Lumbland

Up and down like the proverbial...

2008-10-07T23:36:00.010+01:00

I didn't blog Sunday's session immediately because not much happened. The river was dropping, still up about five feet and peaty stained, but the newly deposited logs and clumps of leaves on the bank showed it had been considerably higher. The afternoon was sunny and warm, which accounted for there being a few anglers on the banks. Not all had been catching, but at least one had.

I decided to fish the 'flood swim' I'd fished the last time the river was up. Nothing happened, except the river continued to drop. Although the sky was clear it took a while for the air temperature to start falling after dark. I was glad I'd planned ahead and donned the bunny suit when it did though. When I decided to move upstream a hundred yards or so the sky was filled with stars. It wasn't long before the upstream rod started bouncing and I was briefly connected to a fish that fell off. A small one stayed hooked on the downstream rod a bit later, but when the mist rose over the river I called it a night. The car's thermometer read 4.5 when I set off for home, the river had been 10.8.

I was treated to a display of shooting stars. One of which was the most spectacular I've ever seen. On clear nights like that I often think of how our ancestors must have stared at almost the same starry sky. With no street lights to cast the orange glow on the horizon, and with no knowledge of the universe it's easy to imagine how myths and gods could be created.

Two days later and I was able to get away after an early tea. On arriving at the car park a departing salmon angler told me the river was rising, an awful colour, and that I'd be better off going back home. I crossed the field eagerly with a spring in my step! The level was down on Sunday by about three feet, the flow manageable to fish on a good chuck, but best of all the water, which had looked like strong, milk-less tea the other day had had milk added. It was a lovely muddy colour with next to no visibility. Taking the temperature it was 11.2. Woo hoo!!

I expected a take as soon as the first bait had settled, but it was not to be. In fact it was almost an hour before the upstream rod jag-jagged and the baitrunner spun. A fish was on, then all went solid. After a bit of heaving and walking up and down something gave. The paperclip had opened out and a small barbel was soon unhooked and released.

Another hour passed before the downstream rod took off resulting in a slightly larger barbel. While I was sorting the rod out for a recast I heard the upstream baitrunner creaking and I pulled into something more substantial. This fish I let run down with the flow away from the snaggy area. It took a bit of effort to get the fish back upstream to the net, and a bit more to lift it ashore. After weighing the fish was sacked and I noticed the stick I had pushed in at the waterline on setting up was submerged. After sorting out the chaos and getting two fresh baits in the water I took a few snaps during a lull in the rain and returned the lively fish.

Note the new jacket...

Two more small, but cute, baby barbel came along later. Then around nine thirty the heavens opened and the wind got up. I was cowering under the brolly watching the rod tips pulling round slowly under the weight of leaves collecting on the lines. When the rain eased I decided to make for home. Both rigs had been dragged out of position and were festooned with leaves and twigs. When I'd started fishing there had been very little 'washing' collecting on the lines. Checking the level it had risen almost a foot in three and a half hours.

Ironically, I had only been discussing with someone the misery of packing up in the rain that very morning as we commented on how warm it was. And here I was doing just that a few hours later. I hadn't needed the bunny suit though. The air temperature was still 12 when I reached the car.

I much prefer a river that is just starting to come up for barbel rather than the much touted falling water level. I think the increase in flow and colour spurs them on to feed. By the time the river begins to drop they are almost replete. On a spate river timing it to hit the rise before it gets difficult to fish is both critical and difficult. The window is a narrow one. This time I'd managed to get it just right. The colour was good, the temperature was up, and I got there before the rubbish started getting washed into the river. Once the debris gets to the stage it had when I packed up it's time to seek out spots where you can shelter your line from the main push of water.

It's a funny thing. You might imagine that a few good sessions on the trot would make me want to take a break, recharge my batteries, even take time out to decorate the kitchen. Not so. It makes me want to replenish the PVA mesh, top up the pellet bucket, refill the flask and get back out there!

Fish Prints from Chris Turnbull

2008-10-03T22:08:00.003+01:00

I've never been one for hanging pictures of fish on my walls. Most fish prints I've haven't struck me as worth having. I was, therefore, quite surprised to find myself tempted to keep and frame a print of Snag Swim Barbel that I had told Chris Turnbull I would return after writing a review of it.

You can read my brief review on Barbel Now or get a better look at Chris's prints at his new website - www.christurnbullart.com

Leaving the comfort zone

2008-10-03T09:25:00.006+01:00

Although I have already caught more than twice as many barbel this season as I did in the whole of last season the average size has dropped considerably. This is down to where I've been fishing. With over 50 fish from the Ribble in the last few weeks, and with the rivers all carrying extra water, now I had a day free it was time for that trip away that I had been promising myself. Despite my good intentions a heavy shower while I was drinking my postprandial mug of tea almost dissuaded me from loading the car, but it soon passed, the sun shone again and I was on my way.

Even so, I drove through rain and doubted the wisdom of my trip. Would the river be fishable? It was, and the sun was shining again as I walked the banks. Then it clouded over as I tackled up. That was to set the pattern for the evening - sun and showers, and the night too (without the sun..). I would have taken the water temperature, but the battery was flat in the thermometer. Still, the river was not too high, a muddy brown the way I like it, and not many anglers were about. I picked a swim on the heavily fished stretch I usually avoid. It's all or nothing on this river now. I want to catch one of it's biggies, and this is where they hang out.

Both baits were dropped in the margins to avoid any debris coming down the river. If fish are pressured I think it pays to leave the baits in for as long as possible and avoiding weed and autumn leaves helps this cause. A 'snake' went upstream and a couple of Monster Crab and Mussel Tuff 1s downstream.

Raining again

Baits out, brolly up and I set about tying some fresh hooklinks. Good job too, because when it got past six I decided to recast in readiness for the anticipated dusk feeding frenzy. The downstream rig was snagged solid. A firm pull saw everything gone with a clean cut on the end of the braid. Commencing to retackle I spotted a frayed section of line a few feet from the end. If I hadn't snagged up I wouldn't have noticed that. Once retackled I put a single Tuff 1 on the hair and cast - more accurately, swung - out the rig.

Then I tied up PVA mesh bags of pellets until I ran out of mesh. Out with the tub of mesh and make a start on reloading the bag filler. Almost done and I'm disturbed by a baitrunner whirring angrily. The PVA is slung in the bait bag and I lean into a fish on the downstream rod. It feels the pressure and heads out into the main flow and steadily upstream. This is more like it! The fish gets a few yards above me then I turn it. Line is taken from the clutch, the rod bends. No eight pounder, but probably no real monster either. The six ounce watch lead rises through the murk and into fresh air. The barbel rolls almost ready for the net. Then it's mine.

Lying on its back in the net it has that width behind the gill covers that barbel develop when they get beyond the ten pound mark. Sling ready I lift her ashore, pop the hook out and read the scales. A bounce to 12, then back a few ounces. Two quick snaps of her lying on the sling and back she goes at a spot downstream where I can get to the water. Before I get here free of the sling she's already fighting to get back home. Sliding into the water she slips downstream, turns to face the flow and sinks out of sight.

I was too lazy to set up the tripod

An angler had turned up on the opposite bank shortly after I had got settled in. After asking if I minded him fishing across from me he threw some groundbait in, set up his rods and net, then wandered off for a chat with another guy upstream while he let the bait work its magic. Although he wasn't a floppy hatter and his rods weren't cane (in fact he was a Realtree junky - even his landing net pole was cammoed up) his reels were centrepins. Not my approach, but each to their own.

I hadn't realised how annoying centrepins are. When he did eventually cast out they would click loudly as weed dragged his baits down the river. Each time I would spring towards my rods thinking it was one of my baitrunners making the noise. Thank goodness he didn't get a barbel take while I was there! Thankfully he had the decency to switch the ratchet off when he reeled in. Even when weed is collecting on my lines my baitrunners rarely make a sound. Unlike some people who adjust them to match the flow, just stiff enough not to give line, I screw my 'runners up as tight as I can without fear of a fish dragging the rods in. Unless weed is dragging my baits out of position I let it collect on the line. It doesn't mask the bait, and at close range will not be so far up the line as to make netting a fish difficult. You don't catch fish while you are taking the 'washing' in!

