< Page 1 - The Lure of England's Greatest River
A tidal Trent personal best
And no sooner had I recast did the other rod go off! And what a fight it was; very deep and slow, but powerful and relentless. The DVSG posse gathered as they were sure that I was in contact with a good fish. A final swirl and the fish was mine!
Oh yes!
A lump. A real lump! The scales were called for and a reading of 12lb on the nose was agreed!
Awesome, a double on maggot. Not my first on maggot but the first for many a long season! I was overjoyed as this was a new tidal Trent personal best. A dry cider would be pleasant in the absence of champagne!
The cider went down very well and I set about recasting onto what I thought was a pod of good fish.
The lamprey glugged maggots were open and left to writhe around in their bacon scented juices, and I must admit to having hunger pangs from the smell. As did the local rat population!
Several rats dashed out from the bankside and helped themselves to a pawful of grubs, quickly wolfing them down. They didn't make it back to the safety of the reeds though before they dropped dead. Powerful stuff is Lamprey glug!
I settled myself down and watched the stars. This is the life! Sitting out in the middle of nowhere with the wind battering the sides of your bivvy knowing full well that some fifty or so miles away is a comfortable bed and a beautiful wife. What we do for fish!
Singing rats, leather jackets and Vincent Price!
Boom-boom-boom-B-Boom went the bivvy as the gales whipped up. Rhythmic, almost soothing. And then I heard it!
A small voice, high pitched but powerful.
'♪♫ It's close to midnight… and something evil's lurking in the dark ♪♫'
Eh? Singing? At 11:55pm….Nah!
'♪♫Under the moonlight you see a sight that almost stops your heart♪♫'
What the…? What's that moving near my bait bucket!!??!! Well, I'll be damned!. Singing Rats, and one of them has a red leather jacket on!
'♪♫You're Delkim's scream but terror takes the sound before they make it….
You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes…,
You're paralyzed ♪♫'
'♪♫Cause this is Fishing, Fishing though the night
And no one's gonna save you from the barbel about to strike! ♪♫'
And they can dance! I have never seen rats dance. Y'know, really dance!
'♪♫You know it's fishing, fishing night
You're fishing for your life inside a bivvy, bivvy, fishing tonight♪♫'
Bloody hell, that one looks like Vincent Price! A large rat steps forward and begins to rap in a low menacing voice:
'Darkness falls across the land
The midnight hour is close at hand
Creatures swim in search of bacon
To terrorize yawls neighbourhood
And whosoever shall be found
Without the leads for getting down
Must bounce and face the snags of hell
And rot inside a corpses shell
The foulest stench is in the air
The glug of forty thousand years
And nasty crayfish from foreign lands
Are closing in to snip your pellet bands
And though you fight to stay alive
Your body starts to shiver
For no mere mortal can resist
The lure of England's greatest river'
The rat that looked like Vincent Price began to laugh in a maniacal fashion….High pitched and wailing….wailing…wailing…screaming…Screaming …Bloody hell…Screaming run… I'm in!
Another double
Ten seconds later I feel like I have connected myself to a juggernaught. The rod is hooped over and the clutch is giving a little line but another click on the front drag stops the fish in its tracks and I begin the task of getting some Snyde back on the spool. Matt comes over and takes the net, but the fish isn't finished yet. Two more good runs are made before it finally succumbs to the folds of the net!
Matt turns and looks at me. “It's a big 'un!” Then he focuses behind me. “What the hell's that red thing near your bait bucket?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Did he really see it? Did he?
The scales were called for again and a weight of 11lb 4oz quickly agreed on. Two doubles!
Matt took a few shots but night shots can never be anything other than basic representations. The lack of daylight or something along those lines. I am learning more and more about cameras and every session with Matt is an education in itself. I know he doesn't do it at the moment but if he ever starts doing guided trips I would pay for it just for the camera tuition. It would be worth every penny.
So how about it Matt? Fishing and photos?
In the meantime Adam had also landed a 'double': these DVSG types are a bit good y'know! No doubles had been reported over the two weeks previous to our visit!
More fish on the cards - I knew it!
Back in the bivvy I tried to settle but my nerves were wrecked. I knew I had to keep alert as more fish were definitely on the cards: I knew it!
A nice chub of over 4lbs found the lamprey maggies next but in all honesty it was the barbel that I was now focussed on.
I knew that they were on the feed. If I could draw them I would catch them, it was that simple as far as I was concerned!
Confidence can be a fantastic thing. It drives you through the cold wind and lashing rain and onto glory; nothing can stop a confident angler for long, they tend to create their own luck.
The last dregs of the night wore on and I employed the services of my radio to keep me focussed and alert. The weather warnings were becoming ever more frantic. It sounded for all that this was the end of the world storm that was about to hit land. End of the world? At least I would go happy!
Lucifer's fish
The sun began to lighten the sky into a very deep indigo rather than a frosted black. One by one the stars disappeared until there was only Lucifer left, the morning star, the light bearer.
And at that very moment, when the last of the night was gone did my bottom rod go. And by the devil did it go. This one truly was Lucifer's fish!
It snagged me. It took line at will. It kited away across the river before swinging back towards me at speed. I struggled to keep in contact but this bronzed demon wasn't going to beat me, no way!
Prayers were muttered and thanks given. This fish would be mine. It was just a matter of time.
The fish finally swung over the net and into my grasp. The prize was mine! It was obviously a double and a good one at that; what would the scales say?
The scales said 11lb 4oz. Again!
And Matt Brown said, “What fantastic light! Let's get some pictures!”
The final 48 hours
And that, as they say, was that. I left later that afternoon on advice. I didn't need to brave the storm that was coming. Two days later as the wind was dipping from hurricane to gale force I returned for the final 48 hours of the season.
I employed the same tactics again and banked 34 barbel, three bream and two chub for an estimated combined weight of 240lb. This included the four barbel for 42lb 13oz. Not bad fishing by anyone's standards.
I would like to put on record my thanks to the rest of the lads in the DVSG without whose enthusiasm and encouragement I would simply be lost.
Plus my other fishing buddies, especially Paul, Dorian and Pip of F.F.F who make and supply the best leads on the market at a fraction of the price that they should be. Lads you will never get rich!
And I would like to thank Dave Chilton of Kryston for his superb Lines and hooklengths.
And finally I would like to thank all the lads at Teme Severn that supply me with all my bait and glugs. They are truly superb!
jonathan w smith
