My Fishing Life: A Story of the Sea by Ashley Mullenger

Ashley Mullenger aka ‘The Female Fisherman’ to her many Instagram followers, takes the reader on three journeys in her new book, My Fishing Life. Two of these are deliveries of boats of which she is part-owner, one from the Western Isles, one from Northern Ireland, to her home port of Wells Next the Sea in Norfolk.

The third journey is the subject of the book itself: the one she makes from a career in an office, to that of fisherman and vessel owner – a journey, she freely admits, she is still on, with the learning curve set to continue for many years into the future.

Ashley had no background in fishing, no understanding at all of the sea, beyond the standard clichés, when by chance she went on an office away day, mackerel fishing on a charter vessel. That day trip, organised on a whim, transformed her life, seeing her give up a settled career, and comfortable life inland, for the ups and downs of inshore fishing, and the uncertainties of wondering where the next money is coming from.

She made the decision to move to the coast, starting by providing shore support for an under-10m whelk vessel, when she knew ‘almost nothing’ about either the physical requirements of running a boat, or the ever- growing raft of paperwork required to keep even the smallest inshore vessel fishing legally.

The book takes the reader, chapter by chapter, through her growing understanding of the inshore shellfish industry, from her very first day at sea as a deckie, through to the minefields of transferring licence entitlements, obtaining IFCA permits and being tied up by MCA inspectors who know next to nothing about smaller inshore fishing vessels.

Ashley has a wide following on Instagram, and from further afield after her appearances on several TV and radio shows – invitations that multiplied after she won the Fishing News Under 10m Fisherman of the Year award in 2022 – and her book is written with the lay reader in mind, rather than the fishing industry. It explains the madness of the avalanche of paperwork required to operate any fishing vessel in the UK, and the loss of income that fishermen face if any one part of the jigsaw is not in place.

This is all too familiar to any working fisherman, but the book may help a wider audience understand how even the most successful fishing boat owner can see their fortunes transformed in seconds – by a rogue wave, a sudden mechanical issue, a change in fishing regulations, or the arrival of an MCA inspector in a bad mood and aware of his power to tie vessels up.

If finding this wider audience helps a more general understanding of the issues the fishing industry faces, the book will provide much more than just a good read. While it explains the complications of making a living at sea, and the frustrations of dealing with officialdom in all its complexity, in layman’s terms, that does not stop this book from also celebrating all that is good about working in the fishing industry: the freedom, the good days, the independence, the benefits of switching from a 9-5 office existence to a life dictated by tides and weather. Ashley takes us on a great journey that, you suspect, many of her readers would like to know more about, even if they have no intention, in reality, of following her.

But where are the photos? Ashley is an Instagram star, the Female Fisherman, who has made her name by utilising a medium of images and soundbites to communicate a message of real substance. Her publishers have done her a disservice by not taking that onboard.

This book needed pictures to illustrate the wider story, and bring in the readers who don’t have a clue about the difficulties that fishermen face every day – and who have also never experienced the job satisfaction of a full creel coming over the roller as the sun comes up, or a second lift of the codend in a lull between midwinter gales.

That aside, this book is a great read, and performs a service to the industry, giving a wider audience an insight into the day to day issues facing every fisherman.

Read our exclusive extract from My Fishing Life: A Story of the Sea below…

‘I’m a fisherman and proud to be called one’

In early November our new riddle arrives, which means a day ashore, as we need to get Johnny’s one back to him and our own one fitted. It’s not a whole-day job but Nige also wants to replace the pound boards, and as we’ve really put the hours in of late, a day off – even if a work one – is a welcome reprieve.

The weather’s very Novemberish; there’s an annoying breeze and heavy cloud, and it’s mizzling. And it’s only just getting light as I pull up outside Nige’s gaff in Wells. Given the weather, even though he’ll be awake, I know he’ll still be in bed; we’re both early birds but his cue to get up is my arrival and the mug of tea I’m going to make him.

I love these kinds of days. They are as much a part of our working lives as the long days at sea. They always start with the same rituals, including Nige’s ‘plan’. Nige has to have a plan, even on days we’re not at sea – he’s very goal-orientated like that. (Plus it gives him a chance to see exactly what needs doing and therefore how soon he can head to the pub).

I pull in outside the Co-op so he can nip in and grab his fags, and use the time to check my Instagram.

Saoirse N 55 was bought from Kilkeel – the delivery trip is one of the three eventful journeys recounted in the book.

