Well folks just to get those with RSS readers in a frenzy here is a new post.
I went fishing on Sunday 15th January on a Yorkshire river that has barbel and a few good perch and grayling in it. I caught none of them! I had a 10oz grayling but that’s not a good un is it? The was rather cold and rather boring.
The end.
I blanked.
Lee blanked.
Richard caught a bootlace.
I doubt very much that I will ever make the mistake of sitting in the parlour pool for 14 hours again. It was a Friday and it was not too busy and I simply should have had a roam around. I am fairly sure that had their been any barbel in the area one of us would have caught something. I tried 2 approaches in different parts of the pool and neither produced any bites at all.
In fact I have mixed feelings about the Royalty. The river itself looks nice and offers ample opportunity for the roving angler during the week, evenings are invariably busy and it is the nearest thing to a commercial barbel fishery I have ever seen. The manicured meadows, the access, the rules, the crazy sprint from the car park in a morning. That is something that doesn’t quite sit right with me, besides I can’t sprint without risking my health and the health of any innocent bystander that I may collapse upon.
In saying all that there is something magical, historcal and humbling about the Royalty. It is something of an oasis when you consider the surroundings and so on balance I have decided that I will be fishing there again this week and I hope to have some rather better news.
Conrad
This is the Parlour pool on the famous royalty fishery on the hampshire Avon. Although I think that the fishery is actually in Dorset. Richard Walker and I arrived last night at about 9:30pm, checked in and met fellow angler Lee Sinfield who as it turns out is a cracking lad. I’ve also bumped into fellow ABF member Stuart Sprigings who is fishing the pipes swim.
I droppered 40 medium droppers of caster and hemp and left the swim for an hour and a half but as yet have not had a knock. My bottom rod is baited with a home made boilie wrapped in paste and in a clearing between 2 large weed beds. I have introduced a few chunks of paste and 6 crushed boilies in a pva bag and I will be leaving this in for 3 hours at a time. The river is very low and clear and the only fish I’ve spotted are 3 large chub in Lee’s swim earlier.
Before fishing I walked the entire fishery and it is definitely a special place. So in reality it’s more about being here than actually catching fish, I’ve been fishing for 3 hours without a touch but I have a good feeling. I’ll let you know how I do, besides this quiet period allows me to watch the buzzards and egrets, the egrets certainly make a change.
I bet that Rich Walker gets one, he’s nearly as lucky as hobby!
Bye for now.
Stuart gets one
I had a walk down to see Stuart down quite literally under the pipes and 5 minutes after I arrived his top rod whacked round resulting in a lovely coloured and feisty 7lb barbel. For a change I took an action shot on the iPhone. Nice bend in the rod and I’m concentrating now 
I have been really busy fishing since the last update and have added another few rivers, I’m now on #34. I have also failed to catch barbel from another 2.
The Wye do was a merry affair as usual and I got hammered as usual on Friday. I was a little worse for wear on Saturday took it easy Saturday amd finally got a monkey off my back on the Sunday. A monkey called the Lugg!
I just don’t have time to tell all the tales before I go to Hampshire tomorrow afternoon to try the Royalty and Throop for the first time. Next week I will do an update with the whole lot in gory detail.
There are bound to be some disasters this weekend, there always are with me. Will I catch a Hampshire Avon or a Dorset Stour barbel – I doubt it. Will I enjoy just being there? Of course I will.
Wednesday 7th September – back to Bedfordshire
After my experience in the Blair Witch wood adjacent to the Great Ouse I thought that I’d go back. I felt that I had something to prove. I had heard that there were a number of smaller barbel downstream of where I fished last time with a range of fish from 10 oz to about 7lb. I figured that the odds were good so I decided to have a go there in the morning and then go back to where I had been the previous month to fish in the evening. I set off really early so that I arrived at the river at around 7:30AM and it truly was a beautiful morning. There appeared to be a little colour in the river and it looked perfect. I had been told to fish small pieces of meat on a link ledger and allow it to drift around in the current. It was great fun with huge shoals of dace hitting the bait quickly, the crayfish had no chance in this aquarium. I had a great time missing the dace bites and fishing light it was a nice change. I had fished this weirpool before and had stonking Perch over 2lb from it on lob worm. It’s not surprising that they are there with the vast quantities of dace.
I did eventually get my first Great Ouse barbel, in fact I ended up catching 6, but none of them were over 10oz, lovely little feisty fellows that were punching well above their weight. I also had 2 big dace the best of which was 12 oz. I had a bit of fun on the ABF forum reporting a spectacular 6 fish haul from the Great Ouse including 2 doubles. I got one or two bites on there as well. Mike Heljula came down for a while but couldn’t stay as he has a very newborn baby to look after, he looked a bit tired bless him. I’m not sure whether these fish are stocked or not, I suspect not as the EA have intimated that they haven’t stocked for 3 seasons and the fish that are from that last batch were over a pound last season. Whether they are or not they are thriving and there seems to be plenty of them so hopefully in a few years things will be better than they are at the moment.
Aren't they cute? I apologise for my long sleeves but I am a distinctly odd shape
I did hook a decent fish but the 5 lb mono cut off on something, I’m pretty sure that it was a decent chub and not a barbel but alas I’ll never know. I left the weir pool reluctantly in plenty of time to get to last week’s venue before dark, I must admit I was really enjoying catching whatever came along and the constant activity. I knew that where I was going would be a complete contrast.
I fished until about midnight and made my way home without having had a proper Gt Ouse barbel, obviously I will have to return, in fact I think that I’m going next weekend.
9th, 10th and 11th of September – ABF/HKS and Bradford No1 fish in.
HKS and Bradford No1 member Dan Birkett had booked the 3 days last year with Barnsley prior to the ABF taking over the running of the Horsefield Knights Society at the beginning of the season but it was going so well he suggested that the ABF get involved and that we expand it a little. There were 36 anglers in attendance predominately Dan’s mates from Bradford No1 Angling Association with a few ABF and HKS members. I took Friday afternoon off and arrived just to see how things were going before Dan arrived later on. The fishing was difficult with only one or two who had ventured upstream off the beaten track doing rather well, but as a social event it was a resounding success. The Bradford lads are characters and really entered into the spirit of things, thanks to all of you for making the weekend such a success.
It has to be said that Dan Birkett did the majority of the organising for this event but the ABF membership really helped out with some cracking prizes for the raffle which drawn on the Saturday. The charity was the Barnsley Hospice which is where my father passed away with dignity due to the excellent care provided by the resident McMillan nurses, so I was more than happy to be involved. Whenever charity events are run at Fiskerton the charity is nominated by Barnsley and District Angling Association who own the fishing rights, it only seems fair and in this case the club kindly donated 50 pegs for 3 whole days and nights thanks to Geoff Brown who runs the match bookings on the stretch.
There were 20 plus prizes on the raffle and some won multiple prizes so went away happy. There were also some donations via the ABF website from the members, the grand total raised was a staggering £933.79, I must say that this exceeded my expectations and was entirely due to the generosity of those involved and the bloody hard work of Dan Birkett who I can’t thank enough. Barnsley are running another charity event this weekend; the proceeds of which will be added to the ABF total. I’ll let you know the grand total. It was pretty tiring and I went home about 1am on Friday night, returned at about 10:30 AM then left again at 11:30 PM and had another good kip. I just don’t enjoy overnighters in bivvies these days, too fond of the comforts of home.
Friday 16th September
After a fairly tough time on the Trent the previous weekend I was ready for pastures new and another new river. I finished work at 2PM and made the 50 mile trip from work to a little easterly river that is steeped in mystery. I knew that there were barbel in it but the locals weren’t about to tell me anything. However there was one local who is a member of the ABF who was prepared to help, as well as that I found a few snippets on the internet, discovered which club controlled the majority of the fishing in the mentioned areas, joined the club and went for a Recce on Friday. I saw lots of fish including some absolutely whacking chub! The river was just like my local Dearne in character but somewhat clearer and a little narrower with LOTS more chub. Parts of the river were only 15 feet wide with plenty of weed for cover and a smattering of overhanging trees. It did not take long to find the fish, I walked about a mile upstream with a bucket of pellets and eventually saw a few barbel. I met a nice bloke called Stuart who was quite surprised to see another angler, I fished about 40 yards below him just above an overhanging willow. I had a corker of a chub just before dark, it weighed 6lb 4oz but no barbel. I switched the lamp on an shone it onto the gravel just before I left only to see a dozen good chub and 2 barbel shoot off upstream leaving plumes of silt trailing downstream. I couldn’t wait to get back there next day.