In terms of fish the hours of darkness were uneventful. I didn't hear any fish being landed on the other bank, and I had no more action by the time I packed up at eleven. The highlight was a vague off-white shape lazily flapping across the river towards me like a giant moth, pausing briefly over the downstream rod at eye level, turning upstream and away along the river edge. A close encounter of the barn owl kind. I'm sure many a birdwatcher would have paid handsomely for that experience. There is more to fishing than catching fish, but without the prospect of catching a fish or two I'd never have been sat by a river side, in the dark, on a rainy night in October.

Counting chickens

2008-10-02T13:15:00.006+01:00

There'd been plenty of rain on Tuesday and the river was up, as expected. Higher than anticipated but plainly dropping. The colour was excellent and my confidence was sky high.

With nobody else on the bank I dropped into a proven floodwater spot and took my time setting up. I put out the same two Tuff 1s that I'd wound in at the end of my last session, close in and slightly upstream. The second rod was rebaited with a 'snake', a bag added , and as soon as the rig it hit the water the other rod tip started stabbing downwards and the front rod rest toppling over. I got the second rod in the rests and the baitrunner on just before the first rod hit the deck!

It had taken all of five minutes to put a fish on the bank. A fish that had fought a good 50% above its weight too. This time I rebaited and added a bag of pellets before recasting. It was a whole quarter of an hour before the downstream rod lurched over - this time the bankstick collapsed before the baitrunner whirred. Somehow I failed to connect. Not to worry. With the prevailing conditions I was sure of a mega-haul of barbel.

The day had started wet, turning fine and sunny in the afternoon. After dark the heavy showers arrived, accompanied by a strong, gusty wind. The air temperature was only 12 as I arrived. The drop in air temperature being one possible reason why the bats were absent at dusk as they had been on my last session - a sure indicator that winter is approaching.

When I noticed how quickly the river was dropping, over a foot in three hours, my confidence ebbed away, especially as there were a lot of freshly fallen leaves fouling the rigs. By ten o'clock I had packed up. The cows had had enough of the weather too and had taken shelter behind a hedge. The roads on the drive home were awash in places, the car's thermometer reading a meagre 8 degrees - the first time it's dropped to single figures this season - maybe the bats have it right when they hibernate...

Wild night

2008-09-30T09:18:00.007+01:00

The Indian summer ended yesterday. Last week would have been ideal for that late bream session I had hoped for, but clearing a backlog of rods and getting ready for the PAC show put paid to that. This week I have the time available, but the temperature is dropping and the rain arrived last night. Wind had been forecast, and as per the predictions it got stronger as the day wore on. This added a chill factor to the still mild day, so I donned the bunny suit and set off for the river.

It wasn't long before I was wishing I'd left the suit at home as I was soon working up a sweat scrabbling about on the bank after netting fish. The first one only took twenty minutes to appear, and after less than four hours I'd totalled seven to just shy of nine pounds. I packed up earlier than usual at quarter to eleven when a heavy shower had passed by, blown by the strong wind which, during the strongest gusts, had been cracking branches on the far bank wood and blowing my lines so hard they were pulling the rod tips over!

Another fun session, but with no real lessons learned. The same baits produced, although I did search around the swim (which I'd only fished once before) catching from various parts of it.

A few things to ponder though. Like why do cows crap in exactly the place you want to put your rucksack? And why do so many barbel anglers stay away from the rivers when they are low and clear? The former is imponderable, the latter I don't really care about because it means a better choice of swims for me!

Back in 2005 when we had a proper summer the Ribble was pretty much deserted. Most evenings I had it to myself where I was fishing at the time, and caught consistently. Nice fish too. Yet all over the place anglers were moaning about the green slimy weed, the clear water and how it needed a good flush through. More fool them. You can only catch fish with a bait in the water - not with your feet up the chimney back.

As I type the sky is leaden, the wind is howling and rain is falling. I guess the rivers and their banks will be full soon.

Still dull

2008-09-25T09:38:00.008+01:00

After working too hard (by my low standards) and waiting in for parcels and couriers, I finally cracked and dropped everything to head for a low and clear river with a couple of pints of maggots and a tip rod. Although I thought the river was at NSL last time I fished a week of dry weather showed I had been mistaken by about a foot.

What a waste of time the maggots were! I got bites okay, but the one fish I hooked was a minnow. When it came to dusk the bites dried up. At least I could see my newly painted rod rest heads in the low light!

That's more like it!

Luckily I had taken my barbel gear too. When I say luckily, no luck was involved whatsoever! I have almost as little patience with quiver tipping as I do with float fishing. Although I plan on doing some serious tip fishing this winter if conditions are favourable. I've told myself that before though...

Just before it got properly dark a barbel of about a pound and a half hung itself on a single 8mm pellet. Then when it was properly dark I wound the other rod in to find I'd been slimed. An eel of about a pound, yet again hooked in the back. As I was stripping snot off my line I heard the other reel zip into life as another barbel made off with the pellet snake I had swapped over to. This fish fell off, but the bait was taken almost straight away on the recast by a barbel about twice the size of the first one.

Quarter to nine and the same rod, after a chub bite that didn't stop (suggesting a hooked chub), produced the smallest barbel of the season so far - maybe one whole pound. This was a bit grim. I chucked the snake further across the river. After five minutes it was away resulting in a leviathan that was easily six pounds!

After losing an end rig I stuck two 15mm Tuna Wraps on the upstream rod, for no other reason than the only spare rig I had made up had a big hook and a long hair. After a long wait the rod tip started dancing. I picked the rod up and there was a fish on, probably a chub as it wasn't going anywhere. Then it felt the pull of the rod and headed downstream at a considerable rate of knots. A brief but spirited fight ensued and I had something worth weighing in the net. As I was wringing the water from the sling the downstream rod took off. This was another schoolie, unhooked in the water like all the others. The one I weighed was a nice solid fish. Too short to go doubles, but one that made the night worthwhile. Half an hour later another little one came along to a single 8mm crab pellet.

Sometime back I posted a picture of the landing net attachment of a zinger for my forceps. Not long after that post it exploded into its constituent parts and, Humpty Dumptylike, refused to be put back together again! The next attempt was a coiled plastic 'spring' which worked well, but stretched - rather defeating the object of the exercise. I might just as well have used string after a few weeks. The MkIII version is made of hollow pole elastic - which is amazingly streeeeetchy! Early days, but having the forceps on the net does save a lot of messing about. The rubber band retainer needs some refinement!

MkIII forceps attachment

The day had been cloudless and warm. Even with a starry sky it stayed quite mild, and when the cloud cover came in after eleven it warmed up. I wound the rods in at half eleven and spent a while in another swim with one of them. All that resulted were a few fast chub bites.

It's good fun catching a few when you haven't been out for a while, but I really must try to get a session in somewhere that's more of a challenge.

Oh well, the PAC Convention looms on Saturday. Up early, long drive there, set up my stall, spend all day on my feet talking fishing, pack up, long drive home. If you are attending the Convention come and say hello.

I'm a dull boy

2008-09-18T17:00:00.007+01:00

Given the flimsiest of excuses, I wanted to try out my new rod rest heads, I stopped work and managed to get to the river by seven fifteen. The rests are nice and wide to make dropping the rod in them a cinch, and are deep enough to prevent it then getting blown or dragged out. Should be good for pike fishing too.

Any excuse to go fishing...

As I walked to the river the rain stopped - for a pleasant change. I'd taken three rods with me, the third one being a lighter rod than I normally use and rigged up with mono. I want to see what the set-up feels like with a barbel on the end. So far I have failed to get a bite on this outfit on the few occasions I have used it. It comes in handy as a spare though, and this time it came out of the quiver straight away as I had forgotten to change a frayed end rig. It was quicker to grab the spare rod than tie up another hooklength.

That rod was cast upstream, the river was back down to NSL and clear, and the other one downstream and across. The second rod had only been fishing for ten minutes when, as I was sorting out the frayed rig, I heard the baitrunner squeal into life. The rod was arched over in typical barbel-take fashion. Gazelle like I leapt upon it to do battle with a leviathan. However the fish on the other end of the line soon revealed it's true colours. A chub of about four pounds that I unhooked in the water.

It was a slow night. Even after dark indications were few. Plenty of what I imagine were sea trout were leaping around like the members of the idiotic trutta family that they are. One or two sounded quite large. Only two barbel came out to play. A small one, and another between seven and eight pounds. Both fish coming when I had retired the mono rod for the night.

