Whiting in the Crouch Estuary - 18-19Nov2000

The four of us met in the pub on Friday night to discuss the weekend fishing session.

Kev, a first rate toolmaker, invited us to go on a 24 hour whiting expedition aboard his 27ft boat, the Ann-Marie in the Crouch Estuary off the East Essex coast.

Walter and I were also joined by Ted, an ex soldier from Wakering. Now, according to Kev and his Essex compatriots, Wakering people are a different race and you need a passport to move from Essex to Wakering. They are wild marsh dwelling people, born and raised in the rushes. That's the myth anyway. Their nearest equivalents would be the Keekers in the Scots borders or the American hillbillies. Still, Ted is a nice enough chap, even if he does look like a wild Cossack.

Kev, Ted and Walter.

We had to leave dead on high tide as the boat was berthed well up the River Roach and the navigation channel is narrow and poorly marked. This was also a Neap tide. Make a mistake and you will end up running aground on the mud flats for 12 hours. Unfortunately, high tide was at 5am; isn’t it always when you want to get afloat?

We were up at 3.45am and cast off on time. It was a clear crisp night with a half moon surrounded by a great halo of thin cloud. To reach the sea, we had to steer between two rows of slender withies, barely 6 metres (20ft) apart. These were not easy to spot in the dark and Walter sat on the wheelhouse giving directions to Kev below.

This was the second morning when the Leonid meteor shower was visible. We had a grandstand view with over 50 shooting stars streaking across the sky between 5am to 6.30am. They all came from the direction of the moon, but did not follow the same track, ending up at different points of the compass. Some were tiny, but others were colourful and left a trail of sparkling debris as they petered out low in the sky.

It took over an hour to make the River Crouch and then passing Foulness Island to starboard, we had another hour to reach the Buxey buoy in the estuary. The sun was rising as we reached the buoy.

Sunrise on the Crouch Estuary

We set the anchor and chose our positions on the afterdeck. Another boat had joined us 400 metres away and we heard over the radio that there was a small local competition a mile back in the estuary.

For bait we were using squid strip and lugworm, either separately or as a cocktail.

Ted caught the first whiting and went on catching with a military regularity. Walter and Kev were doing quite well too. It took me a while to get started, but I did get into the whiting too. The tide was running towards me half right, which meant I had to cast well into that direction using a method called uptiding to avoid tangling with Ted or fishing under the boat. Using a short rod made that problematical. I could have done with breakaway leads too.

Many of the fish were undersized and went straight back, but plenty were of eating size, including a good one which fell to Ted of around 1 kilo (2.2lb).

As the tide fell, great mudbanks became exposed, providing good feeding grounds for hundreds of seabirds and wildfowl and were littered with sleeping grey seals.

Walter was determined to catch an early codling, using a generous cocktail of squid and lug, but they were either shy or not out of bed yet.

I tried using a washing line arrangement, with a gaudy set of lures and baited hooks, including orange jelly worms for cod, but caught more whiting with it instead. I think the others were kept amused by this technicolour rig and it certainly attracted the crabs, including a velvet swimmer.

By 1pm, the fish were coming in steadily, but we were getting hungry. I had pre-cooked a curry the night before and just needed to heat it up and add some smoked cod and tomatoes to complete the cooking. It was handsome, but I over-cooked the cod a bit, which meant it disintegrated into the curry.

Soon after lunch, the wind got up and it started to rain. We were fishing in depths ranging from 2.44m (8ft) to 6m (20ft) so there were no heavy swells, but the water got very choppy. Soon, it was difficult to stay in the chairs and Ted tipped over backwards after a series of waves hit us from the stern. I managed to steady the back of his chair, but decided he had fished enough and retired to the cabin.

With the weather getting wilder, Kev concluded we should seek shelter just inside the mouth of the Roach. We headed back up the Crouch, passing a long stretch of lonely mudflats with twenty seals basking along it's outermost tip.

