Most memorable barbel sessions

by

Various bfw members

 

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A session on the edge..

It's not often that your wife sends you fishing - unless there's some form of ulterior motive behind it of course. In this instance, it was an evening when I needed to make myself scarce for reasons too depressing to describe. Suffice to say that the ideal way of wasting time was a short session on what had been a relatively unproductive stretch of river this season.

I gathered together kit and a flask, kissed my wife and dogs goodbye (in that order), and set off heavy hearted. The heavy heart was due to what lay ahead the following day; a day of dread for both of us loomed, although we had managed to have a cheerful enough weekend thus far. It was Sunday evening before the dawn of the terrible Monday morning to come.

I decided to fish a swim upstream of an overhanging bush on the nearside bank - one of those swims you always fancy, but somehow never get round to trying. The swim was hastily fed with a few handfuls of pellet, the gear was assembled at a leisurely pace and I sat and smoked whilst watching a couple of kingfishers going about the last business of their afternoon.

Several casts and linefuls of weed later, I was biteless. The hookbait was inexplicably missing following each retrieve and my hopes were well and truly disappearing with the pellets downstream. Never mind. At least I was there, I mused. The evening was fresh, cool and serene. The only conversation being my exchanging bleats with some curious sheep lined up behind me - unnoticed by me until one sniffed my net.

The last straw, or rather many straws, was the discovery that I was seated five feet away from a wasps nest. Although they were taking off and landing across the river, any attempt at landing a fish would involve me climbing down the bank to their entrance. Not a wise move. A wiser move was.....to move.

My final hope was the cattle-drink swim. It sat a hundred yards or less downstream. I slumped into my chair and began flicking pouchfuls of pellets aimlessly across the river to a spot I knew held fish. At least it did a few months previously. Dusk was well and truly upon me. My accuracy with the catapult was lousy, and my casting mirrored it. I sat in vain, I thought. Out of nowhere, two hot-air balloons flew directly overhead and towards home - prompting a call to see if the kids had seen them and if the all-clear was now given. They had, and it was.

Last cast. I pulled off three fingers of line and swung out the rig towards the far bank bushes as close as I dared. The drag was set on the pin and I sat back to await the dark before which, I would be leaving. Time, I felt, to call a fishing mate who'd deserted the stretch in favour of a tasty bit of the Trent it transpired! Mid-conversation and unheralded, the rod tip swayed over and the reel clicked steadily. 'Call you back'....

The lift of the rod was met with solid resistance. The power of the rod was not tested however. This felt like weed again, but then this 'weed' moved across the current. It's a fish, I thought, but what is it?

No surge like a runaway train upstream or down. No attempts at finding the daunting snags mid-river. No shaking of heads. Nothing. Just a-swimming about in figure of 8s and then it was yielding. I got the fish to me in the shallows. It glided past me a net length away. It was a barbel. Not small, not huge, 'just' a barbel. Netted second attempt and laid carefully down on the grass, it decided now to use it's martial arts training. This was the strangest barbel I'd ever played. It was now getting dark.

She went 9lb 14oz. Not my biggest, but far from my smallest. She was fin and scale-perfect. She would not let me photograph her - my flash failed. Mystically, she drove powerfully away the instant I held her in the current. I stood in awe watching her leave. I drove home wondering what had just happened.

The following day went far better than we dreamed. The woes went away and our lives moved on.

I'm not a religious man, nor am I superstitious, but I couldn't help feeling that that fish was 'sent' to me to give me hope and strength. I felt for the first time that this was God's creature, perhaps God himself was that fish. I know you'll laugh, but somehing about that fish was different and strange and I never deserved to catch it in the first place. I've said my thanks to the 'man upstairs' many times after that.

The following week I came back. A blank. I shared the joke with you-know-who and realised just how bloody humble we are!

Ian Poxon.

 

I had a really memorable session 2 seasons ago when I took 19 barbel in a session and 5 of them were doubles that one sticks in my mind however the best barbel session I have had was not that long ago

