August has felt a bit ‘after the lord Mayors show’ following the highs of July where I beat my pb Barbel and had a couple of doubles to boot. At last the weather has cooled and a bit of much needed rain has fallen, prompting most clubs to re-open their river fisheries. It should have been a great month but you can always rely on me to blow it.
For anybody who read my July blog, apologies for going on ad infinitum; I can only say in my defence I was a bit giddy due to catching a few, and I promise to be concise this month. As it happens my catches haven’t given me much to get excited about so it should be mercifully brief!
3.08.18 upper Trent
For most of last season and the early part of this I had been targeting one particular stretch of the upper Trent with mixed results. I had good reason for sticking with one venue; it takes time to learn the location and feeding routines of the barbel, relating to particular conditions. Travelling a long way to the venue reduces the learning time even further, so my policy of concentrating on one stretch was born from necessity. However, recently I had the urge to try somewhere different, which saw me heading for a new location a few miles upstream.
I mainly fish solo, but my mate Kris rang to say he could make it and that we would be joined by another lad, Mark we met last season. I would be first to arrive so I was looking for 3 flyers on an unknown stretch of river….a big ask! It was a lovely place but very overgrown and I only found 2 swims in the area I fancied, but once the lads arrived they seemed happy enough.
It turned into a bit of a strange day really; a standing canoe race with 100 competitors paddled through the swims most of the afternoon, and I discovered to my cost I was in the midst of a mosquito infested jungle…who knew they could bite through both socks and tee shirt to get to my succulent flesh!
The discomfort however was all worthwhile when the rod hooped over in the early hours. The fight was stubborn and explosive in even measure; I was convinced my luck was out after the fish managed to embed itself in thick streamer weed right under the near bank, but a bit of coaxing got it up, and my new extra-long landing net pole paid for itself in spades when it scooped up my prize together with half a ton of detritus.
It goes without saying I rested the fish well before and after, but the conditions had improved greatly, so I was happy to take a trophy shot. At 9lb9oz I was very pleased, but it did turn out to be the only action of the night.
Mixed results from the lads, a barbel around 8lb and a blank!
10.08.18 Ribble
Limited time meant a trip to the Ribble was all I could muster, so I headed for a previously prolific section that has fallen from my graces over the last couple of seasons. It requires a fairly long cast to a far bank gulley under overhanging willows, and involves clipping up and marker elastic so it can still be fished into the dark, certainly an interesting challenge.
The river was up a few inches and nicely coloured, perfect I thought, but I soon realised the weed was going to be a nightmare. As evening approached the level started to drop and the problem diminished, however despite fishing it to the best of my (limited) abilities I suffered an unexpected Barbel blank. The chub were having it but they weren’t my true quarry.
I have no idea what has happened to this section of the river; I can’t help but feel the Barbel have moved on. It’s a shame as I have had some fantastic sessions here, but I guess the fish are still somewhere waiting to be found, I will just have to get looking.
17.08.18 upper Trent
My upper Trent wanderlust backfired with a blank session for the second week running, on an unexplored stretch, not entirely unexpected for that very reason. It can be hard work sussing out these upper river Barbel and I was found wanting, despite being tipped off where to try.
The day involved a challenging ‘Dakar rally’ drive across multiple rough fields in a fiesta ill equipped for the challenge, followed by a prolonged running battle with a herd of cow’s intent on demolishing said vehicle, including fun activities such as erecting fences from flotsam and charging around shouting and waving tree branches at them.
Other than this I was mostly unhooking 8oz chub! Joking aside I am convinced the venue has great potential and have pencilled in a return (with anti-cow stakes and rope) before the fields get too boggy.
24.08.18 Upper Trent
I had an irresistible urge to revisit the new stretch of the upper Trent I had tried for the first time earlier in the month. Something in my gut told me I hadn’t made the most of it last time and the river had risen a little so I was hoping it would stimulate the fish into action.
The stretch was empty so I went for the same swim as I really liked the look of it last time on. The river had risen as expected, maybe a foot at a guess, which was encouraging. I fished the same as last time except I moved the downstream rod further out into the main flow. I laid a bed of hemp, micro pellets and a few broken boilies on my upstream lie using my spomb and left it to rest while I set up camp. Downstream I fished a feeder, last time I went for a straight lead down the margin and it hadn’t produced so a change was in order.
The feeder proved popular as the rod wrapped round after just a few minutes, a small chub was the culprit. This was the pattern for the next couple of hours until an almighty wrench and screaming baitrunner announced a more substantial fish, however, during a really spirited fight I quickly concluded it wasn’t a barbel, it was in fact a surprise Bream. It was a decent lump so I took a quick snap, and even got the scales out for curiosity but found to my annoyance the batteries had given up the ghost. Sods law I thought, I bet I hook a new PB tonight (no such luck as it happened!).
I thought I had got my technical blunders out of the way with the scales but far worse was to come later, all due to a new real I was trying for the first time that night.
Before that sorry tale I had to suffer an evening of intense storms, hailstones the size of marbles and lightening far too close for comfort when holding, to all intents and purposes, a lightening conductor in my hand.
