Barbeling on the Ouse

It's oft claimed that angling is good for your mental health. This may be the case, but I do wonder about  angler's mentality at times as I trudged along the muddy bank with the drizzle turning to rain. For a change the car park had a few cars in it so the first few swim were taken and due to height of the river several were unfishable. I ended up half way along the stretch  and as the rain was getting heavier I put the brolly up and had a cuppa. I hate setting up in the rain. Once it had stopped I rearranged myself as shuffle my feet about had made the bank even greasier. The river really was at an awkward height and dropping very slowly. 

 

The usual tactics were employed. Pellet and feeder under the downstream  willow and double lob worm legered upstream about a third of the way across in a crease. There they sat while I watched the crows and seagulls harassing each other in the sunshine. A heron flew upstream while a cormorant flew upstream. Late in the afternoon the worm rod started to bounce about. I struck into nothing, all that had happened was the worms been stolen. A passing dog walker informed me that nobody else had caught.

As it started to get dark the temp started to drop. At this point I realised I hadn't got my big coat, I hoped I hadn't left on the roof of the car or something equally silly. Thankfully the chill wind had dropped, so it wasn't too bad. As it approached the Nautical Sunset I decided it was time to pack up. Just as I picked up the worm rod the pellet rod wrapped over and I was in to something very heavy. After moving it a couple of yards everything went considerably lighter. I assumed it was debris that had come off, when all hell broke loose. Whatever it was had gone into lunatic mode. It was all over the place. I was quite astonished it didn't get tangled with the other line. Switching the head torch on I could get the feeder to the surface, but the fish just refused to come up to the surface. Eventually something splashed about on the surface, but I couldn't find, or see, the landing net. The batteries had gone in the headtorch, so once again I was faffing about on a dark cloudy night trying to land a fish while struggling to see the landing net and the fish. At the same time the bank was getting greasier and greasier as I shuffled about trying to find the net handle. Eventually, the the aid of the phone torch,  I spotted it hiding in the nettles. With the phone perched on the seat there was enough light in the right place to see both the fish and landing net to get the beast in.

 

The fun of dealing with the fish on a greasy bank with a badly nettled hand and a torch that rarely shone it's light in the right direction was like something from a Laurel and Hardy film. Much to my surprise nothing, including me, ended up in the river. A quick weigh had the fish at 6¾lb. Packing up was a bit of fun as well, but all worth it in the end. 

 

Music while typing provided by : Punky!