We were planning on heading down the Trent as usual and my mate asked if we could take his lad with us yeah no problem came the reply from myself so gear loaded off we went,
I invited Ben the lad to fish with me in my swim and set him a rod up showed him what was involved told him that however much the fish pulled not to let go of my rod, he was catching small roach and perch most of the afternoon and enjoying himself out on the river, at around 5.30pm he went to the next swim to see if the others had caught anything and left me with his rod on his return to our swim yes you guessed it the rod bucked over and I was into a barbel the fight was short lived as I had set him up for light fishing until it got dark
so off with the mono hooklink and set up for the big boys after about an hour he was into his first Barbel, he surprised me at how well he played the fish ( I later found out that he had had Carp to 10lb) I explained to him all about the welfare of Barbel we then photographed and weighed his fish 9lb 5oz, the look on his face made my day he was so happy grinning like a cat that had got the cream he spent the next 25 minutes on my phone ringing everyone he knew telling them all about it (It reminded me of the first time I went fishing and caught a fish) He had another one later on in the evening at 8lb 9oz.
I was so pleased at seeing his face light up and his beaming smile. He will always remember that night and so will I.
So yes my stunning night catching lots of Barbel including 5 doubles is special to me but not as special as seeing the joy on a young mans face as he catches his first Barbel

Steve Ralph

 

I think my best barbel session happened last July....

It was Summer 2002, havin started fishing that winter, I started fishing for barbel,i was encouraged by the stories my dad told about these powerful, hard-fighting fish called barbel, so excitied, i started fishing the Lower Severn, using big lumps of meat & hemp (the way he used to fish when he caught barbel in the 80's :\ :lol ).

After about season or so, i gave up with the meat n hemp approach after doing some research about using boilies & pellets for barbel (a new phenomanon to me at the time).
So then another season flew by, no barbel, after tryin week in & week out fishing through some pretty BAD weather!!!

Beginning of this season it became my sole ambition to get one of these elusive barbel, change of river, i started fishing on the Teme, after a few blank session, i managed to enlist the help of a certain Mr Darren George, we went off to do a evening session on the Teme where i lost 2 barbel i was gutted & pretty low!

So, eventually the summer holidays came, & i was invited by Martyn (ooh big gudgeon) to come & fish his home stretches on the Middle Severn, we got to the stretch of river & settled in at his favourite peg, rigged up, cast in, second cast BANG!! my first barbel 4lb 13oz, i was absolutely chuffed & relieved, we then went to Hampton Loade & Arley, finally ending up on the Teme where i finished up losing 2 more barbel, i didnt care that day will stick in the mind for a long while!!!

Followed by my first teme barbel, which after a run of lost fish n paranoia about my rigs, i finally got my tackle, bait & rigs sorted to land a 4lb 8o z barbel!!!
(shortened version :lol )

 

James Mitch

 

 

Well if you are sitting comfortably let me begin.

It was August back in 1995, we had experienced a good spell of hot weather and the Warwickshire Avon was running low and clear, at this stage of my angling career I would describe myself as more of a pleasure angler and when it came to barbel a complete novice as I had never caught one upto that point.
The day was a Saturday and I awoke late morning to find the sun already high in the sky and the temperature rising rapidly, I was undeterred from this as at the time as just going fishing was satisfaction alone, catching was secondary, as long as I caught something I was happy, roach perch bream chub dace, all would suffice.
On the way to the river required a visit to the local tackle shop to get some bait, back then it was maggots but I also purchased some hemp, with hemp being the magical ingredient surely I couldn’t fail to catch.
I arrived at my local day ticket stretch, Anchor Meadow to find several of the pegs already taken, fortunately the bailiff Ken Fisher gave me lots of good advice about where and how to fish each swim, I decided on a fast glide which had a large bed of streamer weed about 20feet in front of it, Ken told me to fish tight to the weeds and that there were some good chub to be had, that will do me I thought to myself, my set up was a 12’ Daiwa float rod coupled with a Mitchell reel, 5lb line to an 18 hook, after setting up I flicked out a few maggots just above the streamer weed and as they came through the swim several large dark shapes appeared and helped themselves to the free offerings, I stood aghast at the sight and thought it was my lucky day and very soon I would be into those chub, I couldn’t fail, I hurriedly flicked out some more loose feed and quickly followed this with a cast above the weed line, lifted the rod to cock the float and watched as the fish disappeared back under the weed, I continued with this approach for several hours before realising that these fish were far more experienced at this than myself and they had the beating of me.
Disappointed and disillusioned I moved swims, about 80yds down stream was the end of the lock cutting, the river widened slightly and the pace was slower here so I figured it would be easier fishing after all the effort I put into the previous swim, I also employed a change of tactics, out came the feeder rod, Daiwa reel and 6lb line, my approach would be more leisurely using a hemp and maggot feeder. I set up on the concrete in a nice comfortable position and gently cast out the feeder towards a large willow tree which was casting a shadow over the river, just as I sat back to relax and take in the surroundings the rod tip flew round, I hurriedly grabbed the rod and in an uncontrolled manor tightened up the clutch, it was complete pandemonium, this was the biggest thing I have ever been connected with and my inexperience showed, by the time I had gathered my thoughts it was 60yds down stream, slowly but surely I worked the fish back upstream towards me then as my heart rate slowed and I composed myself it continued on upstream past my position, what now I thought to myself, again I got the better of it before getting into the landing net, a barbel I said to myself I’ve caught a barbel, I quickly removed the hook and estimated it to be about 4lb before returning it, as it swam away I reflected on its beauty, a magical fish with awesome power that until then I had only ever read about. I recast, and as I sat and pondered on my catch once again the rod tip was wrenched round and again the fight was on, this time I was ready and after another good scrap I had my second barbel in the net, what a day, fantastic but this was by no means the end, no I continued to catch barbel after barbel until I eventually ran out of bait, it was only then that I realised the amount of pressure they had put me under, my arm started to ache, from my wrist to my shoulder you could feel the adrenaline being pumped through my veins, but it was nothing compared to the jubilation of not only catching my first barbel but the fact that I amassed a total of 14 fish averaging around 4lb. I went home happy, tired but happy and although I went back several times to the same swim but unfortunately I could never relive that day, but it is certainly one I shall never forget.

