Trying out the Grenfell Tower raffle Merlin
Posted: Wed Aug 30, 2017 10:03 am
I've always known I have hidden shallows, but I was a bit shocked at how quickly the sight of carp and barbel doing the "Nyaa, Nyaa, Can't Catch Me" dance in the shallows at my feet banished the sombre mood I'd been in on the drive to the river, reflecting on the tragedy that had led to the Merlin's and my paths crossing, but there they were, flaunting and taunting, and the old, predatory lizard-brain hit the "Boost" button...
So it was that I was shaking as I moved my box back a few feet and began to bait the swim and assemble the tackle.
Two blessings from outrageous fortune have come my way lately, The Merlin and the Conquest that member Rod put up as a prize in an anagram competition a while back; I couldn't really use one with out the other, so I'd loaded the reel up with six-pound line (the recommended maximum for the rod) and was treated to the Merlin's first surprise: the best reel-bands I've ever met. I don't know what it is, their inner geometry, the resilience of the metal used, possibly the quality of the cork handle, but I've never had a reel gripped so securely (I'd always assumed that pausing mid-fight to re-set the things was an integral part of the excitement of traditional angling!) by a pair of sliding bands. Six-pound string was pushing one's luck on this little river, but at least I'd be able to focus on not getting it broken. Float bands, shot, leger stop, and quick-change bead were all threaded on (spot the mistake), a size 12 to six-pound hook was attached, baited with a couple of tares and lowered into the mass of scaly dancers who were tearing up the silt at my feet, and who promptly spooked off.
Ok, it's their job. Distract the angler so that the others can get a bit of kip. Received wisdom is that one ignores them and ledgers as close to the far bank rushes as possible; but where's the fun in that? Back they came, and ignored the bit of bread that now awaited them; this ruse has worked before, but the shallows are paved with gudgeon who will whittle the bait away, so it has to work quickly or not at all.
Hmm.
Plan "C" - a third of a mussel, swum just beyond the slack. A bob of the float, a tug at the already tight line, and in came a four-ounce perch, foul-hooked near the tail. Doesn't count. While I was unhooking it without getting jabbed or sliced by Perchie's sharp bits, I had forgotten the Conquest's vice, and it reminded me with a massive bird's-nest when I returned my attention to it; sort that requires the drum be removed and the line peeled off sideways, alternating sides between pulls so as not to accumulate twist. I think there were seven of the original hundred turns of line left on the spool when I finally reached the bit that hadn't contributed to the tangle...
Still it all helps "rest the swim", doesn't it.
Er, no.
The dancers had gone into Stealth Mode, all except for the carp, who know a pillock when they see one, so baits dropped under the rod-top were ignored, as was any bait run down the middle or near the far side.
After an hour or so of this, I began to think in terms of legering. (
)
At this point, I spotted the mistake: no swivel. Oh, bother. Oh, pee, po, belly, bum, drawers*. And worse.
I threaded a few bits of wet bread up the hook and swung it downstream, where I could just see the float, but the bait was round the corner of the bankside reeds, and started to ferret about for a clip-swivel.
Bzz-zz-zz. Oh, heavens, that's the reel... Brake into a running fish, and off she goes!
I did try to take a shot of the rod's action curve, but I'm no "Badger1" and the results were useless. Imagine a fine tip, straightened out along the tight line, then the power curve building up, then fading again as the powerful butt asserts itself... Lovely.
So, ten past five and I have a barbel to report!
Of course, his selfless gesture was planned to make me forget about legering...
Fifteen minutes later, a repeat performance came to an abrupt end when the spade-end hook shed its whipping; most vexing, as that had been tied at leisure and should have been fine. Oh, well, own silly fault.
On went a Dunlop size eight on six-pound line. These are amazing value; sharp,strong,and with a never-gonna-let-you-go curve, they seem the ideal barbel hook... priced at £1.99 for a box of forty-eight and reduced to half that.
Onto that went a mussel.
Nuffin'. Tried to the left, to the right, running through, laying on... forty minutes of nada, save for the bubble-streams of the stealthy ex-dancers snurfing my ground-bait. Finally, I poked the bait as close against the right-hand, upstream corner of the rushes as I could get it. This was, on reflection, a stupid thing to do, as it was where the carp love to feed, and if one of them had slipped up, it would not have ended well. Fortunately, it was a chub of about 2 1/2 pounds that took it, and the Merlin had no difficulty in persuading that out of trouble.