Saturday 17th September
I arrived at the river around 3PM as the wife and I had to help my recovering mother with a few chores in the morning. My ABF pal had come down for a walk with a bucket of pellets and had spotted a couple of barbel below an overhanging tree. It was a bit awkward as the only way to fish it was upstream in front of the tree from about 15 feet below. However yet again there were good numbers of chub willing to feed on the loose fed pellets. There seemed to fish in the swim practically constantly and eventually I saw a barbel, then another. One of them was a good fish as well. The barbel only came out for about 20 seconds whereupon they returned to the safe haven of the willow roots. They were not in plain sight a lot of the time as they took a different route into the swim. After an hour of watching this we decided to try and see how the fish would feel about some 10 mm boilies. The difference was quite amazing, the chub basically went mad for them and because they were getting more and more agitated the barbel were having a look more often, staying out for nearly a minute now and barging the chub out of the way. They were mopping up the few loose offerings and then heading back to safety but they were definitely getting more aggressive. I initially introduced my hookbait with a very small amount of weight but I was the bait was getting moved around by liners or chub and I decided to put on a bigger lead and some tungsten putty as a back lead to prevent the liners. The chub were really having it. They were back in the swim with 30 seconds of my hook bait and a 2oz lead being introduced. The boilies were tough and now that the chub weren’t moving the bait around I felt confident that I would get a fish before dark. My mate had to get home and so off he went but he didn’t get far. The 1.25lb Torrix that I was using whacked around and I was into a barbel. The fish went mad and had at least 4 attempts to get back under the willow tree, it was also most displeased with the shallow water, boy can barbel move fast in shallow water. I was relieved to slide the fish over the net, I gave my mate a ring who was back to do the honours with the camera. The Richard Walker 2 finger barbel salute was not intentional……………or was it?
An absolute joy, river #30, exactly 6lb - visual fishing at it's best
The 1.25lb TC Torrix is absolutely lovely for this sort of fishing and I won’t go anywhere without now. It is also very light when coupled with the 4000D baitrunner, it will be ideal for rolling meat. I intend to find out this weekend on the Wye in preparation for a trip down to the Royalty and Throop in a little over 2 weeks, I can’t wait to be honest. I’ll probably blank but it will be an adventure for me and Richard Walker that’s for sure. I fished on hoping to get a the bigger fish but only had a chub of around 5lb, I know it seems blasé but the chub really are whoppers. I will be having a chub fishing session on here soon.
Sunday 18th September
I only had a few hours as I needed to visit my mother again in the morning and then get back to spend the evening with the missus. This time I was heading west over Woodhead Pass to a river near a major city. The river is only 28 miles from my mothers so it seemed rude not to. I was not really sure what to expect but what I found was like the Calder with a bit of water on, a nice chocolate colour and obviously up at least a foot. I elected to use the little 10mm boilies again and a small ground bait feeder. The area was free fishing and had been rec0mmended by both Hobby and a local lad so I felt that I was in with a good chance. There was a riffle upstream, a bend pushing the water down my side and a tree in the middle of the river. I fished about 10 yards above the tree and waited a whole 10 minutes before the rod wrapped around. I actually lost this fish in a tree that was submerged just below me in the edge. I think that it is normally visible but the extra water submerged it. Anyway I ended up getting the fish of about 7lb well and truly snagged and had to eventually pull for a break. I was concerned that the fish might be tethered but I pulled the branch out eventually and found the hook length and feeder in the branch sans barbel so that was a relief. Anyway I had an excellent 3.5 hours fishing landing 4 barbel the two best of which were 7lb 2oz and 9lb exactly. I went home in the daylight a very happy chappy, definitely had a lucky break with the river conditions that day.
What a lucky boy I have been this weekend - 9lb and river #31
So unbelievably that brings my blog up to date! I will try to carry on with this but I have a lot of fishing coming up. In fact I’m fishing 3 more rivers this week alone, one of which I have never fished, another from which I have not caught a barbel and the last one a place where I shall hope that the water soothes my aching head after a skin full the previous night. Yes folks its the annual Wye do again – I can feel the pain already.
It’s been difficult to keep the blog going lately , I apologise but it seems to be a problem for many bloggers at the moment. In my case it’s a combination of my mother having a hip operation after a fall, being extremely busy at work and spending all my spare time fishing. Anyway what follows is a summary of August with September to follow within 24 hours. I am also going to share a fairly humiliating incident with you that seems funny in hindsight but I can assure you wasn’t at the time. It does us all to weather a little humility from time to time so I’ll share it, you will either think I’m a complete prat or it may just strike a chord. It may be a bit personal but I have a story to tell and tell it I will.
August 20th
Things have got a little out of chronological order but I had a nice session on the North West’s premier barbel river, the one not far from Preston. I met two regulars who had kindly offered to show me the ropes; Andrew Boyne and John Monaghan. Andrew and I fished whereas John was regaining his strength for a few beers that night after a fair few the night before, he went home after an hour but we agreed to meet up again soon. I think that he was aware of the rain that was on it’s way. Andy and I settled into a couple of swims that were prolific by reputation. The idea being to get a fish for me for my little rivers table and then we would move downstream after dark to where the better fish may be lying.
It seemed that Andrew had picked the better of the 2 swims for himself as he had 3 fish in as many casts, whereas I didn’t 
. I’m sure that it wasn’t intentional but a bit of banter ensued before eventually I had a little splasher which you can see in the photo below. You may have noticed that I was quite dry at the time.
Andy had told me not to fetch a brolly as rain was unlikely, I was sceptical but deferred to his local knowledge. However I was in a long term relationship with a girl from the nearby Lancaster some 14 years ago and all I remember was lots of rain and longingly gazing at the very river I was fishing right at that moment. Petrol was much cheaper in them days but I was having a break from fishing at the time, I must admit it was a long time coming this session.
Tactics were not dissimilar to the Trent, ground bait feeder and small pellets during the daylight hours with long hook lengths.
It turns out that Andy was bang on with his swim choice but a really poor weatherman, yes folks it pissed it down! We managed to fish until just before dark and my 6th and final fish was a decent one. We settled on 7.5 lb but we didn’t weigh it. We decided to call it a day and I promised to take Andy and John on the Trent and that I would return to catch a big girl in October, and so I shall.
River #27, only a splasher but it came before the rain
26/27th August
So as my previous post intimated I was down in Reading for work again this weekend and I planned to fish that infernal Thames tributary where the barbel had eluded me on the 3 previous occasions.
I arrived at the river at around 5:30 and things looked immediately better to me, the river had some colour and was up about a foot or so from my previous visit. I fished well downstream of where I had fished previously, the swim was rather more comfortable and easier to cast as well. There is a photo from my iPhone on the looks good post. I had also made my own baits this time, inspired by Ian Grant and Paul Monaghan who could not have been more helpful. A really sound bunch of lads frequent the Twyford Club, if I lived nearer I’d never be off their bits of river. They are quite heavily fished like most southern rivers within easy reach of large populations and yet the swims feel well isolated and are left alone just enough to be natural, hats off to you all.
Eventually my good friend Tom Herbert turned up and claimed that I was in his swim I promise that you get first dibs next time mate. Tom had brought the guest tickets and refused to accept payment such is his generosity. So Tom when you read this make sure that you actually come up North so that I can reciprocate, instead of just bloody talking about it! Otherwise I shall be very very 
There was some light rain and in the distance I could hear the Reading Festival, it seems strange but that is the 3rd festival I have been able to hear whilst out barbel fishing. On 2 previous occasions I have been fishing the river Wharfe when the Leeds festival was on, I may have mentioned this before somewhere. I was struggling to hear who was on most of the time as the weather and the surrounding trees were causing most of the top end detail to be muffled but I did hear 30 seconds to Mars (Fellow northern barbel fisher Gordon Helliwell made me listen to them) and the head liners My Chemical Romance. At one point I thought I heard the old Queen song ‘We will rock you’ but thought nah! Checking t’internet later I see that they did indeed cover the song with none other than Brian May on guitar, bet that surprised a few. It is a pretty distinctive bit of drumming though.
The best time for the barbel on this river is in the wee small hours which is fine unless you set off from your home at 5:30 AM that day in order to get your work done. I confess that I actually used bite alarms for the first time in 2011 just in case I nodded off, but don’t worry I didn’t point my rods up in the air. Such a thing would result in a permanent ban from the fishery I suspect.