 

Dave Clarkson

 

 

LADIES KNOW BEST...

I like so many of you, am a mad fisherman who probably drives their non-fishing friends crazy with talk of fishing. They relay a problem and I'm like, "that sounds a bit like when you can't get the boris to take your pellets." I'm sure they get bored. Recently I started seeing this really nice girl, who'd want to see a nasty one? So she listens to me banging on about fishing and smiles sweetly, and eventually she informs me that she'd like to come and fish with me. Or at least spectate and occassionally distract me with a pleasant kiss or three. So I think this is great, I'll get her involved in fishing and then when I say I'm going fishing I won't get laughed at or told I should be doing something more useful with my time. At the first opportunity we go and unfortunately no boris, we did catch a chub which was nice and an eel which made her squeal a little when it decided to slither towards her. Stupid eels! Well this week we got to try again. A little rain had fallen but generally the weather has been drier than a camel's crotch, so my hopes were not so high.

We arrived at a swim I'd fished for a couple of hours the day before - time enough to lose one boris in a snag and to catch one that weighed in at 9lb 2oz. The one I lost felt like a beast, but as it turned out it wasn't, but we weren't to know that, can't say more or I'll get to the end before I've told the beginning. So I set up, get her a nice comfy perch, and I don't mean the fish, and the first rod goes in. She's on tip watch (no puns please) and I setup the second rod. Well all too quickly, and much to my surprise the baitrunner screams off. Unfortunately I lost the fish, got my rag off and started setting up. Inside I was so mad, I felt under pressure to show her one of these boris's that I'm always talking about and I'd lost what could be my only bite of the day. Thankfully it wasn't! Shortly after getting both rods in we had a run, and I banked a fish of 9lb 1oz. My lady decided that fish need names, so she named the first one Susan.

Perhaps you might find it an effeminate name for a barbel, but each to their own. So Susan was soon followed by a Splashy weighing around 7lbs, it felt like they were beginning to queue up like shoppers in the sale at Next. They were fighting well and biting well, what a result considering I was afraid she'd be bored off her head. By now her role had been increased to winding in the second line when I hit into a fish. Little and often seemed a good idea if I was to turn her into a fisherwoman. Secretly I hoped she'd get one on too, she's fished as a child so I thought she could handle it. Splashy rested in my 42" net and was evicted from the net after about 15 minutes by Weedy, who was anything but Weedy, weighing 10lbs exactly. I had one boris swimming off as I landed another.


What on earth was going on? My best session on this river before resulted in 2 fish, and suddenly I'd landed my first double! Well Flippy came next, at 10lbs 2oz, named so for the backflips expertly performed 3-4 times as it saw the net, even I was impressed by the aquatic flexibility, not to mention the brace of doubles in about 25 minutes. Even when you catch a few barbel their raw power still remains impressive. It's easy for me to understand why other fish, while great to catch, lose their appeal.

At this point she announced that we were going to catch 7 barbel tonight. I'd just had 4, lost one, caught my first two doubles from the river. I'd have believed anything, but more than four fish from this swim in the river seemed unlikely. Still at several points during casting we saw decent barbel moving in the swim, again not a regular occurence for me.

