Martin Bowler
goes in search of high-water barbel. Does he catch?
UNLEASHED by storm clouds, warm rain that fell 24 hours earlier has breached the riverbank and flooded the surrounding fields.
This muddy run-off is the colour of milky tea, with zero visibility through it. What’s the point, then, in leaving the house – especially when another log on the fire will mean the thermals can stay in the drawer?
Who in their right mind would swap an afternoon of football on the telly and a comfy settee for a damp, unwelcoming outdoors and a river out of control? Well, there’s always one fool, but there’s a method to my madness!
ENJOY THE CHALLENGE
For as long as I’ve been a barbel fanatic I’ve loved fishing for them in floodwater. I enjoy the challenge posed by a river in this wild, untrammelled and sometimes ferocious state and, more to the point, in my experience this is the very best time for a big barbel.
The sight of a broad bronze flank rising out of the maelstrom takes some beating, and for me this style of fishing reached its pinnacle when the Great Ouse burst its banks back in 1999.
If the prospect of a British record barbel doesn’t make you a convert to floodwater, nothing will.
In the 1990s my tackle was undergunned, and with relatively few people venturing out in such conditions I had to learn through my own experiences and those of a handful of like-minded lunatics.
I caught the 16lb 12oz record (long since bettered) on a 1¼lb test curve rod that bent like a banana during the fight. This has been replaced by a 2¼lb model with real backbone that stops the barbel going wherever it wants.
That Ouse beast got stuck in a set of reeds for a while, and I was unable to apply enough pressure to dislodge it. Thank God, then, that it decided to swim out under its own volition.
My reels, too, were inadequate, in that their small spools, although carrying more than enough mono, lacked the necessary cranking power and speed.
On our larger rivers I now use small Onyx carp reels that give me far more control. Their retrieve is very fast, too, essential if you want to avoid dragging the rig into a snaggy bottom when rebaiting.
My line used to be 12lb breaking strain, but I’ve since learnt that the incredibly robust 18lb Syncro XT is far better. In coffee-coloured water the extra diameter is irrelevant, so why take the risk?
WATCH YOUR STEP!
One aspect of floodwater barbel fishing that hasn’t changed is my mindset. It does carry an element of danger that I’m happy to risk, but I do consider every move I make, and its implications.
On a recent adventure there was nothing more to overcome than welly-deep water, and without too much effort I was ready to cast.
My terminal tackle consisted of a running 5oz swivel lead looped on to 4ft of Tungsten Loaded coated braid. Under these conditions
I had selected a trusty size 6 Drennan Continental Boilie hook to carry the hair.
Modern chemically-sharpened hooks are far keener straight out of the packet, but their points blunt easily after being drawn over gravel, so my hook choice was a sensible compromise.
Two inches below the hook I pinched on an AAA shot to help drive it home on the strike. Hookbait was a Sticky Krill boilie carrying a big smear of paste to which I’d added copious amounts of Liquid Liver. It absolutely stank! With a PVA bag of free offerings nicked on at the last minute, I lobbed the lot on to a well-defined crease line with a huge ‘splosh!’
As if to disapprove of my sea fishing approach the river grabbed the line and yanked the rod-tip over. It was hard at this point to tell the difference between fishing for barbel and hauling cod from the Bristol Channel!
For the next 30 minutes flavour
poured downstream, and in the warm water a set of twitching whiskers headed towards the source. The caution often shown by barbel in clear water was gone – after all, who’d be daft enough to be fishing today?
Unfortunately, this particular fish had made an assumption that would see it slip up, and as it sucked in the tasty mouthful it felt the bite of a hook into its bottom lip. No wonder the rod cranked over so vigorously.
A washing line of debris hung from the line and traced the barbel’s direction, at first rapidly downstream and then begrudgingly back towards me.
If there are no head-shakes, just the sensation of the bottom moving, you know it’s a big barbel.
For every handle crank the drag gave line in a game of cat and mouse. In such soupy water I couldn’t see what I was connected to, and even as tail swirls showed on the surface I was yet to get a glimpse of my opponent.
It was well worth the wait when a big beautiful barbel rose out of the flood and into the net. The TV and a warm room could wait!