With the overcast sky it stayed quite warm and the damp held off. So it wasn't a chore being there. The rod rest heads did the job and were easy to locate the rod in during daylight. They'll be getting painted white, like my old ones, before the next night session though. It's surprising how well white (or shiny) things show up after dark, even when not illuminated.

Whenever a rig gets battered I throw it in the bottom of my bait bag. I had a clear out and below you can see the results of a couple of Ribble sessions. When a rig snags up it's either the lead or feeder that's wedged behind a rock, or the hook itself caught up in or on something. Leads come free of the paper clip quite easily, but 30lb Power Pro really does help open out the hooks. The bottom rig shows what the snags can do to 20lb braided hooklinks - the others are a little stronger and tougher!

You can get through a fair few hooks on the rocky Ribble

With an Indian summer having arrived yesterday the river will remain low and clear for a few days by the looks of the forecast. I'll either have to change my tactics or fish for something else. If I get the chance to fish at all that is. There are rods to fettle for a Monday despatch, stuff to sort out for the PAC convention, and more rods to make a start on since a delivery of rings arrived. I'm sure I'll find a window of opportunity to escape through though...

Random stuff

2008-09-16T14:49:00.005+01:00

I'd shown the picture below on the Pike and Predators forum as an illustration of how summer pike should be fighting fit when returned. I thought I'd post it here so I can find it if I need it again.

Pete Hesketh returns a summer pike - back in nineteen eighty-something!

The rings arrived from the USA enabling me to complete my 'bream rods' a couple of weeks ago. I haven't had a chance to use them, and now I have my barbel head on they aren't required until April. So I shall be taking them along to Piking 2008 as an example of my superb craftsmanship, and to see if anyone wants to buy them. If they don't sell there they'll be advertised on here and at dlst.co.uk. I had a waggle of the 2.5lb Torrix yesterday, so when I get shut of the Ballistas there could be three of those getting built at Lumb Towers...

With trying to get rods finished for collection at Piking 2008, and to send out this week, I have been working hard since my last fishing trip. Even after 10 at night! Plans for this week's fishing have also managed to go awry (I'm sat here waiting for a parcel to turn up when I should be on the riverbank), and with the funeral of a friend to attend on Friday it could be weekend before I can wet a line again. Then again it might be tonight...

Like shelling peas

2008-09-11T12:26:00.003+01:00

I'll not give a blow by blow account of my latest barbel-bagging session. No pics either as the fish were mostly on the small side and it was too hectic at times to get the camera out!

It had been a warm and dry day for a change, so I headed to the river in the evening. The river was down a couple of feet and dropping slowly, but still nicely coloured. I fancied a fish in daylight, but with the nights starting to draw in fast it was starting to get dark by eight. It still took over an hour for the first fish to come along. Then it was followed by nine more at regular intervals until I packed up after five hours.

Most takes were coming to the upstream rod fishing a 'snake'. After I lost a fish on the downstream rod while rebaiting the snake rod I swapped them over. This was to see if it was the bait that was successful or the positioning of it. The upstream rod continued to get the most action - even when I put on a Tuna Wrap! I'd only had chub on the wraps last season, but the rod tip had just shown the bait had settled when it started bouncing again. An almost instant take. Followed by another on the recast!

The final fish of the night, and the biggest at a few ounces under nine pounds, came to a snake fished downstream and across. I'm not sure what conclusions to draw from all that. One interesting thing, bearing in mind the video footage below, was one take that started out as a series of 'chub' knocks, then developed into a full blown run. Then again, judging by the way the barbel picks up a double hook bait and drops it the 'snake' shouldn't catch anything. Don't get fooled by everything you see fish do on screen or you'll have a crisis of confidence so bad you'll give up!

This area I've been fishing has been good fun. The learning process isn't up to much though. Chuck anything at them and they'll have it. Definitely time to go exploring new areas - or hunting bigger fish elsewhere.

Timing is everything

2008-09-08T09:05:00.010+01:00

One of the places I had to go to this weekend involved driving back via the river Trent - which can be handy. I was expecting the river to be carrying extra water. I hadn't honestly expected the fields and roads to be carrying it too!

The Trent in all its might

The photo above was taken after I had stopped to let a car turn round at a flood in the road. Cunningly I let the Discovery following me go past - and as the water wasn't too deep I followed. My expectation was that the rest of the road would be high enough to have stayed dry. Oops. The second flood was no deeper so I carried on. Then the 4x4 turned off the road right before what I knew would be the final inundation. So I pulled over and took some photos. A Volvo made it through the puddle so I risked it and survived.

It seemed pointless looking for a fishing spot in that area so I carried on upstream to some water I knew better. The level was obviously subsiding, but the only half fishable spot I could find was the one shown below. I didn't fancy spending my time there when I could carry on northwards and find somewhere more easily fished on the Ribble. While the fast rising nature of a spate river can be a pain, it can fall just as quickly. It would be in better nick than the Trent.

I'd need a snorkel to sit where I usually do!

A couple of hours later I had my baits out in the same good looking spot that I started my previous Ribble session in. The water had been well up over the grass, probably a full seven or eight feet up on NSL*, but was falling slowly. It was now about the same level, or a little higher, than when I'd set up two days before. The sun was shining, it was a grand afternoon to be on the river. With the amount of colour in the water I was confident of a fish before dark. It was not to be. I had a few sharp chub raps, but nothing more conclusive.

I was back on the PVA bags as it wasn't raining, and with one bait fishing steady water a yard from the bank I trickled in loose pellets every now and then to see if they would help draw fish upstream. The second rod was cast upstream and out to slightly more pacey water on a crease. Not as far out as I'd fish at normal level, but the flow there would be a bit much - not to mention the debris that might be encountered.

Over the years I have seen cormorants eating, and trying to eat, all sorts of fish. I've seen an eel writhing down one's throat, watched one repeatedly catching bream too wide for it to swallow, and another deal with a small pike. I was surprised to see one drifting downstream struggling with a barbel of a pound or more. Obviously cormorants don't require still, crystal clear, water to feed. More comical was watching a moorhen in a far bank alder. They are not the most agile perching birds. It spent more time flapping to retain its balance than making progress along the branches!

A couple of showers made their presence felt. They weren't torrential and soon blew over giving way to a pleasant night even when the sky cleared and the stars came out. After dark I was still fishless. The stick I had been keeping my eye on to gauge the level was now getting shorter. The river was rising again. Unlike last time it was rising slowly. This made the swim eminently fishable and for much longer.

I'd just recast the upstream rod when the baitrunner creaked on the other one. In the flow it was a bit of a struggle to get the fish to the net, even though it was only a small one. I'd conclusively proved to myself the swim was worth fishing. About an hour later the same rod tapped a couple of times in chubby fashion. I leapt like a panther and stood poised to strike at the slightest tremor. The rod tapped again and kept tapping. I struck, fully expecting a chub, not the heavy weight I was trying to pull against the flow. Then it moved. It felt like a barbel. And it was plodding. When within netting distance it woke up. On the surface it had a good length. In the net it felt heavy. A deep flanked, but rather empty fish, it still made my day.

Another bloomin' barbel picture...

To counter the increasing flow and rubbish (I had landed one carrier bag) the upstream bait was moved in a little closer. The rod tip wasn't under much tension and I feared the bait was not in a good position. However, something eventually dislodged the lead and I was soon unhooking another small barbel in the margins.

I slipped it back over the net cord and began sorting the hook out when it was almost driven into my finger! It seemed as if the barbel had swum into my main line and got tangled. Once I was free from danger of being hooked I pulled on the line but no fish appeared even though I could feel it. Then I noticed another piece of line leading from my own. Pulling on this brought the barbel's dorsal into view - with a hook attached to it - above the muddy water. At some point the fish must have got foul-hooked and broken the angler's line. I freed the hook and the fish swam off. The hooklink was a substantial braid and the remains of the mono were about 12lb. As the fish was only about five pounds it should have been possible to land the fish on that tackle - even hooked where it was.

Not that I wish to cast nasturtiums, the set up for attaching the bait to the hook has definite carping overtones. I ask you, who else would use a rig ring sliding on the hook shank, retained by being tied to a hair, with a pellet band for threading through the bait attached to the ring? Why make things simple when you can make them complicated and spend more money on useless rig bits?

Had the barbel been going mad I'd have stopped longer, but I'm not greedy. Three fish were enough for me so I called it a night at eleven.