Awhile later there was a mini-dude around 4lbs, a 5lb boris called Derek (we were getting short on names, but ask me if I'm bothered?), a small chublet with a big apetite. Then just as it got dark there was Humpy, 8lbs 12oz with my hook from the previous day nicked in the bottom of it's gill plate. I named humpy, because of the pronounced hump at the top of it's head.


The other fish names I take no responsibility for.

The truth of this tale is simple as I see it, perhaps women are right. It's dangerous to say that, it makes uncomfortable reading. I could wax lyrical about the session, describing it in poetic detail of superlative quality, but why? It was a simple session, an amazing day and best recounted likewise. So, if you have one that says you should be doing something else, then life's about give and take, give a little, then take a break.

Granted we only fished for 4 hours and if we'd have stayed longer we'd had caught more but she called the number of fish we would catch and she was right. Should I be scared? Personally I'm glad the pressure is off because we caught barbel, she had a cracking time and is officially 'into fishing with me'. She thought that the barbel were incredibly beautiful, and she's right, and at the end of the day ('it's night time' quote from the honourable CounterfeitKarlos) we walked home in the pouring rain and I was grinning from ear to ear because I know that the lady and me are on the same team and we had a red letter day of epic proportions. I'd considered posting a photo of her, but there's enough photos of cute girls on the internet with out one more, sorry guys.

We'll be back! Tight lines.

Ken Franklin

 

My memorable session was a prize, won on this site for a day with Graham Elliott of Angling Experiences.
We met up the night before and Graham wanted to show me the River Loddon, so I left my gear at the hotel and got in his motor.
The swim Graham wanted to show me in particular, was already occupied, so we dropped back downstream.
Graham showed me how he sets up his tackle and explained his method of fishing. He handed me his rod and I followed his advice, although he said I could fish any way I liked.
After no more than an hour, the big tug came. I held on for dear life as the fish, began its journey to the bulrushes.
After a short skirmish with the fish breaking the surface a couple of times, it was safely in the net, Graham, purposely I am sure, underestimated the weight.
The scales zeroed, fish in the weigh sling, and the reading was 10lb 8o zs. The photos were taken, I was chuffed and my heart was pounding.
A personal best for me and my first double Barbel.
We sat for another hour fishing and then we decided to go to the pub to celebrate.
One hour with the master, a double, and still the proper prize day on the Kennet to come. :D  

Fred Bonney

 

Being a summer baby I was one of the youngest in the year at school, I was 15 at the time and it was a few weeks into the final year of school.

Always my favourite time of year, the autumn colours splashed over the countryside. I awoke to my alarm with that feeling of dread every school kid gets, a knotted stomach, knowing full well I hadnt done my homework yet again. The feeling soon passed, when I realised that my alarm wasnt waking me for school, it was saturday - fishing time!


The previous two seasons had largely been spent catching the odd barbel after discovering them for the first time. Meat and hemp was the method and I could be relied upon to catch one or two fish per session.

I looked out of my window to see a dull grey day, the horse-chestnut leaves on the giant tree outside wearing a burnt shade of orange. A few days previously I was frantically searching for the BAA bookings in Angling Times, the stretch was available and all was set.

I was the impatient passenger in my dads car, as we trundled along the road at what felt like a snails pace through the glorious Worcestershire countryside. The venue of choice was the teme, a stretch that we knew reasonably well.

Finally, we arrived and I got set up in my favourite peg, a deeper than average pool where the current slowed to a steady pace. I fed some hemp to the far bank slack and cast my link legered meat bait across.

Time slid by rapidly, the kingfisher's, robin's and duck's novelty began to wear off. I went roving which often put a small fish or two on the bank to save a blank. Alas, despite my trying and trying, I couldnt find a single fish to cast to. I sat back at my peg and began preparing myself to pack away. I never take blanking well, I felt crushed that I could try so hard and still fail.

Suddenly I felt an urge deep within. I decided that it was totally necessary to walk upstream to look at a swim which I had never fished before. Why I will never know, it just felt right. A last gasp to rid the blankers blues.

I arrived at the swim, its a narrow bit of river, with the mainflow undercutting the near bank, with deeper water shallowing up to the far bank. Willows overhanging the farside providing refuge to chub and a snag upstream added character. Undercuts are always fascinating to me, I lay on my belly and attempt to peer under the ground Im lying on.

Immediately underneath my head, perhaps four feet under the surface was a dark long shadow. A depression on the river bed in the murky gloom of the shaded undercut. But then, it moved, with the liquid grace that only big fish possess!

I had a perfect birdseye view of the biggest barbel I had ever seen!