As it happens I didn’t nod off at all but I was struggling after 1AM, fortunately at 01:35 my upstream rod started bouncing around and I subsequently hooked a barbel, not one of the big ones that are caught most weeks on the fishery but a barbel nonetheless. I had left my camera at home and as it was quite a long way off I had to alert Tom to take the photo for me, sorry for waking you up mate 
The one eyed mug fish that came at some ungodly hour
My barbel was blind in one eye so was probably a bit of a mug fish Ah well………., of course now that the pressure is off I’m looking forward to spending another Friday or Saturday night there to catch a proper fish, it’s worth it just to say hello to those splendid Twyford lads again. I decided during the night to go in a North Easterly direction to fish a rather famous barbel river that flows in an Easterly direction if I was successful; I don’t think that it would do any harm to mention the Great Ouse, do you?
27/28th August – including ‘The Blair Witch Wood Horror’ in full techni-colour
As dawn broke my aching limbs reluctantly projected me upright and I started to pack away. I found a hotel near the Great Ouse on my iPhone and booked in only to find out that check in was mid-day and no earlier, I decided to use the time to check out a few spots on the river and buy the necessary permit before having a few hours kip before returning to the river in the evening. I carried my kit back to the van where Tom was waiting for me to say our goodbyes. He mentioned the fact that I looked like Usain Bolt yomping across the field but there again he always was a sarcastic bugger. I should also add that this was before the infamous false start incident.
I spent the morning driving up to Bedfordshire,sampling various brands of roadside coffee along the way. I like coffee a lot especially when I’m tired! So the conclusion after trying Costa, Wild Bean, Coffee Nation and McDonald’s coffee is…………………wait for it……………..McDonald’s is best. Apparently they use Abracadabra beans or summat like that, anyhow it’s very nice. Not as good as the freshly ground stuff that I get from Pollards of Sheffield but considering the speed at which they dispense it, hats off to them. It’s a pity everything else is so ****!
I met Mike Heljula near the river and he was kind enough to spare an hour to show me the stretch that we would be fishing later that day. The yomp (such an apt word) across the meadow was not bad when I had no tackle to carry and the grass was dry. The walk was also interspersed with stops to look at various swims and so didn’t seem far at all. During the daylight finding our way through the wood after was not that difficult, especially with someone who knows it as well as Mike does, however it was fairly obvious that the ‘paths’ were not well worn and that most anglers did not venture that far downstream. The character of the river changes somewhat in the wood as the flow is pushed toward the near bank and it is much slower and deeper in this section. However this day the river was up and coloured and the pace in the wooded area looked spot on to me.
‘Warning the following paragraph(s) contains whinging about my health’
I went back to the hotel and got there just before 12, by 12:10 I was utterly zonked out having been awake for 29 hours and after having driven for 7 of those hours. I slept for 4 hours and to be honest could quite easily have slept for 3 times that. I jumped in the shower and yet still I was feeling the burn in my limbs, yes I was pretty tired still. I found another McDonald’s and had a shot of coffee and I felt surprisingly OK all things considered. It looked like it was going to rain and so I took my brolly, I had no sooner got over the fence when it started, within minutes everything was pretty wet including the grass. My stuff was a little bit too heavy (I hate carrying an umbrella) and I was trying to get to my destination a little too quickly, consequently my knee (MCL and miniscus tear in 2009) was giving me some gip. I had a bit of job getting over the style into the wood and was terrified of injuring it again by slipping. Despite the fact that 90% of the time my knee is fine I don’t trust it any more and avoid any twisting motion or even potential twisting motion, so climbing a style with heavy off balance weight on my back in the wet is not my favourite pastime. I injured my knee when my foot got wedged in a muddy bank and the counterbalance of my ruck sack caused me to twist but my foot stayed put. The subsequent crack and searing pain is not something that I will forget in a hurry, nor will I forget trying to make my way through York station on crutches for 12 weeks. I doubt that the poor paramedic who had to lift me over yet another style will forget that night in a hurry either. I give you this background so that you understand the amount of physical effort involved it what was a simple stroll earlier that afternoon. As I write this my knee is quite painful some 3 weeks later and I have decided to have surgery during the close season. I suspect that I just have some scar tissue in there but I need to get it done because it is starting to cause wear and tear on my hip due to insufficient knee movement. Bloody hell I should have got this sorted straight away, old man in my mid 40s, mind you it seems that many suddenly notice things are not quite what they used to be at my age.
Anyway despite being over-weight and with a slightly lame knee my cardio vascular strength is still good and so I carried on through the now very wet wood. I almost immediately lost the ‘path’ and found myself fighting my way through 6 foot high green stuff with a garnish of sinewy brambles. I got through some how but had to drop some of my tackle about 80 metres upstream of where I intended to fish intending to get the brolly up and go back for it. As I returned for my stuff I found Mike heading toward me whereupon I tripped on a bramble, managed to stay upright, decided that my legs were like jelly and to sit on my bait bucket which tipped over and deposited me in the undergrowth with the copious bugs, more of which later. Mike was very helpful and took a photo of me sprawled out like a beached whale, but a beached whale with attitude, thus……….
OK it was slightly posed but you get the idea
Some 10 minutes later I had got over my ungainly northern bloke humiliation escapade and cast in for the first time. It took me only a few minutes to discover the power of the Great Ouse signal crayfish. My 14mm lamprey pellets were off in no time, so most of the time I was fishing with no bloody bait on, meanwhile Mike’s rod hooped over which resulted in a nice 11lb 8oz fish after a mere 15 minutes.
He only had to to wait 15 minutes - a huge looking 11lb 8oz
I could tell that Mike was fairly surprised at this turn of events, whereas I was quite encouraged. I spent the next few hours battling to keep a bait on and battling those long gangly spindly spiders and earwigs which had taken residence in my brolly. They were all over my face, my neck and my hands. I was getting mildly irritated by this but my mate young Ricky would have legged it, he hates creepy crawlies. This wood has over-run with them, it was as though some predator was missing from the food chain.
Mike had moved downstream about 50 yards and had another fish, or was it……….no it wasn’t! Some 3 hours later and 40-50 yards away he had the same 11lb 8oz fish again. I was still quite encouraged as it was only about 1am or maybe 2am. Anyway Mike thought that things had been exceptional and left for home. I decided that I would stay another hour or two but move upstream on the edge of the wood and this is where things went a little wrong(er).
I took the bare minimum of tackle up through the woods to see if I could find the swim without mishap this time and to be honest it was very hard going again. I lost the path and while I did not get lost as such I was aware that I must not stray too far to my left or I would be in the river very easily. I eventually got to the the swim at the edge of the woods had a rest and went back for the rest of my kit. The brolly, a dodgy knee, fatigue and the wet marshy ground really was causing me some considerable difficulty but hey you have to suffer for your art. I was sniggering to myself (it’s called jungle fever I believe) as I wrote a little blues ditty in my head all about my plight. Mike had advised me to climb the bank at the back of our woodland swims and walk along the field and back down at the end of the wood to get to where I was going, so I tried it. Well things were going great until I accumulated some 3 kg of mud from the wet soggy field on each of my muckboots, by now I was exhausted to the point of being in pain, I was disoriented and started to feel a bit nauseous. I then realised that the edge of the field was a bit uneven and grassy but at least there was no mud. I descended back into the wood when suddenly I was plunged into utter darkness – my headlamp had failed and the spare was already sat in the target swim in the rucksack that I had already carried there. I got lost very rapidly and began to panic, I was utterly lost in a wood adjacent to a river in the dark where everything was taller than me, even the toadstools. I was about to call the local emergency services for help I was in such a state when a car drove past on the road that passes over the river, with this I was able to get my bearings and walked until I got to a fence. I must have calmed down a lot by this point because I remembered that it was electrified and that if I followed it to my left I would get to the style. I could see quite well by now because my eyes had adjusted to the dark and I was on the periphery of the wood. It came as a shock to me the hysterical state that I got myself in. I am prone to flying off the handle from time to time but most of that is pure bluster and I am actually normally calm when faced with things like that. I get agitated about people being rude or dismissive and being late for work related issues where I feel that I may not appear to be doing my best or feel that I’m letting someone down, that bothers me and winds me up. This kind of situation doesn’t or didn’t. I would normally have just stopped, cleaned the mud off my boots and slowed down, probably took the longer and more open route to where I’m going justy allowing my eyes to adjust to the gloom. I definitely lost the plot completely and it worried me enough to take certain precautions in the future. I need to be more careful and stop thinking that I’m in my late twenties, I’m clearly not.