* Normal Summer Level

Rain, more rain and dead sheep

2008-09-05T22:25:00.012+01:00

When I was loading the car the rain had finally eased. By the time I was at the river it was coming down harder than ever. I knew the river would be up, which was why I arrived with four hours of daylight left so I could suss out likely floodwater swims. It was a surprise to see the level only six inches or so up on where it had been when I left the river on Wednesday night. Looking at the grass the river had obviously been higher and dropped back, even though it was on the rise again. Spate rivers are fickle beasts.

As I hoped, the swim I thought would be right at this level looked spot on. Not too pacey close in, with faster water further out, and downstream. Because of the rain my approach was different from my favoured PVA mesh bags on the hooks. I'd broken out the big feeders. A mix of Hemp and Hali Crush 50/50 with crushed halibut pellets was all I put in the feeders. One was cast slightly downstream fishing a Tuff 1 and the heavier feeder fished a 'snake' a couple of yards upstream of the rods, and a little further out.

The lighter, 110g, of the big feeders

Just as the last time I fished there were swallows and martins working over the river, undeterred by the rain, as they fed themselves up for their impending journey south. They weren't swooping low over the water, but flying higher, often up close to the trees on the wooded bank opposite my fishing position. The upstream rod jagged, jagged again and pulled over. Surely not a fish after just twenty minutes? I bent into something that could have been leaves on the line - until it pulled the rod down and tried to head out into the flow. Whereupon the hook came free. A couple of leaves and a small twig on the hook might have been there when the barbel picked the 'snake' up I suppose. At least I had judged the swim right.

After an hour the pace was quickening between the baits and the bank, the level rising and the frequency with which I was having to clear 'washing' from the line increasing. I moved up a few yards to where a well worn swim was creating a slack. By now the rain was hammering down. An hour later and this swim, too, was becoming less attractive as somewhere to fish. Another move was called for.

Upstream a bend was channelling the flow out across the river and there was quite and extensive crease with slower water near the bank. Such was the rate the river was rising at that it only took an hour before I had to move to a slack in order to keep the baits out for long enough to expect a bite. Although the rain had eased off large branches were starting to come down the river. Then the obligatory football, followed by a dead sheep. When dead sheep start to appear it's time to wind in and head for home!

Baa baa dead sheep

I stuck it until dark, by which time the river must have been carrying at least four, maybe five, feet of water, and the slack was starting to shrink. Despite blanking the session had been worthwhile. If nothing else I had proved to myself that I could find fish on the stretch when it was carrying extra water. When I walked it the first time I fished it I saw a couple of other possible floodwater swims. Maybe I'll try them the next time the river is up. That won't be this weekend though, as I have places to go. One of which might be a river somewhere...

Beating the retreat

2008-09-04T10:14:00.005+01:00

It had been a funny day, showery, turning dry in late afternoon. The rain of the preceding twenty-four hours would be in the river and I was hopeful. The idea was to arrive earlier than usual so I could check out what the river looked like with extra water in. Floodwater can provided good barbel fishing - so long as you either know the stretch well or can see what the flow does. If you are new to a stretch that means having a good nose around to find likely looking spots to cast a bait or two.

The level was certainly up on last time, about a foot and a half, and carrying a touch of 'mud'. As it was only six inches up on the first couple of times I'd fished the stretch I knew I'd be okay with the three ounce leads to fish the same spots. With there being slower water between me and the baits that would keep too much debris from fouling the line and dragging the rigs into snags.

Rods high, but within easy reach

While I was baiting my second rod another angler arrived and asked how I was doing. I explained that I was just setting up. "Are you stopping long?" he asked. This is code-speak for, "You're in my swim you ****. When are you going to **** off?" I know this, because I have asked the same question for the same reason myself! Although if the angler is setting up an hour before dark, with isotopes on his rod tips, it's usually a sign that he'll be there until after dark... I gave my reply in code too, "Until I've had enough." This means, "Ha, ha! Beat you to the swim and I'll be here until you've gone home."

It wasn't long before the downstream rod snagged up. I'd planned ahead and taken three rods with me so I was able to bait up the third rod and recast without wasting any time, then retackle the original rod. By now a shower had moved in. Leaves were collecting on the lines pulling the rod tips over a little. A bit of stick in the margins was beginning to disappear. The river was still on the rise, but not too rapidly it seemed.

I wasn't surprised when the downstream rod tip tap-tapped and I pulled into a fish. Under seven pounds it gave a decent account of itself. More would be along soon. The rain eased and it started to go dark. Then I saw a bright flash out of the corner of my eye. A few seconds later I heard thunder crack in the distance. Sitting behind two carbon rods pointing at the sky on an exposed river bank didn't seem like a good idea. The thunder moved away in the distance and I relaxed.

One's better than none

Leaves continued to be a minor irritation, but the rigs were holding for long enough to be effective and I only lost one rig. Standing by the rods to stretch my legs I heard a hissing sound down-river. Looking round it was as if a grey curtain had descended. The hissing grew louder. I felt a couple of spots of rain and dived under the brolly as the stair rods arrived. Boy was it heavy rain! The downpour soon passed, but the rain didn't stop.

It was then I noticed the river was flowing much faster in the margin than when I had set up, and it was getting closer to my boots. That explained why the rod tips were pulling over more than when I first cast out. I tried dropping the baits closer in.

I like fishing a rising river for barbel. I think it gets them on the move and feeding. However, the changing flow patterns are a problem. A good swim can become useless or unfishable with only a few inches of extra water. On an unfamiliar stretch of river you really need daylight to find fresh spots to try. Had it still been light I could have wound the rods in and gone to seek out other swims, but in the dark it was difficult. The rain didn't encourage me to move anywhere other than home either.

The sky lit up with a bright flash, thunder cracking soon after. The other angler was on his way home. There was more lightning and thunder. Ten o'clock or a break in the rain, whichever arrived first, and I'd pack up. The rain continued to fall. Nights like these keep the bats in their roosts and the owls remain silent. I don't blame them. Once out from under the brolly the rain didn't seem so bad. I still got wet tidying the gear away and retreating to the car, not quite beaten and certainly unbowed.

I'd hoped for more than one fish given the state of the river. Given a better knowledge of the stretch of river I would have moved swims - I've done so successfully in the past on a rising river at night where I have known places to move to. I need to walk the length in daylight when it's up to get some ideas for the future.

Not only has the final one day match of the South Africans' tour been washed out, there was a definite autumnal chill to the wind last night. Summer is definitely over.

Ducking and diving

2008-09-02T13:12:00.007+01:00

With the only other angler in sight some fifty yards away from me on the far bank I was looking forward to a quiet evening. Despite rain during the day it was sunny as I started setting up. One rod was out when I heard someone behind me. Expecting to see another late arriving fisherman I was somewhat taken aback to see an old gentleman (a little older than me that is!) with a shotgun broken over his arm. He had come to warn me that if I heard shots from downstream it would be him. Which was thoughtful of him. I wasn't aware of it, but the first day of September is the start of duck season. To think there was a well grown brood of friendly mallards that I had been feeding pellets on the stretch who were now in danger of lead poisoning.

With two baits in place it took forty minutes for the first bite to come. Not without hearing the first shots echoing up the valley and seeing a few ducks and goosanders heading upstream at high speed. This was a real barbel bite with the rod hooped over and the baitrunner protesting loudly. The fight was a good one too and lead me to believe the culprit might have made double figures, but it didn't quite manage nine. The river was a foot down on my last session and running clear. I wonder if that was why the fish made off at speed and fought well? It could see where it was going!

There was big black cloud over in the south-west and blowing rapidly towards me. Sure enough the raindrops started to patter on the calm surface of the river. Then all hell let loose. There must have been a group of wildfowlers out of sight because the fusillade that broke out sounded like the troops were going over the top. When the sound of the guns faded it gave way to the honking of many geese. They flew over head, going downstream, to be met with yet another barrage from more guns. The geese turned tail and the guns fell silent again. I decided to keep my head down below the top of the floodbank!

Ready and waiting

The peace didn't last long. "How big was that one?" I feigned deafness. "How big mate?" I hoped a reply might shut the idiot up and shouted him a rough estimate. A few more shots were heard just on dark. At last I hoped for some respite from the assorted cacophony and was pleased to listen to only the owls - and the baitrunners.

