Early Barbel Forays on Yorkshire's River Nidd
by Michael G Hodgkiss
Back in time now ....
For a number of years I had focussed my attentions on the Yorkshire Ouse with reasonable success, however whenever I passed the Nidd I inevitably had to stop and peer in to its depths. Virtually every spot looked a 'Mr Crabtree swim', overhanging willows, undercuts, shallow glides, rafts, it had the lot, the river veritably screamed Barbel! The lower Nidd, [where most of the barbel are], meanders across the Vale of York with many a convoluted turn and twist before entering it's big sister the mighty Ouse at Nun Monkton. I always felt that the biggest challenge would be finding the fish consistently in a river with so many potential fish holding swims. I needed to give this river some proper attention.
Direct observation of fish was, and still is difficult. Although the river is narrow and fairly shallow it always has a peaty colour to it which makes fish spotting difficult. Extensive bank walking over the closed season narrowed my choice down to one stretch which had a mixture of the aforementioned features and was off the beaten track so solitude seemed fairly well guaranteed. A chat or two in the local tackle shops revealed that few people seemed to bother with the Nidd as access was difficult, some of the old river guys used to match fish the river in the 60's and 70's and confirmed that the river had lots of Barbel in but they were usually small. However the days of matches on the river were long gone with only the occasional small club event being held, the carp puddles with their en suite facilities seemed to attract most anglers, all to the good I thought to myself.
Initial forays were made with my young [then 9 year old] son Patrick, the odd summer evening spent wandering around from swim to swim,Pat float fishing for anything that came along and me lobbing a lightly ledgered bait in to any likely looking spot. Our first few trips produced some nice chub for me and some lovely Dace and gudgeon for Pat. All good stuff, not an another angler in sight and some stunning wild life.One notable evening producing 3 species of Owl and a spectacular Kingfisher count. It was all halcyon stuff and we were having a great time, but where were the Barbel? We decided that we should stay a little later and fish in to the dark. Tooled up with a head torch and a few more layers of clothing things were turning in to much more of an adventure. Angling in the dark curtailed Pats float fishing so I fixed him up with a quiver tip and he plonked in at the edge. This proved both a good and a very bad move....
As the lad was so young we inevitably shared a swim for safety's sake. Pat was fishing no more than 3 foot out near an overhanging willow when suddenly his old Shakespeare rod walloped round with some violence, full credit to him he managed to grab the rod, however the fish was well ahead and in to the roots in very short order. Locked solid we could not shift the fish and it was away, Pat reeled his rig back forlornly. On the positive side, we had found the barbel. … We soldiered on that evening and unfortunately several more fish were lost largely due the close proximity of the snags and us being under gunned in the tackle department. Pat, despite his tender years was no mug with a rod he had landed good size fish on the Ouse, but that was a big river and not riddled with snags. These Nidd fish were altogether a different proposition, they went like billy whizz and knew where they were going. I had heard of 'Teme tigers' I felt these 'Nidd nutters' must have been the same strain, awesome fish.
Our next visit saw us properly 'tooled up', we had found the barbel, we now brought the right gear to hopefully tame them. Inevitably Pat insisted that we fished exactly the same swim as before so his meaty bites were dutifully deposited upstream of the willow, rod held firmly, anticipation high, the tension was palpable.. Twenty minutes went by, an age for a youngster, thoughts went to the contents of the sandwich box then wallop he was in! The rod was hooped alarmingly the old Mitchell spinning away merrily, Pat clamped down on the handle and applied maximum pressure. I was wincing expecting the inevitable but with steely determination he turned the fish away from the willow and it was off on a run to the next willow down. With a bit of encouragement from me he kept the pressure on, clicked on the anti reverse and let the Mitchell's basic clutch do a bit of the work. Eventually he got the upper hand the fish rolled at our feet and although not text book landing technique I scooped the fish out before it got it's second wind, we had done it our first Nidd barbel! Resting the beast in the net we fumbled around in the bag for the scales and instamatic. The picture is one I will always treasure the look on his face said it all. Six pound on the nose and one nil to Patrick, we couldn't have been happier.