I’ve been posting on Instagram as @thefemalefisherman for about a year now, sharing the highs and lows of my fishing life, and all the funny bits in between. In recent years, I’ve removed almost all social media from my life as it wasn’t really bringing me any benefit or joy, and I was – I am – beginning to find this constant pressure to share everything intrusive, and was becoming disturbed by the idea that this was the new norm. However, I could definitely see the benefits of opening up communities like ours to a wider audience. After all, fishing isn’t the kind of job where you can easily open the door to visitors to let them see how it’s done, and, arguably, given everything I hope you’ve learned reading this book, that’s something it desperately needs. And it’s been fun connecting with my fellow fishermen around the country, and hearing first hand that they have the exact same concerns and fears as me. In some quarters this is taboo. The fishing world has been shrouded in mystique. And some who work within it prefer it that way. Not that I care what they think because the support and encouragement I’ve received, especially as a woman in a man’s world, has been just amazing (cheers lads and lasses!).

I pull my phone out of my hoodie pocket and can immediately see a screen littered with notifications. Plus two missed calls from a London number. What on earth is going on?

Nige climbs back in just as I’m scrolling through all the messages. By now I’ve established from the comments on Insta that people seem to think there’s something going down on breakfast telly that I should be a part of. It seems the broadcaster Piers Morgan, presenting on Good Morning Britain, has blasted the BBC for referring to fishermen as ‘fisherpeople’. This has got under his skin apparently, as he sees it as yet more ‘woke culture’ nonsense. Someone’s even sent me a clip of Good Morning Britain. I play it. ‘Why do gender terms matter?’ he’s fuming. ‘There are no women fishermen anyway!’

I call the number. It answers immediately. It’s a researcher from Good Morning Britain. ‘Are you a woman fisherman?’ she asks. I tell her I am. ‘So what do you think about the BBC calling fishermen “fisherpeople”?’

I tell her my thoughts. That I’m a fisherman and proud to be called one. Which is not the answer I imagine she was hoping for. I know how these things work. Controversy sells. Still, it doesn’t seem to dampen her enthusiasm. She immediately asks if I’d be happy to do a live stream with the studio in ten minutes.

She’s been on loudspeaker and now Nige is whispering ‘Do it!’ – as if I’d ever imagine not doing it; this is such a brilliant opportunity to put myself out there as a spokesperson for our woefully under-represented sector. Plus I might also get a few more Instagram friends. Win win!

The Saoirse was bought with the intention of enabling diversification into other pot fisheries – Ashley Mullenger and her skipper also own the whelker Fairlass.

I have a slight qualm developing as I pull my hood up to run across to Saoirse. While Nige stays in the van, keeping out of the mizzle, I’m about to face Britain’s most notorious journalistic rottweiler from the wheelhouse. What if he chews me up into pieces and spits me out?

Nige immediately pooh- poohs that. ‘Ash, you’re on the same side!’ And he’s right, but I still have a small fluttering of butterflies in my stomach as I head into the wheelhouse to take the video call that’s been scheduled for ten minutes’ time (and – eek! – is now imminent). I haven’t brushed my hair in a week, am wearing the skankiest of hoodies, and am about to
be seen on national TV. Then I remind myself that none of this matters. I AM ENOUGH.

I have already shared my Instagram feed (at that time my account was still private) and once the call begins I can see myself on a giant screen behind Piers Morgan and Susanna Reid. I confirm that there are female fishermen, albeit very few, and make my point about how proud I am to be called a ‘fisherman’, owing to the proud heritage and doggedness of the historically predominantly male catching sector. As we wrap up, I tell them the most important thing for me is that I do a job I love, and that’s what matters most.

I finish the surreal couple of minutes wondering if I’ve made any sort of impact, as I imagine they were hoping for a kerfuffle. And I soon get an inkling that I might have. As I head back to Nige in the truck, with my phone in my back pocket, I feel a near-constant buzz of new notifications, and when I scroll to see what’s happening I find hundreds of new follower requests.

So people do care. People do want to hear what I’m up to. I don’t care what people’s motivation is to follow a scruffy bird who happens to catch fish for a living – perhaps I’m just a novelty, a breath of fresh air, someone a bit different to what they might have been expecting. It doesn’t matter. They want to follow me, which means I have a platform I can build on. It might not last but why would I not grab this opportunity?

I climb into the truck and grin at Nige. ‘I think I’d better make my Instagram public,’ I tell him. ‘If that’s alright with you. Anyway, how did I do?’

‘You did great, babe,’ he tells me. ‘Well done.’

He puts his phone on the dash then and sparks up another cigarette. ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘We’ve got to sort out this riddle. We need to get on and see what’s what.’

‘Righto,’ I say, and start the engine.

Extracted from My Fishing Life: A Story of the Sea by Ashley Mullenger, out now in hardback, eBook and audio (Robinson, £22)

This story was taken from the latest issue of Fishing News. For more up-to-date and in-depth reports on the UK and Irish commercial fishing sector, subscribe to Fishing News here or buy the latest single issue for just £3.30 here.

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