I dashed to grab my kit, got set up just before dusk, and deposited 3 pints of hemp on the crease in midriver.
"We're not staying that long 'erb" he had heard the deluge of hemp!
"Don't worry, it had to be used up today anyway"
I then placed my light-legered meat over the hemp, hooked the line over my index finger and waited.

After oh, I dont know, 20mins of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I felt a tightening of the line, and the quivertip slowly bent round. After a brief tussle I had a fish of 4lb in the net and was elated to have avoided the blank!

Dusk was now well into his stride, putting nature to sleep, as I had 'one last cast'. After a short wait a 5lb fish was in the net. That was the quickest two fish I had ever caught, and the way the bites would slowly bend the tip upstream now lead me to believe I had acheived preoccupation.

Yet another 'one last cast', in what was now almost total darkness and a minimal wait saw me into a more substantial fish. We werent prepared for fishing in the darkness, and it took some time to realise that the fish was swimming under the near bank.

After 10 or so nerve jangling minutes, I had a huge fish in the net! I was shaking as we weighed the most gorgeous fish Id ever seen. 11lb said the scales.

I was amazed and elated; that fish beat my pb by a whopping four pounds and still stands today. As we watched the fish swim powerfully away, I couldnt help but feel chuffed.

My mates at school didnt hear the last of it!

 

Darren George

 

 

Here's my most Memorable Barbel fishing Session;-


Recently, I was approached by an ex salesman who I had worked with during my Car dealership days. Nick had walked out some three years before me, and had set up a landscape gardening business. Sometimes our paths would meet and we would talk about the “bad old days”. He knew of my Decking involvement and was keen to involve me, in a kind of joint venture. He had just taken on a commission and asked for my help. This would allow him to concentrate on the hard landscaping and planting, with the construction of a Decked area being left in my hands. This was great news. Nick and I were good friends and I was keen to impress both him and his client, so agreed. We soon had everything planned and a start date was fixed. Work started at a most beautiful

 
Thames side property, an absolutely stunning residence for any Angler. Naturally as work started, and got well underway, I found time to think about the river, and this stretch in particular.
Some readers may know that Barbel populations are monitored by The Environment Agency. I had been informed of these areas, and the results, some months before, by another friend whom I worked with many years ago. One such stretch had already produced the current Thames record, along with some other large fish. It just happened that we would be working right in the middle of another monitored stretch!
During a Tea break one morning, I chatted with the owner, and the conversation naturally turned to fishing, “My grandson fishes when he’s down this way” he said, “He has caught some big ones”. Big what? I thought to myself. “ I have a photo if you’re interested” he added. I said that I would be very interested in this and he popped off to get it. The grandson turned out to a strapping university-student, holding a Barbel, which, he added, “was over nine pounds”.
Over the next few hours I put two and two together and realized that here was a golden (no pun intended) opportunity of perhaps some seriously quality fishing. I thought about the possibilities of gaining permission to wet a line, and the potential of improving my Thames P.B. We talked later as we packed up, and It was agreed that upon competition of the job, a few hours would be granted, the offer of which was readily accepted.

During my evening “job” in the warehouse, I planned the session meticulously. A progamme of pre-baiting would precede the short session. Planned for the coming Thursday afternoon. The chosen area would receive a mixture of “leftovers” from the summer and samples would be introduced several times each day, in the same spot.
Next day, on site, a lead was cast around and a suitable feature was found. A nice crease was explored and an area of clean bed appeared ideal. Two rests were positioned and the line clipped at the correct distance. All was ready for stage two. Later in the day I would introduce the first of many droppers of free offerings. I had devised my own type of bait dropper for the purpose. Made from one of those “onion mesh” bird feeders, the ones that come filled with peanuts, the open end and side would be laced up with PVA string.
This allowed a much bigger payload, and distance, than my Fred Crouch droppers could allow. Also I was confident that the contents would readily spill out each cast. The only problem being the need to dry the mesh out each time, prior to filling. I would use a mixture of sweetcorn, meat, pellets, various chopped boilies and hemp. This was all mixed together in a bucket and taken to site.
Hookbait would be two Elips pellets, which had been successful for me in the past. Once superglued back to back on the hair, the entire hooklenght would be placed in small individual jars with a small quantity of oil and obsession dip. Preparing my hooklenghts at home is something I have always done when targeting Barbel. I fish confidently knowing that the knots are correctly tied and tested, hooks can be closely examined, and baits attached in a relaxed controlled environment. The reason for the oily dip was to “waterproof” the pellets. I had discovered they would breakdown considerably quicker having aged, as well as added attraction..