Our next visit was in October, arriving mid afternoon rain pelting down we found a river in a very different mood to our previous visits, 2 foot up and chocolate brown, this was going to be fun .... Initially we tried our usual swim but with no luck. We decided to have a wander with the float rod as Pat had his sites on catching a gudgeon having taken a real biggy on a previous visit, he was convinced that the British record was well within his grasp. A pleasant hour was spent fishing the eddys, however darkness was looming so we wandered back to our first swim. We hadn't noticed how fast the river was rising and on arrival back at base camp a fair bit of our gear was merrily floating around in the margins, the Ouse was never like this.
Then the rains really came, and boy did it bucket down,is was so heavy we didn't even bother fishing for half an hour just huddled under the brolly and watched the rain paradiddle on the water as we munched at our now very damp sandwiches. I was all set to go home as Pat was pretty wet, however as the barbel king he insisted we fish on despite the fact that there were now fairly sizeable logs and other rubbish sailing by in the rapidly rising torrent, it was like a miniature Ganges. We decamped to another swim which in the fading light looked to have a bit of a slack area where we could plonk in. Four ounce lead fitted, lump of luncheon meat the size of a matchbox on a size 8 and I chucked in, after all it was my turn to catch a barbel! I really didn't think we had a chance with so much debris and water coming down, I was more concerned about getting back up the now certainly flooded lane in my aged motor. However the confidence of youth won the day and it wasn't long before the tip flew round, a proper 3 foot twitch and I was in. By now it was pitch black, trees and tyres floating down the river and I was attached to a Nidd nutter in a totally unfamiliar swim. With Pat training the torch on the water I eventually managed to manoeuvre the fish through the detritus and near the edge. Next challenge how to land it. By now the river was half way up the flood bank,there was no way I was going to let Pat slither down the bank in these conditions so I handed the rod to him instructed him to hold on tight and in a 'controlled' slide I went down the bank and scooped the fish out, proper boys own stuff. At 7lbs not a monster by national standards but boy we were excited. Laughing out loud, soaked through but without a care in the world. We veritably danced back to the car as high as kites, thrashed the old jalopy through the puddles and back for fish and chips, happy days ....
A Few Years on - Summer on the Nidd
Well despite my best intentions, the charms of the Yorkshire Ouse and other commitments mean't a sustained campaign on the Nidd never materialised and several years passed since our early forays. 2004 was a very patchy season on the Ouse so I determined that June 2005 would see me tackle the Nidd in earnest. A Saturday in late June saw me wading through chest high Himalayan Balsam,the air thick with it's heady perfume - here I was again .... To be honest I didn't know where to start, there were only a few easily accessible swims and with little possibility of observing fish it was a case of pick your feature. I dropped in on a swim with overhanging willows on both banks, the far willow harbouring a substantial raft. the downside was that the river was painfully low with little flow it,was a very warm like the dog days of August. I determined that I would bait and wait. Nothing fancy in the rig department, quarter ounce bomb, size 8 hook good long hook trail to try and avoid line bites [positive thinking] a 1.5 lb test curve Harrison rod, and the good old 300 spooled up with 10 pound line, the tempter 3 mini meaty bites.
Well bait and wait was a very apt description with emphasis on the wait ...., 2 hours in and only one small eel had graced the net. I decided to reel in and lay back. The place was truly alive, dragons flies to and fro'ed in the reeds like prehistoric multi winged dirigibles, Dace dimpled the surface, a skylark crescendoed above, I was completely taken in by it all, the afternoon meandered in to evening ....
With the heat of the day dissipating I plopped my bait in again a yard or so upstream of the raft, the welcome coolness and lower light seemed somehow make the swim look even more 'fishy'. In short order a fish was on,good old rubber lips had obliged and a 2lb plus chub made my acquaintance, this was more like it. A sprinkling of chopped up meaty bites in the swim to keep the interest up and I swung in again. A good hour passed nothing.. I was in that strange state of distraction when suddenly the rod lashed round,I was in to a Nidd nutter and no mistake. I had little time to think the action was so brutal and shattering, the rod was well over, the line singing,the Mitchell losing the battle against what was obviously a powerful fish which by this time was ten yard downstream and going for a sunken branch poking out of the water, I hadn't noticed that on my arrival...The fish was stopped inches short. Sulking on the bottom the rod pulsing the fish plotted its next move. A few tense moments of stalemate and it careened off again tracking upstream and across no doubt to some other hidden snag. I had to get the upper hand as given its head this fish was going to be away. Maximum pressure was applied and by tiny increments I gained the upper hand, I got my first glance of what was obviously a big fish as it rolled near the surface only ten feet away from me, a few more heart stopping lunges it appeared again, in with the net and she was mine..
