A Barbel and Two Flat Tyres

With the rain earlier in the week the river had risen quite quickly and dropped quite quickly as well. A row of footballs on the far bank showed the height it had reached.  It was a lot lower than I expected it to be when I arrived, The banks were also a lot more slippery making descending and ascending a tad tricky, but a change of route down made things easier. I opted for the same swim as last time as the nice looking downstream crease was still there. The upstream crease, though, wasn't as distinct, but with so little debris coming down the gully  about two thirds of the way across would be fishable.

Both rigs were double 8mm pellets and a blocked feeder filled with broken pellets soaked in halibut gunk so as to create a scent trail. Not long after casting in the rain started and didn't really stop.  It was a good three hours before the first, and only, bite of the day. Typical barbel three foot twitch. It felt a heavy fish that put up a dogged, but unspectacular fight. No real runs just hanging in the current and a bit of a faff around the landing net. Just shy of 9lb and in good nick.

I fished on up to dark before battling through the soggy undergrowth back to the car. As I set off something didn't feel right. Getting out of the car the front tyre was flat. As I walked to the back to get the spare it was apparent the rear was also flat. Very flat. A wander round the car showed only the off-side tyres to be flat. Another angler turned up for his car and his tyres were OK. We couldn't see any obvious cause, but it was dark. First thought was somebody had slashed the tyres. Why just mine? The other chap waited until I'd contacted a rescue company before leaving, with me following as a rescue vehicle wasn't going to be able to get turned round on the very narrow road. Further down was a spot where it was easier to turn round.  Inspecting the tyres in the morning showed several cuts in the walls, but the could have been caused by me driving the car quarter of a mile and the palaver getting it on the truck. So that's three new tyres on a car I've had seven months.

One puncture is bad enough. but faffing about dealing with two is a pain. I couldn't get a mobile fitter until next week unless I paid over the odds. I always tell people that complain about the cost of driving lessons that that is the cheapest part wait until you own a car. Anyway here's a video of me fighting and landing a barbel.

[Update on the punctured tyres - A friend has been to the same spot fishing and tripped over a bit of metal stuck out of the ground where the cars are parked. The slits in both tyres were the same height in the wall and just right for this bit of metal. There used to be a log there so you wouldn't have got a car that far over. Think I'll take a sledge hammer down next time and give it a good bashing.]

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Dead Toads and Wet Wipes

With rain and storms about I'd been watching the river levels from the beginning of the week. It only takes a good deluge in one of the dales for the rivers to come up nicely further down. The rivers had risen and fallen a little bit all week, but the Wharfe looked like it would be rising slowly from Thursday afternoon. When I got there it was a nice sunny afternoon and the river, rising slowly, had a nice bit of colour to it. Hope fully it would rise as fast as it did two ago. With only 8-10" of extra water in at this point the Gully swim by the island was probably not going to fish so I had a look at a swim I'd prepared ages ago, but never fished. As I wandered down there I spotted a dead toad. Dead, that is, until I took it's photo. It then made a pathetic attempt to hide itself under some torn up turf.

I had a bit of trouble finding the route down to the swim as the vegetation had grown back up and flood debris had disguised the flat area of bank at the bottom. A careful decent and some rearranging of the flood debris rendered the swim habitable. I'd noted that at around the the height the river was at there were a couple of nice slacks and creases close to the bank up and down stream. The only problem was a small willow poking out into the river that looked like a handy refuge for a barbel to dive in to last minute. A bit of poking around with the action cam showed it wasn't as bad as it looked.

 

The banksticks were carefully placed so as to mark the boundary between bank and river, just in case the water came higher than expected. Blockend feeders full of well soaked pellets and double 8mm pellets for hook baits. The upstream rod had four foot hook length and the downstream rod a three foot hook length. Tossed just inside the creases into the slack water. It was about an hour later that the upstream rod tip sprung back. A sweeping strike met with solid resistance and a fish hurling upstream until I realised I'd not tripped the baitrunner. A quick turn of the handle and whatever it was came to a halt and was quickly wound back downstream and into the net. A feisty little barbel around the 2lb mark. Within minutes of recasting the tip sprung back and another little 'un was quickly in the net. Virtually the same size, but a tad darker than the first.

 

 

Again, not long after casting in the tip dropped back. This time, however there was no resistance. Instead I ended up with a wet wipe on the hook. To be honest when you see the number that pour out of sewage plant upstream I'm surprised I don't snag more. Although the outfall just up from me, while running, didn't appear to be releasing anything other than treated sewage.  It was added to the bag of flotsam and jetsam I'd already collected.

 

As I topped the feeder up the downstream rod lurched over. This was something a lot bigger than previous. Taking line on it's initial run it then sat in the current not overly keen on coming upstream. A slow dogged fight ensued and surprisingly it was hauled into the net at the first attempt. None of the classic last dash. A fish of 9lb 1oz in splendid condition apart from a chunk missing from it's tail fin. Probably from playing with an otter. As previous, the feeder had hardly hit the bottom when the tip went round. A similar dogged fight followed, but this time it made an epic performance of getting in the net. The battle under the rod tip was longer than the battle to get it in front of me. A slightly smaller fish of 8lb 10oz. A had thought I'd videoed the fight, but I'd forgot to clear the SD card and only got the first minute of it.

With the river still slowly rising I hoped for more, but that was it despite fishing into dark. The biggest battle of the evening, though, was getting back up the bank and out of the swim. Sliding down on your backside is al well and good, but getting back up while clinging onto handfuls of nettles in the dark really isn't fun. I'll have to find the original path I created as it was an awful lot easier.

 

On Monday August 24th the iWharfe project takes place. Unfortunately I won't be able to take part as domestic matters have intervened.

