Tackleworld.co.uk working to meet anglers tackle needs.

Rescue! By Dave Kyte

The day started at the Anglers Den in Pevensey Bay where I met the crew that were going out on the Carrick Lee, a charter boat skippered by my friend Bill Dow, and we busied ourselves with the normal preamble to a days fishing, buying bait and last minute bits and pieces. The weather had turned against us and the wind was nudging force 5 westerly on a 7 metre tide so the planned deep water trip had become an inshore sortie for soles and plaice in the lee of Beachy Head. "40 lug each will be enough to have a go at the flatties" I told the lads and off we went . We met Bill at the Sovereign Harbour, loaded up the Carrick Lee and I slipped the mooring lines for Bill to take us though the lock to the open sea , but on the horizon we could see the swells and knew our plan was right as we headed west towards the "Head"

Five minutes from the mark I looked out of the cabin, called to the lads to get ready with their gear and then spotted the bait, 4 packets of lug. "Where's the rest of it ?" I said, thinking it had been shared out, but the reply was to change the whole day and the fate of two anglers. "We only got 40 lug, you said that would be enough!" Came the reply, so now we had a problem, 6 anglers and enough bait for about an hour. Bill and I had a conference and decided the only option was a rock mark about 8 miles down the tide, still sheltered to a degree, where we could catch pout with the lug and then use them for conger bait, so we turned around and set off.

We anchored up to the rock in what was becoming a lumpy sea and started to catch pout, which were soon sent back down to the sea bed as flappers, but the eels were a bit slow to come out and play, so we played a waiting game However, unknown to us a drama was unfolding 5 miles up tide that will stay in our minds forever. Two bass anglers had got into terrible trouble as an anchor rope fouled their prop,with the anchor still stuck in the hard stuff and in an instant it had spun their boat stern on to the tide and waves. Before they could reach the radio or get to their life jackets the boat had taken two waves over the back and sunk.

They were five miles from the shore and not another boat was in sight as they trod water in a desperate fight for survival and started to drift with the tide. The minutes seemed like hours as they got colder and colder and the prospect of rescue was rapidly diminishing when their sunken boat, although still below the surface came along side them and they managed to get some support, but would the cold kill them anyway ? And still they drifted.

Two hours later,on the Carrick Lee the congers had started to feed,one had been landed and returned when someone said "What was that ? Did you hear anything?" It sounded a bit like a seagull's cry carried on the wind, but not quite. Then suddenly there was a shout and looking seaward we saw what could have been a waving arm ride up on top of a swell then disappear. We strained our eyes and looked again and saw not one but two people riding up the next wave, some four or five hundred yards away, then every thing happened in a split second. Bill, gunned the engines, I put a knife through the anchor warp and consigned it all to the bottom of the sea as Bill deftly reversed away, before putting her full speed ahead. Every moment counted as we sped towards the two now exhausted anglers, never taking our eyes off them for a second and Bill used all his years of experience to put the Carrick Lee close enough that we could reach down and haul them enceremonially onto the safety of her deck .

With the two safely aboard we made our way back to the harbour, each with his own thoughts about what might have been, and how vulnerable we can be at the mercy of the sea. Also how "Fate" had put us in the right place at the right time to avert a terrible tragdey.

Take care. DK