rivers it was a real struggle. I couldn’t catch chub and the barbel were conspicuous by their absence. By the end of July I’d managed a smattering of chub to four pounds twelve ounces and a few tiny eels. Its fair to say I was struggling. August stopped me from giving up for a while as I managed a couple of barbel up to eight pounds but my quest for a double seemed as far from ending as it ever had. At least I’d found some fish to concentrate on.
During August I contacted
Chris Ponsford to take up a long standing offer
to go and stay with him and fish in the W
Friday 2nd September started as any other Friday would e.g. at work. I was on half a day and spent the morning counting the minutes until one o clock. At about one second past I was in the car headed up the motorway. I arrived at the meeting place on the banks of the Teme at half past four and Chris met me soon afterwards. It was then whilst having a look around that a plan for the evening was formed. Chris spends every working day on the river so when he said the Teme was not fishing well and the Severn offered a better chance of fish I certainly was not about to argue.
We decided to head back to Chris’ place, get a meal
and then head down to a swim on the
I would have walked past the swim had
Chris not been with me. There was a solid row of trees behind it with no gap
to get down to the river, or so it seemed to my untrained eye. Chris led the
way and within a few seconds I saw a gorgeous stretch of river. We were to
be fishing a smooth glide around five or six foot deep over a lovely gravel
bottom. There were some old wooden snags close in with a small amount of
weed around them but they should not cause us any problems. Chris set about
baiting the swim with pellets and BFW Waka’s. I
mentioned to Chris that he had just used a seasons worth of bait for the
Chris was using a similar hook and asked if he could use some of my Krystonite as he had never tried it. He was to regret this as the night went on. Our first few hours were very quiet before the odd bream bite started to happen. A couple of these and some small chub were all that seemed to be active. Chris’ rod was first to go properly and he lifted the rod to set the hook. His line parted instantly on the strike. To say the air was blue is an understatement and I had to rescue my spool of Krystonite as Chris had plans to send it for a bath!
I felt guilty about it although it was not my fault. I’ve had no problems at all now with Krystonite and swear by the stuff but each to their own, I’m sure Chris won’t be buying any. This set a dampener on the mood but we fished on. At least a few fish were active. Chris’ rod was next to go and this time no disasters struck. A small barbel of around five pounds was unhooked in the water and quickly swam away unharmed. I was excited now feeling my chance could not be far away.
A couple of quiet hours followed and the time was soon past one o clock in the morning. Neither rod had moved for some time and I was getting quite tired. I suggested we should perhaps have fifteen more minutes before calling it a night and Chris agreed. We had all of Saturday ahead of us. No sooner had I suggested this than my rod was away and this was no bream or chub. I lifted into a powerful fish which just slowly and purposefully started off downstream. It had no intention of stopping and with little in the way of danger around I was happy to let it go whilst keeping the pressure on. Chris reeled in and was in the water next to me with the net as the fish continued downstream and then was gone. I had that horrible slack line feeling and fully expected the Krystonite to have failed again. This was not the case however it was just a hook pull.
Devastated we decided to pack up and head back to the car. We would bait up before we left and then head back in the morning to fish right through the day and into the night. I didn’t sleep much that night trying to work out what I had done wrong. In truth I don’t think I had done anything wrong it was just one of those things but I couldn’t convince myself of that at the time.
For the first few hours very little happened at all. Chris then made a change to his rig going for a much more camouflaged approach with tiny hookbaits and longer hooklinks. I went the opposite way going for two Wakas wrapped in paste. I also made up a camo rig for later. This made the difference and before long Chris was away. Again the battle was short lived with the line parting above the feeder. It must have been abraded on the close in snags. I was convinced at this point that the gods were against us and it was not mean’t to be.
We had now hooked four barbel and lost three. An appalling ratio which I don’t think we deserved. Chris was not happy so I tactfully kept quiet for the next hour or so after changing my rig to the camouflaged approach.
