Selsey Way, Sunday 18/6/06

[Seamouse]

Hi folks,

We had a run out in gloriously flat weather to a mark north of utopia for the last of the early ebb. I went on the drift initially and picked up just a couple of small pack tope. Once I decided the tide had turned enough to be worth anchoring, I called for lines up and got a bit of a surprise when a near 13lb tope monstered my mackerel head right under the hull! Sets the heart racing, that does. Nothing much came on the flood so with the tide roaring through we retired inshore to play with the bream. They obliged, although the average size was a bit small with the best going just over 2lb.

Back out to Utopia when the flood eased and this time the tope were there in numbers. We had runs every few minutes, just small pack fish to a tad over 10lb but huge fun for my crew, who were well impressed. Notable this year that we've been getting a few on the mackerel feathers. Sunday was no exception, although this one managed to bite off the snood before we got him in. It does make you wonder whether a pirk might not do the business though?

Back in to a very crowded slip (my loathing for jetski owners gets stronger every time I have to recover) after a day you just couldn't fault. Flat seas, warm breeze and a gentle overcast.

 

Steve

 

p.s. milling around off the slip in a strong cross-current, we had two Warriors waiting for a chance to put in on the beach (lined with bl**dy jetskis), several ribs and speedboats, two small gin palaces, the Hayling ferry, an inbound Southcat (Valkyrie) and half a dozen jetskis ear-holing around between everyone at full bore chucking waves up all over the place. We had a small sail catamaran beach-launch and sail straight between an inbound gin palace and its trailer, causing it to hastily abort and go round again, then on directly at us causing US to back off and turn away. As he went by on his straight line (happily aft of Valkyrie) I noticed he was head down in the ropes and presumably had no idea at all of the chaos he'd just caused. Meanwhile the jetskis continued to thrash around going airborne through their own wakes just yards away and through the midst of it all, who should go by but the Harbourmaster in his rib. This all happening, needless to say, in a 'strictly enforced' 10 knot speed limit. I hate sundays!!!!