The deck went well. I completed on time, and after its final sweep off, looked superb. The client was very pleased with the result, a real asset to his already beautiful garden.
It was now Thursday, the second of my rest nights, so no dashing off at 4pm to clock in at the warehouse. The afternoon was mild, very mild for early spring, with a low weak sun that hung low during the day. Behind me was a riot of colour with foliage and stems of reds and yellows. Hazel catkins were out, along with some very early Blackthorn blossom whilst the ground was littered with snowdrops. It was certainly the most beautiful swim I’d ever set up in. An inline lead was chosen, fished as a bolt rig, and the first prepared hooklenth attached using a Gizmo tied using a palomar knot to my Spiderwire mainline. With the rests still in place, (they had been all week), and the mainline still clipped on my reel, it was very simple to ensure the placing of the bait was correct. Once cast, I tied a short length of powergum, in place of the clip, to mark the distance, and set the runner.

Around me, Great tits and Bluetits were in abundance. Tiny wrens worked the stems in search of early insects, actively picking grubs and suchlike from the dry grasses and undergrowth. I could hear a distant Woodpecker making its distinctive call as he did his rounds. These I noticed were almost common place these days. The local Church clock chimed 2pm as I sat back, relaxing in my chair, unwinding from the past few days (and nights) hard graft. The bait runner spinning broke the serenity, the Avon top taking on a familiar curve as it pointed towards the action on the riverbed. Engaging drive, the fish kited out to mid river, then dashed upstream, I could feel its head shaking though the braid as it objected to being controlled. Kiting again to the far bank towards the overhanging trees caused me to cup the skirted spool in an attempt to halt such behavior. Gaining line now, the runs became weaker, but still staying deep it continued to seek sanctuary of know snags. More pressure soon had it on the surface, but it was not over yet. It made two very hard attempts to get downstream of me, I later found out why this was, but at the time, gave grave concerns. I hung on, I found myself saying out loud, “easy, easy” The Owner pattern hook held and soon the fish was back upstream ready to grace my waiting net. A barbel for sure now, she lay tethered under the rod tip, wallowing in the slow current. My first Thames fish for almost a year. Wow! She was a biggy, possibly she might go over ten!! My heart was racing as I lifted the net with both hands onto the mat. Memories of my first Barbel flashed before me, how that first fish had such an impact on my future was incredible. Inspiring me forward to the level I now stood. Yes, she was certainly much bigger! Safely in the sling, she pulled the scales round to 10lb 1oz. I was speechless, my first Double, and from the Thames. After a quick visual check over, she was quickly returned, non the worse for the experience, unlike myself!
Pleased that I didn’t have to re-bait. I felt incapable of performing any intricate operation, I was trembling so much! A new baited hooklenth was attached and cast as before, then wound back to when the powergum stop knot just reached the first ring. Perfect positioning. A further fish of 8lb 4oz came around 15minutes later, again trying hard to reach the area downstream swim. Two fish in under an hour, this was getting good. Another bait was duly cast, and after some minor knocks, developed into a full-blown run at just before 3pm.
A heavier fish than the others, it too stayed deep, plodded round very slowly. Frantically trying to anticipate its next move, I played this fish gentler than the others. Its behaviour hinting it might be something special. I saved the reserves till needed. I had an idea this fish would also attempt to reach the downstream area. Sure enough downstream it went. I applied as much pressure as I dare. My rod hooped over, parallel to the bank, like I’d never seen before. Strange noises came from within, creaking forceful sounds, combined with the taught singing line. Scary stuff I assure you. Lady luck was with me, everything held together. After all, I was confident that everything was balanced and each knot carefully tied under “controlled” conditions. I felt pleased that I had chosen do this. To loose any fish though hastily prepared terminal tackle is unforgivable, why subject yourself to chance? This was the one, the one that really mattered. This was the grand finally of all the preparation and groundwork.
She was turned and immediately kited out to mid-river before I guided her closer in. I first caught a glimpse of her form as her pale golden flank rolled, two rods out. She looked enormous, and quite deep, a stocky, powerful fish. I wanted this fish in the net, more than any other. Stay calm; don’t do anything stupid, I kept saying to myself. A huge vortex came to the surface followed by the rod tip being forced down at my feet, She was not going to give up easily, and again she sought sanctuary below. This was win or loose, ecstasy or agony, success or failure.
On that day I won, a glorious victory, she was mine, I felt almost sick with joy, a second double for sure, as she wallowed on the surface, before being gently drawn over the net. The reel was put in free spool, rod dropped, and with both hands my prize was hoisted onto the mat, what a stunning, magnificent creature. My eyes ran from nose to tail as I admired her, spellbound by what I saw. Her huge pectorals like elephants ears, tipped with coral pink, her huge golden flanks, large brassy head and black pupil, simply gorgeous. The scales confirmed her weight at 12lb 10zo this was unbelievable. I considered myself one very lucky angler.
Back safely in the net she was carefully carried to where I could get down to the waters edge. I held her whilst she recovered. She looked fantastic in the water, her huge pectorals, tipped with coral pink, assisting her to balance, her gill covers working rhythmically as she breathed. I knew I only had a short time left with her presence, my senses absorbing as much detail as possible it what time I had remaining. Then with a shake of her head, she drifted sideways and powerfully thrust her tail, propelling herself back to her watery liar.
I decided to fish on, one last cast. I felt this experience couldn’t be matched, let alone bettered, but welcomed the chance to sit, and recuperate on the afternoon’s events. The sun was now much lower and a distinct chill was in the air. I shivered, partly though cold, partly though excitement. The heady scent of Daphni Mesirum filled the air; I was once again elevated to a higher dimension. I was almost unaware of the next take, lost momentarily, in another world of serenity, and euphoria. The resulting fish of 7lb 3oz somehow didn’t matter as much. Although still a worthy capture for some, I felt I had gained access, earned membership, to some elitist world of anglers present and past.
An unforgettable day when myself, and lady luck, met the River princes



