| Every year, two good friends and I have tried to get away for a week’s fishing. This year it was my turn to organise the trip. I chose the Dorset Stour, the Throop to be precise, which in my opinion is one of the best stretches of river in the country. It is famous for its barbel and huge chub, which lure many a travelling angler to its banks in the hope of a new personal best fish, or just the chance to catch an immaculate specimen. It is also a venue that can smash your self-esteem and confidence as an angler. On the other hand it is a place where dreams can come true!
I began planning the trip back in March 2005. I knew from previous experiences of fishing the Stour we would need to gain as much information as possible to make the trip an enjoyable success. Ian and I have fished the Stour on quite a few occasions and had little success, despite visual sightings of patrolling chub and occasionally a barbel gracefully gliding across a gravel bar. To help me plan my trip, I turned to the Internet, with its unlimited wealth of information. I decided to enter a search into Ask Jeeves ‘chub, barbel, Dorset Stour’ the result came back with an article by Mark Wintle, little did I realise that he would influence our trip so heavily! This is also how my membership of Fishingmagic began, the willingness of members to share information and advice has amazed me and I would like to say a big thank you to everybody. So, on Saturday 3rd of September it began! We arrived at the Caravan Park early; luckily they let us check in. The excitement was unbearable, we had to get on the bank and catch a fish. All of the planning and preparation was about to be put to the test. The dreams, the sleepless nights, would we be able to deliver the goods? We headed for School Bridge, where I had arranged to meet Mark Wintle in the afternoon. We arrived at the river and our ‘gobs’ dropped! Where was the water? We knew it was going to be low, but it was a shock to the system to see gravel banks normally submerged by water, high and dry and baking in the sunshine! And the weed! How could we possibly find a gap to put a baited hook into? Mark had also warned us about the ducks that had been introduced, about three hundred of them! These ducks were capable of diving to depths of six feet, which we would later discover to our disgust. Neil and I decided to fish below School Bridge that afternoon as we had spotted loads of chub in the shallow glides, which had Neil drooling with anticipation at the thought of his first ever chub. Ian headed upstream to a swim he fancied from a previous trip. Swim selection was at a premium, due to weed growth, uninviting banks and of course other anglers in search of their dreams. So Neil and I split up. I chose a swim with chub clearly hanging in mid water between the streamer weeds while Neil headed off downstream in search of an open gravel bar. After about two hours of fruitless endeavour, I wandered down to Neil in the second field; he too was fishless! Then a lone figure approached us! As he got nearer I recognised the Fishing Magic logo on his hat, “You ain’t gonna catch nothing like that!” He said, It was Mark Wintle, not mincing his words! “Get down! nice shirt! The fish saw you two fields away!” In my haste and excitement I had not changed my shirt; Mark was not impressed! We left Neil and headed back to my swim. Mark offered me some private tuition, which within five or ten minutes landed me my first chub of the week, 4lb 3oz, a good start. Ian went one better, one pound in fact, a 5lb 3oz chub, which was a new personal best for him, he was grinning from ear to ear, what a start! Unfortunately Neil didn’t fair too well and ended up on a blank, my fingers and toes were crossed for him, because he had never caught a chub or barbel before, would he do it?  On day two we took stock of the situation. We decided to have a long walk of the banks, try to locate fish and earmark possible swims. We had learnt from our previous days experiences, location, stealth and bait presentation, were crucial, which Mark had so generously pointed out to us. Also the time off day we fished was going to play a major part in our attack. The weather was against us, bright sunlight all day long until about 6.30pm when it started to fade away. We knew this would be the ‘witching hour’; the fish would gain confidence and hopefully start to feed. Sadly for us so did the wildlife, the mosquitoes, midges and all sorts of flying, hopping, buzzing creatures also came out to feed, we were supper! We still have the scars and blisters to prove it, Neil was ‘starters’, I was the ‘main course’ and Ian was ‘pudding’, we all suffered badly, but they do say ‘no pain, no gain!’ We decided to fish below New Weir that day, because there were chub showing everywhere. At around 6pm the sky went black. The heavens opened and we sat through an almighty thunderstorm directly above us, thirty minutes later it passed, the kingfishers emerged and a heron started stalking the far bank margins. Then it happened! My tip slammed over, I knew it wasn’t a barbel because it dove into the streamer weed (as chub do). It was big; a sweat broke out on my brow. Could this be the fish I had been waiting for? Sustained pressure saw it come out from the weed, which was now dying at this time of year and melting as the line cut through it. The fish slid over the net, my heart rate rose, it was large! Onto the scales it went, I punched the air! “Yes!” 5lb 8oz, 12 ounces better than my previous best, I had broken the magical 5lb barrier that had eluded me for thirty-three years.  