Despite that I got to my swim and decided that I would fish for an hour until 4AM thus giving me 6 hours sleep before I would have to check out. However my spare head torch didn’t work so I resigned myself to staying until first light. I lit a soggy fag and relaxed when whirrrrrrrrr off went the bait runner. I picked up the rod and after a fairly sedate but heavy plod around in front of me I drew a large barbel shaped thing over where I thought the front of the net was, I started to lift the net prematurely and suddenly everything went slack. So I’d like to say that there was a happy ending but that was not the case. Instead I lost what was almost certainly a Great Ouse double all because of an earwig! What you say?
Yes when I examined my head torch the failure mode was an earwig which had forced the positive terminal of one of the batteries off, that was it. A pair of tweezers removed the offending and now dead critter and the head torch works fine. There was nowt wrong with the other one either, I had put the batteries in the wrong way round. I checked this 3 times and still did it wrong. I was obviously too tired as a result of the escapade in the woods which was caused by an earwig! I don’t know why I lifted that net when I did. I wouldn’t normally do that, I would normally rest the fish in the net before lifting it out. Anyway shit happens……………………………..to me!
28th- 29th August
I slept like a log for 5 hours then got up and drove North to meet Ricky at the train station. We were to fish a secret place where I had my PB recently, we fished until 2AM and I may have had another really big fish and Ricky may have blanked again.
Would I do it again – of course I would. I could hardly wait to get back down to Bedfordshire and get a barbel from the Great Ouse. I will probably be doing one or two things differently in mitigation against my own stupidity. I have also re-assessed my lack of fitness and will adjust my behaviour accordingly. To prove it September has gone without any major catastrophes so far, mind you the Wye weekend is looming where I will probably get fairly tipsy.
So August resulted in a new PB of 16lb 1oz and 4 new rivers taking me to 28, all in all an enjoyable month full of variety and even an adventure.
September stuff tomorrow.
I managed to catch the only one eyed mug barbel on the river last night so decided to move on to another river that flows east and is a bit nearer home. I did doze for an hour last night but decided to check into a hotel today.
Earliest check in was mid-day so by then I had been awake for 29 hours, I was knackered!
Had a look at today’s venue this morning before having 4 hours sleep and returning to the river. It was raining, the river was up and coloured and things looked very positive. I had a long yomp over a meadow and through a wood and needed a brolly so took it steady.
I took a wrong turn and ended up in this piece of woodland in the pouring rain after an 800 yard walk across a boggy meadow! I was really exhausted and had to leave some of the tackle, set up the brolly and then go back to collect the abandoned stuff. My leg muscles had practically seized up and my dodgy knee was giving me gip, bloody hell all because of a wrong turn. I fell on my arse only to find a man with a camera there to capture the moment. It will be all over the Internet by the time I get home no doubt. To add insult to injury he caught an 11lb 8oz barbel after 15 minutes!
I am still hopeful as I sit here in the rain swatting off spiders and listening to an owl in the distance. Will it be river #29? I am hopeful, at least I know that they are feeding.
So here I am in Berkshire, the river is up and coloured and my traps are set. Bloody raining again though. As you can see from the photo (if it works) the place is idyllic, a proper barbel river.
I’m really optimistic.
I’m all ready for my weekend trip now, I have made some fresh boilies for the first time ever. It was not straightforward but I got there and I have made 1/2 kg of nice boilies and sausages ready for the weekend. I enjoyed it despite the difficulties and encourage you all to have a go. At least my bait will be unique on 2 hard fished rivers, which may just help a bit.
A few observations.
I’ve got about 10 hook baits per session and 20-30 loose offerings and an orange sized lump of paste. If I was at home I’d just make enough for the one session, but as I’m away I have no choice. It’ll be interesting to see if the baits go off. I bought a cotton laundry bag with holes in to the let the baits breathe, less than a quid from Wilkinson.
I will do the odd update this weekend despite what Brian says in the previous post’s comments, there will be long periods of bite less activity on this weekends rivers. They are not easy, none of them.
Conrad
The wife is away this weekend with some of her family and I just happen to be working in Reading again tomorrow. I hope to catch barbel from at least 2 new rivers this weekend. I am even making my own baits for the trip! Poor Bob Gill and Ian Grant have had their ear holes bent this week I can tell you. All the rivers this weekend are tough but I’m really determined to put the hours in.
I will be under a bivvy for the first time in 10 months and I am contemplating sleeping on my bedchair in the van during the late morning and early afternoon. By Monday I should be pretty ripe and will have had several McShites ™. I must get a car charger for the phone as well.
In all honesty I’ll probably end up in a travelodge or similar but we will see. Wish me luck!
Oh I’ll try and update everything while on the bank waiting for a bite.
I caught this huge fish at the weekend, you can click on the picture to see more detail.
New PB at 16lb 1oz. Of course I look pleased!
I promise that I’ll update the blog this week and tell the tale, there were a few hairy moments. I have a poorly mother who had a fall today and it’s a case of priorities.
Failed to update again and tonight I am getting ready for a 3 day odyssey south of Nottingham! Passport is ready and 2 or 3 new rivers are on the cards.
I haven’t got enough but don’t loose interest because by the middle of the week (was weekend) I will try to.
Sounds good dunnit?
It’s not but I’ve spent the day with marketing people at work.
The details of what when on during the AGM are now a matter of public record and members of the ABF can read the minutes on the forum, what is not a matter of public record is the stuff that I shall put below.
Abe our host continued with the friendly banter in the morning at breakfast. Hobby attempted to order a ‘Full English but without the beans.’ ‘Well that’s not a Full English then is it?’, was the retort. So Hobby listed the items individually and off he went to the kitchen. At this point I realised that being angry the previous night was utterly pointless as anger often is. Being at this place was actually a privilege, we were seeing life imitating art, this was a genuine Fawlty Towers tribute band! The breakfast was very good and the coffee even better. I also noticed that Morticia was rather jolly in the late morning, don’t suppose the visits to the optics did any harm.
Anyhow the rest of the ABF Team started to arrive in dribs and drabs but added to this was the surprise arrival of none other than Mr Steve Pope at around 10:30 AM. He assured us that he wasn’t being nosey but that this was his patch and he wanted a word with a couple of our attendees. So that’s official then, Pope’s Patch is actually a small pub car park in Bromyard. We have given Steve a new nickname as a result of his surprising visit but I’ll not share it here for now. It was all very pleasant as we are all thoroughly nice chaps and quite frankly can’t be arsed with fishing politics generally.
Rich and I decided that we would revisit the river that we fished on the previous day but this time go downstream. We took the opportunity to go into Hereford to Woody’s tackle for day tickets. Woody is a very helpful bloke and drew us a detailed map of the river with one or two pointers. He said definitely go downstream. We suspected that Hobby had been given the same information the previous day and had chosen not to share. We decided to spit in his beer later and then decided to pull his leg instead, because we are that rebellious.
We headed back to Bromyard in time for the AGM which was due to start at 2PM. It was all rather jolly and a few good suggestions for moving forward were made and move forward we will I’m sure. What was important was that the hard working team were able to see each other socially, albeit briefly. I think that we will perhaps try somewhere near the M1 next year and I’m going to go fish the Ribble then fetch Oz, it’s too bloody far for one bloke in one day that journey. Oz you are a hero for coming all that way mate, next year it will be much easier – I promise.
Richard and I legged it back to the river as did Hobby and Eelfisher. Of course it was pretty busy on a Saturday but despite that we all caught…… er chub. I caught 4 fish over 4lb myself but I was to find out that they were babies compared to what was actually in there. Still no barbel but a short session and very enjoyable. I had high hopes for Sunday. I should also mention the huge Perch that I saw making mincemeat of the dace. If I go back here at the end of September (which is likely) I will have a go for the Perch, it was 4lb + and I doubt it will move far.
We didn’t stay too late because we were going for a curry and sure enough we did. In attendance was Bryce Henderson, Rich Walker, Eelfisher, Hobby and myself. It was a truly excellent curry I thought, although I do wish Hobby would grow out of that macho I like it really hot bullshit, it’s so 1980′s Hobby 
We even managed a few (5) beers, I can’t remember the name of the rather splendid stout I was drinking but it was very nice and brewed only a few miles down the road. I also broke with a 25 year tradition and had an ice cold cloudy cider that was really moreish. Then off to bed in a much better mood and determined to get myself a barbel from our local little river the next day. I really fancied my chances as I would have 8 or 9 hours to do it.