Just before half time however all of that changed as my rod crashed round. It was the first movement on my rod all day. I lifted into a powerful fish which started off slowly downstream. Being so similar to the previous night’s situation I was shaking like a leaf praying it did not drop off. I stopped the fish and it kited into the nearside of the river finding a snag. I waded downstream of the snag and the fish moved once but was far from free. Pulling again from upstream moved the fish and it set off upstream. I knew by now it was a proper one. No more mistakes were made and within a few minutes the fish was safely in the net. Chris and I were certain it would beat my PB of eight and a half pounds and I was hoping for a double. Chris was being very careful not to say it was a double in case my hopes were dashed. On the scales she went ten pounds three ounces a new PB and my first ever double. I was elated. I would happily have blanked for the rest of the day. I had to nurse the fish for a long time before she went back but will always remember her swimming away along the margins in the clear water.
An hour or so later I managed a second barbel weighing just over six pounds. This in itself was a milestone, the first time I had taken more than one barbel in a session. After this flurry of action the rest of the day was an anti climax. As dusk came we started to get breamed out with every chuck producing a bream or small chub. We gave up around one thirty in the morning sick of the sight of bream. I would have loved to see Chris get a large barbel as well to end the session perfectly but unfortunately it was not to be. I’m sure he’ll have plenty more in the future.
I left for home on the Sunday after another excellent breakfast a very happy angler indeed. I’d like to thank Chris and his lovely wife Lesley for their excellent hospitality for the weekend and Chris for two interesting and enjoyable days fishing. I look forward to fishing with him in the future.
After a couple of
hours just as dusk fell I had my first cast into the downstream swim. Within
a minute one of the chub had nearly pulled my rod in and at five pounds nine
ounces was a new PB for the
It was another hour or so before the rod went around again and this time it was no chub. After a short spirited fight the fish was safely in the net, a lovely seven pounds twelve ounce barbel another PB for the river. What a night and there was still plenty of time to go.
I trickled a handful of bait in and then walked up to the upstream swim to put in some more bait. It was probably half an hour after catching the fish that I cast in again and the reaction was fairly instant, an almighty pull on the rod followed by a quick strike and then slack line. A hook pull from what felt like a big barbel. This ruined the swim and after an hour with no more action I had half an hour in the top swim before calling it a night.
I was on half a day the following Friday so rather than hammer the swims I left early but put some bait in before I left. I knew this stretch saw less pressure than many other stretches so hoped the fish would have a days rest and feel safe eating my bait. Friday couldn’t come quickly enough.I arrived around three o clock on the Friday after being delayed with car problems and arrived at the river worn out and very stressful. Within thirty seconds of walking through the fishery gates this had gone and I was happy with the world.
What an amazing effect gorgeous surroundings, sunshine and fresh air can have on an angler.
I quickly made my way to the swim which had produced on the Wednesday and dumped my tackle. Then I wandered off downstream to meet Darren who I knew was fishing further downstream. As I made my way towards his swim he and Dean were walking the other way and we stopped and started talking. We walked back to my swim and started having a look for any signs of activity. Darren quickly spotted a nice barbel sulking in the weed downstream and with his help Dean and I caught odd glimpses of him. This encouraged me to put some bait in and what an effect that had. Within minutes of my six broken in half waka’s hitting the bottom of the river fish were on them. We watched for a while and then wandered off to check out some of the other swims on the fishery.
I spent the next three hours trying to spend as little time in my swim as possible. Darren and I went exploring in an overgrown section of bank which we had never walked along before. Darren also did some swim preparation dragging a nearside clump of weed out of a swim which had produced for him last season. Every half an hour or so I walked back to my swim and repeated my frugal baiting and each time the fish were showing more confidence. I walked back up to the car to pick up something I had forgotten and walked the upstream stretch of the fishery. Anything to avoid spending to much time in the swim and risk spooking the barbel.
After three hours or so I was treated to the best sight I have seen since beginning barbel fishing three seasons ago. My swim was empty but a handful of bait saw a chub of around 6lbs and a small barbel both head for the same bait. As they got their heads down on it a large barbel which I expected to be a good double barged in between them knocking them both out of the way and started ripping up the bottom of the river. I was fairly sure then that it was a good time to start fishing so remembering the advise of Pete Reading which is “when you think they are ready to be fished for leave them for another hour and then start to fish” I walked back down to Darren’s swim and told him what I had seen. He and Dean made their way back up to have a look. They started estimating the size of the fish and said that one looked around twelve pounds. It didn’t take them long to persuade me to have a cast! This is when I nearly blew it.