Thankfully, everything settled down by dusk, and a bright full moon cast shadows across the bank. An owl was hooting in a tree just behind me and there was a thankful lull in mini-chub activity; it was very peaceful and calm, I laid back in my chair and pondered life. It came as shock to the system when the downstream feeder rod gave the longed for ‘3 ft twitch’ and an unseen fish set off downstream at break-neck speed. I leapt on it and gave it plenty of side strain and managed to stop it getting any further, where I suspected snags might lie in the overhanging trees. Gradually I was getting the upper hand and after a few minutes I had what felt like a substantial fish in front of me. All was going well and I thought the battle was won, just a case of lifting the fish to get it over a bank of streamer weed and into the waiting net. Well, I thought too soon, the fish saw the net and went straight down like an exocet.
Now, I have caught enough Barbel to know this is to be expected, but in one of the most incredible displays of ball-baggery I realised I hadn’t set the clutch on my new reel, it was dangerously tight, and in a panic I fumbled with the rear knob to slacken it off. That was my first and fatal mistake as my new real (unlike those it replaced) had a front clutch!! I was in fact adjusting the freespool knob, and with a sickening lurch the fish was gone and it was now my turn to feel a complete knob. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at my Noddyness, this is a ‘one bite a night’ water and I had just blown it to some tune.
After sitting with my head in my hands for a couple of minutes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, I decided to get on with it and set the clutch, re-baited the rod and cast it back to the same spot. I freshened the bait on the upstream rod as well, but I was just going through the motions and didn’t expect anything else to be honest. I promised the Barbel Gods I would never be as dumb again and settled back in my chair.
Only 30 minutes later those benevolent Gods forgave me with a second bite; this time the upstream rod dropped back completely slack and I wound down furiously to make contact with a fish which had swum almost under my feet. The fight was therefore a lot easier; still intense but mercifully brief. The correctly adjusted clutch did its job perfectly and the barbel was soon resting in the net. What a relief! Obviously there would be no weighing done, but a quick snap was in order and the fish was back in the river resting in a few seconds. It was a bonny fish as well, no record breaker but fin perfect and I felt truly grateful I had been given a second chance.
31.08.18 to 01.09.18 Tidal Trent
An epic two full nights on the banks of the tidal Trent, was I going to be man enough for the job on this mighty river? Well, I stuck it out for the 2 nights but I’m still feeling the effects a couple of days later.
I got there before my mate Kris, so had first dibs on swims. It was busy downstream so I chose to barrow the gear away from the madding crowd in search of some quieter water upstream.
My swim was on the outside of a big bend so the deep water on my side, so I went in fairly heavy with the spomb and put down a couple of pints of hemp and small pellets. Despite having a good lead around beforehand, when I finally cast in I soon discovered a big old snag on my downstream lie, no idea how I managed to cast into it several times and bump my lead through it without any evidence of its existence, but that what happened, either way I was forced to fish just above my downstream baited area, not ideal.
When Kris arrived he went below me 50 or 60m in a similar looking swim to mine, he chucked a couple of balls of groundbait in and set up. As darkness fell he had the first of his four fish that night, while I sat riveted to my motionless rods. This was to be the pattern until the morning, the only disturbance to my evening being a 2lb skimmer and going to take photos of his fish, including a 13lb6oz’er. Rub it in why don’t you, but what a fish!
Why I couldn’t buy a bite while my mate caught regularly just below me is a conundrum. There were no obvious differences in swims except for my snag, but that’s fishing for you. I was happy for him to be having a good night but at the same time frustrated at my own lack of action.
At first light I was rudely woken by a deafening barrage of gun-fire as some fellas blasted away at anything flying by. A huge thump right next to my bivvie that literally shook the ground heralded the arrival of a matching pair of retrievers who ploughed into my swim setting off both alarms before emerging from the undergrowth with a massive deceased Canada goose. Not something you see every day and I did wonder how much damage it would have done if it had landed on me while I slept.
Saturday night just had to be better, and it was to some extent, a splasher in the morning followed in the early hours by a bloody good scrap with a 9lb6oz bundle of barbel energy intent on burying itself in the downstream snag, It pushed my tackle to the limit and I felt fortunate to have landed it at the end of a nip and tuck battle.
Overall I found it slow going, though I enjoyed the company, the cheesy oatcakes were awesome and a few tins were supped, but the fishing was frustrating to say the least. Maybe my early heavy bait approach backfired; certainly my mate fared way better just using feeders and lighter baiting. He added 2 more fish to his tally and lost one as well, definitely something to ponder before the next trip.
Above, the highlights of my trip!!
As the temperatures have started to drop there is a whiff of autumn in the air, my favourite time of the Barbel season and usually a few fish to be had. The only concern this year is that hardly any rain has fallen so far and I wonder how this will affect the rivers. Maybe we will be in for a watery backlash….watch this space as they say! Whatever the weather throws at me I will be out on the banks trying my best.
Tight lines
Dave
Barbel Crazy 