I do like these little socials, the people that were in attendance are all really splendid chaps to a man.
The eve of the AGM and Richard Walker and I had spotted a nice little river to try not too far from the hotel where we were staying. It is somewhere in Bromyard, Herefordshire.
We arrived at the Hotel at 11.30 AM, walked into the reception whereupon a waif like, googly eyed older lady with spindly arms and badly died hair looked up and exclaimed, ‘NO CHANCE!, far too early!’ This was before we spoke, you understand? Quite over the top and I felt somewhat theatrical, oh how right I was there. We managed to explain who we were whereupon she looked us up and down a bit (in a fairly disdainful way) and elected to explain in a schoolmarmish manner that we were in room 6 which was still being cleaned. We explained that we were going fishing and would not be back until late, if we could have a key we would leave our cases in the car and not use the room until we returned much later. This seemed to appease her and she allowed us to register and take a key.
She then informed us that we would need a map to find the room! Richard is a very calm individual and is not the flibbertigibbet that I am and it seems that very little phases him at the time, he tends to soak stuff up and reflect upon it later. I suspect that’s why we get on so well. I just happened to sense movement and I glimpsed Rich’s eyes, which said. ‘ Oh my God, this woman is stark raving mad!’. My nutter detector had long since overloaded and was giving meaningless readings that I could no longer trust so it was reassuring to get a second opinion. A map! A map! There were 10 rooms in a very old building that had bespoke everything because there was nothing of a standard size in the place apart from the pint pots. I am not sure what intellect level she applied to anglers generally but I wasn’t feeling a positive vibe, perhaps she’d been for a stroll along the bank near Collingham weir during July?
We eventually escaped and drove to the river where we were to meet Dave Burr who lives locally, he had fished the river some years before and had kindly picked up our day tickets for the stretch. Imagine our surprise when we found angling’s most handsome couple , Hobby and the Eelfisher. I am not suggesting that they are together in any sexual sense just that they look good and were together on that particular day. In fact I was just going for a cheap laugh, which I’m sure that I got
I am always happy to see either of them and was tempted to follow Hobby because he always knows where the barbel are! They informed us that Mr Hotelier was every bit as eccentric as his Mrs but the best was yet to come.
Dave, Rich and I headed up river and Hobby and Eelfisher headed downstream. It is a lovely little river with gravel and streamer weed and glides and deep pools etc. It was very low and I suspect that the deep wooded section would have been pretty good had there been a tad more flow. Anyway I walked well up the stretch to a big wide deep pool near a bridge which looked as though it might contain a few fish. When will I learn that 3 hours walking and watching and locating fish in little rivers is much more productive? Still it was nice to be out watching the buzzards and later on getting as close to a family of long tailed tits as I have ever witnessed. I was quite literally 3 feet away as they landed in a little tree next to my swim, they are very tiny, very cute and unlikely to stay still for more than 2 seconds! Yes fishing such a river is a pleasure, if it was within 30 miles of me I’d be there a lot. I like little rivers, they are challenging yet full of surprises.
I was not surprised to hear that Hobby had a barbel within an hour and half and was looking forward to hearing about it in the bar later. I had a wander down to see Dave Burr and something was definitely stirring up the silt occasionally in his swim. It never ceases to amaze me how barbel will feed in really shallow water in summer. This applies to the bigger rivers as well as the small ones, I sometimes think that starting barbel fishing on the Trent or bigger rivers can be a disadvantage as you don’t have to search for your fish. Visual fishing, spotting the fish or signs of them which in turns lets you identify their habitat is one of the most rewarding things about barbel fishing without a doubt. Dave did hook a barbel from that swim later on but alas he lost it at the net and went home in disgust
I blanked, Richard blanked, eel fisher had few chub I think and Hobby had barbel and chub, he’s not a bad turn our Hobby. The downstream stretch was better, as we found out the next day. It seems Hobby had some local intelligence but we did not know that at the time, that’s for tomorrow’s tale.
We had been informed by Morticia at the Hotel that her husband would stop serving and go to bed at midnight which seems fair enough. I can’t remember exactly when Richard and I got back but it was much earlier than midnight. I was starving as we had not eaten apart from some sausage rolls that Richard had bought from the supermarket that morning. We found that there were no restaurants open in Bromyard, not even the 2 curry houses. Bromyard is quaint and rural and lovely but as a consequence is not a late night place, we should have gone into Hereford in hindsight. I did find a Chinese takeaway open so I asked the landlord if it would be OK for me to eat the food in the bar. There were 5 people in the bar that night 4 of them were anglers and the other was Abraham Lincoln or at least a skinny man who looked like him but with grey hair. I thought that my polite request would have been fine.
Instead I got.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m hungry, I wouldn’t expect you to make anything and I don’t see the harm in it.’ He proceeded to do a faked laugh like the laughing policeman.
‘Not my problem! Haa Haa now is it?’
Now I’m not prone to violence but I hate rudeness, especially from people who’s hospitality I am paying for. I was very polite to him but that was going to go very wrong, very soon. When I really loose my temper I am extremely nasty and really don’t care anything about the consequences. I could feel the red mist descending and my fist was actually clenched.
‘No it’s not your problem but you could be more helpful.’
‘Not my problem! It was your choice not to eat, don’t blame me’
‘I could make it your problem’ I said this with that calm quiet voice that I have before I erupt. It is not nice and never does me any good, I thought that I was well rid of that part of my personality.
‘How are you gonna do that then.’
Richard put himself in the way and I immediately felt really foolish. I was contemplating hitting an older man, who clearly had social problems, who hated his job and was very unhappy. I suspect that he had got away with being rude all his life and never had a slap. I would have also done the ABF harm and that is not something I want to do - ever. I also contemplated wrecking his website but that dissipated really quickly.
It turns out that he had equally unnecessarily rude to Eelfisher as well. Eelfisher is man who has worked with his hands all his life and is pretty good condition. He is not a man that I would like to upset, I’m not suggesting that he would use violence but if he did………. ouch. Now old Abe of the beard was behind the bar and Steve was interested in a framed piece of artwork and so politely enquired.
‘That’s interesting what is it?’
‘What does it look like?’ Abe replied in a snide and superior manner
‘I don’t know what it is that’s why I’m asking’
‘Do you see the name at the top?’
‘Yes I can see that it refers to the Pied Piper’
‘Mmmm and do you know anything about that?’
‘Yes the Pied Piper is the story of the Rat Catcher of Hamelin in West Germany, actually I have seen the play performed there on 3 occasions’
‘Oh have you, well that’s the artwork for my wife’s adaptation of the play, she’s a play-write and producer.’
Now tell me if I’m wrong but couldn’t just have skipped all that unpleasantness and just made the statement that he made in the last sentence. It transpires that the Eelfisher also found himself with a clenched fist. He could have just said to me, I’d rather you didn’t eat in here sorry. That would have been that. He would not allow us to order a few pints each and sit up talking and finishing them at our leisure either. Rich and I ate our Chinese take away al fresco in the dark on a grotty table.
Unfortunately I appear to have spilled loads of rice….oops.
Thursday 7th July
Normally when I am required to work away from home I have a good moan about it, not so when I have to work in Reading in July.There are one or two nice barbel rivers close by and work paid for the fuel – result!
The place I visited is one of the the really big silicon chip manufacturers, based in the USA but with a field office in Theale near Reading. I can guarantee that if you own a mobile phone you will have a fistful of their chips every time that you make a call. The anorak in me stared boggle eyed at the staggering amount of lab equipment that they have, its the same as I have at work but they have 20 of everything. These pieces of test gear cost over £30K each.
I set off at 5:30 AM Thursday morning and had managed to get a guest ticket for one river on Thursday night courtesy of a local club member Paul Monaghan and one for Friday on another river, courtesy of my fellow ABF stalwart Paul Whiteing, he of fancy pants beardy centrepin casting fame. This was despite not finding out about the trip until Wednesday, so lads, thanks very much.
Despite my early start I was wide awake after a day of hard work. When engineers from different companies work on joint projects it is always intense for a number of reasons. The main reasons are the opportunities to bounce ideas around with someone with a different perspective and work with some one with enthusiasm for the same subject. The fact that we were left alone to work on one thing without any distractions was also a pleasant change for the both of us.