Around nine thirty I heard matey on the far bank landing a fish. Following some flashing of his head torch the cry went up, "Five and a quarter pounds!" "Well done, " I responded. Muttering something quite different to myself... He then tried to engage me in conversation, yelling something about the shooting. Ye gods!

As well as getting some rod building out of the way over the weekend I had moulded up a dozen and a half more three ounce leads and slipped a few in my lead bag. Just as well because the tackle losses continued where they left off last time out.

How long will this lot last?

Mishaps of other sorts materialised too. Having pulled for a break on the upstream rod I was winding the limp line in between my fingers feeling for the frayed end when the downstream rod was away. I leaned into the fish which kicked a couple of times then fell off. The size four C-4 had opened up. I've no idea how, as they take some opening on a snag. Hey ho. I attached a ready baited snake and chucked back out again before re-tackling the upstream rod.

I was fishing the swim I'd had my eye on previously and was moving baits around to get a feel for it. Again it felt shallower on a very long cast with a channel two thirds of the way across. Casts to the shallows produced chub bites. The barbel bites, and the four fish I landed, coming from the channel. At least that's the way I read the swim so far. As with the first fish the other three all screamed off with the bait and fought hard for their weight. A lone chub even tried to drag the rod in. It didn't fight hard though and after the initial two wags of its tail gave up the ghost.

I saw much shining of a head torch on the far bank. "He's packing up at last," I thought. "You still there mate?" 'Mate'? 'Mate'?!! Like a fool I replied in the affirmative. "I'm away now. Good luck." I shouted something non-committal back, poured myself a cup of flask-tea and began to relax. The great thing about fishing at night is the way the world quietens down. traffic noise fades, people go home to watch the telly - even annoying birds shut their beaks. I can do without people intent on carrying out shouted conversations. I suppose I should be thankful for small mercies - he didn't put a Tilley lamp on and light a fire to keep the bogey man away...

As well as moving baits around I tried change baits too. When there are numbers of barbel in an area bait choice never seems to be too critical to me, as well as the snake producing again (including the chub) I had one fish on a Hali-Hooker Tuff 1 and another on one and a half Oyster and Mussel boilies (which I thought had hardened up since I opened the packet last March). Not having enough spare rigs tied up I even landed two fish on a mono hooklength I had kicking around. I do prefer the limpness of braid for hooklengths, but I'm not convinced it matters too much to the barbel.

Unlike last week the air turned cool after dark, with a light mist up the valley when the rain cleared. After the chub bites dried up, so I packed up before midnight and trudged through the damp grass to the car, the windows matted with dew. It won't be long before the bunny suit is required for evening sessions.

Better than watching telly

2008-08-29T10:02:00.013+01:00

I've had a couple of e-mails asking about self-take photographs with fish this week. The ones you see on this blog are the best of the ones I take. Some turn out pretty ropey, even with practice, but most work out quite well.

The equipment I use is simple, and idiot proof. Which is just as well! The camera is a Canon S3-IS which has a flip round screen. I have used a camera without a flip round screen, but it is a bit of a bind having to take a test shot (sans fish), walk round the back of the tripod, review the picture, make adjustments, repeat the test shot and so on. With the screen flipped each shot is previewed automatically, so all you have to do is either move your position or the tripod to get the shot framed. I wouldn't consider a camera without a flip round screen these days.

Canon S3-IS

Self timers are okay, but they focus when you set them going. Unless you put something in the same place as you and the fish will be when taking the picture this means the camera focuses on the background. Not too good in a lot of situations. A bulb release and adaptor is what is required.

Camera, adaptor bracket and bulb release

The one shown came from Jessop's, but I don't think they supply them any longer. There is an alternative which seems better made that I bought when the Jessop's one broke. But after mending the bracket by fixing the release mechanism to it all has been well. At least I have a spare!

Bodged!

You can find more about these items, and links to suppliers, on Barbel Now. There is a good article on self take photography on the PAC website. I have found it best to place the bulb under the heel of my foot, rather than trying to use a knee or toes to press it. More weight is transfered more easily, and I don't seem to gurn quite so much. I still usually manage to look gormless. But that's situation normal for me...

I called in at my local tackle shop to top up my stock of crab Pellet-Os yesterday afternoon (using five at a time gets through the handy little tubs quite quickly when you're catching). My mate who works there asked if I was fishing again that evening and I said I didn't think I was. He reckoned he would if he'd had a good catch. After I'd finished my chicken and chips and washed the pots I threw the gear in the car and was on my way. Well, fishing beats watching the TV and surfing the bloomin' internet!

I wasn't keen on fishing the same peg two days running, but I didn't have much option. Within five minutes of casting out I pulled out of a fish. Then it went quiet. As the light faded I landed a barbel of some three pounds on the upstream rod, fishing a five pellet snake. Five minutes later the same rod was away again and I weighed the next fish - two ounces short of nine pounds.

Ten minutes later I was winding in the downstream rod for a recast when the upstreamer started nodding and the baitrunner whirred. It seems like the barbel will give a 'proper' bite if you don't react instantly. However, by the time I picked up the rod everything felt solid. I put the rod back in the rests, the rod tip nodding occasionally, while I rebaited and recast the downstream rod. Returning to the snagged fish I pointed the rod down the line and pulled. The paper clip did its job and released the lead. The fish was another smallish one of five or so pounds - unhooked in the water and slipped straight back like all the little ones.

Two more fish came to the 'snake', and one to the downstream Tuff 1 during the following hour and a half. A couple more also snagged me on the strike. I snagged a few times without getting a bite too. I need to mould up more leads before I run out!

The night was warm again, no fleece required, but it turned damp. Hardly drizzle, more a fine misty-mizzle that hardly warranted erecting the brolly but I put it up anyway. Things seemed to have gone quite when at ten forty the 'snake' rod finally acted like it should when a barbel makes off with the bait. This felt much better, and a bit of a plod upstream gave the game away.

A final self-take tip - don't wear a black sweatshirt for night time photos!

I've been away from the Ribble since I was fishing it three nights a week during the '05-'06 season, catching my last double from it on the foggy Christmas Eve of 2005. It's good to be back. An hour after returning the fish I was on my way home. With a few fish under my belt I think I can face a blank or two after something bigger elsewhere!

Trouble comes in twos

2008-08-28T09:27:00.007+01:00

With one car in the car park the angler just had to be in the swim I fancied, and he was. Not to worry, he said he'd had a good day and two other anglers had caught a few as well. I headed for my second choice swim. Two baits were out and the first cup of flask-tea half drunk by twenty to eight when the downstream rod signalled a bite. I placed my cup down carefully and landed a lovely small, about 2lb, blank-saving, barbel. When I went to rebait I saw my cup had fallen over. Typical...

About half an hour later the other rod indicated a bite. The usual slamming takes have been notable by their absence lately. The fish are hooking themselves, but only tap-tapping the rod top. I'm not sure why. Anyway, this second fish was a bit bigger, in the six pound bracket and a dark golden colour. It had fallen for a five crab Pellet-O 'snake'.

8mm pellets and a #8 C-4

These long 'snakes' look like they won't be good hookers, but so far they have been okay. I think the fish suck them in like a piece of spaghetti, which is why I use a hook that is about the same gape as the pellets' diameter - to slide in easily after the pellets.

By nine it was dark enough to watch the glowing isotopes on the rod tips, and at ten past the upstream, snake, rod tapped again. I leant forward to the rod and pulled into the fish, but before I could stand up to play it across the river I heard the other Baitrunner screeching as that rod bucked in the rests. It had to happen one day! I netted the first fish, which felt half decent, as quickly as I could, standing on the net pole to prevent the fish swimming off with the net and grabbed the downstream rod. The line was slack but I soon made contact with another weighty fish that soon joined its pal in the landing net.

Next time I have seventeen pounds of barbel in my net I hope there's just the one fish!

Although this was the first time I'd had two barbel on at once I have experienced quite a few instances, with chub too, of baits ten or twenty yards apart being picked up within seconds of each other. If the baits were feet apart I could understand it. Either one fish or a shoal moving through the swim. But spread out baits being taken at the same time is a bit more difficult to explain.

The night carried on in a similar vein with fish falling to both rods at regular intervals until elevenish when things started to go wrong. I managed to find a snag, losing a couple of rigs, then had a couple of bites that turned into snagged rigs. Neither bite seemed to result in a hooked fish, and I got both rigs back - albeit one with a straightened hook - so maybe chub were the culprits.

