THE BEACH BITES BACK
Paul Fenech takes on a moody Chesil.
Chesil Beach has rarely been kind to me over the years when I’ve targeted cod. A vast expanse of shingle bank located on Dorset’s Jurassic Coast, it stretches from West Bay in Bridport, bending a course all the way to Portland, near Weymouth, some 18 miles further east. Many of my shore sessions at Chesil have never been particularly memorable or indeed, anything to write home about. In fact, I mostly remember the beach for its sheer defiance in giving up its fish bounty easily. It’s not as though I’ve never put the effort in either. Days spent breaking my back collecting a variety of baits; many hours spent tying far too many rigs and packing almost every bit of kit I own, hoping to cover any eventuality that may crop up have gone unrewarded. Then, if that weren’t enough, there’s the quest of actually lugging the whole lot over energy-sapping shingle before collapsing in a heap, my lungs ready to burst. Add on the 10-hour round trip from my home and yes, I reckon it’s about time Chesil did me a favour. Of course, shore fishing at this infamous venue isn’t just turning up and whacking out a bait. Things are never that simple. It’s even easy to pinpoint the popular marks, just head for the car parks at Abbotsbury, West Bexington or Ferrybridge and inevitably you’ll see a long line of beach shelters belonging to anglers not prepared to venture any further. Yomping along Chesil’s shingle is most definitely not for everyone, especially when your back is buckling under the weight of a full tackle box and a stuffed rod holdall, plus, the added weight carrying buckets and cooler boxes crammed with bait. The fishing here can be tough, even before you’ve threaded your mainline through the rod rings. There are those determined anglers who are prepared to put their bodies through the pain barrier by trekking to parts of Chesil Beach that rarely see a fishing rod. These hardened shore anglers know only too well what possibilities could await them; Chesil demands sweat, huffing and puffing. Effort often equals reward as the saying goes.
The first onshore storms of autumn always have me eagerly scanning the internet for valuable nuggets of information. Social media can be great and is regularly filled with excited anglers only too willing to share and show the world their opening winter cod catches from Chesil Beach. Of course, a single cod image doesn’t necessarily mean ‘they’re in’. But if I can feast my eyes on multiple posts from different anglers it certainly sparks me into action.
With a little more in-depth scrutiny of online catch pictures, it can actually give me a lot more info than I bargained for, especially when deciding whether to plan a trip or not. All that then remains for me to do is rely on my experience of tides and conditions before setting off on the long journey.
COD ACTIVITY
During late September and into October of this year, I saw a distinct flurry of cod activity at Chesil, just not enough to have me rushing down. However, having mates who are local to the venue is a real bonus and all it takes is a phone call to confirm if the time is right. Luckily for me, my good mates Dave Chidzoy and Tom Marley know exactly when that time is to hit Chesil. Sometimes it simply boils down to who you know and not what you know.
Dave, an accomplished matchman with an impressive array of results and wins under his belt, works alongside Tom who runs Angling Centre West Bay in Bridport. The pair have their fingers firmly on the pulse in terms of catch reports, especially when customers are entering the tackle shop, revealing their latest successes.
One afternoon, as I was filling my time tying more rigs, the phone rang, and it was Dave.
“Next week is looking good,” he said, with just a hint of excitement in his voice. “The tides are perfect and if the colour in the water hangs around, we could be in luck to bag a cod or two.”
This was the news I’d been waiting to hear, and it suddenly dawned on me I would have to organise bait. I was in luck, though, as Dave went on to tell me not to worry, the bait was sorted for me.
“We’ve got plenty of hermit crabs, peelers, black lug and even cart to get us through two days of fishing,” he said.
Two days later the car was packed, and I was on the road heading to Dorset fuelled with plenty of excitement. I was booked in to stay at the West Bay Hotel for two nights, which is perfect, as it’s only a short walk from Angling
Centre West Bay. I arrived in Bridport some four hours later, quickly checked in, dumped my bags in the room and headed to meet Dave and Tom to finalise our fishing plans.
