It all started when my brother in law started to show an interest in beach fishing. We had gone through all the usual trials and tribulations about which tackle to buy, and why was this rod better than the other one, you know, we all go through it even after many years of fishing, you would think we should know better. He even had items of tackle on his Christmas present list, and good old Santa duly obliged.

He was now fully kitted up and ready to go. To start off we made a few trips to our local beaches, around the Clacton-on-Sea area, without to much success, we had a few small codling, some whiting but that was about it nothing to write home about. Then we heard how well the beaches in Norfolk were fishing, and decided that we should make plans to go up there and give it a try. After a few days of careful planning we were ready for the off, car loaded to the roof with just about every piece of tackle you could think of, just in case, you know what I mean, gear that has not seen the light of day for years but on this trip it might just be needed.

Off we set for the journey of a life time, you would think by the way the car was loaded, with some anticipation the miles were slowly clocking up, and as we got nearer the chatter started, the same old story what type of rig were you. going to use, what size hook etc.

After a couple of hours we arrived at our venue, and proceeded to unload the car, it’s a shame that the old pack horses are still not in use around here we could have done with a couple on this trip.

After a struggle we managed to locate a spot that looked likely to produce a few fish, and was not that far from the car, there was only one thing missing no one else was fishing, never mind we thought perhaps they would be along later. We had given our selves a bit of extra time, so that Richard could impress me with his own casting style, and to have a few warm up casts myself.

After a while we settled down to the more serious business of catching those big cod that we had been told and read about. After a few bite less hours the initial enthusiasm started to wain, and Richard decided that this might be a good time to polish up his otherwise perfect cast, just before those big fish arrived, for ever the optimist is he. We had a beach to ourselves about one hundred yards wide between two large wooden groynes, all the room in the world you would think, oh. no not when Richard started his rather personal casting style, shall we say uncontrolled and leave it at that. The first cast flew low and right, “where did that one go was his response”, “I think it landed the other side of the groyne”, I replied, “I did not see a thing” he said, I thought to myself I’m not surprised. Richard proceeded to walk along to the other beach so that he could retrieve his weight, which he successfully did, after a few more of these entertaining casts, I decided enough was enough, and started to show him one or two of the important points in getting some distance between you and the weight.

All seemed to be going well and I left him to continue on his own whilst I tried to get back into what we had gone there, for the fishing.

With one eye on him and one on my rod I settled down to finish off the session with hopefully at least a bite, but oh. no this was not to be. Over the groyne went yet another cast, this time however he decided that it would be easier to stay where he was and retrieve the rig over the top of the wooden structure, with the obvious consequence, the hook buried itself in the groyne. No this was not going to deterr our man. oh no. He tugged and he pulled, until he pulled the groyne down, sorry getting carried away. After a good few minutes he decided that as the tide was falling he would wait a while, and then he could walk along the top of the groyne, and retrieve his very expensive fifty pence weight, which I had given him. Some time later he decided that the time was right for an assault on this groyne, now that the water had receded a few yards. He had calculated that every fifth wave was the one to watch as it was larger than the rest, and if he waited until this wave had passed by he had a little time to make the dash to where his hook was hung up. This was going to be to much for me to carry on fishing whilst this was going on, so I walked to the groyne, and asked what on earth his thought he was doing, just to get back a fifty pence weight, this was when he explained his well thought out plan,”good luck”I said I’m staying put, and off he went to a point that was safe from that fifth wave. He then spent a few minutes carefully checking that he had got his calculations right, he was a bit slow of the mark on his first attempt and decided that a quick retreat was called for just in time he made it back to a point of safety from that fifth wave. A few more minutes were spent making sure that this was the time to make his dash, and off he went again, like a greyhound out of the traps, this time he made it to the point where his hook was hung up, and proceeded to unhook his trace from the groyne, one trip was not going to be enough, back he came to a safe point ready to make another attempt. Boistered by his successful first attempt off he went again, counting the waves as they went by, one fiddle about a bit, two, fiddle about a bit more, three, nearly there, four, “Richard look out” I shouted just in time for him to turn round, and get the fourth wave fully in the face, undeterred he finally unhooked his rig and walked back to the beach, soaking wet and freezing cold, but he had that fifty pence weight in his hand.

No we did not catch any fish but I had a very entertaining afternoon. It was a good job we did not get stopped on our way home I think it would have taken a bit of explaining whilst he was sitting there in his underpants, that were a little wet but not as wet as the rest of his clothing.