As soon as I stopped casting near the snag the problems went away and two more fish were landed. One of them coming as soon as the bait had settled. The rod tip bounced before the lead gripped the river bed. There was a pause. Then the tip started bouncing again! The final barbel came just before midnight. Reaching for a made up mesh bag of mixed and crushed pellets I found there were none left, so I cast out the hookbait and started to pack up.

I have a feeling that, like the barbel, I had moved in on bait put in the swim during the day. You won't hear me complaining though! I headed home warm and happy having caught ten barbel in just over four and a half hours and having thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Snakes alive

2008-08-26T10:14:00.009+01:00

Yesterday I went for a look at a stretch of the Ribble I hadn't fished before. There were four anglers fishing who had caught a couple of barbel between them. The river level was about normal with the colour well dropped out. After walking the banks I plonked my gear in between the anglers, there was plenty of space, and started a slow setting up.

Not having a clue what I might find in front of me I cast an unbaited rig out to see if it would hold. Three ounces didn't shift, so that was okay. It felt like there was a bit of a channel, so casting to the far bank didn't look like it would be worth the effort. The angler downstream of me was casting just short of mid river, and he landed a fish shortly before dusk. I put my baits out a little further to what looked like a change in the flow pattern - although the upstream wind ruffling the surface might have fooled me.

The chub taps started when it had gone dark. By half past nine the river was just the way I like it - deserted. More chub bites came to the pellet snake. At ten thirty another chub bite developed and kept on developing, turning into a small barbel of four or five pounds when I wound down to it. Five 8mm Crab flavour Pellet-Os fished as a 'snake' did the job.

Success for the 'snake'

The evening turned damp, with light drizzle hissing on the brolly, but it was still mild. The swim was quite comfortable for the Ribble, being grassy and almost flat. My boots soon had it turned into a mud slide though. Still, you can't have everything.

By now the bats were out and it looked like I was getting a few bat bites on the downstream rod. Just before eleven one of them turned into something more positive and I was attached to a fish that felt a bit bigger than the first one. There was a weight on the end of the line all right, but it wasn't doing much fighting. Straight in the net it was a pleasing fish for a first session on a length of river. A little bit lean, and judging from it's mouth a regular visitor to the bank. The drizzle stopped briefly and I took two quick snaps.

What big hands you have Grandma!

I fished on until just before midnight. The air was dry so I put the brolly away, packed up the rucksack, and then started to get wet as the rain returned. Picking up the 'snake' rod I got an instant reminder of one of the many 'pleasures' of fishing the Ribble. I could feel the writhing of a small 'snake' of another kind. Sure enough there was a bootlace eel, foulhooked in the middle of its back, on the end. Over the years I have foul hooked numerous eels of all sizes on hair rigged baits on the Ribble. Almost always they are just there when you wind in, invariably following a few 'chub bites' and a period of inactivity. I have no idea how they manage to hook themselves half way along their slithery bodies, but they do.

With the slimy mess sorted out the second rod was wound in uneventfully and I headed home with the windscreen wipers on all the way back.

A quick addition having seen a link to the following clip which might be of interest on Barbel Fishing World.

Quote of the day

2008-08-22T08:53:00.010+01:00

I believe the solution to any problem - work, love, money, whatever - is to go fishing, and the worse the problem, the longer the trip should be. - John Gierach

For a regular QOTD and some good reading have a look at Pure Piscator - yes, it can be a bit ''floppy hatted', but there are gems hidden in there.

Friday saw me snatching a few hours on the Trent on my way home from a 'business meeting'. As the car was loaded up with swag I needed to park behind my swim. I decided to call in at a length I had yet to set eyes on, although I had seen the next stretch downstream from the opposite bank about a month ago. From what I saw there the river was fairly shallow, gravel bedded and had luxurious streamer weed.

A hardcore track ran along the edge of the river, but only a couple of swims looked like they had been fished this season. One of which looked worth a shot with a couple of other places looking like they could be turned into fishable swims. Not knowing the river in this area I'm not sure how much extra water it was carrying, but I'd guess maybe two feet. It was certainly a lovely colour.

With slower water close in and the main push hitting the bank downstream of the swim I was pretty confident. After about an hour I had a typical chub bite and struck into nothing. For some reason bites only came to a Hali Hooker pellet. I was alternating these with the Monster Crab pellets on each cast with he downstream rod, but the Monster Crab ones remained untouched. I had a pellet 'snake' on the upstream rod, which was fishing the edge of the faster water. This was also ignored. Eventually a chub of some four pounds hooked itself on the Hali Hooker. Then the bites ceased. Was there just the one fish in the swim?

The first flappy thing of the season

At dusk fish started topping, not in great numbers, and there were fry in the margin - along with something that viewed them as food. Although it was a pleasant evening after the cool wind had dropped, by half past ten I'd had enough. It didn't feel like anything was going to happen.

Trent sunset

I stopped on my way back to the road to have a mooch around. I still found no well beaten swims even though the river looked interesting (from what I could see in the dark with my headtorch on!), with bends and narrows to alter the flow. I suppose that unless a stretch gets a reputation for producing big barbel to attract people most won't go looking for fish, and there aren't many anglers who want to fish rivers for anything else these days with their steep, overgrown banks and lack of burger vans. Not to mention the water moving...

Return to the valley of the slugs

2008-08-21T11:52:00.005+01:00

Tuesday saw the gasman decide to inform me that he wouldn't be turning up - half an hour before the last time he was scheduled to call. If I'd known sooner I could have gone fishing earlier. As it was I managed to get down to the Ribble by eight o'clock to find it about three feet up and carrying a nice amount of colour. I spent some time walking the stretch to find a fishable swim, this being a length I hadn't fished in these conditions before, and chose one that looked to have the right pace close in. I elected to fish just one rod as the swim was quite tight, and the amount of grass and weed coming down on the current would have made fishing two rods a bit tricky.

The rain had stopped some time before so I had left the umbrella at home and spent a pleasant evening watching the rod tip. At about ten o'clock it pulled down and sprang back a couple of times as the six ounce lead was dislodged by something other than weed. Sure enough there was a barbel on the end making the most of the flow to take longer than normal to land. Don't let anyone tell you that six ounce leads stop barbel scrapping well. I guessed the fish at around eight pounds while playing it, and stuck to that estimate once it was netted. The scales decided to knock an ounce off though. A nice way to get back into the Ribble barbel after a couple of seasons away from them.

I was less impressed to reacquaint myself with the masses of slugs that inhabit the valley. Not just the big black ones, they come in all hues and sizes. Small white ones, medium grey ones, brown ones. Nice. Not!

Luvverly sluggerly

Wednesday evening I was back, an hour earlier this time, to discover the river had dropped a couple of feet. Such is the way with spate rivers. The colour still looked good, but a change of swims would be in order. Although I was confident the rod tips were stationary until the bats appeared - the light level that gets them on the wing being the same that spurs chub to start feeding. Both the pellet 'snake' and the Tuff 1 were attacked by chub during the hour either side of nightfall. None were hooked though.

This time I had put the brolly in the quiver. Just as well because there were a couple of showers and I needed to tie up some more PVA bags of pellets. The extra dampness had really got the slugs on the move. They must have a really good sense of smell the way they home in on bait. At one point I reached into my rucksack to pick up a tub of pellets to find a big black slug on the tub. Yak! What they were looking for on the inside of the brolly is a mystery. I removed one while I was fishing, two more and a snail when I packed up, fishless, at quarter past midnight.

On arriving home I emptied the car, dumping my rucksack in the hall, then removed my boots and socks before making a nice mug of drinking chocolate to take to bed. Stepping out of the kitchen I felt something cold and sticky between two of my toes. A slug, which was swiftly condemned to a salty end in the bin. This morning there was a silvery trail on the kitchen floor. There's another one on the loose...

Back on the braid beat

2008-08-15T09:41:00.008+01:00

There were rods that needed fettling prior to despatch, but as they wouldn't be finished in time to ship on Thursday, and I never ship on a Friday, I left them and headed back to the river.

Why I insist on walking to the furthest swims on the stretch when the ones closest to the access point seem to produce the biggest fish I suppose must be down to cussedness, the fact that it is more peaceful away from the crowds, or maybe I want to prove to myself that I can catch barbel by finding them through watercraft rather than looking for other people's bankstick holes.

