Photo Diary - Winter on the Droitwich Barge Canal

To me, the UK's waterways are one of it's hidden gems and for as long as I can remember I've simply enjoyed being on, in or by water. If it were down to me the entire UK waterscape would be protected as part of a huge Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. The waterscape is a gift that keeps on giving, with such a dynamic aesthetic; changing dramatically with the seasons and weather but also subtly on a daily basis, with fluctuations in daylight, weather and wildlife. No two walks along the same watercourse are ever the same. So as part of a new photo-journalism series I've decided to try and capture the beauty of the UK waterscape. Punctuating the many occasions I can't make it out with a rod, I'll be out trying to capture the ever-changing water environment. Whilst I'm very much an amateur photographer, I hope you enjoy spending a little time on the bank through the lens of my camera!

It would have been easy to start this series with a trip to the majestic River Wye in Autumn, but rather I wanted to choose a venue that was unremarkable and as accessible as possible. So on one of the few frosty mornings we've had the pleasure of this winter, I headed out to Porter's Mill, situated on the Droitwich Barge Canal. Semi-rural and running almost parallel to the River Salwarpe, I planned to be out for no more than an hour, door to door, to to capture it's secrets... Enjoy!

  

With mile upon mile of accessible towpath, canals are much underrated beauty spots

Winter - those cold crisp mornings sugar coat everything they touch...

Our Subject - The Droitwich Barge Canal

Bankside rushes, haven to fish and birds alike

Photography is more accessible than ever - this shot taken on an iPhone rather than an SLR  

A perfect peg for perch?

Teasel's - at their best when withered husks

Rosehips - by this time as cold as I was!

Anyone for a canal chub?

I hope you've enjoyed this brief photo-diary and perhaps that it will inspire a few of you to get out with your own cameras in the new year... with or without your rods! If you've enjoyed, please leave a comment and I'll be sure to make plenty of similar posts! Happy New Year all!

A Reward for Madness

Fish-on... All the motivation you should need to beat the elements this winter!

With a day’s fishing firmly penciled in on the calendar for Sunday 9^th, I had been eagerly watching Met Office forecasts and levels for each of the Rivers Severn, Teme and Wye. I had no particular preference and with heavy rain forecast in the week ahead it would clearly come down to conditions on the day. By Sunday morning the Wye was ready to burst its banks and the Teme resembled a raging torrent, leaving only the Severn as a viable option. A previous floodwater session had seen me on the bank at Winterdyne with levels of 2.1m, a figure I now use as a benchmark for the river licking the towpath. A morning check showed the river to be above this at 2.3m, from a resting level of 0.5m barely a week before. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered cancelling, but was reluctant to lose a day on the bank at such a busy time of year. ‘Fortune favours the brave’ I thought… and leapt out of bed to forage in the cold for tea.

Musing my options over an early morning brew, I eventually decided on the BAA stretch at Northwood. The first swim above the old railway stanchions has been kind to me in the past, especially in floodwater conditions and the venue was close enough to home to abort if the river conditions turned out to be either too dangerous or impossible to fish.

Ready for all eventualities - and a long walk!

Arriving for 8 am, I was pleased to find no other anglers in the car park and the river not in the field! I decided to use a trolley for the couple of hundred metre walk down to the river and despite momentarily stranding myself in a shallow flooded section of field, soon enough arrived at my peg. The river had entirely engulfed the existing peg and was now level with the approaching bank. The base of the peg from which anglers would usually fish would provide a clear platform on which I would present a bed of bait. Ten minutes casting about with just a lead was time well spent to get a locate the embankment and get a sense of the peg. To my surprise the sheltered water extended to some 30 yards from the bank on account of a large fallen tree above the next peg along. Being able to hold bottom on the edge of this flow with a 4oz weight was a big confidence boost and would allow me to fish a second rod and therefore experiment more widely with bait options.

Smelly baits - don't be shy in floodwater

I’ve always found simple approaches best in cold floodwater conditions, when water colour and flow rules out delicate visible baits such as maggots. Rather I prefer highly-scented baits, with a preference for boilies over pellets in winter. That said, barbel see so may pellets all year round, I always include them in my loose feed together with hemp to keep the fish grubbing around.

