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