PARITY CAMPAIGN

Things were not quite so straightforward in the devolved nations of Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, far from it. Here in Wales, the Welsh Assembly Government decided to maintain existing lockdown restrictions, but announced that visits to a garden centre or a library would be permitted.

Like so many others in the Principality, I felt that it was doing its own thing simply because it could, nothing short of political bloody-mindedness at a time when cohesion would clearly have been the better route. Why were they allowing visits to garden centres and libraries, but not remote parts of the coast or a golf course?

My stance on the Covid-19 issue had always been very clear. From day one I supported the scientists and medical teams advising the Government. As long as their advice of no travel other than essential trips stood, I supported it. Fishing would be on hold.

Try as I might, though, I couldn’t think of a reason why anyone could justify a visit to either a garden centre or library as essential. Incensed, I initiated a social media campaign demanding parity for Welsh anglers with those in England. The response was overwhelming, with a great many anglers emailing the Welsh Assembly asking for change. Within days a u-turn was announced saying that angling would be permitted, provided certain requirements could be met.

LIMITED CHOICE

Key to these conditions was that anglers had to walk to their chosen venue, where they would be permitted to fish if they maintained existing social distancing guidelines. Further, anglers in the same household could fish together. Clearly, the burning question still remained – why can I drive to a busy garden centre, but not a remote and secluded area of the coast to fish?

I could probably walk to fish the tidal stretches of the River Usk here in South Wales, but the effort would be negated by the prospects of what I might catch. Thirty years ago, the eel fishing was good, but they are all but gone and, in any case, targeting silver eels is illegal. I might catch a flounder, bass or mullet, but those of you who know the river around the area of the Brynglas Tunnels on the M4 will agree the chances of this are at best slim. In any case, I had and have no access to good fresh bait.

My primary source of income these days is my work as an angling photo-journalist and the Government advice was clear, travelling for work that could not be carried out at home was permissible. After seeking advice, I confirmed that this was indeed the case. I had the green light to drive to the coast to photograph and report on other anglers, who, of course, had walked there.

My options for providing a fresh fishing feature were still limited, but, after some deliberation, I had a flash of inspiration. What about my old friend Harry Asprou and his son, Mario? They live at Sully Bay within spitting distance of the beach, certainly close enough to walk. Would they be up for a session? The answer was yes.

TACKLE HUNGRY

I pulled up outside Harry’s house and the three of us walked to the beach, all the while maintaining that all-important distance of two metres.

Starting just to the east of Barry Docks and ending at the tidal causeway that provides access to Sully Island, Sully Bay forms a gentle curve in the Vale of Glamorgan coastline. For the most part, it provides a sheltered lee from the ferocious run a short distance offshore.

As you can see from the images, much of the ground can only be described as being tackle hungry. Certainly, if you fish here you must expect to lose some rigs. Thankfully, there are one or two areas where a well-placed cast will deliver a bait to cleaner patches of sand and mud.

Harry has lived here all of his life. His parents still do too, and his father brought us a tasty snack of freshly baked Greek biscuits midway through our session.

Proximity to the venue means Harry probably knows it better than anyone, although his son Mario, who has represented Wales in the Home International youth team, would undoubtedly be a strong contender for that title. In the family album, Harry has a photograph of himself as a young lad stood at a certain spot in the bay, holding an 8lb bass he had just caught. Next to it he has another of Mario at the exact same spot, at the same age, holding an identical fish.

In addition to bass, and depending on the

time of year, Sully is a venue that can throw up a wide range of species. Conger eels, dogfish, pouting, whiting, codling, thornback rays, flounders and an occasional sole are among the more common species, but, in recent years, smoothhounds and blonde rays have appeared in seemingly ever-increasing numbers. Harry’s personal best blonde ray from Sully Bay is a rather respectable 24lb.

UNTOUCHED BAIT

With all tackle shops shut due to the lockdown, bait was going to be an issue for many, but luckily not the Asprous. A well-stocked bait freezer supplied herring, sandeels and some peeler crabs, while a couple of hours with a fork over low tide the day before had produced some of the bestquality king ragworms I have seen in many years. Clearly digging bait here is, in Harry’s own words, at best tough. Once again local knowledge helps. You can find out more about digging ragworms on page 66.

For weeks, South Wales had been subjected to a constant east to north-easterly airstream, along with bright, sunny weather, as a result of a huge area of high pressure that was in no rush to go anywhere. The morning we visited Sully Bay was mostly overcast, with the wind having veered into the south west, heralding the arrival of a weak front being pushed our way by an advancing Atlantic low.

The textbook would say such conditions are perfect for angling, but clearly Sully’s fish population had not read those textbooks.

As the tide continued to ebb away down to low water, we remained fishless. The only excitement was a couple of delicate rattles on the rod tips that may or may not have been bites. Time and time again baits were coming back untouched. Both Harry and Mario, who is sponsored by Tronixpro, experimented with different combinations of bait, all of which failed to attract any interest. They fished baits at extreme range (both are excellent casters) and dropped a few casts in close, but still nothing.

LATE SHOW

Finally, just as mutterings about ‘one last cast’ were being made, Harry had a definite bite. As he reeled the line tight and set the hook, it was clear he had indeed hooked a decent fish.

After two hours of catching nothing, Harry swung ashore not just one, but a brace of codling, one attached to each hook of his Pennell rig. One was small and undersized, the other a solid, plump, and perfectly conditioned two to three-pounder that any shore angler would have been delighted to catch in the dark depths of winter, yet here we were in the middle of May. Strange times indeed.

With the tide steadily recovering the acres of weed-covered rock around the bay, both Harry and Mario announced that they would make one more cast before calling it a day.

With the prospects of a home-cooked Sunday lunch waiting for me, I waved goodbye and headed back up the beach, Ronnie doing his utmost to run through every patch of sloppy inter-tidal mud that he could before he got back in the car.

Less than 20 minutes later my phone pinged announcing the arrival of a text,

Harry bagged this perfectly conditioned codling of 2-3lb