SCALES OF JUSTICE ARE TIPPING AGAINST OUR FISHERMEN

Coronation Street actor- turned- journalist NIGEL PIVARO takes to the sea to investigate the state of the fi shing industry post- Brexit

LEARNING THE ROPES: Nigel Pivaro, right, joins the crew of the Relentless II at Poole harbour in Dorset

IT IS not often that a land lubber like me has the chance to get on board a working fi shing boat to watch the crew go about their business. But last Thursday I was lucky enough to join skipper Willy Whitworth and Pete and Dave, his two- man crew, aboard their catamaran in Poole Harbour.

Ordinarily the crew would go 25 miles into the middle of the English Channel to retrieve their lobster pots. Today, however, is a short run out from the world’s second largest natural harbour for the brief cuttlefi sh season.

Luckily for me it was a fi ne day but even so the swell and everpresent smell of diesel fumes coming up from the powerful engine took some getting used to. About three miles out Willy cut the boat’s engines and joined his crew on deck to retrieve the metal cuttlefi sh traps off the sea bottom.

After the rope connecting the traps has been ensnared by Dave with a grappling hook, the large metal cages weighing more than 40lb each are pulled out of the sea and their contents are emptied into boxes.

Then the traps are manhandled across the slippery surface to the port side of the deck. This process is repeated until all the traps – about 18 on each line – are retrieved and emptied.

Once all the traps and lines are aboard, the anchor on the seabed that keeps them in place is cast off the stern. Skipper Willy guns the engines to full power and the metal traps follow the anchor back into the sea with up to 60 fathoms ( 360 feet) of rope unravelling like a giant ball of wool from the deck.

Despite being an ardent fi sh and seafood lover, I have to confess that I had rarely considered the journey it undertook to get from the sea to my plate.

But following the initial euphoria expressed by many fi shermen after the Brexit vote, I decided to try to get a deeper understanding of the industry from the fi shermen themselves.

I discovered that the belief that Brexit would mean more control over our waters and fi shing policy had been replaced by a deep scepticism that anything will change.

The fear is that instead of declaring an economically exclusive zone 12 miles out to sea around the UK, the Government will continue to subscribe to the EU’s Common Fisheries Policy with its myriad quotas and restrictions and existing conces- sions to EU- fl agged boats from Holland, Denmark, Spain, Belgium and France that fi sh deep in our waters will continue.

In the past three weeks I have travelled to Poole in Dorset, Folkestone and Whitstable in Kent and Grimsby in Lincolnshire and each port’s fi shermen have their own nuanced opinions and problems.

Not all of them voted to come out of the EU but they nearly all feel they will be sold out by the Government in the ongoing negotiations with Brussels.

Some, like retired trawlerman Mick Hubbard of Grimsby, go back further in their distrust of politicians. He believes the deepsea fi shing industry was sacrifi ced for strategic reasons.

“The decline of the fi shing fl eets in Fleetwood, Hull and Grimsby goes back to losing three ‘ Cod Wars’ against the Icelanders,” says Mick. “There were other agendas and British trawlers were not properly protected by the Navy.

“It was the height of the Cold War and I feel that the Americans told the British Government to lay off because they wanted to maintain their air base at Kefl avik.”

Mick, who spent 20 years at sea, adds: “When the UK joined the Common Market a lot of the big trawler owners could see no future in deep- sea fi shing, following the retreat from the Icelandic waters, so they sold their boats and licences and did very well out

‘ The politicians will sell us out for some other advantage – we will be used as a bargaining chip’