Shaking with excitement and blowing as if I had run a mile I left the fish in the net and just gazed at in in wonderment, this was the biggest barbel I had ever caught. A few minutes and both of us rested,I lifted the fish on to the grass popped her in the sling and the reuben heatons swung round in to unknown territory for me, namely past the ten pound mark, a double from the Nidd - this was the stuff of dreams! Reality kicked in as I realised I had to compensate for the weight of the sling however at 9lb 9oz this was a PB. A quick snap and I held her in the flow and in a minute or two she swished away with a mighty tail flick back to her world, gone but never to be forgotten.
I looked around and it was dark, how long had I been here, was this all some bizarre dream ? Without even thinking I packed up - satiated. I wandered off to the car the moon illuminating my path. As I loaded up a barn owl ghosted by startling in its unexpected appearance. Hitting the road and the more mundane reality of cars and people hit home- what a night, I would be back
The summer rolled on.. I was visiting my chosen stretch two or three times a week for short sessions after work. The barbel kept coming,including another big fish of 9lb 6oz, usual tally was one or two fish per session with three being exceptional. However I was becoming a little lazy.I had identified 4 swims that were producers and fished them in rotation, however returns as July melted in to August began to diminish. Reading my diary notes at the time I was putting this down to low river conditions and the fact that a few of the swims were obviously being fished by other anglers. Being a bit slow on the uptake I persisted but the barbel began to dry up, a few chub popped up but my best efforts were not producing results. Then it dawned on me, perhaps my lack of success was because I was visiting so regularly, using the same baits [usually something meat based] and fishing the same swims. The barbel were wising up to this intruder in their world.
A visit in early September found the river a good foot or so up and highly coloured after recent thunderstorms. I determined to try a new swim, a decision forced by the fact that a couple of anglers were ensconced in 'my' swims, how dare they!. I wandered off upstream to establish some solitude and explore pastures new. As 'feature' swims are everywhere in on the Nidd I plonked on one of the many Mr Crabtree swims, you know the score, overhanging trees, raft etc. I had decided to abandon the meat baits and give the humble halibut pellet, with a PVA bag of micro pellets a go, this bait had served me well on the Ouse.After a bit of pruning to make the swim accessible I swung in, and from this swim, in under two hours I took 4 Barbel all good seven pounders, this was more like it!. Moral of the tale don't be a stick in the mud,it always pays to try something different.
Autumn came and the bank side flora took on the hue of a season changing. Despite it being broad daylight my old friend the Barn Owl was ghosting along the hedgerow as I walked along, I guess he was feeding up while he could anticipating the privations ahead. With three anglers present I again yomped off upstream and settled in another 'new' swim. This swim was a little tight casting wise but crouching in the middle of a nettle bed I could swing out in to a nice glide which had a deeper run near the far bank. Within 10 minutes I had netted 2 big chub of 4lb 6oz, and 5lb 6oz [a PB at the time] and I was more than happy. Content I cast in again, and settled back. The light dribbled away a very still dank evening,, almost too quiet .... Suddenly I was aware of a rustling in the foliage to my left, this was no rat. As if on cue the clouds parted, and a full moon illuminated an otter looking straight at me not six feet away, I don't know who was the more surprised ! Needless to say the otter exited stage left with a mighty splash straight in to my swim, a magical encounter. Thinking that would be the end of my fishing and the start of Tarkas I began to gather my bits to head off in to the gloom and home, the 'chub' swim as it was now dubbed had done me proud. As I moved to pick up the rod it whacked round,the butt actually hitting me under the chin, I was in,and this was no Mr rubber lips. Disorientated it took me a few seconds to gather myself, in the interim the barbel was away downstream god knows how far,with me, arm outstretched,off balance, and in imminent danger of being pulled in the drink. The run stopped and everything went ominously still, bugger. I crashed through the nettles abandoning any thought of caution and discovered that the barbel was buried in a reed bed the fronds shaking in the moonlight as she hunkered down. Tugging away would be fruitless so I slack lined the fish hoping against hope that the beastie would swim out. After what seemed like an age my line started to move again and off she shot further downstream, hussar ! After more crashing about in the nettles and general ineptitude I managed to net the fish by the glow of the moon, a fin perfect beauty of 8lb 3oz
Riding my luck I tried another swim and in short order another powerhouse of a fish which when it flopped in the net can't have been more than 4lb,these Nidd babies really did go. I decided that the river had been more than fair to me and packed up, walked to the top of the bank sat down and soaked it all up. A fox trotted along the far bank silhouetted by the moonlight, with no wind to take my scent he was completely unaware of my presence, in those brief seconds I felt part of a different world. As if to complete the moment a big Barbel rolled in the swim its flank glistening in the moonlight, another fish for another day perhaps. Home to bed perchance to dream of monsters..