I thought that I’d had an eventful day already but there as more to come. I was to meet Paul at around 8PM so on route I called at an ATM only to have my card eaten. Arrrggghhhhh! Slight problem, that was my only source of cash, I was 180 miles from home with and empty fuel tank and yet ore important I was bloody starving. I called the bank to explain my predicament and it turns out that my card was retained because they had detected some irregularities and flagged the card to be retained. It turns out that 30 seconds after I purchased a coffee at Cherwell Valley services that morning some scroat made a withdrawal of £150 and then £130 from an ATM in Sheffield. My card had been cloned and they had successfully accessed my PIN. I am insured but you can imagine it caused me a bit of grief. I was spitting feathers but knew that a few hours by the river would calm me down.
I met Paul and put the whole debacle behind me. I chose a swim with some cabbages and weed bed in front and slightly downstream although I may have been steered there by one who knows.
Fishing these highly pressured Southern Rive requires a different approach to most rivers for a number of reasons:
There are 2 aspects of this style of fishing that I found difficult. I found it really hard to believe that after the chub had a good tug on the bait that it was still on the hook. I also found it hard to leave a bait in position for so long after introducing so few free offerings. I am used to fishing venues with more, less cautious, fish. However I am utterly convinced that it is the right way to fish these venues and in fact I feel that the technique has rather more to offer me on other venues. I am looking forward to trying it on a few of my local rivers. I expect that I’ll do rather well with it. One thing is for sure, I felt as though I’d learned yet another subtle variation to add to my fishing and it was very good of Paul to share with me. This is why I keep going on about my love of these ‘Away Days’, meeting others anglers and learning while I enjoy myself. I sometimes get to catch a few fish in some truly gorgeous surroundings as well. I’m leading what was a one man crusade here but I appear to have at least a few converts.
Back to the actual fishing then, I blanked
Paul and I left at midnight as both of us had to work the next day. You may be interested to know that the chub had not pulled my bait off after 3 hours and that the chap in the swim below me had a clonker out. I retained some of the rare bait that I have decided to call red mono. As to why, it’s secret……………….shhhhhhh.
Friday 8th July
I managed to get to the river for about 3:45PM after a very successful working day. I had to call into a conference call with an American client at 4pm but thankfully it did not last long. I was on a different river quite close to where I had been the previous day and my was it pretty! It was also busy, Paul Whiteing and Richard Borley were already there and the bloody bailiff was in my swim. It’s always a pleasure to meet Paul, we have quite a lot in common outside of barbel fishing, what I don’t know about decorating you could fit in a large municipal library – just about! In fact Paul was involved in electronics R & D much like I am now before he took to his brushes. He is also a massive help to me and keeps me on my toes and motivated with the ABF website, he’s a proper mate.
There were quite a few swims that looked great and I was happy to just look at the vista in front of me. I chose one with a fallen tree downstream and a deep channel over on the far bank. I had to cast across about 8 yards of cabbages and then still more weed and yet astonishingly my under arm lob landed on the clear gravel about a foot upstream of the tree’s branches, bullseye! I had baited the bottom rod with red mono from the previous day, introduced a few freebies via pva bag and left it there. Upstream I used pellets; a few introduced by hand and a few in a small pva bag, again I left things to stew for as long as possible.
Ian Crook showed up and we all had a natter around my swim, Richard looked utterly confused by the strange northern warbles but he was nodding in the right places so I think he was getting most of it, although we were laying it on a bit thick. It was all very sociable, oh and Ian had organised for me to go fish where I had the previous night after I left the current river at midnight. I figured that I may as well fish the whole night, it’s an £80 round trip after all.
I had to recast twice due to weed, even though my baited hook had survived 6 canoes, 40 Canada geese and 20 or so Brent geese coming through. Actually it was the Brent geese chomping on the upstream weed that caused a clump to dislodge my bait. I managed another alarmingly accurate cast and left it there a long time. Meanwhile I was watching a very industrious kingfisher and some lovely red kites in the field behind me. Do they have poor eyesight because they hunt very low to ground, even lower than Kestrels and certainly a good deal lower than Buzzards, which is good. They don’t need air traffic control to set up a stack!
Dusk approached and I was left alone with my thoughts and fatigue and started to doze off. Richard had hooked something, it was ‘eely’ big apparently, and unruly and slimey
At 11:22 I was rudely awoken by a screaming take on the bottom rod, a few moments later I was guiding a distinctly barbel shaped splasher of around 6lbs over my net. I took a quick photo, released the fish and then packed up; we had to be off the fishery by midnight. I was well chuffed with that wake up call and guess what? That’s river number 24 as well.
Noisy bloody thing woke me up! River 24, 6lb
I said my goodbyes to Paul and Richard, went to the garage for some fags and other sustenance and then went to meet Ian Grant nearby.
More to follow………
Saturday 2nd of July
I got it in my head that I would like to fish 2 small Midlands rivers in one day. It seemed like an excellent idea at the time and was definitely more economical but the reality of such an exercise is pretty exhausting. Of course some would say the more economical thing to do would be to just fish local rivers but I do love the challenge of a venue that I am unfamiliar with. The 2 rivers in question are 2.5 hrs away from home but only a few miles apart; I wanted to catch first light at river A and then fish until late afternoon if necessary then catch the evening into darkness at river B. I did not decide which order to fish them until the previous evening but in the end it was determined by the fact that I would need to get a permit for the second river from the local tackle shop which did not open until 8:30.
In July first light is really bloody early so consequently I had to set off bloody early, in fact I left home at 1:00 AM after grabbing perhaps 3 hours sleep. I arrived just as that eerie preternatural glow was forming in the East but by the time I parked up and got my gear out of the van it was very much pre-dawn. I headed for a swim that I had fished before as this was my 2nd visit to the fishery and my fourth visit to the river. I expected that my chosen swim would still have a decent flow and depth despite the low summer levels. I fished one rod (my little 9ft stalker again) down the inside edge after introducing a few pellets upstream by hand. I also used a small PVA bag to get a few freebies near the hook bait, after 2 minutes the rod whacked round and I was into a chub! Damn! I don’t know what it is about the chub in this river but they often hang themselves, thus requiring me to remove them from my hook and spook the bloody swim. Meanwhile the sun was coming up and I could feel my chances were diminishing. I should have probably moved immediately but from what I could remember the river was very shallow upstream and I could not think of anywhere more likely to produce a barbel. Incidentally the chub in this river are corkers, I’ve never had one under 3lb and they are usually a good deal bigger than that.
I stuck it out in chub alley for another 4 hours and then upon landing my 10th chub realised that I had very little chance of catching a barbel in the swim; either there were none there or they were present in much smaller numbers than the hungry chub. So I forced my tired body to pack things away and have a look upstream. I noticed that there were a number of swims with a decent depth and pace and that the water actually had a tinge of colour, certainly far more than I expected. It was around 8 AM now and the sun was well and truly up: if you cast your mind back to the 2nd of July it was bloody hot! I was down to my tee-shirt and feeling the sun on my face. I applied some sun block and had a look around, knowing full well that I would need to find a raft or some natural cover to have the remotest chance of tempting a barbel out of a hidy-hole to feed. Then I saw it! A great big tree mid river between swims. There were reeds down the inside edge, gravel mid river and some perfectly paced water between the tree and the reed bed. I was confident that the barbel would be hiding under the tree and just popping out to grab a morsel as it came past. I had two choices fish downstream of the snag or fish slightly upstream. It was a very short cast either way but I figured that a PVA bag would allow a few medium sized pellets to roll under the tree and tempt the fish upstream to grab my much bigger hook bait.
It worked a treat! I got my first barbel very quickly indeed, not big but perfectly formed.
Isn't she lovely? Bright sunlight too!
I then had another one about ten minutes later who I have christened Green-Beard. The fish was rather sprightly and made it’s way into some streamer weed just upstream of my position. After a few minutes though the fish was in the net. This fish weighed 7lb 4oz and so I decided to attempt a self take, just so that I could have another inane grin with which to annoy people. I got everything set up and removed the fish from the river, then noticed the streamer weed which I removed before hitting the timer. The fish was well recovered having been in a shaded area with good flow for 5 minutes and so I ended up wearing the fish around my ears momentarily before regaining my composure and producing the trademark happy Conrad grin. I quickly checked the image which looked fine on the little screen on the camera in the bright sunlight. As you can see it was not a perfect photo.
Green Beard!
I had neglected to check both sides of the fish and there was a great big lump of weed still on the fish’s face, sorry Green-Beard!