With
Darren watching the swim for a break in the activity he told me when
to cast which I did but landed a yard or so short. This made the fish drop
a little way back down the river. I reeled in and the second cast was
bang on the money. Darren was providing a commentary from his elevated watching
position and he reported nothing in the swim. As he said that the tip
twitched a couple of times and then flew round. A firm strike and I was connected
to a barbel. At eight pound twelve ounces another PB for the
I would have gone home happy at that point. I quickly returned him and cast straight back in, this time supplementing my frugal baiting of 6 broken boilies with a PVA funnelweb bag containing three broken boilies. This gives extra attraction around the hook bait and helps to prevent tangles should I overcast slightly. Tying the bag to the lead, the lead to the swivel and then placing the hook into the bottom of the bag provides a neat tangle free presentation and prevents the hook getting caught up or blunted on the gravel.
It was around an hour this time before
the rod went round and this fish felt in a different league. It plodded slowly
and heavily, not making any long runs just exerting its authority and holding
station in the current. As I slid the net under it and the head torch showed
its bulk I thought “This looks like a new PB”. It went
ten pounds two ounces, an ounce under my best but this really was irrelevant.
A pristine fighting fit fish with not a mark on it. A fabulous
way to catch my first
Darren and Dean came up for the photos and to congratulate me. They were however both convinced that this was not the biggest fish we had seen in the swim. I really didn’t care if there were bigger ones out there or not as the night had already surpassed my expectations.
I really didn’t anticipate what was to come next.
Sitting back in my seat a little shell shocked I gathered my thoughts and tied a new PVA bag to the lead before casting back in. I then sat back had a quick drink and fired out a couple of text messages. Nothing happened for the next hour and normally I would have recast after an hour or so but something told me to leave the bait in place. I’m glad I did as not ten minutes after thinking about recasting the rod went again and this fish also felt good.
Very similarly to the last fish it felt heavy
and just sat in the flow holding station. After a minute of this it made
its way directly across the river taking line off my tightly set clutch.
I turned it and it started heading downstream. Steady pressure brought it
towards the net cord and when I saw its head in the torch light my knees
went weak. I was convinced this was a second double and the scales agreed.
At eleven pounds one ounce it was my first eleven pounder.
I couldn’t believe that my first
Dean was convinced that there was a larger fish out there but Darren disagreed. I really didn’t care. I already had a stupid grin on my face which would last for weeks. Once the others had headed back to their swims I half heartedly cast back in to the river and then started texting again. Chris Ponsford and Chris Netto rang me and for half an hour I was engaged in conversation and texting. I even phoned the missus and dragged her from in front of the telly to tell her. Amazing how brave I can be when I’m excited.
I started to concentrate on the fishing again and wasn’t confident with where I had put the bait on the previous cast so reeled in and put the bait back in the right spot. I was so surprised to get the next bite that I missed it. Convincing myself I had just missed a six pound chub to top the evening off I hastily cast back in to the right position. I’d been sitting for twenty minutes or so when the rod went again and this fish had totally different ideas to the last two. It headed downstream at a rate of knots and when I stopped it, it rolled dangerously on the surface.
If I remember nothing else of this night I will never forget the bow wave from that fish’s tail as it rolled on the surface that night.
Dropping the rod tip low I pumped the fish a few yards upstream but it wasn’t keen on that idea and started off again for the estuary. Constant pressure saw it turn and come upstream and within a couple of minutes it was in the net. I couldn’t believe the size of the fish I was holding. I knew it was big but in my head kept saying I don’t think its a double over and over again. Eleven pounds nine ounces the scales gave me. I put the fish in the net in the margins and danced around on the bank shouting and singing. Anyone passing by at that point would have locked me up for sure.
I’d like to say a big thank you to Darren for the excellent photography and the miles walking backwards and forwards from his swim to mine. I’m fortunate to have had a friend on the bank to witness this and thank Darren for all of the tips and help he has given me over the last three years. This night made all of the blanks worthwhile.
but managed a six pounder from Throop on my last trip of September which tipped the month off nicely. Its fair to say that September 2005 is a month I will never forget!
Mark Walker
January 2006