As Autumn progressed the barbel tally began to dwindle,the odd good fish was still coming out, chub however were becoming predominant, in 2 short sessions I had 3- 5's and a monstrous specimen of 6lb 2oz, these were truly special fish but I still hankered after another big Barbel. I knew they were in their so, dogged head, on I persisted..
I arrived one cool cloudy afternoon in late October to find the river low and clear, not promising but I was here so might as well give it a go. I was tired and with only a short time at my disposal I decided to settle in the 'chub' swim and see what transpired. Soon the light was fading and a steady drizzle descended. First cast in and a lovely chub of 4lb 12oz was banked, a good start so enthusiasm was high. An hour slid by with no liners or even any chubby plucks to keep the interest up. I contented myself with feeding the rats with half an eye on the beta light. Suddenly almost imperceptively the tip began to tremble, then just as quickly stopped, then it began to arc round very slowly,that long drag like effect you get when you are flood fishing with debris floating catching your line. However this was not the Yorkshire Ouse with ten foot on but a very gently flowing Nidd. I picked the rod up to clear the 'obstruction' when I felt solid,then slowly moving resistance, what was this?
Applying some more pressure, the 'force' began to move downstream with increasing strength,this was a big fish but where was the mad dash runs I was so used to.? As it was now pitch black and raining heavily I decided to switch my head torch on to shed some light on the situation. Bad move... I must have hit the exact spot where the fish was and despite the Nidd's permanent peaty tinge the beam startled the fish and it was steaming off. The next few minutes saw my rod bent as never before, no scorching runs but powerful lunges that I could do very little about, fortunately the fish had moved to open water, but in the Nidd a snag is never far away. The battle became a war of attrition, my arm began to ache,, the by now pelting rain and my heavy breathing had my glasses fogging up, I could barely see and a biggy on the end - deep joy!
Straining I managed to see the point where the line entered the water, I was winning, time to grope for the net. As I swung it round the fish swam straight under my feet and rolled on the surface, this was my first double. Another lunge or two and she rolled again, this timeI had a momentary advantage so with a big willow only a foot away it was now or never, I made my move, in with net and I pulled the fish over, immediately slipping and going flat on my back. Everything went ominously slack. With a certain dread I raised the net handle, it was in, I could barely contain myself, I'd got her!
I just stood there hardly believing what I knew was in the net,my first double and from the tiny Nidd as well. I hauled her out and for a second just gawped like a small boy at my capture.It took me back to when I was an eight year old and I caught my first 'big' fish a 2lb chub, the feeling of wonderment was exactly the same. The next few moments passed in a blur,the fish was rested and then photographed and weighed,10lb 11oz. I ran upstream to a place where I could release her safely. In the light of the night she lay in the water, gills moving gently, pectorals flared. It was time for her to go, a flick, and she was away back to her domain.
Autumn hardened in to winter, a few more barbel were caught and a memorable adventure was completed.. The remaining days were spent pursuing the flashing Grayling on the upper river. The Nidd is a truly beguiling and ever changing little river, serene in summer, ferocious in Autumn spate. I venture back, the Otter and the Owl still present to awe me with there beauty. I write in the depths of winter but close my eyes and I can see the darting Kingfisher, smell the cloying balsam and feel the pulsing aliveness of it all.
Michael G. (mikehodgkiss) Hodgkiss 2008
