Set myself a challenge last season........ to catch a Barbel from out of the River Mersey, had to work harder than normal to find it though, did as much re-search as I could and some folk on the forums gave me some good pointers but after many visits I began to become slightly disheartened and defeatist, as blank after blank made me question the point of it all, so naturally I gave it up.
After a long winter break and a few visits to ponds nearer the start of the new season I did get a bend in my rod and it seemed to get the confidence lifted up somewhat, either that or my gullibility had just reared its ugly head again.
I decided to give it another try come the 16th, what with new waters to try I figured I could attempt it for another few weeks max before I get on the other rivers I enjoy that are more prolific and less dangerous.
I began visiting a swim that simply "looked right" with bedrock deeply gorged out from a corner and a 100m glide following down stream, eventually hitting a shallow rapid area that knocked oxygen back into the water and hopefully presented the perimeter to a shallow locked swim with deeper runs containing barbel, to reach it involved some climbing to get too and arm and finger strength, tree grabbing and good tread on the boots, hard not only to get down to the swim but with taking my gear back up in the dark was bordering on stupid, a slip could of cost me my gonnads or worse my life, clutching at brambles and nettles would be futile if my balance was to really go way off, but somehow I still managed to convicne myself it was worth it, mad!
I suddenly had a vision.... remembering Del boy Trotter.......
I repeated the mantra quietly under my breath like some obsessive barbel-schitzoid possesed by the draw of the water edge.
I went down repeatedly, getting more confident with each visit, around the same time, just before dusk and pre-baited for a few days, plopping into the water tennis ball sized paste bombs, of what can only be described as spent chicken carcass's, stripped of meat and cooked three times (once for the meat for my sarnies, second for stock to fry rice with as a snack and third to render the bones soft as mulch for fishing/recycling).
Blended with cheap and nasty cereals, it created a surprisingly cheap bulk of feed that could be easily saved and built up over the previous months, using the old chest freezer but dispatched later in quantity, I supplemented this with some good old fashioned hemp seed for good measure.
After the rain had stopped for at least 24 hrs this week, I figured now would be a good time. I headed down with just the bare essentials, no seat or coffee in a flask as stated previously, whatever I took down that wasn't bait would have to be negotiated back up and tonight I was tired before I got there, experiencing a crash from previously drunk strong coffee and post excitement adrenal glucose crash lethargy syndrome (I just made that up).
8pm I quietly sneaked onto the bank, where I was greeted with water coming past at little under walking speed, already having started to recede from the last 24hrs, with that distinct tea like colour (strangely not unlike tea with the tiniest dash of milk added).
Fished the simple pebble rig which consisted of roughly 2oz sandstone pebbles found close by, gripped with a medium elastic band which was pinched in by a running carp ledger clip as it made things easier even if slightly cumbersome, that way it didn't mater how many times the weight got snagged on the retrieve, it would be released by the elastic and replaced with one found at my feet.
After disowning a pint of red maggot and some 4mm pellet with hemp across the whole swim I cast out a 14mm hali-pellet wrapped in hali-paste and waited.
After a 2hr wait into dusk, standing for the most part or crouching to avoid pins and needles I got my first knock, very subtle but was enough to convince me to stay, another 10 mins went by and nothing, but even though the cold chilly air being pushed through the valley was starting to make me aware of a drop in temperature, I got what I thought was a take, seemed quite fierce, it twanged but settled........a chub? I had convinced myself to check if I hadn't accidentally kicked the butt of my rod in the dark while steadying my balance, as I had just enough light to make out the gloss shine on the last foot of the rod as the light was fading and I had made the dreaded mistake of bringing no light star-light, then bang......an unmistakable take that rattled the rod in the rest as good a bite alarm as I could ever of expected, backed by now with adrenalin.
Another box ticked!
