BAILIWICK BEAUTIES
Reader Steve Ansell sings the praises of Guernsey. He’s impressed and thinks you will be too
Steve Ansell sings the praises of Guernsey.
During some family trips to the beautiful island of Guernsey and beguiling Sark, it struck me how open the Channel Islanders can be with information regarding fishing tactics and venues. Believe me, angling is a way of life there. This glimpse into the Bailiwick’s buzzing angling scene made me very keen to plan a proper trip with my pal Kevin Charman, who has been my fishing buddy for more than 15 years. He didn’t take much persuading, and a trip was planned. Soon, one of Flybe’s small turbo-prop aircraft was taking us from Southampton to Guernsey.
We arrived on a Sunday morning, so the tackle shop wasn’t open, which limited us to the bait we could carry from the UK in our suitcase. It consisted of some black lug, cuttlefish and a few peelers. It was a midday high tide, so a trip to St Peter Port’s lighthouse breakwater was a good option.
Here we caught some nice ballan wrasse and a blenny down the side of the wall, with locally foraged limpets being the top bait. The bigger the bait, the bigger the ballans.
We ended up using a paternoster rig with 30lb Amnesia hooklength and a size 3/0 circle hook baited with two or three big limpets. It was simply hit, hold and winch because there is no mistaking the bite from a ballan. Wait for the rod to arch over, hang on and don’t give line unless really necessary.
At low water, we visited Cobo Bay to fill our buckets with limpets and hardback crabs, small green ones being the local favourites.
BOLD BALLANS
The following day we met up with specimen angler Shane Bentley, the local coalman, who offered to show us one of his big wrasse marks. His determination to get us on some fish was amazing and we felt like we’d known him forever. As he hopped around the rocks like a mountain goat, we had to ask him to slow down a bit.
Once we reached the mark, a long spit of rock overlooking a sheltered bay, there were a couple of sloping rocks leading to the water’s edge. The water was surprisingly shallow, at around 8ft at mid tide.
As soon as I lowered my bait into the swirling water, I felt a familiar bang of the tip, closely followed by a determined lunge for freedom. I held on and soon a stunning 3lb wrasse was in the net. Using a net will stop you over-stretching to land a fish. We finished with 18 wrasse to 4lb 1oz, the biggest to Shane, who the week before had landed three over 5lb from this mark.
It was still only midday, so Shane suggested we tried light-tackle fishing for mullet. The tactic would be float-fished bread around the outdoor swimming pools carved into the rock opposite Castle Cornet. Shane knocked up a bucket of shirvy – a bread, fish and pilchard oil slop used as a groundbait – and simply flicked lumps into the water using an old spoon.
Before too long, Shane’s float slid away, his rod hooped over and a 1lb-plus black bream was netted. I managed one and Shane followed with another two. Kevin missed a few bites, but remained fish-less.
After dark we tried a beach gully mark that had produced some quality bass for Shane in the past. Apart from Kevin losing his footing, smashing his rod-rest’s legs and ending up in a rock pool, the night was largely uneventful, except for a lone wrasse.
HARBOUR FUN
On our third day, we were set to go to Sark, but the wind was blowing a Force 6 and there was uncertainty about whether the ferry was sailing. As a result, we decided on a fairly sheltered session on the end of the pontoon, where the Sark ferry and the local lifeboat are moored. This mark offers some varied
sport, but do not fish where you shouldn’t, and don’t get in the way at this working harbour.
The fishing was great fun. Using our light rods and baitcasters, we caught goldsinny and ballan wrasse and red mullet, with Kev also adding two Couches bream.
Tactics were simple – light running legers with small single hooks on 9lb fluoro hooklengths. The best fish we hooked was here, but I stupidly forgot to check my stardrag, and out of nowhere my rod arched over and was pulled right under the jetty with alarming power. I fumbled with the drag to no avail. It was simply bad angling on my part. The tackle held up, but the heavygauge, short-shank size 4 Aberdeen hook straightened and it was game over. There was no head-shaking or lunges, only the sense of being hooked to a submarine. It was probably a big bass, but I will never know.
SARK SESSION
Finally, we did make it to Sark. It took about an hour for the ferry to cross the choppy waters from St Peter Port, leaving us five hours fishing time on this island. Getting off the ferry was like stepping back in time because there are no cars, only tractors and horse-drawn carts.
In the crystal-clear water of the harbour, which is protected from the strong southwesterly wind, bass and mullet were clearly visible. Expectations were high as we set up on a rock ledge only two minutes from the harbour. The plan was to fish for wrasse while spooning out shirvy to entice bream and whatever else as the spring tide began to rise.
A steady stream of ballans were winched up the rock face, the larger ones lifted with a drop-net, but the bream failed to appear. I broke my favourite rod and lost my glasses over the edge, so we headed back to the harbour wall to see what else we could muster.
First drop resulted in a garfish, so fish strip was swapped for squid, which were dropped off the rod tip at a depth of 18ft. A succession of bream followed. This was fun fishing and like nothing experienced back home. A solitary cuckoo wrasse of around 12oz joined the party.
Given more time we would have tried larger baits on the big rods and maybe, while waiting for bites, have given our Fiiish Black Minnows a go. However, using two rods may have been unfeasible given the prolific fishing. Five hours fishing came and went in a flash, but our memories will last much longer.
On our last day we had a couple of hours to spare, so we had a tour of the island to look at some bass marks. Farewell Guernsey, until next time.