Solitary Barbel

We were only chatting in the pub the night before about how we are catching Barbel but not in any numbers. One, two in a session at best. Now the fish are obviously there, they tend to live in shoals but the low clear conditions and a struggling fish is possibly spooking the rest of the shoal. Well it's a theory.

I started the session trotting meat, changed to rolling meat but without success. It was hard going so for a break I poured a coffee and changed to a straight lead, pellet and pva bag. A comfort break called and as soon as I turned towards a nearby bush the rod hooped over and it was fish on. I was on the rod in a flash worried that the fish would find sanctuary in what is a quite snaggy swim. Luckily my reactions were quick enough and after a spirited battle I slid the net under a chunky six pounder. 

The hook was quickly removed from the bottom lip and I also removed another hook from its chin, it looked to have been there for quite some time, a sore reminder of its last battle but no harm done.

That was the end of the action despite my best considerable efforts. Next up a weekend session with Max to teach him the finer arts of float fishing in stillwaters, He has the bug bad, won't stop talking about it!

Fighting Fit Fatty

Landed at the river late but with the determination that I would give Andy's Torrix another test with a hard fighting Barbel. The warm weather is still holding and although recent rain has increased the depth of the Avon by a good few inches no colour has been added to the water. With confidence high I cast the pellet/pva combination into a known Barbel holding spot and waited for the inevitable bite. Maybe it took longer than I expected but when the bite came I wasn't quite ready, daydreaming or thinking of work maybe. I lifted into the fish, struggled to gain control and just when I thought I was winning it became snagged up in an area that is usually clear. Steady pulling wouldn't shift it, different angles proved fruitless and releasing the pressure in the hope the fish would swim out did nothing either. By now it was obvious the unseen adversary was long gone and I pulled for a break. Bugger!!
The disturbance seemed to have put the rest of the fish down but in an unusual show of determination (for me!) I sat it out well into dark. Normally the draw of the 'local' would have me long gone by the time another chance came along but I was adamant I was not going home a blanker.
Finally the rod hooped round and this time there was no way the fish was reaching the snag, it tried its damnedest mind. I had forgotten the thrill of playing fish in the dark, feeling the way without really knowing where the fish is and then the flash of colour in the head torch as the battle is almost won. In the end I did win, not a long fish but it was as fat as butter and fighting fit. Weighed it in at 7lb 11oz, took a quick photo and then had the thrill to watch it again in the head light as it slowly sank down the depths back to its watery home.

An Avon Evening

4lb 9oz

Not quite sure why I look so miserable having just caught a cracking summer Chub weighing over four and a half pounds. This was the third fish of a highly enjoyable evening spent by the Avon. Not a long fish but it had a good girth, probably been feeding on all the pellets I had baited up with.
Martin was already ensconced himself in the fast water below the weir when I arrived so I plonked myself in the next peg, a slow moving area that I thought might throw up a few surprises. My two pronged attack consisted of pellet on the right and half a Roach on the left in the hope that a few predators attracted by the abundant fry life would take advantage of an easy meal. Two small Pike fell for the approach in the early evening but as the light faded the pellet rod started to come to life.
We decided to give it ten more minutes and truly at last knockings the pellet rod hooped round as a decent Barbel tried to make its escape. In the darkness it felt like a good fish. I had no idea exactly where it was in the river so stopping it snagging me up was almost impossible. It managed the inevitable but thankfully the weed was sparse and I managed to cajole it back into open water.
Finally I was able to slip it over the net with Martins help. In the gloom I thought it was a double but the scales revealed it fell a bit short of the mark. Anyway it capped off an enjoyable couple of hours by our special local river.

9lb

Mullett Blank and Barbel Rod Testing

A trip to Swansea ended in a blank, one hooked fish, one lost to a hook pull. Still the night out was fun and Andy did catch so it wasn't a complete waste of time. Saw a few fish but they were quite spooky in the brilliant sunshine.

An evening session on the Avon was more productive. I am in the market for some new Barbel rods so Andy has lent me his Harrison Torrix 1.75 test curve to try out. Wasn't sure about the look of it, quite a light but thick blank but looks can be deceptive. It casts beautifully and when I hooked a hard fighting Barbel close to snags it took on it's full curve and I must say I was impressed with the power and feel.

Despite only having one eye the 7lb 9oz fish gave the rod a proper workout and I felt I had much more control than with my current set up. The rod is still in the truck so I think I will give it a couple more sessions before taking the plunge. Need to be sure as they aren't the cheapest on the market.