With plenty of visible snags and even more beneath the surface, my tackle choice would need to take no prisoners. Selecting rods with powerful blanks would allow me to bully fish away from snags if needed. Mainline and hooklength were stepped up, with high abrasion resistance and frayed tensile strength critical. Daiwa sensor is my go-to line for these occasions and I have absolute confidence in it. Short 3ft leaders would reduce snagging, and Size 8 and 10 Drennan Specialist hooks would be matched to larger and smaller baits respectively. Finally, trimmed down anti-eject sleeves would increase the potential for hook-ups. I would experiment with smaller change baits down the edge and fish a paste-wrapped 21mm krill boilie out in front.

The first hour would see me casting out regularly to build confidence that areas were snag-free, feeding loose offerings with each cast. Shortly after 10, I mistakenly over-cast the outward rod and watched it bounce round beyond the edge of a near bank tree. I entirely expected it to be snagged, but nevertheless set the baitrunner to allow me to take some photographs of the morning sun bathing the river stanchions in a beautiful pale yellow light.

Any moment... 

The decision to leave that rod in proved decisive, with the rod hooping over shortly afterwards. Lifting into the fish, I felt a heavy resistance but there was no characteristic run to indicate a barbel. Expecting a chub to dive into the bankside snags I put a deep bend in the rod with the only response being the spinning of the tightly set clutch. For those first minutes the fish appeared content to slowly plod around the depths, undisturbed by my attempts to intervene. Marking a sudden change in proceedings, the fish made a bee-line for the flow and on finding it turned with the current and bolted downstream. By the time the clutch finished screaming the fish was well downstream of the stanchions. Fortunately the fish was also mid-river and clear of the sharp-edged stone columns. stayed so until after it was back upstream of the sharp edged stone columns. Applying consistent pressure to gradually make ground on the fish, I managed to bring it back upstream and shortly after get the fish under the rod tip. However, the fish was still sat deep amongst an array of bankside snags and despite applying far more pressure than I usually would at this point in proceedings, the fish still felt firmly in control of our tussle.

Eventually, the fish relented to the pressure and came up towards the surface. The moment the lead became visible the fish kited upstream and across a shallow sunken branch. Everything went solid. I kept the pressure on for a moment… Nothing. I held firm, feeling for any feedback that fish was still present… Nothing. My heart sank. The amount of pressure the fish could withstand even in the slack water indicated the fish was better-than-average. I slackened everything off... Sometimes in doing so, the fish will swim itself free of the snag by pulling in the opposite direction… Nothing. Despondent, I moved as far in the opposite direction as the floodwater would allow and with one last gambit leaned hard into the snag. With the rod bent double, I was waiting for the inevitable ‘ping’ of hooklength separating from mainline. With everything suddenly giving, the rod swept bank and I almost fell up the bank. Expecting to have broken the hooklength, I was both surprised and astonished when the rod tugged savagely back towards the river and the barbel, still connected, made one last thunderous run for freedom. Loosening the clutch as little as I dared, I let the fish steam out and then gradually played it back, quickly slipping the net under the fish at the first opportunity.

As she slipped into the net, she looked a good eight or perhaps a nine but it was only as the fish rolled onto her side in the net that I got a true impression of the fishes size. The fish was nearly 6” deep and extremely broad across the belly. A sharp-eyed few of you will have noticed my blog target to catch a 10lb barbel, less still will know that since I began fishing rivers all those years ago, I’ve never managed to catch a double figure barbel. Along the way there have been a handful of fish that I thought might tip the scales, only to fall short. In the end, it was a fish that I had absolutely no doubt in that broke that revered threshold. After a brief rest in the net, I transferred her to a sling and with the scales zeroed, atched the dial spin and settle on 10lb 10oz. I'd finally done it! With the banks muddy and slippy, I set up a go-pro on the bank to capture some footage of the fish before returning her to the river from whence she came and sat back to absorb the moment, grinning from ear to ear.

10'10 - My first double-figure barbel!

Winter-form - look at that belly!

It was some ten minutes before I could bring myself to cast my rods back in. The rest of the day was entirely unproductive despite trying smaller baits and five different swims later in the afternoon. It didn’t matter one bit though, I’d had my reward for the madness of being out on the bank in such conditions and fortune certainly does seem to favour the brave.

Somewhere under a Rainbow

There are few settings that put me quite as at peace as the River Wye.  Beautiful, tranquil and some of the best barbel water anywhere in the country, the perfect venue for some much needed downtime.  My partner for the day would be Nick Fisher and a booking via the WUF would allow us to have the beat to ourselves undisturbed.  Being a Friday in late October, we were hopeful of avoiding a circus of Kayaks and blissfully we weren’t to see a single boat all day.

