It’s a First, and it’s a Whopper!Barbel have always been a species of fish which I have longed to purposely go out into the wilderness and fish for but for one reason or another have never managed to do so.In fact my only real experiences with barbel have been catching two tiddlers about a pound apiece, both from Makin’s fishery in a club match a good few years ago on a carp pole and losing a fish estimated around the seven pound mark, again from a commercial type venue and again on a carp pole.
I also spied a small one once last year, holding bottom against the flow in a little weirpool next to mine and Yoggy`s favourite chub fishing venue on the Nene. Big ones had been caught, witnessed and photographed in the area but were mainly accidental captures by river carp fishermen. There are some good fish to be had from the Nene but not many folk fish for the barbel or report captures when they do. But look out for the Nene because one day it will give up a real whopper, I am sure of it. So last week, I popped into a local tackle establishment and purchased the relevant club book needed for me to accompany Yoggy /aka Simon, to the middle reaches of the Ouse to start my barbel apprenticeship – and what a start it turned out to be! Heavy rain during Saturday didn’t have me worried one little bit, after all the Nene was only up a couple of feet or so when I drove by it and I was sure the Ouse wouldn’t be too bad; perhaps a wee bit of extra water, a little bit more flow, but not unfishable. But it was over its banks The sight that greeted us both at 9am Sunday morning at our chosen stretch was very off putting to say the least. Although the sun was shining and it was a lovely day, the river was up and over the banks in some places, tanking through and the colour of watery poop! A week before the season proper we had walked up and down this area doing some fish spotting. Hard to imagine back then that the water was crystal clear in places, streamer weed adorning the river bed and shallow gravel patches, with big old chub jockeying for position at the head of the shoal. Some hardy fisherman had found some slack water though and were giving it a try, whether they caught or not I don’t know. A quick chinwag between me and Simon saw us then taking a look at another fancied stretch but that was even worse. Rain had collected in the fields next to the bank, making access to the river bank impossible for us. The adjoining sodden land was reminiscent of flooded rice paddy fields. Another discussion then saw us driving off to another area where the barbel were perhaps fewer but when you hooked one, it was normally a biggie….lovely I thought. Our next venue was also in flood, pushing through as well and coloured but it wasn’t as bad as the last two places we had looked at. Fish, or bugger off home It was either a case of fish here, grin and bear it and we might just fluke one, or basically bugger off home and curse our lovely English summer weather. Walking down river, we found a few slack areas but nothing that really caught the eye. A conversation started with an angler who turned out to be a chub fisherman and a member of the chub study group. As it turned out he occasionally fishes the river Ise/Ise Brook, the place where I fished as a lad in Kettering. Small world we live in. Walking further on we encounter a rather jovial kind of enthusiastic angler from Dunstable and as we were walking away after a good old chinwag I turn to Simon and ask, “was he pissed? I’d recognise that smell anywhere.” “He’s on the old wacky baccy.” Simon replied, and we both laugh and carry on down river to some likely looking areas. We both settle down into our chosen swims, both have submerged trees in them, creating a haven from the faster current mid river. If Mr Barbel isn’t home then maybe old Mr Chevin might just be; my fingers are crossed and so begins my very first barbel session. The tackle Twelve pound main line, 2oz flattened running lead, 12lb Drennan carp silk hooklength, size 6 hook and a big old heavily glugged Source boilie are cast into the slack behind a willow tree. Waste of time offering some freebies as they’ll probably get washed away; a good old smelly in-your-face bait is what’s needed here I say to myself, no barbel or chub will turn their noses up at this morsel. No action, a snooze and a move A few hours and several casts later brought no action and thoughts of moving to a new swim were gathering speed in my head. Yoggy had visited my swim for a chit-chat and to see how I was fairing on my first outing. He was full of good sound advice and encouragement and suggested a change of swims as well. I carried on for a while longer in the same peg as he investigated potential hot spots further on down river. He returned and reported on what he had found and took the decision to move and asked if I was going to move as well. “I might well do mate but I might just move into the swim you’re vacating, I like the look of it.” I replied, and with that, off Yoggy moved. I sat back in my chair, looked at the time and decided to move into his old swim in a few minutes. Next thing I knew, I had woken up and sat bolt upright. Stupid me had dozed off for a few minutes, not the wisest thing to do as anything could have happened and I would have been none the wiser. I stood up all fuzzy headed and decided to make the move to Simon’s old swim and for some reason I started walking forwards towards the river. I quickly take a few steps back, wide awake now and realising what a stupid thing I was doing. I could have easily fallen in and drowned! Mental note to myself: get plenty of sleep the night before a fishing session, no sleeping at the river bank. It`s irresponsible and dangerous! I moved to Simon’s old swim, settled down and cast in a donkey choker halibut pellet wrapped in paste – classic barbel fodder! The moment had arrived A biteless while later, Simon returned with his gear and sat down next to me, declaring he’s all done. The new swims he had tried were very snaggy, lots of weed, etc, to contend with and no fish to report, he’s just going to sit down, have a fag and a cuppa, and just watch me now, until it’s time to go. We sat drinking tea and discussing barbel fishing in general and what we have learned today. I turned around in my chair to pour a last cuppa before packing up and going home…..then this is it, the moment had arrived! As I turned in my chair to reach for my flask, I noticed from the corner of my right eye that the rod had suddenly hooped right over. “it’s a fish!” I shouted, as I grabbed the rod and felt something big pulling back. Yoggy saw the rod bent over “it’s a barbel, you`ve got a barbel and a bloody big one by the look of the rod”! “Whatever it is, it’s big and it ain’t no chub either.” I replied. Words of advice followed from my good friend on how to play the fish. I gave it some clutch when it wanted to surge off…. but not too much, after all I didn’t want to lose it in the submerged trees to my left and right, nor did I want it to swim out into the main current. The fish broke surface after a short battle of wits, “F**k me, it’s a biggie, a double….you’ve got a double figure one for your first fish!” I was totally gobsmacked and praying it didn’t slip the hook as the beauty slid towards the landing net. Over the rim she went and a big cheer and pat on the back from Yoggy soon followed.
All I could muster was “oh my god…oh my god,” as she was placed on the unhooking mat and I got my scales ready. She was unhooked by Simon who was on a high….me, well I still don’t know what to say. I was shaking like a leaf and totally dumbfounded! She was weighed in the net and the scales read 15lbs 11oz, she was lowered back onto the mat so I could lift her from the net and hold and admire her and of course pose for the usual pictures. The pictures were taken and we let her recover back in the water, Yoggy held her while she got her breath back and then off she went with a strong surge. We weighed the empty net and deducted it from the first weight and the grand total came to 14lbs 6oz. A few hearty congratulations from my buddy and handshakes followed and I was a gibbering wreck! I decided not to tempt fate and pack up, time was getting on and Yoggy had to leave soon for home. All of that disturbance and excitement would have killed the swim. The walk back to our cars after a day’s sport had never been so good, what started out as a potential disaster, a possible wasted journey, turned out to be my finest angling moment and my good friend Simon couldn’t have been more pleased for me. My only regret is that I couldn’t have held her for a lot longer and looked and admired and studied her even more. She was perfect in every way, no scale, fin or mouth damage whatsoever. She had probably never been caught before? We are already planning our next barbel outing. |
Welcome!Log into your account