Footnote,
It was later revealed that downstream lies the remains of an ancient boathouse, later used as a now derelict landing stage. Reason enough for the barbel to desperately seek sanctuary there.

Andy O’Shaughnessy
 

It all started a long time ago this year i guess.

After a long season and a lot of hours last year, with only limited success, i was struggling to "get the bug", that hs seen me out night after night in search of the barbel.

I would come home from work and endeavour to go out, only to be distracted by anything and everything to keep me in, or down the pub. :x

I would make excuses to my friends to avoid a trip that i just had no heart for. Just couldn't build the confidence, or enthusiasm to get off my more than ample arse :lol

Then, at the beginning of this week, i decided that i actually fancied a trip out after barbel :eek

So i set off on my own over to Lacock, as i had never caught a barbel there - i have fallen in there a couple of times :o and missed unmisssable bites whilst being observed my Kev and the Portishead hermit :lol -

So i went, got there and it was nice and quiet. Fished a couple of swims and expectedly blanked. Then i walked passed a swim that was only just noticeable and decided to have a cast. Bait only in for a couple of minutes before a five pound barbel tried to own my rod and with possession being 9/10ths of the law, it very nearly did before it eventually succumbed to my eager, waiting landing net. A beautiful small bar of gold. Made my day. :D

So when i texted a friend and she said give another stretch a go, that involved a long drive and then a long walk, i thought she was joking. ;) Still found myself in the car twenty minutes later, heading further away from home and to the other stretch. :eek This wasn't me, and this wasn't how my year was going!

I actually wanted to fish for barbel :eek

Well, i parked, walked, walked some more and then fished. Managed another barbel of seven pounds and a couple of chub that i couldn't shake off.
Not bad for a first trip out for what seemed like an age.

Tuesday night was, quite rightly, spent watching Arsenal in the Champions League( nine points from nine guys!). Still thinking about barbel though!

So, i went out Wednesday as well. Fished from mid afternoon. Had a nice eight pound six ounce fish first cast.

Things were looking better and the size of the fish increasing, albeit slowly. Barbel are barbel and they are all great to catch.

Kev turned up early evening and decided to fish a swim just downstream from me. He hadn't caught anything and the mist was rolling in. Seeing as he had the coffee and i had the umbrella, we agreed to fish in the swim he was in ( called MY swim :p ) and both shelter from the elements.

I cast a fair way down stream to keep out of the maestro's way. Then i proceeded to catch barbel of 6, 6 8, 8 8 and a beauty of 10 10- my first double of the season. Also lost another two barbel, one of which felt a very nice fish.

Kev, had a chub :rollin

Arranged to go out with Andy D on Thursday. Picked up my new BFW i Power rod around lunchtime and started to sort my things out.

Three trips in a week! Unheard of :eek :eek

So got down there and had nothing early doors. Felt a bit chillier than it had been the preceeding days and i wasn't that hopeful. Especially when Andy mentioned that i'd brought the new rod and therefore put the jinx on myself!

