The mother of all gales was said to be approaching West Norfolk but in all truth I think it had already arrived. When we got to our chosen venue it was blowing like crazy and simply blasting along the drain making waves, whitecaps and froth.
As always it was the favourite drain, specially chosen because there is absolutely no shelter whatsoever from the wind but there are fish: Pike, Perch, Rudd, Roach, Bream and on this day that most exotic of rarities, the Ruffe. I remember Ruffe in the Thames being a dull brown but this one was buff, green and turquoise, it must be the clean water.
The howling gale was just a minor inconvenience.
While I devoted my time to catching fresh bait Mike, our son, who has returned to fishing after a twenty year break, caught the only Pike of the day on my rod and it was a double figure fish too. Not a huge Pike but a fish that had to be worked for in the most horrible, cold and windy conditions and like all Pike, beautiful despite the scar on its side.
Some nice Perch came to the net, not as big as a fortnight ago but Perch that are above tiddler size are always a joy to catch and somehow they always seem bigger than they really are. They fight like tigers and are full of attitude, I think of them as the Jack Russell of the river.
The catch of the day?
Well that was the sparkly little Ruffe of course. Size isn't everything you know.