Martin Bowler’s Adventures Who said that Trent barbel were easy? Follow Martin’s advice for river success
I need to pull out all the stops to catch a fish into double figures
FROM Nottingham to Newark, every stretch of the Trent has the potential to produce big barbel.
To me this means fish over 12lb, and while bigger ones do get caught weekly I still think my mark is a realistic target for most anglers to aspire to.
It’s easy to be misled into thinking that you’ve only got to turn up on the Trent for a guaranteed haul of double-figure
barbel. Places like Collingham Weir skew the reality – this river is the best in the country, but it’s possible to struggle, especially in low flows such as we experienced last summer. Far more blanks occur than you’d think possible.
A big fish is never a certainty, so I left my Wiltshire home for the Trent determined to work hard in order to succeed on my latest venture north. Normally two nights is my limit, but with a bonus 12 hours at my disposal I decided to start by fishing a difficult stretch in the dark. If the rod hooped over, there was a chance it could be a bite from a 17lb barbel, but alas, it didn’t.
Until 2am the river was rising and the debris didn’t help, necessitating continual recasts as the rods were wiped out. On the plus side, by daybreak the Trent was dropping slowly, and with this being the first influx of fresh water in ages I knew, as I left for the tidal reaches, that conditions were perfect. If only I could find barbel they would be nailed on to feed.
One reason so many good fish are reported from the Trent is the sheer number of anglers in pursuit of them, so I was pleased that my first-choice swim – on the outside of a wide sweeping bend in the open fields of north-east Nottinghamshire – was free.
Here the countryside is almost Fen-like, and as different as it can possibly be from my regular haunts on the Wye. While the view isn’t spectacular, the barbel are, and I was excited by the prospect of the sport to come.
I tackled up with a pair of Drennan Big River rods, Baitrunners and 18lb Syncro XT mainline – a touch agricultural, I admit, but when repeatedly casting heavy weights in a
WHO SAYS TRENT BARBEL ARE EASY? continued
snaggy environment there’s no alternative. However, immediately up and downstream of my position were three other anglers – and this was midweek! Somehow my terminal tackle would need to fool fish that had been under constant pressure all season.
A float stop would trap debris brought down by the current before it could reach the rig. I opted for a very large (120g) blockend feeder filled with Sticky Bloodworm pellets, maggots and hempseed. With regular recasting I could lay down an accurate but limited bed of small particles that would hopefully grab a barbel’s attention.
A 5ft hooklength of 15lb Ghost fluorocarbon and size 12 Super Specialist barbel hook would, I hoped, be sufficiently subtle. All I needed now was a hookbait to tempt them – this would sit on a separate soft braided hair.
Sometimes doing something different can really work, so while there was nothing unusual about the Krill dumbell, the three maggots glued on to the end certainly were.
One last thing I needed to do was to pinch on an SSG shot 3ins below the bait. This would help to drop the hook into the bottom lip of a fish, at the same time preventing tangles, as the weight would keep the hooklength extended during the cast.
Immediately at my feet there was calm water, but a little way downstream and a third of the way across the Trent a crease had formed just before the flow hit the bank. It would be here that I would cast, and I set about putting in a little bait.
It took two hours before this setup grabbed a barbel’s attention, causing the rod to hoop over and the alarm to scream. Now I was cooking on gas, and it didn’t matter that it was a small shoal fish that ended up in the net. This was the beginning of the action, coming in waves of two or three barbel at a time before a fallow period – this is typical tidal fishing.
By the following morning I’d caught quite a few, but all of a similar size, and I had a decision to make. Yes, I was catching, but a big fish seemed unlikely. Following my gut instinct, I packed up and headed towards Nottingham.
Had I made the right call? I would know only after the final night, but things started where they left off on the tidal with small shoal-sized fish.
With yet another move of swim the day seemed shorter than ever, but by nightfall I was anticipating some action. Nobody had told the fish, though. As I finally drifted off to sleep I couldn’t believe the rods had remained unmolested.
An hour before sunrise I was sitting on the edge of the bedchair, bleary eyed and trying to persuade an unwilling body to recast the rods. I needed to be heading home by mid-morning and this was my last chance. So a fresh payload of bait and a coffee started the day, followed by a now familiar event – the playing of a small barbel. This was fish number 19 I’d landed, and not one was over 7lb – so much for every other capture on the Trent being a double!
I’d been unlucky in the size stakes up till now, but all that changed when the rod next buckled in the rest. From the moment I felt the force pitted against me I knew a big fish was attached, but I felt sick when the weight snagged, presumably around a rock.
Quickly I donned chest waders, got into the river and didn’t stop until I was downstream of the barbel. Then I piled on the pressure once more and was relieved to feel the nod of a head and the line cutting upstream, free of obstruction.
Had I damaged the mainline? Probably, but I had complete faith in the Syncro XT, even if it had been abraded. I was equally confident that the size 12 hook was strong, and buried deep in the barbel’s bottom lip. The worst thing I could do now would be to relent and allow the fish to
reach the rocks again, so I kept up the pressure as the rod hooped alarmingly, adjusting the drag to give as little line as possible.
The barbel’s energy was unrelenting for five more minutes, and not once did I feel anything but a solid weight moving slowly across the bottom – a sure sign of what was to come.
It had to be big, and so it was. A huge head and a copper flank boiled on the surface, then the fish rolled over, its big belly raising the white flag of surrender.
Gently I drew the fish into the waiting net. At 15lb 10oz it was my biggest-ever Trent barbel, and every ounce of effort was suddenly worthwhile!
“Not once did I feel anything but a solid weight moving slowly across the bottom – a sure sign of what was to come”