Here you go, bit different these days as the streamer weed has gone and so have the barbel probably!
'Monstro' - A Tale of a Monster Barbel
By Wayne Moores
I remember looking into the swim and wondering if any barbel might inhabit the upper Severn in these high upper reaches. It was late November, 1990, and I was chub fishing.
The swim had all the characteristics for barbel, ie, it was 4ft deep at my feet with a gravely, stony bottom. As though in slow motion, clumps of streamer weed wavered around beneath the oily surface. About 10yds downstream lay my chub bait under a line of bushes where the river deepened to 6ft and remained so for about 150yds. The full extent of the 150yds was steady water, tree-lined and littered with fallen boughs. Absolute neglect, absolute barbel country - why not?
Late June 1991
Tony Kelly and I were back up the river on a barbel hunt, uncertain whether we were doing the right thing. We had cut our tench fishing short, but we had caught some good fish and become restless with anticipation to find something untouched. We had been out all night on a stretch lower downstream that also looked promising but nothing had come of it. The hunch to go and check out the stretch I had in mind was strong and despite being very tired we drove the 10 miles up river for a look before the long drive home.
Having covered ¼ mile of the river without seeing anything Tony suggested heading home as it was he who had to drive. I persuaded him to cover the next 200yds with me and then we would go. What a fateful decision that turned out to be, for as we peered over some Indian Balsam at the tail of a glide there lay a group of 12 barbel feeding away in 3ft of water. They weren't big barbel at about 7lbs tops - but barbel, real barbel.
The following weekend
We were back for a night session and got it wrong. An hour after daylight with not a barbel in sight we gathered the gear and headed downriver. We approached the area where I had the notion of barbel the previous winter and Tony, who was about 50yds in front of me walked past the area and settled in a swim lower down. As I approached the area a barbel leapt. Say no more.
A handful of hemp was thrown in and another barbel rolled. I cast a light leger rig baited with sweetcorn slightly upstream of where the barbel showed and sat back. A half hour later the rod slammed over and following a lot of trouble with the weedbeds I landed a barbel of 8lb 10oz. Nice! The fish looked well underweight and had some fin damage.
A few hours later we got talking to two salmon anglers who were surprised to see someone 'chub' fishing as the stretch was rarely coarse fished. Acting a bit daft (easy enough!) I enquired if they had ever seen barbel this high up the river. 'If you catch a barbel up here lad, take a picture, 'cos you won't see another.' Mmm, but it was early days.
Guess where we were the following week?
You're right, the 8.10 swim. Just before settling in for the night I took a walk to a swim I fancied and put in a can of sweetcorn. I took another barbel that night from the 8.10 swim, an immaculate fish of 7.12, the only bite of the night. An hour or so after dawn I returned to the swim where I deposited the corn the previous evening. Having climbed the tree I lay across a very handy branch and peered into the swim. No corn. I put in some more and watched.
Six shapes materialised, all barbel, two of them some 7 to 8lbs, one about 10lbs and the biggest maybe 12lbs. Bingo! I fetched Tony and we sat on that branch for about two hours just watching them feeding. That's all we could do, as for 50yds up and downstream the access was zero. Things were happening.
Over the next two weeks
Tony caught the 8.10 from the 8.10 swim at a weight of 8.15. And another of 4lb from a different swim. There then followed a five week blank when we couldn't find a barbel anywhere. After so much promise it was looking like the barbel population was in fact quite low and thoughts of moving to another stretch started to creep in.
On the third morning of a two-night session I was walking the stretch for what was looking like the last time that summer when I came across a depression in the river bed on the far bank. I'd had the odd cast in there before but never had any signs. This time, however, I noticed a flash through the corner of my eye. I focused, and sure enough saw the unmissable flash of a barbel, followed by another and then another. The swim was full of them, and some big ones too. I hadn't time to fish as I was due at work, so had to wait until the following weekend.
An incredible sight
Tony was already on the river when I arrived the following Sunday morning for a two-day session. Before I went to find him I 'sticked' in a couple of pints of hemp and watched. Puffs of silt began to rise and bars of gold and white started flashing. The swim was still full of them. Leaving them to feed in peace I went to find Tony.