The next 30 minutes produced 2 more small barbel of a similar stamp to the first one, so I now had caught 4 barbel and ten chub. I had decided to stay until 10 AM and then move to the second river but needed a coffee as I was starting to feel really tired. At 10:15 I left the fishery having caught 4 barbel and 12 chub, an excellent morning to say the least.
I called at the tackle shop and the proprietor remembered me from the previous season, I had told him about my quest to catch barbel from a few different UK rivers and he had been most helpful. I told him that I had fished already that morning and of my success. I also mentioned the fact that I was a bit tired, although I suspect that he had already noticed as a cup of coffee was thrust into my hand. We discussed my options for river B and I paid a tenner for a year book and got directions. One of the regulars was in and he had caught barbel earlier in the week. He told me that the barbel came from the top end of the stretch and gave me a rough idea of where to look.
I got to the 2nd river just before midday and what a lovely sight the place was, it was a decent walk of around 3/4 mile to the area I had been advised to look at. It was truly lovely, a little river with lots of likely looking swims, although I’ll never get used to the fact that the local lads fish matches regularly and there are actual pegs with platforms. The river was carrying even more colour and so I plonked my self on a platform with a very deep gulley just below a bend and a weed bed. The bottom was gravel and it had the perfect pace. What it didn’t have was much cover downstream so I had a few misgivings but the depth of the water convinced me to give it a go.
I waited a long time for the first taps on the tip, which were undoubtedly chub and I actually waited quite a few hours until one hung itself. It was an old dog but only weighed around 2.5lb and had clearly had a few encounters with pike in it’s time. It didn’t splash around too much so I rested the swim for a while and took the opportunity to have a wander. I was thinking back to the morning and was looking for a swim with some cover. I found one downstream, there was an acute bend and then the river narrowed to perhaps 40% of its’ normal width so it was about 6 feet wide. This funnelled water was quite pacey and had cut out a deep channel and there just below it was a cracking raft. Only one problem there was a 10 foot drop to the river. I could just about land a fish there but my line would enter the water at a quite acute angle, which I don’t like. I am convinced that it spooks fish. I lobbed a handful of pellets in at the top of the glide and thought that I might try it later.
As time went on and it was blisteringly hot I was thinking more and more about that none swim that I seen earlier. There was cover, it was extremely difficult to fish from my bank and impossible from the opposite bank as there was really dense reed bed there. I doubt very much whether anyone would be able to spot the potential from the other bank anyway. As I was ruminating on these facts, I got another suicidal chub by which time it was 5:30 and time to move. I took my time packing up and approached the river cautiously. I went upstream and made sure that my landing net would reach (it would) and set up the unhooking mat as the ground was baked hard, no springy soft meadow grass this time.
I introduced half a dozen pellets and then dropped a 1 oz bomb a few feet above the raft, the PVA bag ensuring that it landed with a very gentle plop. It was exactly where I wanted it. I kept my head down and watched intently when I was disturbed by my mobile, it was Ricky enquiring how I was doing. Just then I saw the rod drop back a tiny bit so I put the phone down and then over went the rod. Barbel on! Not only was it on but this fish was an absolute nutter. It ran up and down that pool at an alarming pace and to be honest it was getting me in all kinds of trouble, culminating in it going around the tree on the upstream bend. Fiddlesticks I cried (or something like that) as I realised that I was going to have go around the tree whilst holding a rod, even worse I was ten foot above an 8 foot deep channel and I would have to swap hands. Sure enough I managed it somehow, probably with the grace of a hippo. I was absolutely drenched in sweat but I was in control again. At this point the fish was showing no signs of tiring and ploughed straight into another load of weed that had formed a raft on the other side of the tree. At this point the fish just gave up. As soon as there was a load of weed over the fish’s eyes it became all tranquil and peaceful. I dragged the fish through the weed and too the surface and at full stretch got 10lb of weed and what turned out to be 8lb of barbel in the net. Obviously with a 10 foot drop I did not attempt to lift the up from the elbow but carefully kept the spreader block thread in line with the handle. Threads have good tensile strength but placing sheer forces like those which would be applied by lifting the net up with a 10 foot fulcrum is asking for failure. Anyway the exercise was successful and another barbel from another new river was mine.
What a scrap! An 8lb 2oz Warrior and my 23rd river
I decided that at this point I really ought to pack up and go home, even though the best of the fishing was yet to come. I had been awake for 17 hours, driven 140 miles and only had 3 hrs sleep the previous evening. I had not noticed the slope as I walked down to river but I certainly noticed it on the way back to the van. It was still 24 degrees and I was quite tired…………………but I was content.
Tomorrow I’ll try to blog the weekend just gone, when I fished 2 beautiful but hard Southern rivers. You may even witness me paying compliments to Southerners!
It is rumoured that my mate Hobby is a very lucky angler, he is so lucky, so often, that many of us wonder why he has been blessed with such good fortune. However yesterday I was blessed with a bit of good fortune myself, in fact 4 lots of good fortune as you will see.
The first bit of good fortune was when the wife informed me that she had loads of marking to do and wouldn’t be home until late, also she had a concert at the school where she works that I had forgotten about. I had fished until 1am the previous night at a river in the Midlands and left my stuff in the van, it is easy to conceal everything with my ultra-portable roving rig so that was fortunate in itself; bit of good fortune number two. It was raining as I left Sheffield but the storm seemed to be moving slowly North and hopefully would stay away from the Midlands, as I hate sitting in the rain, but not as much as I hate carrying a brolly, besides it would make my ultra-portable rig basically barely portable.
I got there at around 6:30 pm as I recall, the weather was a little more cloudy than on Sunday but still bloody hot. I had decided to concentrate on the lower end of the fishery and definitely would not be staying until 1am, I was knackered at work on Monday. I am fine if I get 6 hours sleep but 4 hours just doesn’t hack it. Anyway there I was and yet again I was in no hurry to start fishing and decided on 3 swims to bait up. I had a good look at the glide that I’d fished and determined exactly where the clear spots were, I deposited a few pellets there, this was to be my last swim. I then stumbled upon a swim that Richard and I had somehow missed the previous day. I don’t know how to be honest, it was comfy, had loads of far bank tree cover, good depth, good flow and a large raft at the tail end of the swim. So there was loads of cover, in went some more pellets.Finally and for my opening gambit I elected to bait up and fish the swim where Richard had his barbel the previous day, this was either laziness, or a confidence crisis, or not believing that there would be barbel anywhere else, or simply knowing that there was a weed free bottom, or maybe a combination of all of them – you decide.
During the waiting period I gave Hobby a call and surprisingly he had fished the same area so perhaps those Chinese whispers were more like Chinese yelling. I had no idea that he had fished there, in fact Richard and I had picked the location with nothing more than good old Google Earth; bends and trees were the search criteria. Anyhow after a bit of an interrogation he told me to move after half an hour, I argued that it was too soon due to the sunlight and that I should wait until dark but to be honest he had planted the seed. I had a look at that raft swim again and it was calling louder as dusk approached. Arghh buggrit I’ll move and if Hobby is right I’ll suffer his ‘knowing smile’ and the incessant pub reminders for the next decade or so. Of course I could have kept it to myself but I felt that it was about time Hobby had a few new drunken stories with which to beguile us. No doubt we’ll still end up telling him to shut up anyway, he does go on a bit
I carefully and quietly moved down to the pre baited swim with the downstream raft and then plopped the 1oz bomb and PVA bag right next to the raft and settled in. The 9ft stalker rod does not have an isoblob but I can tell you that it will have next season! So I had to use one of those little enterprise things with a Drennan mini nite-light, boy they might only last a day or two but they burn brightly for their short life. It was fascinating being able to see every tiny movement, even more than in broad daylight. Bob Gill make something that bright that lasts 15 years please.
So I sat on my hands as the chub played and then quite suddenly they stopped, it was now dark in between the trees and things were rustling in the grass next to me, owls were hooting and a solitary moor hen let out its cry as I jumped for the sky. Yep I was getting spooked but then everything was brought into focus when the tip dipped slowly down and then came back, definitely not a chub. I could see the slightest movement due to the contrast of the night light and the inky blackness of the trees. The air seemed to go still, I knew right then the 3 foot twitch was imminent but I still had to wait. Once again the tip dipped a few inches slowly and this time did not recover, it was followed by two rapid plucks and then wham! I don’t think that I have experienced anything quite like watching that bite develop before, it was very similar to the restraint that you have exercise when touch legering when the final pull occurs it feels like something is trying to pull your rod out your hand, which of course it is. Anyway I am not a good enough wordsmith to describe just how enjoyable the whole experience was and of course it resulted in a good sized barbel in my landing net and river number 21 on my little rivers table.
