we got on the score sheet.

Prize winning eel
And at last we have a contender for our Really Eely award for 1999. Will anyone beat Clive's fish before the end of the year, or will he win the inaugural trophy, with all the prestige and kudos that goes with it?

The trophy itself finally arrived at my house a couple of weeks back and awaits its first lucky owner. The hand-crafted conger eel-shaped handle and delightfully engraved maritime scene make it a trophy to be treasured. The winner will be a proud man or woman as they drink their ale from this splendid piece of solid English pewter, and all who drink with them will know they are in the presence of true angling greatness.

And that's it. The end of a mammoth newsletter, even without the high quality photography you've come to expect from these fishing info-fests. Well done for getting through it. If on the other hand, you've cheated and skipped to the end, shame on you, you Myles among men.