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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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Not packing up under a Barbel-shaped cloud
Best not to anger the river gods
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Splash-Splash-Shriek-Shriek-Chomp-Chomp
The disconcerting sound of an otter enjoying a la
carte opposite .
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Great write up. Well done!
ReplyDeleteThanks Adam!
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