At half-past six, something gave a screeching bite on bread; I picked up the rod and the hook pulled out. Most odd.
Twenty minutes later, barbel number two took a bit of bread, round the downstream corner of the slack.
Then everything wend dead for just over an hour. This often happens, the water colours and speeds up, and rather more leaves and twigs come down, and the fish do a moody. I wonder if up at the sewage works they've raked the screens and turned some outsized tap on?
I realised that I couldn't risk six-pound line once darkness fell; even modest barbel are capable of flattening the rod and snapping eight-pound stuff, and we usually use ten. Just because you've got ten-pound line on, you don't have to pull ten pounds, especially not with the tip high and vulnerable. Decision time - put the ten-pound on the Merlin and trust it to tell me when enough was enough (and trust myself to take heed), or pack it away and break out the spare rod, a beast of a Nottingham pattern by Devanney, tried and trusted with strong string and grumpy fish? What would Chris Yates do? What am I, a psychic?
Off came the Conquest, on went the Trudex, and the Devanney stayed in the bag. A bomb of about 1/4 oz, a leger stop, a quick-change bead, a size eight Dunlop on ten-pound stuff and a mussel on the hook.
The light began to go,and the barbel began to come to see the marvellous Merlin they'd been hearing about. A soon as they were hooked, they realised it would be too dark to give it the attention it deserved, and tried their best to revoke, but the Merlin magicked 'em with no hint of a worry. Barbel number three came at ten past eight, number nine at twenty past nine. The biggest was five pounds, weighed. All on mussel; they do love a sea-food supper.
Neither my companion or I could remember whether we had to be off the water by ten or half past, so we played it safe and guessed wrong.
Summing up, an excellent cane that lets neither reel no fish escape easily. A fine tip for ledgering or protecting quite light hooklengths, a subtly powerful middle taper, and a very powerful butt section. At around thirteen ounces, not really a trotting rod (for long) but brilliant for laying-on or legering, and well up to short spell of rod-in hand float-fishing. And utterly lovely to look at.
Colin, and "Fingers" Mal Baird, and Lady Luck, I can't thank you enough!
* Flanders and Swann, for those lucky enough to be too young to remember.
So it was that I was shaking as I moved my box back a few feet and began to bait the swim and assemble the tackle.
Two blessings from outrageous fortune have come my way lately, The Merlin and the Conquest that member Rod put up as a prize in an anagram competition a while back; I couldn't really use one with out the other, so I'd loaded the reel up with six-pound line (the recommended maximum for the rod) and was treated to the Merlin's first surprise: the best reel-bands I've ever met. I don't know what it is, their inner geometry, the resilience of the metal used, possibly the quality of the cork handle, but I've never had a reel gripped so securely (I'd always assumed that pausing mid-fight to re-set the things was an integral part of the excitement of traditional angling!) by a pair of sliding bands. Six-pound string was pushing one's luck on this little river, but at least I'd be able to focus on not getting it broken. Float bands, shot, leger stop, and quick-change bead were all threaded on (spot the mistake), a size 12 to six-pound hook was attached, baited with a couple of tares and lowered into the mass of scaly dancers who were tearing up the silt at my feet, and who promptly spooked off.
Ok, it's their job. Distract the angler so that the others can get a bit of kip. Received wisdom is that one ignores them and ledgers as close to the far bank rushes as possible; but where's the fun in that? Back they came, and ignored the bit of bread that now awaited them; this ruse has worked before, but the shallows are paved with gudgeon who will whittle the bait away, so it has to work quickly or not at all.
Hmm.
Plan "C" - a third of a mussel, swum just beyond the slack. A bob of the float, a tug at the already tight line, and in came a four-ounce perch, foul-hooked near the tail. Doesn't count. While I was unhooking it without getting jabbed or sliced by Perchie's sharp bits, I had forgotten the Conquest's vice, and it reminded me with a massive bird's-nest when I returned my attention to it; sort that requires the drum be removed and the line peeled off sideways, alternating sides between pulls so as not to accumulate twist. I think there were seven of the original hundred turns of line left on the spool when I finally reached the bit that hadn't contributed to the tangle...