I stopped half way to the swims I had in mind on the pretext of throwing some pellets in the swim where I had lost that fish on Tuesday, but in reality it was because I couldn't walk much further! Indeed, I considered plonking down in the next swim downstream to spend a relaxing few hours soaking up the sun and chilling. I didn't, I carried on.

On reaching the swim I fancied, a steady glide below a crease, with grass, nettles and balsam hanging over the margin, I sprinkled in some mixed pellets in the edge a couple of yards below where I set up my chair. Then I went and threw some more in a semi-slack under some trees at the end of the stretch ready for a move towards dark.

I soon had one rod out fishing a Tuff 1 off the rod end and began tying up some spare hooklinks. Then rain began to fall. I'd almost left the weighty brolly behind, but was glad I hadn't as I sat there in my T-shirt tying rigs and then filling PVA mesh bags with pellets. The rain stopped and I cast out a second rod, upstream and slightly across, with a four pellet snake as bait.

It was great to be sat by the river looking across the river at a sheepy meadow bordered by willows with a church spire lit by the sun against the big, Constable-cloudy sky. Life felt good as I listened to the Archers. The programme was reaching a saucy climax when the idyll was shattered by the close in rod top puling savagely down towards the water and the baitrunner screeching like a mad thing. I think a barbel was involved too!

That split second between the take registering in the brain and starting to play the fish are a mystery. Do I pick the rod up then stand, or is it the other way round? I have no idea how I come to be holding on to a bending rod once that tip moves!

This was no four pounder, and it was no eight pounder either. The rod bent to its limit throughout the fight and the clutch ticked a few times too. I'd ditched the mono, and my 'small river' eleven footers, after Tuesday's fiasco and was using my trusty, go-anywhere, Chimera 3s and 30lb Power Pro. The fish was history! Sure enough, after a decent but brief scrap, it was pretty soon in the net and shortly after in the sling and being hoisted by the scales. The first double of the season, chunky, golden flanked in the August light, and a new river PB.

If I don't promote DLST nobody will...

After the photos I started to regain my composure, throwing some more pellets in the downstream swim, before recasting and settling down again. There was a chance of another fish from the same spot before dark. It was not to be. So at nine o'clock I wound the rods in and had a tidy away ready for a move back upstream. The next step was to take one rod, banksticks, landing net and pellet bucket to the end peg for an hour. The Tuff 1 was cast out, about four feet from the bank, at the tail of the eddy, with a big bag of pellets on the hook over another sprinkling of the same mix.

This swim is in amongst a load of nettles, surely the residence of Roland and his pals, which was why I'd left the chair behind and elected to stand by the rod. Sure enough, as the light faded the rustling and scrabbling began. The local owls I had heard waking up, barn and tawny by the sound of it, must be well fed. I experienced a few 'bat bites' in between shooing the rodents away. Funny how I like bats, but detest rats, when the only difference is one letter...

Every so often I'd throw a handful of pellets out over the bait - or at least in it's general direction. Through the leaves of the stand of big old willows behind me I saw the moon, full, as if Atkinson Grimshaw had painted the scene. Full moon + barbel = kiss of death. In clear water conditions and a cool night possibly so, but it was warm and the river was more coloured than it had been on Tuesday. That day's rain having worked through the system the level was up a little too.

I glanced at my watch and there were three minutes to go until ten when I was scheduled to vacate the swim no matter what. The isotope on the rod tip moved down and back, slowly a couple of times. There was something there, but I was still going to leave at ten. Time seemed to slow right down because when I next looked at the white hands of my watch in the moonlight the big one still hadn't reached the twelve. My eyes went back to the rod in time to see the whole top section curve right round. Again I found myself hanging on to the rod, without knowing how, as something barbely tried to head downstream. I'll not describe the tussle in detail, suffice to say it had all the elements you'd expect (powerful surges for cover, ponderous plodding upstream, thrashing on the surface, and the dogged refusal to give up) of a fight with a good barbel. Once netted I realised that I had finally managed to catch two doubles in a session after many near misses.

I staked the landing net to the bank and went back for the scales, sling, mat and sack. Lifting the net ashore the fish didn't look too big. Short it might have been, but it felt heavy. Sure enough my river PB from earlier hadn't lasted long and I had added a third river to my list that I have caught thirteen pounders from. The fish was sacked, checked to be upright, and left while I set up the camera. Once back out on the mat the fish was fit as a fiddle. A few self takes and I popped her in the net to make sure she was okay. No worries. Upright and trying to escape the mesh, I dropped the net cord and she glided back into the dark.

Two fine sets of whiskers!

With a bit of a sweat on I thought it best to rest in the first swim for a while before trekking to my next swim. Although I didn't honestly expect a take I cast a bait in the edge while I supped a cup of flask tea and calmed down.

Half an hour later, and an hour after hooking that last fish, I was on my way to the swim where I had lost a fish on Tuesday. Unfortunately I spied an isotope wafting about on the far bank a few yards upstream, so retraced my steps some twenty yards and dropped the gear in a cosy little peg surrounded by balsam. Two baits went out, one close in and one a few yards out and upstream. The night was starting to turn cool. The rods were matted by a film of condensation, and my wooly hat was damp on top. My intention had been to stay on until two am, but an hour early I called it a night with no complaints.

Having had the satisfaction of catching a couple of decent fish doing things my way perhaps it's time to join the throng where the really big fish are supposed to live? Now the fish have lost their flabby, post-spawn condition and are in great nick I think I can safely say I've got my barbel head back on. You can always tell when that's the case - by the bucket of pellets that lives in the back of the car!

Accentuate the positive

2008-08-13T11:20:00.009+01:00

After yesterday's session I feel like the England cricket team trying to find hope for the future at the end of another series defeat. What started badly got worse - with a glimmer of hope (like a Flintoff century) in the middle.

The day started decidedly wet, so I went foraging in the supermarket in order to fend off impending starvation. While eating my lunch, after restocking the freezer, the rain eased and the day warmed up. This triggered a barbel fishing response in me. I packed my gear and hit the road. Driving through heavy showers I feared a damp session, but on arriving at the river August was behaving itself with sun shining on the ripe wheat fields, from a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.

With showers forecast I'd packed my brolly, making the trudge downstream hot and tiring with the extra weight and the burning (well, fairly warm) sun beating down on me. Beyond the obvious swims near the road those further down the river looked like they had seen few anglers in recent weeks, some from last season were completely overgrown and hidden by head high Himalayan balsam. On my way to the peg I fancied I threw a few pellets in a couple of the ones that were easily fishable.

On arrival it too hadn't seen many anglers' boots lately. The swim is underneath a willow and quite cramped, so I pushed in the rod rests, positioned my chair and set up the rods on the bank behind the swim. Once ready I cast one rod close in downstream, fishing a Tuff 1 on the hook. The second rod was to be cast across the river close to a bankside bush. That was the intention, but lead, bait and attached bag of pellets went in the branches. I managed to yank them straight back out and they ended up more or less where I wanted them.

I had just started on my second pork pie when the left hand rod, fishing across the river, started bouncing as something dragged the rig out of position. By the time I'd stuffed the remains of the pie in my mouth the debris was well downstream. and as I wound it in it continued kiting towards my other line. The culprit was an uprooted balsam plant. I removed it from both lines, cast out the near bank bait again and rebaited the other rod.

The next cast across the river dropped short. A new bag was attached for the recast which was heading straight for the bush until I stopped it with a jerk that caused the lead to eject from the paper clip. Somehow the hooklink parted too. After retackling I played safe, opting to drop the rig upstream, close in on a crease that had produced a fish for me last year. The underarm swing went well, but the line caught a trailing branch. No problem. Give the line a flick and it will come free. Or get more tangled...

The hook ended up buried in the branch, out of landing net reach, so I had to pull and see what would happen. Now, everywhere else I fish I use 30lb Power Pro as my mainline for barbel. On this small river I have been using mono for some unaccountable reason. Last season it didn't let me down, but I had respooled with slightly lighter line the other day. Nonetheless, 14lb should be enough to cope with any barbel that swims. Of course, I knew that pulling for a break would see the mainline to swivel knot being the weakest link if the hook wouldn't come free. Sure enough another lead went to a watery grave when the line did snap.

