River Kennet, Thatcham, Sunday 27th June 2010

Well this was an unexpected bonus, I didn’t think I’d be able to fish for at least a month but circumstances conspired to make this short session available to me.

The problem was of course deciding on whether to watch the footie or go fishing, I’m not really a footie fan but I do tend to watch significant England games. On this occasion, however, they were going to have to do without my support, I’d bought maggots yesterday just in case and they were going to get wet!

Barbel would be the target and I knew just the swim I wanted, if it was occupied a couple of other backups were in the plan but I needn’t have worried, at 3:10pm mine was only the second car in the car park. Chesties were a necessary evil today I’m afraid, downstream of my fave spot there are swims which can be fished from the bank but wading makes things so much easier. It was all a bit of a sweaty experience though.

I didn’t plan on staying too long but resisted the temptation (for once) to get straight in and trot. Today was to be a concerted effort to get it right so a bit of time was spent

depositing a pint of maggots via a bait dropper. I don’t know why I’ve never used one of these devices before, I was only dropping bait a rod length out and could easily have thrown it but the dropper dumped the maggots right on the bottom in a little heap. Throwing would have resulted in the bait being spread over a much larger area and drifting a lot further downstream before getting to the bottom of the river, probably way past my swim.

So with swim all baited up it was time to fish. The first half hour produced nothing, not even a Trout but then whilst holding back the float dipped, this was no chubby pluck it just went under in a place where it had previously trotted through. I missed the bite but heartened I retrieved and set the float off again, it dipped in the same place and this time I got it…..or rather it got me. The screaming reel attracted an audience; a couple of residents of the rather posh house on the far bank came over to have a look, marvellous.

The struggle lasted about five minutes; the Barbel would kite from near to far bank but would not let me gain any line so I decided to wade after it. I caught a glimpse of its white belly as it twisted and thought that it looked a bit small for the leviathan I had visions of. I was never to find out, in my excitement I’d left the landing net upstream and whilst wading back to get it (simultaneously paying out line) the fish spat the hook. I was distraught, not because I’d lost a fish but because the plan had been executed perfectly and my own incompetence had let me down.

The onlookers consoled me with reassurance that “where there’s one there’s more” but I was sure the commotion would have spooked any other fish so I moved downstream to another swim, this time with landing net firmly in hand. This swim was textbook perfect, gravelly and shallow with lots of weed. Mr Crabtree would’ve trotted the channels between the weed, my heart wasn’t in it at all but I thought I may as well try the ‘approved’ method. I was amazed to get a bite first trot, I hadn’t pre-baited but it seems my double red maggots were sufficient to tempt a hungry Barbel.

This fish just buried itself in the weed that I’d trotted next to and I had that horrible feeling you get when the line goes solid and there are no more thumps. Downstream I went again, this time on the bank, once I’d got behind the fish it came out and started to fight on equal terms. I could see it but couldn’t believe how small it was, this fish was fighting just as hard as the one that I’d lost so maybe the previous fish wasn’t a leviathan after all, just a small Barbel who happened to possess the fighting qualities of Mike Tyson.

It took a while to get this fish in, I’d taken my big landing net and dropping it in the fast flow from a high bank just took the net away. Eventually I landed it but the fish was spent so I took a quick photo and returned what was probably my biggest Barbel without weighing. I held it facing upstream by the tail until it was able to swim away, which it did after 5 minutes.

This was the chap, maybe 3-4lbs?

It’d been a great day and I was elated. I used up the last of the maggots by heavily feeding a deeper glide and hooked into another fish just as I was about to pack up. The unmistakable thrashing initiated ‘small Trout retrieve’, i.e. wind fast and hope it comes off. It worked perfectly, just as I drew the fish parallel with me a final thrash saw the hook lose its hold…and a rather large Dace darted off downstream.