I really should have known better I suppose. Afterall, it was the Mediterranean. But being born an angler means you have a genetic pre-disposition towards eternal optimism, even when, as was the case here, it proves to be totally unfounded. I had fished the Med before from the European side on a number of occasions and had never previously seen anything big enough even to cover the palm of my hand. But to contrast that, I had also seen magazines from Italy and Spain, which while I can't read them, contained enough pix of big fish to excite anyone. So it was a bit of a paradox really. Personal experience said don't even bother packing any fishing gear, while at the same time the press are telling us that it holds big fish. This time however, it was the North African side I would be fishing which hopefully would be far enough away from the kill everything mentality of our EU partners to make a difference. But the fact remains that as a holiday visitor, unless you have very precise inside information, you are most unlikely ever to come across anything worth catching. We grumble back home about the state of things and the size of some of the stuff we catch. But our throwbacks are better than anything I've ever seen the Med produce, and that goes for most of the commercial stuff too. So perhaps its time to rename the place the Dediterranean.

Having said all that, a light telescopic rod, medium sized fixed spool reel loaded with 8 to 10 lbs bs mono, and a selection of terminal bits and bobs is hardly likely to take your suit case over the airport check in weight limit. One thing going for the Med is the fact that it has virtually no tide due to its enclosed nature and its size in relation to the pull of the moon, so you don't need lots of heavy leads. Even out on the boat you should get away with a couple of ounces max. This also helps the shore fishing too because there is always going to be water more or less in the same place you left it last time out. No great expanses of shallow low water beach or drying harbours. My normal kit is a couple of packs of size 6 and size 8 hooks, a selection of small leads from half an ounce through to two ounces, light trace mono, scissors, swivels, a bubble float, and possibly a couple of freshwater floats with some split shot. I would also recommend a short plastic sand-spike if you intend fishing the open beach. But you must pack it all into your suitcase as the Tunisian airport police may well confiscate some of it, particularly the weights. I lost my split shot that way. But at least I was on my way home.

The next hurdle is getting bait. Always in the past I have either gone to a local fish market or the hotel kitchen and tried to get hold of anything even remotely usable. The problem is that prawns and fish tend to be too soft from a kitchen. Squid is usually okay, but the fish aren't always interested. Bread can be good, particularly fresh flake from a bakery if there are mullet about. Mullet seem to be everywhere throughout the Med, especially in the harbours. Unfortunately, what they have in numbers they don't match in size, the one exception being Gibraltar where bread will catch the biggest scariest mullet you are ever likely to see in your life. But that's another story already told elsewhere on the site. Tunisia was different. I could easily have got hold of squid from the fish market. But the local anglers, who are everywhere, will tell you it's a waste of time. They all fish tiny harbour ragworm which can be bought from the tackle shops. I found one opposite the railway station close to the marina in Sousse. Possibly you could ask a taxi driver if you are at Hammamet or Monastir. Everyone is friendly enough, and they will usually help you out.

My primary interest however was the boat fishing. People will offer to take you out at most harbours or marina's, and like everything else in Tunisia, prices are negotiable, particularly late season when business is in short supply. I was offered a boat for half a day for around £20 next to the pirate galleons at Sousse marina, and would probably have taken it had I not carried on that afternoon to Port El Kantaoui whose plush marina complex had several organised fishing boats plying for trade. For reasons of photography, and to get a better idea of what might be down there, I preferred to fish in the company of other people thinking that I might perhaps see more fish. The other side of that coin however is that you have the same amount of fish under the hull but then have to share them out amongst more rods. But what the hell. I was on my holidays.

The boat trip I settled on was supposedly for four hours, though I was told that it might run on to five or even six hours if the fishing was good. I though, yeah, alright then. We left Port El K at around 10 am and immediately the crew, which amazingly numbered four looking after just five anglers, set to work on de-scaling and strip cutting fresh sardines, which to be fair looked to be in very good condition. They also strip cut a few calamari squid, and off we headed out towards some offshore reef. I was assured by the chap at the booking kiosk that we would motor straight offshore to fish the bottom. Under no circumstances would we waste time trolling big lures through empty water. Yet no sooner were we through the harbour entrance than the lures were out, and there they stayed for the first hour as we zig-zagged our way offshore as if we were being pursued by a submarine wanting to put a torpedo through the hull, which might have been no bad idea. Not unexpectedly, this produced not even so much as a touch.

Eventually the trolling lines were brought in and the anchor went down. To cut quite a long story short, after about half a dozen attempts at re-positioning on the rope or moving maybe 50 yards, we finally started to catch fish. A chance then perhaps to connect with some of those big red snappers they had been whittering on about all morning. But no such luck. Tiny little two banded bream and comber, all of which, as is the norm in these parts, went straight into the cool box. Then the 'red snappers' came on. Actually these turned out to be pandora bream up to about 6 ounces. A couple of similar sized gilthead bream later also put in a show, plus a couches bream of possibly half a pound which proved to be the best fish of the day. By this time the wind had started to get up, but fair do's, they at least were happy to fish on. Eventually, when it was time to go, it was howling, which meant we again had to zig-zag our route, though this time for different reasons – to keep the bow of the boat nose in to the biggest waves, some of which were coming right over the wheelhouse roof. It took us nearly 2 hours to get back in. So we did as promised end up getting six hours for the price of four.

I had intended fishing a few days on the boat and shooting some video. But enough was enough. It was over to plan B which was fishing from the shore. On previous Dediterranean trips I'd always seen the shore lads fishing from rocks, walls, or harbour jetties. Despite no fishing signs dotted around certain harbours, people were also doing that here, but for very sparse results. Here, a lot more fish were actually being caught from open stretches of sand. In the main these were gilthead bream, though I did see the odd two banded and marmora bream, plus a couple of small un-identified wrasse. Evening time was favourite. Maybe not for the fishing. But certainly to have the beach to yourself. The only problem with that is the mosquito's which on one particular evening were hell bent on eating us alive. So dress for the occasion with jeans tucked into socks, a long sleeved shirt, and plenty of mossie spray on any exposed patches of skin. Fishing ragworm on short droppers above the lead, you are pretty much guaranteed to catch fish. But like anywhere, some parts of what look like a featureless stretch of sand may well fish better than others. So it could be worth investing a bit of time into checking out which of the locals are catching what and where.

Each morning, from the hotel balcony, I would see boats hauling over night gill nets set right up to the beach where we had previously fished. As already explained, nothing here ever goes back. But what I also noticed was that in places there were were strings of buoys for pedalo's, canoes and jet ski's to track a route out through the bathers, and that's where you would invariably find the most fish, possibly through a combination of refuge and lack of habitat destruction on the part of the gill netters. The same people would then later on be down at the fish market selling their 'haul'. A visit to the market is well worth the effort, if only to see why there is nothing left anywhere to catch on rod and line. Boxes and boxes of tiny throw back sized everything, which even included weevers. And everywhere hustle and bustle. The atmosphere is absolutely amazing. Equally, it is also typical of every other Mediterranean fish market I have ever visited where nothing, regardless of size or identity is allowed to go to waste, and where nothing worth catching ever seems to find its way on to the slab, because it simply ain't no longer there to be caught.