Upon returning we were amazed to see so many barbel in the swim - a solid band of about 60 fish, all chugging up the swim in a mechanical sort of way and peeling away at the head of the swim as they fed up the line of hemp. Big fish in the double-figure bracket were mingled in with the bulk of 6 to 7-pounders. It was an incredible sight.
With so many barbel in the swim, four hours of constant feeding/starving, feeding/starving, had them in a frenzy. It was time to start fishing.
Anyway, a long story shortened. By loose feeding corn and hemp I removed 17 barbel from the shoal, nearly all were over 6lb, all were in pristine condition, and the best was 9lb 8oz. Tony meanwhile had wandered downstream and a couple of hours later he appeared back in my swim with this story:
An unstoppable run
He had cut through some undergrowth and discovered a quite small swim under some bushes. He introduced a few droppers of bait under the near bank in 4ft of water. Then he noticed what at first looked like a cluster of four worms on the patch of bait. Suddenly, a large head materialised behind the 'worms'. It was in fact the head of a large barbel and the worms were its barbules! He began trickling in some cubes of meat and the barbel was moving stones with its snout to get at the lodged pieces. This fish was his, or so he thought.
After lowering in a meat-loaded rig he sat back slightly upstream and waited. Twenty minutes later the rod hammered round and from that moment the barbel shot 30yds downstream on an unstoppable run - then the hook pulled!
When Tony arrived in my swim to tell me about it he was quite shaken and when I asked how big, he couldn't, wouldn't, put a weight to it! He went home.
The following day whilst resting my swim I went to have a look where Tony had lost the big barbel. I had just retrieved the dropper for the third time when the 'worms' appeared, along with the huge head. The sun broke through, giving me a grand view of the enormity of this mega barbel. Behind the massive head was a proportionate body, deep golden flanks, pectorals the size of a man's hand, and barbules the length of his fingers. I had never seen a barbel of such magnitude.
Tony was right, it was impossible to put a weight on this monstrous fish. It was a loner and couldn't be compared to other fish. I imagined the barbel as a pike to get some idea of weight comparison of a fish of that length and proportion and came up with a weight of about 17lbs. Remember, this was 1991 and a barbel of 17lbs seemed ridiculous. But there it was, 2yds away in front of my very eyes. Remembering the wise words that go something like, 'you never know its true weight until it's on the bank.' I figured at worst it was 14lb. By now it was approaching dusk and having watched the fish for about three hours it was time to put in a rig.
Stand your ground
With the barbel out of the swim I lowered in a lump of meat paste and settled down 5yds upstream. The rod was kept as low as possible, with the quivertip just off the surface. I then sat back to roll a calming cigarette as I was trembling with anticipation. Fifteen minutes passed and not once had I taken my eyes off the still quiver. It was unbearable. The doubts crept in. Had I blown it? Should I have a look if the fish is in the swim? No, stand your ground and calm yourself, I decided.
Twenty minutes had past - then wallop! The rod tip disappeared under the surface when the huge barbel hooked itself. I hung on as it ripped 20yds of line off the reel, heading straight for some tree roots farther downstream. I clamped down but I had never felt such brute ignorance like this before. It was an animal. The rod was bent as far as it could go without breaking and the fish was still pushing for the roots. Then the hook pulled. Yes, I was a bit upset, but not gutted.
The whole episode seemed surreal, and I suppose sub-consciously I was expecting a bit much to land such a beast. But it would have been nice just to see what it really weighed.
Today, almost 10 years on, 17-pounders have been landed elsewhere, and I think back to the raised eyebrows of friends to whom Tony and I have told the story. We had the same response when me, Tony and another guy stumbled across some aliens one night when walking home from the pub. Ah well, there's nowt funnier than folk.
But we know, 'cos we were there.
The following summer the river was constantly dirty due to the bridge repairs upstream, and although we both caught some big fish 'Monstro', as we affectionately named her, didn't show up, and obviously we couldn't spot fish in the murky water.
Tony saw her the following summer of '93, as big as ever, but had no luck. A spell of big bream fishing on a Cheshire mere, along with the deterioration of the stretch's character (the weed all but disappeared) and we drifted away.
Anyway, the memories of the fish are perhaps best left untouched, unspoilt, and treasured.