Retackling, yet again, the next cast was dropped short of the branch, very close in, and to my surprise a couple of line bites materialised. By now the rain had set in. I was sat in my waterproofs, under the willow, with my recently waterproofed brolly up the bank keeping my rucksack and stuff dry. The session had not started well.

Around seven thirty the rain stopped, signalling time for a move. The gear was soon in place in one of the swims I had baited, a swim that had been kind to me on a few occasions last season. Within fifteen minutes the upstream rod tap-tapped as if a chub was interested in the three pellet 'snake', then the baitrunner sprang into life as the tip pulled right down. A feisty little barbel then charged about under the rod end until it dived into the net. After rebaiting and recasting that rod I checked the downstream bait, only to find it attached to a waterlogged branch.

The pellet 'snake'

About ten o'clock I felt it was time for a final move to another baited swim. I picked up the upstream rod and it was snagged solid. The mono had no chance. I'd retackle when I got to the next swim. On picking up the downstream rod I found myself in a time warp. I thought it better to retackle both rods where I was to save unwanted flashing around of the head torch in the new swim. It was quarter to eleven when I eventually reached the last swim of the night, with midnight being my designated home time.

This swim is one I have had my eye on since last season, but never fished before. It looks good though with marginal cover and weed to mid-river. The pellet 'snake' was dropped in the margin downstream, and one and a half Tuff 1s cast out beyond the now invisible weedbed. I dragged the lead back across the gravel until it felt spongy, letting the bait, aided by the pellet bag, drift downstream and across towards me. The idea being to get the bait placed right by the outer edge of the weed fronds.

Another rain shower rolled in around eleven forty-five. A quick glance round the back of the brolly showed clearer skies not far away. I'd hang on until it faired off then pack up. Spot on midnight the mid-river rod top pulled over in a positive manner and I was leaning into a fish before the baitrunner had a chance to do its job. This felt a better fish, not powerful like a big fish, but certainly not a four pounder. With no snags to worry about I slackened off the drag a tad as the fish headed downstream under light pressure from the rod. So I have no idea why the line parted at that moment.

That was it. I'd had enough. What a nightmare. Bags packed and off home.

The odd thing is that I hadn't enjoyed my previous two barbel sessions of the season, and started out feeling pretty much the same about this one, but that lost fish has got me fired up to wreak revenge on the whiskery gits!

The negative of the session is that I had been a fool for using mono. I very nearly spooled up with braid, but thought I'd give mono another go - most other anglers seem to use it. They must be idiots...

The positives are rather straw like, in that I'm clutching at them as England do when a batsman makes fifty runs after a run of low scores but they still lose the match. I'd reproofed my brolly with Thompsons Waterseal a few weeks back, and it kept me dry. That was good. I'd tried the 'snake'. That worked. Most importantly I'd found another spot where barbel could be hooked, and there are a few more similar spots on the stretch - including a couple that I don't think see many baits.

The saga of the rings

2008-08-11T15:32:00.005+01:00

It started back in June when I thought I'd build myself three rods for long range bream fishing. They still sit unfinished, awaiting one ring each. I have just phoned to ask if there is any sign of the missing rings. Only to be told that there isn't, and (as I expected) there is no telling when they might arrive.

An internet trip to the US of A was in order - and hang the shipping expense. The only problem is that I spied some fancy wooden reel seats while I was looking through the Mudhole site (which means building myself some new rods to put them on) - but at least I might get the bream rods finished this year!

Thinning the herd

2008-08-09T11:40:00.006+01:00

Having just about convinced myself that the Interceptor 2 is my favourite close to medium tench/bream rod I have decided to offload my set of three 2lb Torrixes as I have three SS12-204 two-and-a-quarters if I need to fish at longer range or with heavier line. So the Torrixes are surplus to requirements.

They are built on matt brown blanks, fitted with Alconite rings and have had just one spring's fishing in 2007. They appeared a few times in my blog during that period.

A 2lb Torrix last year

New the rods would have sold for £205 each. There is a set of three (each tip and butt being marked with identifying dots) which I'm parting with for £390.00 including p&p. Sorry, but they must go as a set.

Now SOLD pending payment.

Egrets. I've seen a few.

2008-08-05T09:22:00.013+01:00

What an appalling blog title. Please don't blame me. They were making awful egret puns on Today on Radio Four the other week! However, I have seen a few white egrets over the last few years when I have been fishing the Trent, in both the upper and lower reaches. Until last night I had never seen one locally (in the North West), but just before dark one flew in to roost in the trees of the steep bank on the far side of the Ribble. I was spending three evenings a week on the Ribble a couple of years back and never saw an egret then. I tried to get a picture of the bird, but by the time I had sorted the camera to get a fast enough shutter speed it had gone deeper into the wood.

An egret yesterday

This was my first session back on the Ribble for almost two years, and it brought back to me what is great, and awful, about the river. The good points are the wildlife and the location. It is a nice place to be once you get higher up the valley. The bad points are that most of the swims involve a fair old hike, and when you get to them the banks are bloody awful. If it's not pebbly, it's sandy (the grit gets into everything), and all too often the bank slopes in such a way that getting a chair level is nigh on impossible. Flat grassy banks are something of a rarity. At least where there are fish to be caught. But that is all part and parcel of the topography of a spate river.

Spate rivers also go up and down like nobody's business. It takes very little rain on the fells for the river to start rising. It can rise rapidly too, a foot an hour is not uncommon, but it can drop just as quickly. Getting the timing spot on can make a big difference to success.

Last night the river looked in good form and was carrying some colour. The day had been sunny and it was a pleasant evening to be out. I didn't get set up until nine though,but had chub knocks immediately. Nothing major, but there were fish around. I wasn't happy with my swim choice, so after an hour I moved. The same thing happened, and with a few minutes of casting out a couple of Tuff1s, with a PVA stocking bag of dampened Hemp and Hali Crush on the hook, I got a typically fast chub bite. As is usual on the Ribble it didn't hook itself. Some days they do, but mostly they don't. This went on for every cast until the mist arrived.

The clear, starry, sky was ominous and sure enough mist was soon rising across the fields, over the water and along the valley. When it's like this the chances of barbel are reduced in my experience. I sat it out until quarter to one, but the loss of the second lead of the session made my mind up. I tramped back to the car glad that I had put my waterproof overtrousers on as the dew was thick on the vegetation.

The session got my barbel head firmly screwed back on, and I'd like to say that it was good to be back on the Ribble, but I'm not sure it was. The valley is a great place, and the river is somewhere to fish for a short session with the chance of a good fish, but my mind kept drifting to other rivers - with shorter walks and more comfortable swims!

Review - Okuma Epix Pro EPB30 Baitfeeder

2008-08-04T11:06:00.011+01:00

You may have seen a small black reel in a few of my perch fishing posts. That is the Epix Pro EPB30.

What really bugs me about some reel manufacturers is their insistence on using one reel body for three or more different 'sizes' of reel. I put 'sizes' in inverted commas because all they do is change the rotor and spool. I realise this is done on economic grounds, but if I want a reel with a small spool it is to use with fine lines on a light rod. So I don't want a large and heavy reel!

Okuma have understood that a reel should match the sort of rod it is to be used with and the 30 size Epix Pro Baitfeeder is perfectly proportioned. Even if you don't need the 'baitfeeder' feature this is a superb little reel for fishing with lines up to o.25mm/8lb. I guess you could go heavier, the gearing and drag is up to the task of playing large fish, but the spool size is too small for smooth casting with a thicker line in my opinion. I have two of these reels loaded with 0.20/5lb mono and find long (comparatively) casting is a doddle. I've even used one for a spot of float fishing.

The reel is supplied with two graphite spools, one of which is a shallow 'match' spool, and one a deep aluminium spool. The line lay is possibly not as good as on some reels, but is perfectly adequate. Not only do you get three spools, there are two handles supplied as well - a double and a single (my preference).

Internally there are some ten bearings, and it feels like there are, being as smooth as silk to wind and reassuringly 'solid'. Everything operates as it should and the clutch is smooth enough for anyone - although I still prefer to backwind when using light mono.

Initially I was a little sceptical about some of the plastic parts, but they have proved tough enough (although some of the chrome has worn off) as have the reels overall. For some reason line can, very occasionally, wrap around the drag knob on the front of the spool. But that is my only, very minor, niggle.

I like these reels so much that after a couple of seasons' use I have added a third EPB30 to my collection. Given the current price is well under £60 they are excellent value for money.