THE LAST THROW OF THE DICE
Today was the last chance this season to capture my first Warwickshire Avon Barbel. The weather forecast was for colder weather coming in and I really didn't fancy spending five hours, standing up and long trotting in a cold Northerly, particularly as some light snow had been forecast as well. I decided that a JB Walker, kit-built Mk IV would serve to chuck out a feeder loaded with hemp, tares and casters so that if the weather really turned foul I could still operate from beneath my brolly.
It turned out to be a good choice. I got my first bait in the water by 6.30 and bites came immediately. Granted they looked a lot like Dace bites and when one or two trial strikes failed to hook anything I resigned myself to ten minute casts. I do thread a rubber caster up the shank of the hook just so that there some potential left if the small fish have nicked the real things off the hook but it was glaringly obvious once that had happened because the bites stopped. Rubber baits serve their purpose if they are used to add buoyancy to a baited hook or to keep a wriggling worm from working its way free but in my experience, as a temptation alone, they are almost useless. I did however find that sandwiching the real caster between a rubber version and a single dead maggot helped protect it and attracted more bites.
Surprisingly, it wasn't long before the first proper fish came along. One of those rattly bites was just different and my hand was already on the rod when it pulled down rather more purposefully. At 4-10, this Chub was a really nice start, I felt. Especially when a short while later an even bigger fish graced my net. This one weighed 4-13; not a five but heading that way at least. I did lose another nice one but even so, by 9.15 I had caught a couple of three pounders to go with them and things were looking very good.
Bites, however, dried up a bit after that and it wasn't until just after ten o clock that the tip stabbed down for the last time. I struck but missed and began winding in only to suddenly and belatedly, find myself attached to another good fish. This one had clearly given me a massive slack liner and as I laid into it I began to feel that this was going to be a bigger fish. It stayed deep as the bigger specimens tend to do but it wasn't until it passed close by the marginal reeds without trying to get into them that I began to wonder; could this be my long sought after Avon Barbel? The moment it forged past me and headed upstream, I knew and the rapid departure, against the clutch, of line from the spool merely confirmed as much. It was, if only it stayed on, going to be the fish that I had spent so much time pursuing.
It turned out to be a good choice. I got my first bait in the water by 6.30 and bites came immediately. Granted they looked a lot like Dace bites and when one or two trial strikes failed to hook anything I resigned myself to ten minute casts. I do thread a rubber caster up the shank of the hook just so that there some potential left if the small fish have nicked the real things off the hook but it was glaringly obvious once that had happened because the bites stopped. Rubber baits serve their purpose if they are used to add buoyancy to a baited hook or to keep a wriggling worm from working its way free but in my experience, as a temptation alone, they are almost useless. I did however find that sandwiching the real caster between a rubber version and a single dead maggot helped protect it and attracted more bites.
Surprisingly, it wasn't long before the first proper fish came along. One of those rattly bites was just different and my hand was already on the rod when it pulled down rather more purposefully. At 4-10, this Chub was a really nice start, I felt. Especially when a short while later an even bigger fish graced my net. This one weighed 4-13; not a five but heading that way at least. I did lose another nice one but even so, by 9.15 I had caught a couple of three pounders to go with them and things were looking very good.
Bites, however, dried up a bit after that and it wasn't until just after ten o clock that the tip stabbed down for the last time. I struck but missed and began winding in only to suddenly and belatedly, find myself attached to another good fish. This one had clearly given me a massive slack liner and as I laid into it I began to feel that this was going to be a bigger fish. It stayed deep as the bigger specimens tend to do but it wasn't until it passed close by the marginal reeds without trying to get into them that I began to wonder; could this be my long sought after Avon Barbel? The moment it forged past me and headed upstream, I knew and the rapid departure, against the clutch, of line from the spool merely confirmed as much. It was, if only it stayed on, going to be the fish that I had spent so much time pursuing.
Mk IV carp rods may bend more than modern carbon fibre sticks, designed for casting rather than playing fish, but they exhibit a lot of persuasive strength, insisting firmly but fairly that the fish should come to the net. At last I could sit back and really enjoy the moment. It looked big in the water but I knew as soon as I lifted the net that it wasn't going beat my PB although it was close. It was a glorious end to the river season for me all the same; a 7-7 Barbel from my very last bite.
Happy days, at least for the time being, but I now have three months of frustration and planning to endure before I can target my second and hopefully bigger Barbel from this wonderful river.
Happy days indeed
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