Still it all helps "rest the swim", doesn't it.
Er, no.
The dancers had gone into Stealth Mode, all except for the carp, who know a pillock when they see one, so baits dropped under the rod-top were ignored, as was any bait run down the middle or near the far side.
After an hour or so of this, I began to think in terms of legering. (
)At this point, I spotted the mistake: no swivel. Oh, bother. Oh, pee, po, belly, bum, drawers*. And worse.
I threaded a few bits of wet bread up the hook and swung it downstream, where I could just see the float, but the bait was round the corner of the bankside reeds, and started to ferret about for a clip-swivel.
Bzz-zz-zz. Oh, heavens, that's the reel... Brake into a running fish, and off she goes!
I did try to take a shot of the rod's action curve, but I'm no "Badger1" and the results were useless. Imagine a fine tip, straightened out along the tight line, then the power curve building up, then fading again as the powerful butt asserts itself... Lovely.
So, ten past five and I have a barbel to report!
Of course, his selfless gesture was planned to make me forget about legering...
Fifteen minutes later, a repeat performance came to an abrupt end when the spade-end hook shed its whipping; most vexing, as that had been tied at leisure and should have been fine. Oh, well, own silly fault.
On went a Dunlop size eight on six-pound line. These are amazing value; sharp,strong,and with a never-gonna-let-you-go curve, they seem the ideal barbel hook... priced at £1.99 for a box of forty-eight and reduced to half that.
Onto that went a mussel.
Nuffin'. Tried to the left, to the right, running through, laying on... forty minutes of nada, save for the bubble-streams of the stealthy ex-dancers snurfing my ground-bait. Finally, I poked the bait as close against the right-hand, upstream corner of the rushes as I could get it. This was, on reflection, a stupid thing to do, as it was where the carp love to feed, and if one of them had slipped up, it would not have ended well. Fortunately, it was a chub of about 2 1/2 pounds that took it, and the Merlin had no difficulty in persuading that out of trouble.
At half-past six, something gave a screeching bite on bread; I picked up the rod and the hook pulled out. Most odd.
Twenty minutes later, barbel number two took a bit of bread, round the downstream corner of the slack.
Then everything wend dead for just over an hour. This often happens, the water colours and speeds up, and rather more leaves and twigs come down, and the fish do a moody. I wonder if up at the sewage works they've raked the screens and turned some outsized tap on?
I realised that I couldn't risk six-pound line once darkness fell; even modest barbel are capable of flattening the rod and snapping eight-pound stuff, and we usually use ten. Just because you've got ten-pound line on, you don't have to pull ten pounds, especially not with the tip high and vulnerable. Decision time - put the ten-pound on the Merlin and trust it to tell me when enough was enough (and trust myself to take heed), or pack it away and break out the spare rod, a beast of a Nottingham pattern by Devanney, tried and trusted with strong string and grumpy fish? What would Chris Yates do? What am I, a psychic?
Off came the Conquest, on went the Trudex, and the Devanney stayed in the bag. A bomb of about 1/4 oz, a leger stop, a quick-change bead, a size eight Dunlop on ten-pound stuff and a mussel on the hook.
The light began to go,and the barbel began to come to see the marvellous Merlin they'd been hearing about. A soon as they were hooked, they realised it would be too dark to give it the attention it deserved, and tried their best to revoke, but the Merlin magicked 'em with no hint of a worry. Barbel number three came at ten past eight, number nine at twenty past nine. The biggest was five pounds, weighed. All on mussel; they do love a sea-food supper.
Neither my companion or I could remember whether we had to be off the water by ten or half past, so we played it safe and guessed wrong.
Summing up, an excellent cane that lets neither reel no fish escape easily. A fine tip for ledgering or protecting quite light hooklengths, a subtly powerful middle taper, and a very powerful butt section. At around thirteen ounces, not really a trotting rod (for long) but brilliant for laying-on or legering, and well up to short spell of rod-in hand float-fishing. And utterly lovely to look at.
Colin, and "Fingers" Mal Baird, and Lady Luck, I can't thank you enough!
* Flanders and Swann, for those lucky enough to be too young to remember.
I bet it was a lovely fighting curve on that rod that barbel never stood a chance on that barder rod well done 
mike