There's a Hole in My Bucket, and My Wader

A look at the river gauge showed the river had dropped since Wednesday, but there was still about eighteen inches of extra water in the river and it wasn't dropping particularly quick. Due to prior commitments I wasn't able to fish Thursday morning, but there should be extra water in come afternoon evening. Sure enough when I got there the river was still at least a foot up. There wasn't much colour in it though.  A natter with an angle on his way home wasn't very encouraging though. He'd fished since early morning, further down, and hadn't had a thing. The next ill omen came as I was descending the bank for the second time. My wader snagged on a branch, that wasn't there earlier, causing me to drop my bait bucket. The result was a large hole in the wader and a cracked bucket. Quite how the bucket hadn't ended up in the river I don't know.

The intention was to fish the inside gully. Blockend feeder filled with heavily dosed pellets to leave a scent trail and a few pellets chucked in every now and then. The first visitor was a goose, the first one I've seen down here. A little bit later the duck family made their way up the river, presumably picking the snails off the overhanging vegetation. The merganser family was next to head upstream, or at least eight of the nine. A while later a noisy duckling came frantically paddling upstream at quite a speed considering the speed of the current. All this time the rod tips stayed motionless. Not even any debris hit the line.

The first indication was on the upstream rod when the tip sprung back. I struck into nothing. Retrieving the hook showed half a foul hooked minnow. I'm assuming the minnow was foul hooked then attacked by a pike which dislodged the feeder giving the drop-back bite.

 

Things remained quiet until I retrieved the down stream feeder. At least two pike had a lunge at it as it splashed along the surface. One bow wave from downstream and one coming at it from the side both at the same time. Both heading towards doubles by the look of them. That was it until just before dark when I retrieved the upstream rod. As the feeder got to the surface it was grabbed by a pike which bit straight through taking the feeder and hook length with it. I persisted on just into dark with the one rod, but to no avail.

 

Not sure why the barbel didn't want to play, but I'm not on my own apparently. The waders were seventeen years old, so have done rather well. There are several cracks on them as the rubber has started to perish so it was really time they were replaced.

Rising River

Wednesday morning a tweet alerted me to the river rising. well upstream. A look at the river levels on the EA site and a bi of guess work suggested it may get down to one of my favourite spots for babel just after tea. As I arrived this supposition proved correct upon arrival. The water had already started to cover the island and rose about two foot in twenty minutes the slowly another foot or so over the next couple of hours.

 

Out went two rods close to the bank. One with meat the other pellet. Apart from picking debris off the line very little in the way of fish happened. An angler on the other bank had a couple, but not me. One of the problems with the occasional drizzle and a rising river is the number of slugs and snails that suddenly clamber about on the tackle boxes, bags, landing net handles, and bank sticks. Every where you put your hands when packing up there seems to be one.

Unfortunately I had another appointment on Thursday morning so wouldn't be able to get back to the now falling river until the afternoon, but it doesn't seem to be falling that quickly at the moment. Hopefully thing s will be a bit better.

One thing I did note among the rubbish, was the large number of tennis balls that came down. Not sure where they came from, but I lost count at a dozen.

Back on Sort Of Familiar Territory

Friday, the day the UK was supposed to turn in to Australia. Temperatures were supposed to get up into the really rather ludicrous range. As it turned out it wasn't quite as bad as predicted. Assisted by a nice breeze it didn't feel too bad. I'm not a hot weather person, anything over 25 C is a heatwave to me.  Stood in the middle of he river with the breeze blowing upstream and the water heading towards chilly thanks to the rain earlier in the week was rather pleasant.

I'd gone to one of my favourite barbel spots, but not really for barbel. I did intend to to have a go as dusk set in. My intention was to have a paddle about and remap the area as the winter floods had completely re-profiled the area. The swim I normally fished with a 4-6' run along the far bank now had an island in front of it, which with its gentle slope was providing shelter to a lot of fry . The nearside 6-12" deep last year was now a knee-deep channel. Downstream the deep channel had disappeared and was now about 30" deep with the rest around knee-deep. The magic hole under the willow had reappeared though.

While I waited for dusk I had a go for the dace I'd been told about by an acquaintance. As the water where they'd been seen was only a foot or so deep I'd brought my fly rod with me. I spent the best part of an hour trying to hit a take. I could see what was happening. The larger fish were rising to the fly, only to be beaten to it by a little 3-4" one. Despite dropping down to a size 24 IOBO I just couldn't hook one.

With  the sun disappearing behind clouds I added some more feed to the two barbel swims and readied the rods. As I sat and had a cuppa a family of Merganser came down the river along the far bank diving occasionally. Not long after they'd passed through fish started to rise in one of the barbel swims. A couple of casts and a grayling took the fly, followed by a few more. Hitting one in three takes produced half a dozen of them all the same size. A nice way to waste half an hour.

By now it was beginning to get really dark and dusk was over an hour away. Then the distant sound of thunder. I got one barbel rod out as another  long roll of thunder sounded. As I picked up the second rod lightening could be seen. Then a few spots of rain. I took the hint a quickly packed up. Half way to the car the heavens opened. I took the risk of walking through the woods and stayed reasonably dry. I then got soaked as I fumbled about trying to find the car key.

Although brief the rain had been heavy as there were some big puddles on the road. A careful drive home was called for as aquaplaning was rather too easy as the idiot behind me discovered as he zoomed up before been thrown across to the wrong side of the road. He seemed to calm down then. As I neared home it as getting dryer. The neighbour informed me they'd only had a shower.

Despite the curtailed barbel session the paddle about had thrown up a couple of new barbel spots where there are now some deeper holes that weren't there before and the half hour catching grayling was fun. Not sure how I'm going to sort the better dace out though, may have to wait until autumn.

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