Similar to a child at Christmas, I never sleep particularly well the night before fishing.  I quietly manage to get over-excited, my mind busy with tactics, approaches, hopes and dreams.  Rising a little after six, I for once managed to leave on time, heading out into the cold rainy darkness only to realize ten minutes down the road I had left my bag of warm and wet weather clothing by the door.  Having returned and restarted the journey, it was a little after dawn when I arrived in the Wye Valley.

Greeting Nick in the farmyard, we decanted my gear into his 4x4 and made our way through the series of farm gates and electric fences down to the river. It was not quite the dawn start I had hoped for, but with still a hint of twilight remaining it wasn’t exactly a late start and there was still plenty of morning to go at.

Dawn on the Wye - worth an early start

Directly downslope of the field gate is the swim most fished on this beat.  It has spectacular views upstream for almost a mile of river and is well worth an early arrival to watch wisps of mist rising up from the crisp turbulent water.  Downstream the view is equally picturesque, with the river framed by a salmon croy to the left-hand bank, a mature tree to the right and the hillside forestry of the Wye Valley beyond.  The swim is as compelling as the scenery, with a concrete walkway at the near bank constraining the flow, causing the river to narrow and deepen to a couple of metres in depth.  The flow is fast with banks of streamer weed directly upstream, a gravel bottom and a deep pool directly downstream.  A little time spent finding the snag-free gravel patches is well invested but with a little too much flow on, this would not be our swim for today.  Whilst it’s always a banker for a barbel or two, my judgement was that the barbel would likely be holed up in greater numbers elsewhere.

Introducing a few free offerings to build the fish’s confidence with a view to returning later if our first-choice swim didn’t produce, we made our way upstream to the deep slower water towards the top of the beat.  We set up at the top of a steep grass embankment, the river below a dark beckoning calmness punctuated by occasional passing golden leaves.  The slope was wet and slippery, but a small terrace half way down gave a platform from which to, hopefully, play and land the fish between two narrow openings through the bankside bracken.

We planned to keep the approach simple. 60g cage feeders packed with crushed halibut’n’hemp, pellets, hemp and sweetcorn.  4ft leaders terminated with size 10 wide gape hooks, with varying sized pellets from 8 – 14 mm.  Pellets would be introduced by catapult in order to keep a steady flow of bait to tempt the fish from downstream.

Settling in, it was good to take some time to relax and catch up with Nick supplemented by the sizzling sound and scent of bacon on a bankside stove.

Bacon sarnies on a cold morning - worth the 'weight'

It was shortly before 10 am by the time of the first take.  A short thud followed by a determined shake of Nick’s quiver tip and he had connected with the first fish of the day.  Trialing a new reel, the clutch required a little adjustment and the fish had taken some 30 yards of line before the fish was fully under control.  There was little doubt about the fish being a barbel, but it is always a pleasure to be greeted by that first flash of flank, autumnal browns and golds as the fish emerges from the watery depths.  A fin perfect Wye barbel, weighing an ounce under 8lb.

No blanks today! My favourite autumnal colours

With Nick having banked the first of our quarry for the day, I was quickly starting to feel somewhat jealous, but my nerves were settled with two fish of around 5lb in quick succession barely an hour later.  Not big fish by any means, but more than welcome to put that ‘blank-anxiety’ at bay.

4lb 9oz and 5lb 2oz - a great start to the day

  

By now, the weather had started to improve and the autumnal banks were bathed in sunshine.  So far, each round of fish had come about an hour apart, briefly preceded by debate about whether to return to the downstream swim.  And so it continued.  This time it was the gentlest of plucks on Nick’s otherwise static quivertip, followed by a pause and then a determined pull.  This particular fish made very little complaint whilst out in the flow, coming to the bank in a more chub-like fashion.  Catching the Ghillie, who was busy photographing the action, somewhat unawares it took me a moment to reach for the net which had been left upon the bank above.  By the time I had returned and offered the net up to the fish it had woken from its apparent slumber – tearing off from the bank as if it had only just been hooked.  It was some five minutes before the fish would return to be netted at the second time of asking.  The fish weighed a very respectable 7 lb 7 oz, somewhere around average for Autumn fish on this beat.