NODDING RODS
There was no time to waste and, no sooner had I arrived in Bridport, the three of us were back on the road heading to Abbotsbury.
The plan was to head up beyond a mark known as Dragon’s Teeth. It’s a bit of a trek made worse by soft shingle under the boots. However, by staying at the rear of the beach you can actually find some firmer ground to walk on, making the journey a little more bearable.
There were plenty of anglers already fishing directly in front of Abbotsbury car park. As we headed left of them, we rapidly found ourselves on an empty Chesil Beach. We walked for
around 40 minutes and I experienced huge relief when Dave stopped, looked seaward and said: “This will do.” Thankfully the rain had stopped, and sea conditions looked rather inviting with a slight ground swell and a crunching wave hitting the shingle. There was just a smidge of colour in the water but, worryingly for us, it appeared to be dropping out. Evidently, the recent blow that occurred just days previously wasn’t enough to keep the chocolate colour we needed so badly. Within an hour we had six rods fishing and it was two hours before low water. The three of us decided to have a single rod armed with a hermit crab bait mounted to a Pennell rig. Our second rod had either a juicy peeler crab, or a large black lug, again on a Pennell rig. We blasted our baits as far as we could, settled down and waited. It didn’t take too long for the rod tips to start pulling to the unmistakable sign of whiting. For the next hour, we were kept busy by good sized whiting and pouting before Dave had a really good slack line bite that turned out to be a strap conger eel. Next, Tom was quickly out of his beach shelter when his rod tip pulled forward hard, before straightening and his mainline fell on to the beach. “It doesn’t feel like a conger,” he said, as I watched him slowly pump the fish closer. As it neared the beach, his rod tip nodded giving the indication that this was indeed our target species. Moments later and he had a plump codling resting on the shingle. Not a big fish, but at around 3lb it was just what we needed to see to fill us with hope for the flood tide going into darkness.
PROLIFIC CONGERS
Dusk was upon us and the weather was beginning to deteriorate. The wind was increasing, the waves were becoming larger and there was rain in the air. We weren’t complaining, though, as this made things a little better and our hopes grew stronger of a few more cod coming on the feed.
The long line of twinkling headlights in the distance to our right at Abbotsbury had been reduced to only a couple by the time Dave jumped from his Igloo, grabbed his rod and wound in a huge amount of slack line. Frustratingly, it was another strap conger eel.
Tom and I were being continually pestered by pouting and whiting, many of which were being hit either on the retrieve, or chomped in half by something with teeth.
The strap congers were out in force and weren’t giving our baits a decent chance to target a cod. Even when we left a hooked whiting to work as a livebait, it resulted in the tip being dragged forward and then each of
us reeling in half a whiting. The strap congers were simply relentless, but there was always a chance of a larger specimen hitting our baits, so we decided to fish on.
It was now approaching 1am, the wind was whipping up and gusting stronger and the rain was beginning to drive harder. I was beginning to feel fatigued; I’d been up since 4am, endured a long drive and was now hungry and thinking of my bed.
At 2am the three of us gathered under Dave’s Igloo when we all agreed to call it a night. The tide run had now faded, and the bites had dried up. Again, up at Abbotsbury, I could still see a single flickering of a headlight as another cod angler stuck at it.
Chesil had done it to me again and, I’ve no doubt it will continue to bite me on the backside. But it was satisfying to see Tom land a codling; who knows, on another day, the cod may just be there in numbers?
Timing and conditions are imperative, but you can’t assume that the cod will play ball. However, it was still an enjoyable session with two great mates and the banter throughout always making for happy memories.
We did learn the following day that some anglers fishing the same tide up near the Fleet had a super session, beaching plenty of cod and bass to 6lb. With 18 miles of shingle to go at, choosing the right location is always going to be vitally important. I’m already planning my next visit to Chesil Beach. You could say I’m a sucker for punishment, but, being a winter cod angler, the thought of a freezing cold night and a crunching sea just keeps pulling me back.