Big Barbel Before Breakfast

A beautiful dawn, perfect for a sneaky session before work. One tin of Spam was all I needed to land a cracking eleven pounder in the golden sunshine whilst the rest of the world slept. 

One lost fish to an unforeseen snag and a four pound Chub the only other occurrences before I snuck back home for breakfast.

So Close, No Lies

The sun rises on another new season and I couldn't resist a few pre-work bankside hours. However the fish could resist my pellet offerings and I went home with just a couple of Chub pulls and nothing more to show for my efforts.

Fast forward to the following Wednesday and I was back on the bank. This season I have decided to come away from the manic BAA stretches as much as possible. I have kept the ticket on because they are close to home, ideal for quick sessions but am disillusioned with the actions of several individuals that fish these stretches, lighting fires, the ridiculous amount of litter and the constant flouting of rules. Plus I am not a people person with rod in hand and they are just too busy.

Martin already had a Bream in the net when I arrived, a lovely dark fish of about four pounds. I dropped into the swim above him, a lovely nearside run with overhanging trees that just screamed Chub and Barbel. I baited up with a couple of handfuls of pellets and the pair of us went for a wander. Martin knew of a Kingfisher nest just upstream so we went to see if we could spot the owner and also have a chat with the only two other anglers on the mile and a bit stretch. That's what river fishing should be, plenty of free swims, not full of noddies in every available peg.
No sign of the Kingfisher but one of the other anglers landed a Barbel while we were there, a good sign that the fish were feeding.
Within a half hour of returning to our swims (the Kingfisher was hiding) my rod hooped round and after a cracking battle I landed my first whisker of the season, 8lb 2oz. I thought more would immediately follow but the fight had obviously spooked the swim and an extended period of inactivity ensued.

Martin added a decent Chub to his Bream and then a Barbel of his own of about six pounds as the light started to fade. Darkness was virtually upon us when I finally had my second bite. The fish managed to find a snag but thankfully with a bit of careful cajoling it came free. From there on I was on top of the tug-of-war and Martin slipped the net under a lovely long fish for me. The scales don't lie and neither do we!-9lb 15oz of immaculate Avon Barbel. Martin took a pretty good photo considering an inquisitive horse was nudging him in the shoulder whilst he did so.

One Last Hurrah

The final day of the season, still as special as always despite the close season rule changes on stillwaters. A last chance to sit beside running water for a whole three months. My chances to fish of late have been extremely limited but there was nothing that was going to get in the way. A whole day away from the business for which I owe my wife a large debt of gratitude. She will make me pay I'm sure!

I arrived late, the joys of getting three kids sorted for school but the whole day was ahead of us so I did not fret. Martin was already well settled in a swim, the first stage of his plan to fish the early morning for predators in full swing. I hadn't even finished tackling up before I was commanded over to his swim for photography duty. An excited Martin had a pb Zander in the net. At 9lb 9oz he had smashed his previous best by over six pounds, his half smile hiding obvious delight. 

My tactics were different, my target was Barbel and I intended to fill a swim with maggots and hemp, wait a while and empty the river of its slippery residents. A few Chub and a solitary Perch fell for the tactic, but they weren't exactly crawling up the line as I had hoped. 

Between bites I amused myself watching the lumberjacks trimming the tree opposite. With my vertigo I felt sick just watching!

On Martin's advice I chucked a second rod upstream with pellet and a pva bag and it finally gave me the prize I desired, not a monster but a Barbel landed and I was happy.

A Jenny Wren gave an opportunity for some playing with the camera.

Eventually as darkness fell the fish started to feed in earnest, Martin had sveral Chub and a solitary Barbel and I managed an Eel and a Chub of 4lb 5oz...

and finally a Bream of (strangely) exactly the same weight.

And so the sun sets on another season and I have just one target for next, to get more time on the bank!

Summer Catch-Up

The Mullet fish-in was more like the Mullet fish-less. Several members of the Mullet Club descended on the Southern Welsh coast but the fish obviously saw us coming.

We started off under a salubrious graffiti ridden road bridge in the shadow of the Liberty stadium.

Andy on the left, Phil to the right and it was Andy who landed the first and only fish of the whole day, a decent 3lb fish.

I toiled hard but could not even muster a bite. As the tide ebbed the reason for my lost tackle became apparent, the local Morrisons need look no further for their lost trollies!