Biding it's time - check out those paddles!

Notably, all fish so far had been taken on single 8mm pellets or small elips, with not so much as a tug on the rods fished with larger baits.  It’s funny just how fussy barbel can be and I can’t help but wonder whether fishing solely large baits would have resulted in fewer fish banked thus far.

With the afternoon ticking away, we finally took the decision to stray down beat to the swim we had inspected on arrival.  Nick fished the upstream position, whilst I fished under the rod tip against the near bank, a location I’d picked up larger barbel from in the past.  It was mere minutes before the first and only take from the swim.  Seemingly a passing snag,  Nick’s rod slowly and smoothly arched over from tip to butt, with Nick lifting into what he had originally assumed was a nuisance branch.  To his surprise the ‘branch’ swiftly took off downstream in the fast-paced water.  Fish in this swim always give a tremendous fight on account of the quick deep water right under the bank and this was no exception.  There was actually a point where I think Nick was considering ‘calling it a draw’ or at least so I thought from his exasperated bleating about how much his arm ached.  Eventually Nick made enough ground to catch a first glimpse of his quarry.  The fish appeared long and broad from the burnished gold pattern shimmering up from the depths.  Yet the fish was not done by a long shot. We’ve all had those battles with barbel that simply won’t give up and this particular fish just would not roll into the net.  Each and every time the fish was brought to the surface in the well oxygenated current, it would simply turn with a splash and head back off downstream.  Some ten minutes later, Nick appeared very relieved to see the net slipped under his capture.  At 8lb 15 oz it was Nick’s second largest ever barbel and a fish which might have run close to double figures had it had more breadth across the shoulders.

First glimpse...

The swim was only given another ten minutes, as ominous looking dark clouds began to sweep across the river.  Mindful that the bulk of our gear had been left at our original swim without a brolly, we introduced a little more bait for later and scarpered back upstream not quite in time to get brollies up and our gear thrown underneath them.

The Nothing - making a comeback after Never Ending Story...

What followed, I wouldn’t have believed had I not witnessed it first-hand.  As the heavy clouds passed on, a full berth rainbow lit up the sky.  To my amazement, the end of the rainbow was dropping down into the river, some 30 yards downstream and a few metres from the far bank.

With a view like that - who minds rain?

Unable to resist, I loaded a feeder and cast, landing the feeder within a yard of the end of the rainbow.  A second rainbow had since formed outside of the first and I busied myself taking photographs.  Ten minutes later and with the rainbow still painting the spot, my rod arched over and took off over the top of the rest.  Managing to catch the butt just before my trusty Greys Prodigy could wave me a fond farewell, I lifted into the fish which took of rapidly downstream.  Three separate times I tightened the clutch until I daren’t tighten it a click further and not once did it have a moments impact on that first thunderous run.  After perhaps 20 seconds that seemed like an eternity of the fish spooling off line, I managed to turn the fish and it kited from the far bank to mid-river. Gradually I began to make ground, with a little toing and froing for supremacy until the fish was level with me.  With the sun now on the water I was able to see the fish for the first time and watched as it buried its head into a rack of streamer weed.  Instinctively I stepped downstream to avoid the line snagging through the curtain of weed.  The upper hand only lasted a moment as the fish took advantage of my downstream position, turning and bolting down the near side bank.  By now under an overhanging tree, with ample nearside vegetation to dive into on the fishes route back upstream I stepped downstream towards the fish once more, settling in a second small gap in the bracken where I would hope to land her.  As I brought her under the rod tip it was apparent that she was a good fish, both long and thick set.  I looked down in horror… my chosen harbor was occupied by a sunken tree branch.  Twice the fish rolled over it, I felt the line catch and grate across the rigid wood with my heart in my mouth.  And yet it didn’t snag.  The fish didn’t roll behind and under the branch.  Each time she chose to bolt out and away back to the flow until one final time I managed to slip the net under her, my bar of gold from the end of the rainbow.

I secured the net and we both took the opportunity to take a rest, giving the fish the recovery time that her fight both warranted and deserved.  With the rainbow faded away into nothing as if it had given up its secret, and the sky clearing, I lifted the net.  The weight was both apparent at the lifting and even more so as I lay her on the unhooking mat.  She was as broad across the shoulders as any barbel I had ever caught. 