Andy decided to have a wonder around and i tried a bait and wait method in an area that i knew contained barbel. Hoping that it would just be a case of them switching on to the bait.

Andy had gone down to a swim about a hundred yards away. I could hear him cast in.

Not long after this, i got a bite. Not a great one, just a twitch- chub thought i- no said the barbel and pulled the rod round with a lot more conviction!

Seeing as i was fishing down near a reed bed and a snag, i didn't want to give the fish too much line. The fish didn't want me to stop giving it line and took it anyway! I felt that nice grating feeling that tells you the fish has gone into the snag or the weed and began to worry, as by this time i head felt that there was some weight behind her.
Patient pressure saw the fish come out and i managed to retrieve enough line and got the fish 2/3s of the way back to me. Then she took all the line back off me. Definately not a LOL situation!
After another five or six minutes of plodding and dogged fighting, she lay in the net.

I lay on the bank.

After a recovery period, i lifted the net...and thought "hello, there seems to be a nice bit of weight here", so called to Andy to bring the camera and scales for checking purposes. I thought it could have been a nice eleven and even come close to my PB of evelen pounds nine.

Andy soon put the block on that. He took one look and said "nice fish- i'll give you ten for that"!!!!

Well, he set up and zero'd the scales and we put the fish in the sling.

He held it up with the dial pointing away from me so as i couldn't see. All i could hear him saying was things like, i don't believe it, and no way. So he reweighed it and a smile was already on his face whilst i was pleading to know the weight. Then he said it............

" Spot on 12lb Tony"

Well, to say that i was excited and happy is similar to saying the popes a catholic! :lol

Plenty of pictures, cigarettes, phone calls, text messages, hand shaking and slaps on the back later, we watched her swim off. No worse the ware for her encounter with Tony......a reinvigourated barbel angler :D :D :D

Tony Smith

Bizarre night...............


With the river Severn carrying a good 6 ft of water, and the fact that a few day's before between 4 of us fishing two different areas of the Lower Severn about 1/2 mile apart, had landed 33 Barbel in one overnight session with the best going to Rob at 14lb 8 oz, you could see why we were all keen to get back on the river.
However only Rob, and Graham Dear, (BAF) had actually planned to be out on Wednesday night, but my other plans changed, and I hastily arranged to meet with another couple of BFW regulars, Martyn (oooh big gudgeon), Kris (krisprice100) and Nick weaver (who wasn't fishing) on my local stretch of the Middle Severn to try to help them catch a flood water Barbel or two.
The evening went well and both Martyn and Kris managed a couple of fine fish Martyns went 7lb 1oz and kris's managed a beauty at 8lb 1oz...


As the night wore on, both the lads had takes at almost the same time from a swim where they sat next to each other, and another fine brace of flood water scamps were landed..


It was about 9.30 pm now and I decided to phone Rob to see how he was doing on the lower, before heading for an early night, as I needed to be at work for 6am in the morning.
Rob took a while to answer the phone, and I thought he had nodded off, but the excitement in his voice as he answered told me different.
"I've got another big one Steve"
"how big"
"Possibly bigger than the 14".
"I'm on my way mate"

On the way I phoned Graham to let him know that Rob had bagged another big fish, only to be told that he had lost a good fish earlier.
Graham had put plenty of hours in, and deserved a bit of good luck. He joked with me that he would land a biggie soon and I could witness it while I was down the lower with Rob.

35 minuets later I arrived at the Lower Severn, and found Rob.
The fish was removed from the large landing net where she had been resting peacefully,a few quick checks confirmed that it was in fact the same fish as the other night at the same weight of 14lb 8 oz, a joint PB for Rob.
A couple of quick pictures and she was released and swam away strongly.

By now it was getting on, but Rob and myself stood around talking, as you do.
As we neared the car's, my phone rang........
"Hi Graham"
"Steve, I've got a big one"
"How big?"
"Massive"
"I'm on my way, be there in two minuets"

Graham was only on the next stretch down, 1/2 a mile away.

As we (Rob came as well) arrived in Grahams swim, I think he was still in shock.
The massive fish was lifted from the water, weighed and ID checked (I'm trying to ID all the 9lb + Barbel we catch from the Lower Severn this season, 24 as I type this).

The fish was weighed at 13lb 7oz a PB for Graham, and well deserved, and a couple of photo's taken.... And returned to her flooded home.

I finally got home at 1.15 am a very happy angler.


Steve Williams