Here is a photo of the fish, I make no apology for not having an unhooking mat I don’t believe that they are necessary when the river bank is soft springy meadow grass and I knew that for a fact having been there the day before. The fish already had a split tail before the barbel police try to condemn me.
A plump 7lb 6oz barbel, I really enjoyed this one.
Best of all I was home before 1 am and easily got my 6 hours sleep.
Rich Walker and I had decided to have a go on another new small Midlands river on Sunday. I got home pretty late so it was not an early start, in fact when I surfaced at mid-day and walked outside to get the gear ready I nearly passed out! I was not expecting the 28 degree C temperature after the previous night. I called Richard who had been at a wedding reception the previous evening and suggested a late start to which he readily agreed.
I was travelling very light with just my 9ft stalker, a landing net, the little chair, a small bucket with pellets in and everything else in a fly fishing bag apart from the 1 litre bottle of water which was going to be necessary. It was bloody awkward that bottle but to go without it would have been suicide. I was struggling with the heat after the 600 yard walk but we made it to the river bank and crept to the water’s edge. Believe it or not I’m quite stealthy for my size (honest) and it wasn’t long before I’d spotted a barbel which is good news when you are on a river that does not have a reputation as a barbel water. We had heard that the venue had a few barbel but it was more Chinese whispers than hard facts to be honest. I had a sit down to cool off then baited 2 swims (which were 100m nearer the car park and for later) while Richard went up river and did the same. I looked around upstream and found a belter of a swim, it was on a fairly acute bend and was a deep drop off after a weed bed that was growing in the near bank sediment. Just downstream was where the river changed direction and there was over 12 feet of water which is incredible when you consider that the river’s average depth is 3 feet at this time of year. I bet it will be an excellent winter swim.
Richard fished downstream where I had previously seen the barbel and after an hour or so had a chub of around 2.5lb. I had only one pull, a proper one as well but when I lifted the rod there was nothing there? That doesn’t happen very often so I carried on somewhat bemused. As the sun goes down something made me jump as the vegetation at the side me was rustling. I suspect that it was a badger but who knows, a strategic cough and peeing on the bush seemed to get rid of what ever it was anyway
Darkness was almost upon us and I heard Richard call out so I wound in and was happy to see that Richard was just cajoling our intended quarry into his landing net – result!
I moved down into the deep glide that I had baited up earlier and discovered that there were chub there who dragged the bait into that silky blanket weed that you cannot see with the polarised sunglasses in the deeper swims. In clear water I can usually see down to about 6 feet but after that I struggle with my ‘El-Cheapo’ Wychwood sunglasses. Richard had packed in immediately after catching his barbel as we were hoping for an early night as we both had work the next day. It was not to be, I eventually moved up to Richard’s original swim and was saved from blanking by a chub, it was 1am and really time for home.
Here is Richard”s fish, he got a bit carried away with himself as he does but I don’t think that kind of gesture is necessary do you?
Richard's first from a new river, about 7lb, a sportsman like me would say 'Well done old chap'
Of course I went home disappointed but vowed to be back, I knew exactly how I was going to fish it next time.
This is not a blog about that awful TV program which makes me want to retch but about an angler and his first barbel.
As part of my 2011/12 economy drive I found myself doing the brakes on my van on Saturday morning, it is the first time that I have done any mechanical stuff on a vehicle for 20+ years and to be honest it was a doddle. My brother in law has amassed a huge amount of proper tools over the years as he loves all that stuff. He has a Lotus Carlton and an old Porsche that he takes to the Nürburgring every year so he needs to be a reasonable mechanic. Anyhow the upshot of all this was that I didn’t set off fishing until about 6 ish on Saturday.
During the close season I have been fly fishing with a lad from Wakefield called Steve Wilkinson who started life coarse fishing but then moved over to fly fishing. He had never caught a barbel but I persuaded him to have a go. He joined the ABF, bought some tackle (bet he buys more soon) and was raring to go. It won’t be 2 minutes before he gets to know a few of the lads on who will be more than happy to show him how to go on, should he need any help. To be honest I don’t think he needs any, he has been fishing lakes for years and is a dab hand with a stick float so he has the right pedigree. I’m hoping that he is going to show me a thing or two about stick float fishing during the winter.
We walked well up river away from other anglers when we got there and started fishing at about 7:30pm. We fished side by side in the same swim to be sociable which was challenging as we were between some trees. There was a very warm but strong wind blowing all night and I was glad of the shelter that the trees provided. Apart from the attention (dink dink) of some bream and what turned out to be nice sized roach there was nothing much during the daylight. I assured Steve that the barbel would come once it got dark and sure enough they did. Steve’s first fish was around 7lb and he took it steady, getting to grips with the new tackle and the stubborn creature on the end of his line. The fish was in excellent nick and very dark and vivid; Steve’s face was a picture in fact it was painted with Glee.
The first barbel came at around midnight and we left at 2am with a tally of 4 barbel, 2 bream and a roach. I asked Steve if he’d enjoyed himself , to which he replied, ‘When are we going next?’
Conrad
Tuesday 21st June
There is a river in Yorkshire that is fairly big, fairly famous and for me very difficult to catch barbel from. In my defence I have never made a trip there when conditions have been good, a warm summer flood, for instance. No. I have chanced my arm as and when I have had opportunity to go and fish it and I have endured a lot of blanks. Even utterly bite free blanks which are unusual, in fact had it not been for the activity of the occasional pike or otter swimming by I would have sworn that the river was utterly devoid of life at times. Also there are one or two very adept local anglers who were still sneaking out a few fish here and there, I am sure that they were enjoying my suffering in a perverse way. It was so bad that my mate Ricky has point blank refused to fish the place!
The river had even proved tough for the ‘Yorkshire Ninja’ , Hobby but he had gone for the weir-pool approach and managed a fish early last season. So that is how I started my day – fishing a weir-pool. Due to the fact that the yearbook I had was on the bank opposite the weirpool, this necessitated a 50 yard plus cast into the main flow but us Trent regulars learned how to do that before we realised that we would be better off on the other bank. I would have done the same but I had tried it once before and the other bank is very snaggy close in. I am also tight and didn’t want to spend any more money on this river. Gavin took one look at the expanse of water in front of him and went downstream shaking his head. The two locals that passed me who were both senior in years looked at me like I was a 3 headed alien, so I figured they didn’t approve of my choice of swim. My reasoning was simple, 2 weeks into the season, the fish have spawned and so they would come up into the heavily oxygenated water. The river was very low so I thought it was worth a go.
That water was really deep, certainly over 20 feet and when I dropped the feeder short because I wasn’t able to muster the energy required for the big cast the water was even deeper and slow moving. You know what lives in the deep slow parts of rivers and likes pellets? Yes correct the snotty bream and sure enough I saw the dink dink dinks pretty much straight away. The only fish I caught in 5 hours was a skimmer so I went to find Gavin.
I was saddled up like a mule, comfy chair, brolly, the lot as I did not anticipate the 400 yard walk. Anyway we were lucky, one of the old chaps who had walked past shaking his head had fished the river for 30 years and had some very good advice. He was amazed that I had not lost one feeder fishing up stream as it was the snaggiest place in the world up there in the weir as far as he was concerned. I managed to avoid the snags by having solid feeders rather than cage feeders and winding like hell which got the terminal tackle up in the water before the snaggy area, again a Trent tactic.
I fished tight to a tree on the far bank with 8 feet of water; a nice, clear, snag free bottom and excellent flow. Upon the advice of my new found friend I fished with a small 8mm pellet instead of my usual 12 or 16mm affair. At some perfectly sociable daylight hour I managed to catch this:
You have no idea how relieved I was to catch this fish, it took a long time! It is also believed to be the UK's first 400 pound barbel
Such was the intensity of my smile that I made the air shimmer and the background has come out all blurred which is just as well because I would hate to give away the flier swim Incidentally I worked out that it cost me 400 bloody quid in fuel and yearbooks over the 2 seasons to catch this fish, which weighed 7lb 4oz.
The chap upstream of me caught 2 barbel and a chub before leaving at about 8pm whereas Gavin and I stayed until 9:30 with nothing further to report apart from my near disaster experience – I had a close encounter of the solid kind, nuff said!