8lb 6 oz was the weight to beat, a modest weight to many but a personal best to me.  The spring loaded... the needle dialed... 9lb 7 oz.  There are no perfect stories, else perhaps that needle might have fallen to not an ounce less than 10lb and my first double, but I was more than happy to take a personal best given up to me by the barbel gods from the end of the rainbow.  

Seek the end of the rainbow - and find a bar of gold...

...all 9lb 7oz of it

Chuffed to bits with a PB - I'll be back in winter when she's carrying another 9oz!

Three more fish followed as the afternoon progressed, each around the 5-6 lb mark.  The third fish tore off even as I was landing the second for my first ever double hook-up.  Unsure of the etiquette of whose fish this should be with Nick stepping across to hook the fish on my rod, we opted to share the fight, Nick starting and finishing it, with me taking a section in the middle.

Barbel-a-plenty

With light now beginning to fade we decided to trade a likely couple of final fish in the deeper water for a chance of a barbel on the float from the lower end of the beat.  In reality we left it a little later than we should have and it was a struggle to track the float in the fading light.  A final fish was not to be, but no matter – it had been a memorable day amongst the seductive and idyllic surroundings of the magical River Wye.

The 'pin  - still awaiting that first float fished barbel...

Are you interested in fishing this beat? If so, tickets for 'White House' can be bought from the Wye and Usk Foundation. Accommodation is available on the neighboring farm, just a two minute walk from the river in the form of five fabulous tipis situated in an apple orchard with beds, linen and BBQ/firepit. Booking and further information can be found here:

https://whitehouseonwye.co.uk/glamping-and-fishing

60 Second Blog Roll - Revisiting the Swale

As part of my work trip to the North East I had intended to follow up my northbound Swale session with a trip to the Wear and then visit the Wharfe on the return journey South.  However, after speaking with a local tackle shop and angling association I was surprised to learn that there isn’t a single day ticket beat on the Wear.  There is apparently a free stretch in Durham at Ferrens Road, but there seems to be conflicting information online regarding whether fishing is prohibited by a local sea trout by-law.  I dropped an email to the local Angling Association with a hope of coercing them to make an exception and allow a visiting southerner a day ticket on their syndicate water, but  without success.  I understand their position entirely, but I do think it's a real shame if the information is correct and syndicates have been allowed to control an entire river without offering day ticket availability.  I could have perhaps pursued a trip on the Tyne or traveled further afield to the Tees, but opted instead to settle into a pub and watch Villa somehow fail to beat Brentford.

My final day in the northeast took longer than expected, leaving me a little short on time to make the extra distance to the Wharfe and scout out a peg or two at Boston Spa.  The Swale at Cundall Lodge was slightly closer and familiarity meant I could find a peg quickly and maximize time with a wet line.
Arriving at 6 pm with the weather blowing a gale and an ominously dark cloud rapidly approaching, I settled into a peg as quickly as possible.  I just managed to get a brolly up and the vitals underneath it before the heavens opened.  I don’t think you’ll see a single barbel fisherman complaining about rain at the moment and it was a welcome sight.  What’s surprising is how little impact these rains are having on levels and I suspect we’ll need something altogether more sustained before we start to see a meaningful rise in levels.

I never felt quite settled in my chosen peg, feeling visible and exposed with little cover on the bank.  So with an hour and a half gone and not so much as a pluck, I took the decision to move peg to the one I had caught barbel from two night before.  Baiting up with pellet I once again cast out my feeders and settled in. In peaceful surroundings it seemed the perfect environment to finish writing up my previous visit for the blog.

In search of inspiration - or any excuse!

It was only fifteen minutes before the first and only take of the session.  A sharp knock, followed by a drop-back on the rod.  Ordinarily I’d have struck the first take, but with laptop in hand I wasn’t quick enough.  After tossing my laptop to the ground I reeled into the slack and struck... delighted to feel that unmistakable sensation of a fish pulling back.

She put up a spirited fight, but never felt like a fish with any real power.  She was all pace and spirit, tearing around the swim, but easily stopped when putting a bend into the butt section.  Slipping the net under a fish of around a couple of pounds, there was no need to find the scales and after a quick couple of net photo’s whilst she rested the fish was returned.  It was interesting to see just how much colour the peat adds to the water on the Swale, with a considerable difference in shade between the fish at the surface and resting in a foot of depth. 

Resting quarry, just under the surface and tinged with peat at 1ft under the surface.

