I really don’t want to mention the fact I’ve still not caught a bass on Piel Island. And I really don’t want to talk about the small child who caught a bass from the exact spot I was fishing an hour earlier. Oh the shame of it, in front of all my mates when I’ve been calling myself the ‘king of the fisherman’ all summer. I might never live this down.
All I managed to catch were a couple of fouled hooked Launce (aka bass food) and my mate caught one prawn in his prawn net (using cocktail sausages for bait?!) Its like all fishing skills and common sense disappear on that god forsaken island. (its probably the amount of beer consumed)
The set of pictures below comprise 2 trips to Piel island this summer. Honestly it all got a bit Hunter S Thomspon at times, watching the England vs Norway match on dodgy TV hooked up to a generator on the beach, with some mad lads from Barrow and drinking moonshine from a fish shaped hip flask. The hangover was biblical.
And just to wrap things up nicely, one of the trips home was equally eventful when my mates car blew a fuel line on the M6.
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