An Essex dab.

Walter still wanted that elusive cod and was confident of success as it turned dark. I switched to a flattie spoon for dabs and skate. I used a small long-shank hook baited with lugworm below the spoon. It soon proved effective. I had a nice dab around 250g (1/2lb). Admittedly, I also caught a number of whiting on it. We settled back into our chairs in the relatively calm waters and prepared for a long night. I switched to the position Ted had occupied earlier and did a lot better.

To keep in touch with any bites, we held our rods in one hand and the line in the other. Not all the bites were easy to detect, but there was enough sensitivity for us to feel the crabs attacking the bait.

Ted came out with a mug of coffee for us and we sat waiting and sipping the hot liquid gratefully. Suddenly, Walter got a take and struck with both hands. He missed the fish, but was spot on with the coffee, smack in the face. I had to laugh, but I promise you, it wasn't because he lost the fish.

Walter then caught a pouting and a dab and some more whiting, sometimes two at a time as he was fishing a double rig, but as darkness fell, the takes dropped off.

Around 6pm, it got darker still. The Foulness Power Station suffered a powercut and the island and surrounding areas were completely without light. It did not reappear for over 1.5 hours, then went off again for another half-hour. There is something special about sitting on the open deck of a boat at night. It's lovely in summer, but in early winter it has other qualities, mostly best forgotten.

Who said we enjoy it?

It was around this time that Ted naively asked Kev where he could have a dump. Kev recommended he perched his bum over the windward side of the boat and hung tightly to the railings. That way he wouldn't need toilet paper, but he warned him to watch out for any large waves, in case they hit his nut sac and smacked it against his chin. Ted lost all desire to relieve himself and retreated back to the cabin.

The crabs were a nuisance, but I had another dab and occasional whiting. By 11.30pm, we had had enough. We had fished for over 16 hours and the wind, fatigue and cold were getting the better of us. I hauled up my line and found a small dead whiting on, with a crab tearing at it.

Kev cooked up another curry at midnight, with tinned beef, meatballs and frankfurters. Frankfurters? They weren't my idea and I can tell you, they don't go. What did go, were the kidney beans and lots of chilli. Like a train, right through us.

So there we were, four chaps in a wheelhouse 2m square, belching and farting like cows on turnips and nowhere to escape except outside. It was a difficult decision, but we stayed inside, it was too wet and wild outside and there was no question of returning to the mooring berth, as the tide would not be high enough until 5am.

We all made ourselves as comfortable as we could and with one on watch the rest slept. At 2am, Kev woke us. A large ship appeared to be heading our way. We were just off the main channel in the Roach, but it was too narrow for both vessels to pass. Of course, it carried on along the Crouch. It would have run aground if it had tried to join us.

At 4am, we made up another curry and quickly regretted it. The stench from the afterburner effect was appalling. It was time to make our way gingerly back up the river. Walter got the unenviable job of spotting the elusive withies from the top of the wheelhouse again. It was raining hard and it was impossible to see the markers from the wheelhouse.

The lights from an industrial estate beyond the berth effectively blinded us and we could only feel our way slowly. A couple of hundred metres from the berth, we missed the markers and found ourselves in only 1.22m (4ft) of water. The boat draws .91m (3ft), so we had very little to spare. The channel is only 1.83m (6ft) deeper here and barely 3m (10ft) wide, so running aground was a real possibility.

Captain Kev got us back on track and four delighted anglers got ready to disembark.

As we pulled off our waterproofs, I felt a bit sorry for Ted and Walter. They had one piece suits, and nearly keeled over when they opened them up. When that happened, there was a hasty scramble to get off the boat and onto the jetty. We all headed for home and were in bed by 6am.

We returned at 12pm to pick up the gear and the tide was completely out. The creek was just a trickle and very narrow. Kev and Walter did well to navigate that in the dark.

The creek at low tide.

As to the aftermath, all I will say is that I managed to block Walter's toilet.