When we rolled up an hour before high water and clambered down through the dunes, there were already people in the best swims by the rocks, beachcasters pointing skywards.
A few casts in, I'd worked out this was no big drama because the sea was full of annoying, hand-sized bits of weed which seemed to foul the lure every cast.
The weed was on the top, but I couldn't seem to get under it. I couldn't really feel what the lure was doing in the stiff breeze and strong pull of the tide. Every now and then, it dinged the bottom in what I guessed was eight or ten feet of water at the bottom of a stiffish slope.
Half an hour of this and the hook on the bar spoon was bashed and blunted beyond sharpening. Instead of wasting another Owner or an even more expensive Pluggin' Single, I changed to a rubber sandeel and tried bouncing it along the bottom.
Less weed, as in every second or third cast instead of every chuck. But I could only cast it half the distance and couldn't really feel what it was doing on the end. Still enjoyable, after a day back at work.
The wife and Daughter Three enjoy the excursion as well, throwing stones in the sea for the dog to chase and beachcombing along the weed-strewn high tide mark for interesting shells.
A fish would have been nice, but I've still got a lot to learn about the quirks of the coastline. Its sandy expanses look flat and featureless but gullies thread through the underwater terrain.
I need to get a good look at this beach at low tide, because it seems to have changed quite a bit since I last visited it.