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.
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
A cracking day and some lovely pics !!!!
ReplyDeleteThanks Mick! It's nice to have finally had a really successful day to write about at last!
Deletesuch a well written, mouth watering article. I must give it a try.
ReplyDeleteThanks Peter, that's very kind! Writing about my angling experiences has definitely added a whole new dimension to my enjoyment of angling! Go for it!
DeleteA wonderful descriptive account of a magical day, congratulations on your pb Tim!
ReplyDeleteA huge thank you for your kind words and the congratulation Shaun! I'm glad you enjoyed!
DeleteSounds fantastic Tim, what a great day for yourselves , nice write up too. I haven't fished this stretch yet so am unsure as to it's accessibility, would you think it a necessity that a 4 x 4 be employed or could a standard FWD estate ( Passat ) be capable ? I'm a centre pin trotting fanatic and used to take Barbel from the Royalty when the maggot ban was lifted a few decades ago, the part that interests me in your tale is the concrete embankment stretch, which sounds fantastic for a day with caster and hemp.
ReplyDeleteHi there, a standard 2WD would be fine and a Passat isn't going to be too low. But it would need to be dry (or at least not VERY wet)! Let me know how you get on!
DeleteWell done you timed the weather just right I arrived on the day you fished for a week's holiday on the stretchjust downstream of you cold north wind set in didn't have a barbel all week
ReplyDeleteThank you! Sorry to hear that you didn't have any luck. At least it makes the next barbel all the more precious?
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