Martin Bowler’s Adventures The madness of catching mullet!
Despite setbacks and frustrations, I keep coming back for more...
MULLET have been muddling anglers’ brains ever since the invention of the fishing rod.
Be it in a Mediterranean marina or along our more temperate shores, their ability to confuse and frustrate is unsurpassed.
Why target a fish that seems to avoid food for hours on end, only to switch into full munching mode with no prior warning?
When I go fishing I’m normally confident of a result, but not where this fiend of a fish is concerned. This is the very reason I’m drawn to mullet – success with them is never guaranteed!
My mission wasn’t going to be a solo affair this time, with a day each in the company of Tim Norman and Wayne Little.
Living closer to the Dorset and Hampshire coastline than I do, both men know more than I ever will about mullet, but I don’t think I’m talking out of turn when I say that perhaps this increased exposure to the species has led to mullet madness on their part!
As I headed across the saltmarsh with Tim he wasn’t making any rash promises, but we live in hope!
MARVEL OF NATURE
Christchurch Harbour, fishable on a Ringwood & District Angling Association ticket, is a marvel of nature and offers south coast fishing at its finest.
The harbour is formed naturally where two rivers, the Avon and Stour, converge in a sheltered brackish basin. Tidal harmonics create a double high on each tide, giving a dynamic feel to this Site of Special Scientific Interest. Godwits, curlews, whitethroats and willow warblers are among the birds to be seen here, but as I walked with Tim across a myriad habitats it was the canvas, not the
fine detail, that gave new meaning to the phrase ‘big picture’.
A big sky in a big landscape with cotton wool balls of cloud creating the perfect vista.
Here the coarse angler is able to target truly wild fish – none of the named heavyweights of the carp scene, just a chance to make your own memories. Tim and I would be happy just to get a bite from one of those grey ghosts.
Recent results had drawn Tim to a small bay to fish the mudflats as the tide rushed in. The mullet failed to turn up. A week earlier they were here in swarms but now only a handful of fish bow-waved across the shallows.
It’s not that mullet act randomly, we’re just incapable of understanding or predicting their behaviour. All we could do was accept defeat and move!
Another, much larger, bay looked appealing, and we soon spotted a number of forked tails scything through the harbour. There was no time to waste, for after our initial failure we were late on parade with the tide. Tim filled his cage feeders with crumb and squeezed a 20p-sized piece of flake around a size 10 Drennan Wide Gape Specialist hook. Into the melee of mullet went his baits, followed by mine. Perhaps this time the fish would show us a little charity? Well, to Tim they did, and two thick-lipped greys led him a merry dance before gracing the landing net!
I, on the other hand, was to leave the marsh fishless, but day two was still to come.
Wayne Little and I left the relative solitude of the bays and moved to the busy main river. Now, I would never dream of casting at a passing yacht so why, despite our being out of the boat channel, did these ‘sailors’ career into our lines and then glare at us as if we were in the wrong? It’s not as if there’s only a small area for them to play in!
With all that, not to mention swans drawn to Wayne and a dead horse in the swim, I wondered what the hell was going on. Wayne called for patience – all would come good, he said.
Sure enough, both my rods went at once, but both fish fell off for no obvious reason. I cursed and threw the rods into the reeds. Why was I doing this to myself?
The answer came soon after my mini tantrum. If I wanted to catch the UK’s bonefish, I decided, suffering was a required rite of passage. Pep talk to myself over, I reloaded my feeders with liquidised bread and cast them out.
Who in the world would have predicted another double take? Even more amazing, both fish ended up in the landing net.
I proclaimed to Wayne that despite this shallow victory I loathed mullet because I didn’t have a clue what was going on. But even before I returned the fish I was thinking about spending more time with them this autumn.
Mullet mania in a nutshell!