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Spooky Stories
SmaTackle - 12th October 2011
Right chaps, dark long nights are drawing in and halloween is round the corner....
Time for some spooky stories.
I'll start it off with a thread from a forum that I'm a member of.
Check this out!
True or Not u decide....
About 5 years ago, Dan was fishing on his own beside Jerry Oillers boat "Fair Chance". Dan was raised in Greatstone, Kent and has fished the beach all his life. It certainly held no fears for him, and now in his late 20's he was no foolish teenager!
Fair Chance is the very first boat on the beach after the lifeboat station as you enter the Dungeness estate and it's spot has been the hard standing for a fishing boat for decades.
Dan was fishing away quite happily and the clock was ticking towards midnight. He was aware of the time as HW was 2330 and he planned to fish until just after midnight due to work committments the following morning. There was no wind and a hint of mist was starting to swirl as the Autumn air chilled around him.
He heard no footsteps. He was suddeny aware of the figure of a fisherman standing about 5 feet away from him, almost close enough to touch. "Hi there" said Daniel in his usual friendly way. The fisherman didn't answer and as Dan looked at him he saw he was dressed in a fishermans oil skin smock, the hood raised and in the darkness he could not make out any features of the mans face, just a dark shadow beneath the hood.
"Fishing?" Daniel asked, surprised at the mans silence. Again no reply as the figure stood motionless beside him.
Daniel at this point was marginally concerned he was faced with a lunatic and as he reached up to turn on his headlamp he momentarily took his eyes off the man. As his headlamp flared into life Daniel looked again at the man. There was no one there. There were no sounds of crunching shingle as the man made away. There was only silence and the whisps of mist as they swirled in the beam of his light.
Now Daniel has been known to partake in the odd substance that could possibly have certain side effects which would explain all this away quite simply. Daniel is also a fine and honest chap and would certainly have told the "whole" story if that had been the case. To this day Daniel swears he was stone cold sober and entirely in control of his senses.
It was at this point that Daniel experienced the same blood freezing terror that drove me from the cliffs at Newbiggin several years before. A fear that is primeval and driven from your very core to every nerve in your body. It is impossible to rationalise and even harder to resist and overcome.
Daniel didn't even pack in. He grabbed his two rods and tripod, cut the lines and grabbed his tackle box. His rod bag, bait and a few bits left where they lay. He ran to his car, threw the box on the back seat and the rods, still assembled sticking out of the passenger window.
If there is a funny part to this story, it's where Daniel smashed both rods as they whacked off the first telegraph pole you see on the left after you exit Jerrys track.
I know for a fact Daniel smashed both rods and this was his story of how it happened. I also know that Daniel will never ever fish Dungenes alone at night. Even now, he always fishes a little too close to me for easy fishing in a strong tide, often suggesting we only fish one rod each and share a rod rest.
"Much more sociable" he says.
