Martin Bowler
shows you how to catch big chub from stillwaters
ITHINK it’s fair to say that specimen hunters find stillwater chub acceptable but barbel not – a prime example of double standards!
I have caught examples of both, and can only say that each species appeared to be in fine condition.
You could even argue that with otters decimating fish stocks, living safely behind a fence on a pond or pit benefits any fish!
That said, I have to admit that stillwater barbel leave me cold, whereas chub are more than worthy opponents. Why?
On lakes, neither species seems to sustain a population past the first generation, but chub have a history whereas barbel do not.
On the Oxfordshire pits, the famous Peter Stone used to fish avidly for chub back in the day, and that gives them kudos!
Not that I’d be swayed by that. I fish for enjoyment, so when a shoal of super-sized chub began to show on a lake I fish, the only question I asked myself was ‘how soon can I get there?’
A rich diet of fry had played its part, as had a protein infusion of copious amounts of boilies and pellets. Soon 2lb and 3lb fish were putting on length and girth at an alarming rate. Not yet fished for, they enjoyed a feeding spree that lasted for years, not even interrupted by cold weather – chub appetites are keen right around the calendar.
For a six-acre water their numbers were small – 21 chub, to be exact – and a lack of much competition for food contributed to their fast growth rate. Too big for pike to bother with, they really lived the life of Riley!
My first true glimpse of their size was with the owner of the water on the night I arrived. I, like many members, had seen them in the middle of the pond on a warm day and almost ignored them, believing they were still small. All that had changed.
We headed into the darkness to an area where the top lake fed the bottom one through a pipe, and this meant flowing water – faster, in fact, than most rivers.
Under a willow tree canopy the bottom had been scoured out to leave exposed stones, and it was here I had been promised a view
of some very big chub!
Creeping up quietly to the water’s edge, we flicked on our head torches in unison, seeing into the depths better than in daylight. At first my focus was on a shoal of small roach wafting around in the flow but then, behind them, I noticed two small carp moving right to left.
They came closer, and at a range of 20ft they miraculously transformed into chub. Their length was impressive but their depth was a sight to behold – wobbling bellies, the result of voracious appetites appeased with huge amounts of food.
Quite suddenly the chub melted out of sight, maybe realising that they had given the game away and put a target on their backs. We were left looking at the shoal of roach, but I had a plan for the next day.
Pellets and boilies had played a huge part in the chub’s diet so there was little point in offering traditional baits such as bread or worms. Instead I crumbled a kilo of Sticky Krill boilies into a bucket, to which I added the same amount of trout pellets soaked liberally in Cap Oil to create a slick.
Equal amounts would go into the gravel depression – where we had seen the chub the night before – and a deep hole 100 yards farther down the lake where I suspected the shoal spent the day. I would then keep a close eye on both locations and wait, hopefully, for a sign of a feeding fish. Meanwhile I prepared my tackle.
This was very much like my running water chubbing gear – a Drennan Medium Feeder rod with a 1½oz glass quivertip and a small fixed-spool reel holding 100m of 7lb Double Strength directly through to a size 8 Kamasan B983 attached via a Palomar knot. Fished in this way, a soft, limp monofilament that many would regard as fragile is actually incredibly strong.
In the swim beneath the willow I could freeline a bait, but in the other the chub would need to be cast to, so I attached a paternoster link that could have SSG shot or a small bomb added to it as required. I created this from a float stop and a short length of fluorocarbon, a far better arrangement than another knot in the line. Bait was a small piece of krill paste smeared on to the hook shank to leave the point exposed.
For a few hours I twiddled my thumbs until my umpteenth visit to the flowing water swim, and suddenly there was a chub! I ran back to get the rod then, using the willow’s trunk as a shield, I lowered the paste into position.
The fish opened its mouth and I struck – no, wishful thinking, it simply fled. The chub weren’t going to be that easy to catch! But perhaps in darkness they would be less cautious?
My vigil was to be a long one, but at last my bloody-mindedness paid dividends with a timid bite. My strike met with continual headshakes, but there was no real fight and I simply reeled the fish towards me.
By now I was convinced it was a roach, and I scooped it into the net unaware of what I really had.
Parting the mesh and switching on the head torch, I saw a barrelchested fish weighing over 7lb staring up at me.
Stillwater chub? They are fine with me!