Afternoon TFF
Bit of Tinter-web bull here. I did not bother with the 16th this season and instead arranged a couple of days on the Trent/Dove on the 17th & 18th. Obviously with all the rain the country has had I left Monday morning with a sense of hope that the river levels would have dropped enough to make the Trent manageable for a afternoon and evenings fishing, but the EA river level web site didn't bode well. I arrived at Andrew's late morning and after a couple of hours of faffing around and discussing the state of the world we finally got our act together and got off around 1330hrs. A swift drive to Swarkestone Bridge area quickly showed us that the Trent was not a go'er. I had expected the river to be over the banks in areas but the flood plains were in full use, so that was the Trent out.
Plan B (well really it was the only option) was the Dove, we arrived at the river to be greeted with a lowering river but it was the colour of milk chocolate. It was going to be a case of finding a fish-able spot and nailing a bait to the deck with a heavy lead, a tad tedious but you never know what might be lurking under the trees.
We found a couple of swims which looked OK for a couple of hours for a starter, to see how we fared. It was a classic looking part of the river with overhanging trees on the opposite bank, deeper looking bends and eddies with a wider shallow section down stream. It was quite obvious that not many people fished this river or at least no one had been there on the 16th as the vegetation was undisturbed and very thick.
It was the second outting for Big Bertha and if I am frank I didn't really expect her to be tested much, other than casting a 1 to 2oz lead around. A good couple of hours passed with little signs of fish life but plenty to observe around us including a sparrowhawks nest was expertly placed in tree opposite us which seemed to attract the attention of a buzzard now and then.
It was probably late afternoon when Andrew started to get the odd tap and pull where he was fishing, a cheeky chub probably whipping the bait away before you had time or chance to react. By this time I felt I had done my spot to death having placed my bait in all the areas I thought something might be or a patrol line might be. I decided to I move to the wider section below and bounce my bait around under the trees opposite. If nothing else I was going to be moving rather than just sat waiting for a something to come along. You can see from the photos the river was so coloured you could barely make out the streamer weed. I decided to just keep bouncing the meat and the 1/2oz bomb along the bed and see what happened. You can feel the change between gravel bottom and where it's a deeper/weeder spot. On my third cast I let the tackle drift down stream many yards indeed, it was probably 60/70 yards downstream in mid water and holding. Suddenly the tension was released on the line, it could be the weed lifting the bait or it could be a fish investigating and picking up the bait! Everything went slack suddenly and I made half a turn on the reel and tension came back and I thought.....weed. Then the unmistakable slow pull on the line and rod tip continued to curve over....and I thought.....THAT'S ONE! I very gently lent the rod into the bite and set the hook firmly with a firm jerk/flick of the hands on the handle. Straight away I could feel this was a substantial weight on the end.
I shouted up to Andrew, well shouted his name a couple of times to get his attention. He came running down all excited (as was I) and then had to run back up to his gear to get his phone to take some pictures. It was going to be sometime before I was going to get this fish in. It was that classic big barbel fight of the occasional unstoppable bore and using it's weight to hold its ground, but at quite a distance which made it interesting. The banks were overgrown but no trees luckily on our side, and after a few minutes of pulling the fish up to me Andrew went down to see if I could get level or below where the line disappeared into the murk. Andrew found a spot and I managed to go down to the fish. As Big Bertha is 13' the line easily cleared the bank vegetation so I could play it from a better position. After a good fight I saw my first flash of colour and thought it has to be a double but couldn't really tell due to the current and the murk. Andrew got ready with his net (I had not even set mine up!) which I must admit I was worried about getting the fish into it but luckily I got above Andrew and we managed to steer the barbel in on the first attempt straight in. When she went into the net and flashed her flank Andrew said something like "gosh she is very wide"
. I let out a few choice words when the net head was above the water and the fish safely retained. We let the barbel rest for a few minutes and Andrew kept saying it's so wide, or words to that affect. After a few minutes Andrew lifted the net and then I saw just what he meant! Fook'in massive
.
Big Bertha's first barbel and quite a lump indeed, Andrew got his scales out said.....unlucky for some 13lb for 13' Big Bertha.
