PARADISE LOST
A massive bass that got away.
There have been some very large bass caught over the past winter. These include a fish estimated at 20lb, which Oban Jones caught in December while inshore boat fishing. Then in February there was another of 22lb 2oz caught by shore angler Guntars Zukovski.
Not all of us have had the good fortune to land such leviathans when we encounter them. I’m sure we’ve all got improbable tales of the ‘one that got away’ – and here’s mine.
About seven or eight years ago my mate Eddie and I fished an area of very rough ground on the Welsh coast. We started at low tide from about 6am, but were getting a bit low on peeler crabs because it was our final session of a five-day trip.
In the first two-and-a-half hours we had some fish of 2-3lb and then had a rest for an hour or so because the mid-tide longshore drift can be quite fierce on a big tide in this area, which results in snags and lost tackle. We had three peelers and a big softy left in the bucket, and recommenced operations when the tide eased towards high water slack.
I caught another schoolie on a peeler crab, and when I returned to the bucket there was the big softy looking up at me. It was now about 11.30am, the sun was shining and there was a light easterly flattening the sea. The tide had stopped running and the water was clear. It all looked idyllic, but not the best conditions for bass.
I removed the size 4/0 hook, replaced it with a 5/0, and lashed the softy to the hook. I lobbed it out about 30 yards into about three feet of clear water, more in hope than expectation. I held the rod high, while looking around, appreciating the calm and natural beauty of my surroundings when I was jolted back to reality by a good bite, which I struck immediately.
BENT DOUBLE
When I strike a bite, one of three things happen – I thrash into thin air, hit into a snag, or feel the thumping head-shaking of a bass. This was different. I could feel a heavy, very slow-moving weight, which, at first, I thought was a pile of weed. But weed doesn’t move at slack water. I was trying to work out what was happening, when the fish made the situation crystal clear - my rod simply buckled over.
Because this mark is very rocky, I used a multiplier with the drag screwed down tight so that I could get the fish’s head up and out of the snags in the early stages of the fight. With the rod bent double, there was a strange vibration through it. I looked at the reel to see the spool spinning wildly as the fish took line. Easing off the drag, I shouted to Ed that I had hooked a good fish. It fell on deaf ears.
I managed to gain some line, but then it was off again. Mainly for Ed’s benefit, I turned on the audible ratchet . “How big is it?” he shouted, as another 40 yards of braid disappeared. “Very”, I replied.
As the fish tired, its runs got shorter and I was actually playing the fish rather than it playing me. The fish was now wallowing on the surface about 15 yards out, its huge tail and thick wrist waving in the air, as it tried to get its head back down.
There were three jagged boulders between the fish and me, so I put on some extra side strain to guide it around the first rock. No problem. More side strain to guide it between the last two boulders. Suddenly, everything went slack. I reeled in hoping that the fish may have swum towards me, but I knew I was beaten. I cursed my luck. “Lost it mate?” said Ed, using his brilliant powers of perception.
The end tackle was perfectly intact. It was simply a hook-pull, the hold probably damaged during that first run against a tight drag. It’s difficult to estimate a fish in the water, but I’ve caught bass to 10lb 8oz and seen others to 13lb 4oz. This fish dwarfed them and must have been between 15-20lb.
I still feel a little sick when I think about it. Maybe it was better that I lost it as any other bass I ever caught would have been an anti-climax. Or maybe not! ■
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