There were to be no further takes before the sun went down and I had promised myself an early finish before a long drive in the morning.  However, the omen of a perfectly barbel-shaped cloud approaching the moon was too good to refuse and I cast out for one last half-hour into the darkness.

Not packing up under a Barbel-shaped cloud

Best not to anger the river gods

Alas, shortly afterwards it became apparent that the cloud was more likely an apparition of a barbel making it’s way to the great streamer-weed in the sky.  With considerably more splashing than would be accounted for by a leaping fish, accompanied by the unmistakable shriek of an excited otter, the silence was broken.  The subsequent wet-munching sound left me in no doubt that the otter was having more success than me, and I decided to call it a day.  One small barbel was hardly prolific, but I’ve always considered any trip with barbel landed to be a success and it maintained my 100% record on the Swale!

Splash-Splash-Shriek-Shriek-Chomp-Chomp

The disconcerting sound of an otter enjoying a la carte opposite .

A Trip of Firsts – The River Swale

For a while now I've been meaning to productively use time away with work to address work life balance and push my boundaries by fishing new rivers.  With conditions finally improving and water temperatures down to around the 18 degree mark I felt it was safe to make a return to the banks.  A mid-week site visit in the northeast provided an opportunity to visit the River Swale, conveniently located just an hour south of my destination.  With the very best of support from the Facebook Barbel forums I was put onto Cundall Lodge, a convenient day-ticket fishery not far from the A1(M).  The trip would not only be my first outing of the season and first ever experience of the Swale, but also an opportunity of a first barbel on the new Torrix (bought late last year) and Youngs ‘pin (bought late last week!).  All in all, my mouth was watering at the thought of the trip and hopefully the barbel would be in the mood to follow suit. 

Shiny kit syndrome
My 2^nd hand Youngs Purist II CL

Cundall Lodge Farm 
A short jaunt off the A1M

An early and hectic morning gave me enough time to clear the decks, and I was away for midday, arriving at the fishery for just gone 3pm.  The day ticket deposit box was easily located before making my way down through the field tracks to the river.

A quick drive of the beat led me onto a deeper section with a little flow.  I’d received a decent brief from one of the regulars (thank you James!), which helped enormously on a tight timeframe, but all in all it appears that barbel turn up along the entire stretch.  It's worth noting that the driving tracks are precariously close in places to the steep sided banks and the riverwards tilt of the flood bank does nothing to improve the experience! As such, I'd be inclined to avoid the top half of the stretch in particularly wet weather.

The River Swale – steep banked, peaty and quintessentially pretty

I began with 60g feeders, filled with halibut’n’hemp groundbait, hemp, corn and pellet in order to get some bait down.  I figured with the whole beat looking so inviting, the barbel were likely nomadic and would need drawing into the swim.

Frustratingly, I was to miss the first take, a violent chub-like shaking of the rod tip. Having forgotten that I’d set the baitrunner, I struck into a tensionless scream of spool.  With the coming hour passing without an opportunity to redeem myself, I was already hoping my chance hadn’t passed.  Without a fish in the first hour and a half I was also wondering whether the clatter of a large feeder on such a small river was counterproductive.

At just before 6pm and shortly after a change to tiny 20g Drennan feeders, I received one of those takes that you just can’t miss.  No tap-tap, not even a 2ft twitch, just the rod bending double into a full-throttled run.  It’s fair to say that my first take on the ‘pin scared me half to death.  With barely 10ft of line between rod and fish, the ratchet roared as the caged spool span in earnest.  A first barbel on the ‘pin… a first on the Torrix… a first on the Swale. Hopefully...

My first impression was that this fish was heavy, whether as a result of rod action, controlling the fish with thumb on spool or the depth of the fish’s watery lair, there was no ground to be made.  On three separate occasions the fish tore off upstream – something I’ve always held as a sign of a better stamp of fish.  My mind was racing. Perhaps it was a carp.  Maybe, just maybe it was a double.  I knew the Swale contained hidden snags and with 14lb line I was keeping up the pressure.  My arm was beginning to ache.  For as long a time as I can remember, I felt nervous.  When the fish broke surface it was a tough call on weight.  The fish was certainly thick-set, not a bit like the long lean summer fish on the Wye.  Soon enough, the net was slipped under the subdued fish, a fish of firsts.