The week progressed steadily; we were all gaining in confidence and catching regularly. Neil caught his first ever chub at 4lb 4oz, (a nice start!) his scales were shaking like jelly, and so were his legs! He soon lost his status as a novice, with a five fish haul during daylight! Pellets over boilies were our favoured method; the sound of loose fed pellets seemed to be like a dinner gong to the chub, unfortunately the ducks loved them as well! It frustrated the hell out of us when we wanted to put some feed out, as the ducks were lined up like ‘dogs waiting to catch a ball’. It became a game of cat and mouse, trying to tempt them away from your swim with free offerings fired five, then ten, then fifteen yards away, then a large pouchful over your bait, which they couldn’t intercept in time. A bait-dropper became a very useful tool for close in fishing, thwarting the ever alert ducks, but impossible to use for distance casting.  Wednesday found me in a very strange mood, Ian and Neil settled down and both caught fish, I walked the bank for two hours without wetting a line. I was unsettled, I wanted a specimen but was not happy with the choice of swims available. I reluctantly fished three different swims without a bite! Was this going to be my first blank? Was the Stour getting to me? I had broken the five-pound barrier, but I wanted more! This was probably due to the fact I had seen some monster chub, fish to six pounds plus, that would not even look at my bait. Why? What was I doing wrong? Or were they just too good for me? Once again I decided to move, this time Neil joined me and we headed to a couple of swims near barbel corner. It was getting near the ‘witching hour’ so I put a bed of pellets down the inside onto a small gravel bar, I settled down, still with doubts in my mind. My sombre mood changed instantly when I had a strange rattle on the tip, the line was plinking, “is this a barbel?” I thought, then the tip pulled tight, only about an inch, but it stayed tight, then it moved again! Was it weed? No way! I hit it! And all hell broke loose, a fish was on and it ripped into the flow and weed, ‘barbel?’ it had to be! The fight was short but powerful, I pulled it over the net, ‘bugger me’ or words a little bit stronger than that, and it was a chub! I had never seen a chub that size in my net before. It was huge! Neil was alongside me, we just looked at each other; it was massive. I was a jabbering wreck, shaking uncontrollably, hyperventilating almost. And so it went onto the scales, 6lb 2oz!!! God was I happy! Thirty-three years seeking a five-pound plus chub and I’ve caught a six pounder, my second P.B of the week!  I was complete, the Stour tried it’s best to break me, but failed, this time!! I had a sense of fulfilment, achievement and contentment all rolled into one, and I celebrated my catch later that evening with two cans of Ruddles, Gurt Lush! Ian went on to catch the only barbel of the holiday, from the swim Neil unfortunately lost one in the previous night before. Ian also increased his chub P.B to 5lb 8oz that evening, the smiles that evening were on all of our faces. Thursday morning we joined Nigel Connor, an FM regular for a spot of mullet fishing in Christchurch Harbour, a break from the Stour, and very welcomed too. He showed us the way with a 4lb 15oz mullet, a cracking fish. We blanked, apart from a jammy dace by me! Thanks Nigel, it was very enjoyable and a privilege to witness such a stunning fish!  Friday evening was unbelievable, at 7pm the river came to life! I lost two chub and a barbel in three casts, my hair rig was too long! After a quick rig change I landed three chub in three casts, no more PB’s but hey! I was more than happy. Ian suffered the same pain, two lost, two caught.On the way back to the car we came across a dark figure still fishing, “Are you the Bristol boys?” Fame at last we thought! It was Mark, still trying to tempt one out. We told him proudly of our successes during the week and that we were off home that evening, to which he chuckled, “Good, I can have my river back now then!” We laughed and joked between ourselves all the way home. What a holiday it had been! I caught fifteen chub, two PB’s, a 6lb bream and a 2lb grinner. Ian caught nine chub, two PB’s and the only barbel of the trip, Neil caught seven chub, topped by a 4lb 10oz fish and gained loads of confidence on the river! (A novice no more!)  The Dorset Stour, dreams did come true! For all three of us, especially DB! Both of my friends caught specimen fish, which was special for me and I fulfilled my ambitions to go past the five-pound chub barrier, twice! Sorry Mark there is a very strong chance we will return next year, to steal your river from you again, only for one week though! Thank you to Mark Wintle, Nigel Connor and Fishingmagic, without whom I am sure, we would not have had such a great time.
|
Welcome!Log into your account
