I feel a twinge of guilt when Matt rocks up with Leanne. It's blowing a gale and worse still, the sea's full of weed. Three blokes were setting up as I got to the spot. They all sacked it after a few casts.
The wind's blowing north-westerly, blowing the braid into a great bow as the lure flies. I can more or less get the distance with the biggest Dexy in my box, but I can't control it on the retrieve. Go fast enough to feel it bite and it comes to the top, skimming the waves. Go slower and it dings the rocks, covering the hook with wrack.
Matt gets out his rod, Leanne gets out her Kindle. We know we're not going to catch, as we strip the lures of weed and cast into the teeth of it. I change to a Silverhead and lose it on a rock first cast. I'm down to three of the favoured 45g size which seem the best on the coast.
After adjourning for a latte at a cafe terrace, I head for the tackle shops. One has just one selection pack of Silvers - three I don't want, one of the size I do for £6.99. Mick doesn't have any in the last of his closing down sale stock.
Everyone's been buying them, both shops say. People swear by them. I'm going every day next week and I have just four of the go-to lures left. This doesn't bode well, bearing in mind you lose or damage at least one most trips.
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