A couple of years ago myself and four pals were on a sailing weekend out of
Portsmouth and whilst we were moored in the marina "Bubs" and I decided we
would do some beach casting in the estuary, we knew it to be very muddy so we
figured on Flounder for dinner. After a while Bubs got snagged, snapped off
and lost a relatively expensive trace, about an hour or so later, when the
tide was on the ebb and the first 30 yards in front of us was pure mud, Bubs
hooked something that seemed like a dead weight. When he eventually managed
to haul his "catch" to the end of the mud flats, we were surprised to see
that what he had hooked was in fact the trace he had lost a little earlier.
Unfortunately as he dragged both rigs back over the mud the original snapped
trace came loose and lay about 18 yards out on the mud flats. Having hooked
it by chance, underwater over a hundred yards out and dragged it all the way
back Bubs was not inclined to give up now, with the prize only eighteen
yards out in a "little mud" "Do you think I could walk out there?" says Bubs
to me. "Sure you could" says I, whilst thinking....sucker.
He stepped out gingerly and made the first 3 yards without the mud going
over the top of his knee length boots, then disaster, the mud started to
clamp tightly around his boots, within seconds bubs had managed to dislodge
his legs, minus two expensive boots but is soon stuck again up to his
thighs. What I was still finding immensely amusing, Bubs was now finding
mildly unsettling which was evident by the tears (if you have never seen a
17 stone prop forward crying, I can assure you it's very entertaining,
particularly if they are stuck up to their crutch in mud.) the prayers and
the death threats aimed at me if I didn't stop laughing and got a rope from
the boat. I went some way back to the boat and called the lads over to have
a look. We all laughed heartily as Bubs flailed impotently in the mud and
cursed our descendants but eventually I sent one of our merry band back to
the boat to fetch a rope figuring that if he didn't die out there and
managed to get back somehow on his own, then he would, very probably kill us
all. "Bradders" returned a short time later. "Did you get the rope?" I
enquired, "Not exactly" he replied. "What do you mean not exactly?" I said
"You either got the rope or you didn't" "Well I didn't then, but I got the
video camera" says he, grinning like a Cheshire cat and holding the
camcorder up for Bubs to see, who incidentally had stopped cursing now and
was giving only the occasional whimper. After making a fifteen minute
documentary on the dangers of fishing we eventually got the rope from the
boat and dragged Bubs over the flats to safety. When he had recovered
sufficiently (about half an hour or so later) Norris and I received only
cuts and bruises, Bradders however suffered a broken nose, none of which
stopped us laughing heartily........all the way to Casualty.