Sweet Fifteens

Those who knew me back in 2011 would have observed my obsession with barbel fishing.  It got under my skin, with every free moment either fishing or thinking about it.  Still to this day the barbel dominates my angling, but to a lesser degree thankfully.  I now know it's important to strike a balance and concentrate on other species during the the long season, which is now dictated by the weather conditions and more importantly what's happening at home and at work.

I've been a member of my club for a relatively short time compared with the majority of members, but learnt so much during my journey over the past six years. Mainly due to making some very good friends, who have unselfishly shared their knowledge in water-craft, which I am indebted to. Time spent on our venues, most of them blank ones in my first season, also helped me sort those pieces of the complicated jigsaw. To build a picture of the river contours and possible holding areas, to target the resident specimen barbel.  This to me is part and parcel of the enjoyment of specimen angling, without which we wouldn't reach our goals and enjoy the success.

Prior to spending a couple of enjoyable and equally frustrating seasons learning the stream with reasonable success through 2009/10.  A good friend of mine Ian Grant landed a very large barbel weighing over 16lb, which I was lucky enough to witness and photograph.  It was a stunning specimen and rather a good photo on my cheap digital camera I have to say. We both knew of it's existence, however we had an understanding that it wouldn't be until the next season, before my opportunity would come to target this specimen.

The year 2011 was my cue to start my campaign on the stream and chase that scale perfect sixteen.  Late September after finding two swims which were very rarely fished, both containing deep holes and plenty of cover. I started to trickle a dozen free offerings into each clear spot I’d identified, after doing my homework with the lead. This ritual was priority before every fishing opportunity, but deliberately choosing not to fish the swims. My plan was to trickle the bait in to get the big barbel to dominate in the swims. I’d hoped to fish on Saturday 8th October, however upon arriving at the venue, to my surprise, both swims were being fished. Maybe one of the anglers would catch the fish I was after, but that’s fishing. Obviously, when you’re baiting in this way there is always a risk an unknowing angler will happen to fish a swim you have prepared. To my mind if there are fish in that area the chances of that angler catching are very high, even though the bait being used is not the same. They do not get hooked on one bait, although I've learnt that the quality bait will always have the edge. I visited again on Sunday 9th October. Both were vacant, so I trickled half dozen free offerings into my spots, not knowing how much bait the previous anglers had put in.  Deciding not to fish these swims to allow them to rest and went on to try my luck elsewhere on the river.

Monday 10th October after a day from hell at my place of work I arrived at home.  Helping with the cooking and my three children, I finally managed to slope off to the river about 19:30hrs. Upon arrival at the gate in the dark I was almost blown over by the strong south westerly, but the air temperature felt mild and with total cloud cover. Feeling confident, as the conditions were perfect, my gear was unpacked and I headed for my first swim, being careful to be as quiet as possible. Hastily both rods were assembled, but upon inspection one of the rigs was bad, as the barbel caught the night before had turned the point over on my hook. Whilst I tied another rig I threw half a dozen free offerings into each spot with a ball of paste. Ten minutes later my rigs and hook baits were ready, pasted up with a stringer of six very soft baits on each, both cast my upstream and downstream spots. This I did accurately and without a splash by lowering them in carefully. I then settled down in my chair and enjoyed a flask of tea. It isn't often I fall asleep, but I have to admit within five minutes of finishing my cuppa and the drama's of the busy day, I was in the land of nod. I awoke with a jolt to the sound of my bait runner zipping away. I always have my rods clamped down and the bait runner on very stiff. Annoyed with myself that I’d fallen asleep, I quickly became focused and realised I couldn't see the isotopes on my downstream rod.

 I quickly made a grab for the handle and lifted into the fish which instantly felt heavy. Oh my! I thought. I’d only been here for a short time and I was into a very big barbel. The fish lunged and took some more line, one foot, two feet, so I slowly applied some pressure, then again my drag screamed as the fish headed for a known snag. I hastily closed my hand around the spool to stop the run, before it had taken too much line. To my relief the fish started to tire and soon after came to the surface.  I caught a glimmer of pale gold via the beam of the artificial light and knew straight away I was into a large double. Slowly I inched the barbel ever closer, and finally over the rim of the awaiting landing net. Seated and reflecting I thought to myself, this is the fish? It must be!  While I rested her, I gathered my thoughts and followed my usual routine of laying the matt and zeroing the scales. After a good long rest I lifted her and felt the weight I'd only experienced during my pike fishing days.  She was instantly recognisable and the same barbel I photographed the season before.

 Into the sling she was carefully placed, weighing an impressive 15lb 12oz.  As you can imagine I was delighted, more so that I’d caught the barbel I was so desperate to catch.  I didn't care if she hadn't reached the 16lb mark, as it was the barbel of my dreams. Gently I lowered her back into the flow in the net to rest further, while I prepared my camera  ready to take a couple of self takes and then finally said my goodbye's.

Understandably on a high, I decided to pack up at approximately 9 o'clock and head to my second swim, as the night was still young. There was still a chance of another one, but not that I cared. A couple of hundred yards up river I quietly approached and set up both rods well away from the bank. I lowered my first bait upstream under a tree on the inside. Then cast the second bait and lighter lead with an under arm swing into the middle and hoped I found the gravel in between the streamer weed. Within 10 minutes I had a good pull on the downstream rod. Something picked up the bait and let go. In the past I would have said this was a chub playing with the bait and feeling the resistance of the line and rod. However, more often than not I would get a full blown wrap round soon after.  Twenty minutes later the rod slammed round and my bait runner started making an all too familiar noise. I lifted into a lively barbel, one which again felt a good weight, but with the fighting power and speed of a high single/low double fish.

 I tried to bully the fish, but it kept going on short powerful runs stripping line from the tight clutch with ease. The powerful barbel closed in on the net, but just kept on diving deep into the marginal weed. Finally after a few minutes of bullying a sure double finally entered my awaiting landing net. I was knackered after the battle and sat down to take in what had just happened. I estimated the barbel to be no more that twelve pound but it was the best fight I’d had from this species. Letting the barbel rest, while I performed my ritual of weighing the sling and getting the unhooking mat in place. I lifted the fish on the mat and realised it was equally as large as the previous specimen. Not a long fish, but a deep fat belly.  I removed the hook and quickly weighed her. She weighed a very impressive 15lb 2oz.  Was this really happening?  I phoned Ian Grant and asked if he wouldn't mind driving over to take a picture on his camera phone, as my battery had died. He of course agreed and was on the bank within thirty minutes and retuned the favour of the previous season. Soon after she was returned to her watery home, while I retreated to mine, no longer caring what lay ahead the next day.

A special brace, which will live long in my memory.