I counted six of them in my swim and those were just the ones I could see, there was probably more, the joys of urban angling!

We moved area but still no fish.

We tried the city centre with the same result, fishless, not easy these Mullet!!

A few days later and back on home turf I managed a lot more fish rolling meat around.

Chub and Barbel all fell for the tactic.

Including this chunky 9lb 5oz specimen.

Short Session, Short Post

Another evening session down by the local Avon spent chasing Barbel. The fish seemed very reluctant to feed until the sun finally dropped below the tree line. Managed to land one Barbel, a seven pounder but as I was float fishing I couldn't carry on for much longer as the visibility became poor. The low and clear summer conditions are making fishing difficult but it was nice to get one decent fish on the bank.

Next up- Mullet

At Last a Biggie

Fishing hadn't even crossed my mind during the busy work day but a phone call from Andy asking what time I could get there jogged my memory. Completely forgotten I had arranged to meet him for a quick evening session chasing Barbel. Luckily the van was still loaded with gear from the previous trip so after a quick tea of scrambled eggs on toast and rushing the chickens and ducks to bed early I arrived bank side at 7.30 pm.
Andy was well entrenched in a promising swim and getting a few twitches but being short on time I felt the urge to get into the water and roll some meat about. Waders on and in no time I was fishing.
For quick smash and grab sessions I find there is no better method. Unusually this time it took quite a few rolls down the swim before hooking into a fish, a hard fighter in the fast water.
My run of baby Barbel was continuing with another fish of about four to five pounds.

I checked the line taking off about six feet that was frayed, retied and waded back out for another bash. The bait can't have even hit the bottom before I was into another fish. This fight was much more deliberate, more powerful than the previous and when a big tail slapped the surface I knew I was into a biggie. That feeling of tension and nervous energy washed over me as only happens when you are knowingly playing a big fish. I prayed for the hook to hold and gave thanks that I had taken the time to check the line as the fish powered towards the tree roots and potential freedom. The rod took on its full curve and with as much side strain as I dared muster I turned it back into midstream.

Eventually I started to get the upper hand, a couple more less spirited surges later and I was slipping the net under a proper Barbel. 

Thickset across the soldiers, long and deep but hollow from her recent spawning exertions she still weighed in at a pleasing 11lb 2oz. Would love to meet her again when she's back to her top weight.

Social Sessions

Three weeks ago was the time for a fishing trip that has become an annual event. My old school chum Nick and I get together once a year for a spot of fly fishing. The venue changes each year and this year Nicks choice was a session close to his home so that it could be followed by another session (in the pub) and a necessary overnight stay. The dawn sun rising over the Cotswolds was stunning, I couldn't resist getting the camera out but as I had a three hour journey ahead I didn't stop for long.
Nick laid out the venue choices over a coffee upon my arrival. There was two, a small intimate Trout pond that he had struggled on the previous day or an exploratory sojourn to Bewl water, the largest reservoir in this part of little England. Easy pick really.

Bewl water is absolutely stunning, there is no wonder it is a haven of activity. Yachters sailed, dog owners walked and joggers jogged, all day long. There was an angling competition taking place but due to the huge expanse of water available we were still able to get afloat. We quizzed the guy in the tackle shop about good spots to try and likely methods to catch on. Nick's eyes lit up when he heard that spinning was allowed and he purchased a full spinning outfit, spinners, the lot- never been one to let purism get in the way of nailing a fish or too, old Nick.

We motored out to the 'hot area' close to the dam and I set about chucking some feathers around hoping to nail a feisty Rainbow, Nick spun, didn't even set the fly rod up!

And it didn't take him long to nail a Rainbow. Embarrassed he tried to hide the spinner from the camera. I persevered on the fly but it soon became apparent that this was going to be a tough day.
Nick took a break from spinning so I ventured over to the dark side and it didn't take long for me to hook up to a small Rainbow of my own. They didn't half fight hard. I like the fact that you can either keep the fish or release, which we did.

I even landed a cheeky little Perch on the spinner but despite our best efforts we struggled to land much more.

A few days later another social session this time with Martin saw us sat by the Warwickshire Avon. It wasn't the best swim but there was plenty of room for both of us and we were mainly there for a chin wag. I did manage to land a Barbel though, again not a big one but a feisty little fella and if he grows to fit his dorsal fin he will be a much bigger fish.

I am on quite a run of Barbel, all of them being less than six pounds!