One for John
Had a smashing little session on the upper Trent a couple of weeks ago. It happened like this.
John Ledger (god rest his soul) was a good mate of Mick Howson, and Mick hadn't fished one of his favourite haunts on the upper Trent since John died earlier this year. So we got talking and decided that we would meet up and have a session after the barbel in honour of John. To make it even better we would fish John and Mick's favourite swims where they'd had barbel to about 9lb.
That was a good idea for several reasons, the best one being that we could only fish from about 9am to 2pm (not exactly the best time of day to fish) but Mick had to be away early to keep an appointment. And being as time was at a premium and I had never fished the stretch before, I wouldn't have to spend any time looking for a decent swim.
It appeared that part of the plan wasn't to be though, for the river was up a foot or so and the current ripped through the two swims that Mick and John used to favour. So we fished two or three pegs below in the calmer water.
After about three hours I hadn't had a bite on my pellets or boilies and Mick had changed to maggot and caster with a small barbel of about 10oz to show for it. So I reeled in and went for a walk to have a look at the rest of the stretch. There were two or three interesting looking swims further down but they were occupied, the anglers fishing them doing no better than us.
My walk then took me upstream and I took more care to study John and Mick's favourite swims. The upstream one, which John used to fish, was the fastest of the two, looking like the Zambezi, white water and all where it was broken by the boulders on the river bed. But, right in the middle of this I spotted a relatively calm patch. If I got my rod really high, I reckoned, I could hold in this calm patch.
I went back to Mick and told him what I'd spotted and that I was going to give it a go. I gathered up my rod, landing net and bait and was soon cast in. I stood on top of the high bank and held my rod high so that none of the line would be running through the Zambezi. I could just about hold with a 5oz watch lead, but the rod tip was banging continually; it would have to be a good bite for me to know I'd got one. Still, that wouldn't be a problem with barbel.
I pratted around a bit, casting to different areas of the patch and came to the conclusion that the water on the bottom of the patch was nowhere near as fierce as it was on the surface. That's usually the case but the difference was much greater than usual, more like the difference you find at the bottom of a Weirpool sill.
Anyway, within a half hour of trying the swim the rod tip sprang back and then lurched over in unmistakeable barbel fashion. And of course the barbel was away in the fast water with me hanging on like grim death and wondering if I was going to land it. Mick had seen what was happening and picked up the landing net. I struggled up the bank and told Mick I was going to drop two swims down and land it in some slower water. Even there it was ripping through and it took me a good 10 minutes to get it to the net that Mick held ready.
The commentary from me while I was playing it started with, “Could be a decent fish of about 8lb this Mick.” (I was taking the fast water into account). Then it was, “It is a decent fish Mick, got to be 8 or 9 pounds.” Next was, “It could be a double this.” Then when it was netted, “it is a bloody double!”
We weighed it on my digital Salters and it scored 10lb 10oz. Mick was as chuffed as me and he offered his congratulations.
I offered the swim to Mick to fish for the rest of the time he was there but he didn't have a bite. And neither did I in the hour I stayed after he left.
Before he left I'd said to him, “That's one for John. Who knows, maybe he had a hand in its capture.” And we both smiled in a way that suggested it was nice to think so.
BAZ (Angel of the North)
