Fishing Heaven

Across the brow of the embankment they could see the tree then the platform. Not a sign of an angler anywhere, indeed the Gods were smiling on them. The duo left the stuffiness of the car and walked down a muddy path to once more be back on the banks of the Trent. It felt good to be home again! The atmosphere was savored for several minutes as our heroes stared at the river like schoolboys with a crush on a saucy gym mistress.

Not a word was spoken as the gear was unlade from their silver chariot and after several trips to the fabled Volvo the gear was installed at the pitch. It was now 6pm, several hours would pass before a line was wet. Our heroes argued briefly as to where the rods should be cast but it was soon agreed that as the river level was up a swim should be fed just four rod’s length out.

Hemp, pellets and boilies were deposited

Prebaiting commenced with the crash of a large baitdropper and hemp, pellets and boilies were deposited in the river. After the second pint of bait had been added the barrage ceased. Our heroes waited, the kettle was boiled and tea drank, only the rustle from a packet of digestive biscuits punctuated the silence. Then the baiting started again and another four pints of bait were swiftly deposited. This was no holds barred prebaiting. Our heroes meant business. Rods were carefully assembled and rigs attached, knots were checked and then checked again. Father Trent wouldn’t give up his bounty easily, so nothing would be left to chance.

Time passed slowly and more tea and biscuits were consumed until they could stand it no more. The witching hour had arrived for our heroes; it was time to cast a line! The ubiquitous opening gambit of boilies on one rod and pellets on the other seemed a good choice. Both baits had served our heroes well in the past, they were confidence baits, they had to catch. “SPLASH!, click.” Rod one was placed directly in front of the pitch. “SPLASH!, click.” Rod two was positioned slightly downstream. But would they catch ?

Ten minutes passed, then without warning rod one dipped slightly, dropped back and then pulled over with the ferocity that only a barbel can do. The baitrunner squealed momentarily as hero one grabbed for the rod and set the hook with a smooth controlled motion. It was immediately clear this was a good fish as several surging runs were made. Five minutes passed and the fish was under the rod tip, our hero increased his drag slightly and the fish was netted expertly by his colleague. A superb barbel was quickly unhooked and weighed, the scales settled at exactly 8lbs. Our heroes were delighted with such a start to the proceedings.

Our heroes swapped roles and hero two now took to the hot seat. A celebratory mug of tea was consumed with gusto and concentration was again aimed at the two stationary rod tips. It was nearly an hour before the another bite was forthcoming. The bite, almost identical to the first, signaled that another barbel was about to temporarily leave it’s watery home. Another great barbel was quickly netted and unhooked, hero one went about the weighing procedure but the barbel had other ideas, with a flip of it’s mighty tail it was back in its home. Hero two gave hero one a look that might have killed, but was quickly placated by the promise of a ‘Bombay Bad Boy’ pot noodle. The warm food stirred the senses of our two heroes and something told them this would be a night they would always remember.

The swim seemed to suddenly die. Had they overdone the initial prebaiting? Had the fish spooked? Were the fish there in any great numbers?

Still there and still feeding

‘ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz’……. the right hand baitrunner was bleeding line at an alarming rate. Hero one was onto it in a instant and another barbel was soon to grace the net of our intrepid barbel anglers. This was a smaller fish at 6.14 but welcome none the less, they were still there and they were feeding!

Another 45 minutes passed only broken by the occasional recasting of the rods to keep them clear of the weed that was been dragged to the sea by the extra current on this summer’s evening. The downstream rod was suddenly away and hero two struck like a true pro into a large fish that powered away in the darkness. 10, 20, 30, 40 yards of line left the reel, leaving the angler wondering when this thing would stop.

Then commenced the typical battle of a large barbel, sheer raw power and very little that an angler can do until the fish began to tire. After 15 minutes the barbel was tiring noticeably. It swirled by a near bank weed bed. Our heroes caught a glimpse of a giant silver flank – it was enormous! Perhaps the biggest barbel they had ever seen. They giggled like lunatics! The fight went on for another 10 minutes before, finally beaten, the prize lay in the soft folds of the landing net. Lifting the net took more effort than normal. This was double territory. It was quickly unhooked and weighed at 10.10. After several photos hero 2 returned his prize, wishing to himself that one day he would meet her again and that she would be even larger. Our heroes shook hands – it was a moment that only an angler would understand, that barbel was 20 years in the making but had been worth every second of waiting.

Another big barbel?

Only another 10 minutes passed and the boilie rod was away again. Was it another big barbel? No, this felt different as the fish kited inside momentarily before coming to the net without protest. It was a bream! But at 4.8 a welcome fish! Had the barbel now gone, was the big ‘un the last in the shoal to be caught before they regained their natural caution? No! Fish of 5lbs and 3lbs were quickly landed and returned. There had to be more to come.

It was now after 1.40 and the boilie rod was away again, hero one pounced and another big barbel screamed off downstream in a bid for freedom. As ever the fight didn’t disappoint and another large barbel soon lay in the net ready to be weighed. At 8.10 it was another cracker. She rested for a while before shooting off with a contemptuous flick of the tail – maybe next time she would win.

Within 10 minutes a chub had graced the net of hero 2 and again the anglers changed roles. The anglers drifted in and out of sleep, but only half an hour had passed when the optonic cried out and yet another barbel was hooked. The fish kited downstream and the hero increased his drag slightly. The fish turned and came upstream but would not leave the main flow. Another drawn out battle commenced and it was agreed that this was going to be another big barbel.

It was 15 minutes before the prize slid over the net. The scales confirmed each angler had indeed caught his second double figure barbel and handshakes were again freely exchanged between our heroes. Surely that would be the end of the evenings actions, but no, within 15 minutes hero two caught yet another barbel, though not a true leviathan at 6.9 it was immaculate and again reminded out heroes why they go fishing.

At 4am it was time to leave. The morning light was creeping across the darkened sky and a new day was arriving fast. Although tired from the previous evenings activity our heroes gave each other a knowing look. For they had just experienced Fishing Heaven!