If the shorter-than-usual blank and terrible 'pin casting were a hindrance in my inexperienced hands, the Torrix and ‘pin were a fabulous combination in the fight, seemingly coming to life the moment the battle ensued.  With the Torrix’s soft through action and power where it counted married with the direct undiluted contact of pin with fish, there are few tussels with barbel I have enjoyed more.

It took all of my restraint to leave that net in the water and give the fish a good rest before it would be weighed, which I still hadn’t manage to gauge in the peat-tinted water.

Resting a barbel – allow them to recover before removing and before releasing

Alas, a hat-trick of firsts was not to become four and I would have to wait until another day to taste my first double figure barbel.  She weighed a respectable 8’0 and a default personal best for the Swale.  With the very briefest of photo’s, she was rested once more until fighting fit before being released into the deep weedy channel beyond the flag iris.

8’0 – and sporting a fight worthy of any double figure fish

A little overwhelmed I took a moment to walk the bank and have a breather.  Beautiful scenery, a near-bank kingfisher and all manner of insect life enjoying the bankside vegetation, the Swale is one of those effortlessly beautiful rivers.  A river to savour, to be enjoyed irrespective of catching.

Wildlife Spot of the Day – a Ladybiird Pupa

Truly made up with my first barbel from the Swale, it was with great sadness that my next siting of one of it's whiskered residents was to see one floating past me downstream . At first I thought this fish had been caught just upstream, but on closer inspection of the photographs the fish looks bloated, suggesting it had been dead at least a little while.  The water temperature had lowered considerably in recent weeks, which had informed my decision to return to the banks.  I now found myself questioning my rationale.  Yet the fish I had caught and returned had not struggled in the slightest. It was still lively as I landed it and had all but tried to drag the (tethered) landing net in before it was returned.  I’m sorry to say that in my judgement this particular barbel is likely to have befallen poor handling practices and it should re-emphasize the importance of properly resting barbel before returning them.

Distressing viewing – one dead barbel is one too many

Returning to fishing, I took the opportunity to re-position my downstream rod, casting further downstream to the shadow of an overhanging tree.  Another hour or so passed before I was stumbled upon by another member of the Facebook barbel forums.  He too had never fished the Swale and was looking to target the river whilst travelling for work.  Not wanting to disturb any barbel that were on the prowl by shouting up the steep bank, I made my way to the top and began chatting about the beat and the little experience I had of it.  I had removed the Torrix and ‘pin but left the downstream rod in place on a baitrunner and my back was turned to the river when it howled off.  The fish must have taken some 20 yards by the time I’d scuttled down the bank and got it back under control.  Thank heavens for baitrunners. The fish was a touch smaller at 7’10 but nonetheless gave a good account of itself.  Notably it was a rich bronze colour, with deep brown gill plates – presumably an effect of living in a peaty river.  I can’t be sure, but I think this might just have been the prettiest barbel to ever have graced my net.  With the same resting protocol followed, I opted for only the briefest of snapshots with my phone as I unhooked, weighed and returned the fish to the water within twenty seconds.  After a further rest, she was again lively and both the fish and I had confidence in a return to the flow.

7'10 - and one of the most beautiful barbel I've ever caught

With a couple of hours left of the session I tried a few more subtle rig and bait changes, with the only success being a chub just shy of 4lb.  A long fish with a head like a staffy and a cavernous mouth even by chub proportions, a brute of the future perhaps.  In typical chub-like fashion, the fish gave me much trouble diving for the weed in 8ft of bankside depth, but with a little fortune and some encouragement eventually pulled free from the snags and was promptly photographed and returned.

3’12 – a brute of the future

Leaving an hour after dark, I was glad to be staying in a nearby bed and breakfast, The Oak Tree in at Helperby.  On arrival, they had kindly arranged a delicious deli-board, chunky hand-cut chips and a pint of black-sheep, long after the kitchen had closed.  Between that and the jacuzzi bath, I couldn't have wished for a better base to return to and welcome respite from a long albeit enjoyable day.

I’ll leave you with some of the photo’s I took into the evening, including a nod to the fantastic ale (or bitter in this case) that comes from the Black Sheep Brewery.

Hoping for one last twitch

The magic hour – for fishing and photography alike

Dusk – a great time for barbel

Cundall Lodge Farm –sweeping bends and overhanging willows

Yorkshire’s Ale – almost as good as it’s fishing