Bob Roberts My Monthly fishing diary

DO you get annoyed when someone tells you they never want to go fishing because it’s boring? If that’s the case, show them this month’s diary. Could fishing be much more varied, challenging and thoroughly enjoyable than this?

Week one...

“I’m catching some fabulous roach Bob, fancy joining me for an evening next week?” said the message. Attached was an image of Alfie with a 2lb 10oz beauty, an amazing fish. It was an offer I’d have loved to have taken up but unfortunately my car was in dock for four days.

It proved to be an offer I would regret when I learned of Alfie’s 3lb 4oz roach, caught on the session I was supposed to be sharing with him. That’s more than a huge roach, it’s a veritable Trent giant.

Of course, by the time my car was ready the river was in raging flood and any thoughts of fishing for roach went on the back burner. But a summer flood is the kind of gift horse you should never look in the mouth. Warm, coloured water means barbel will be feeding, providing you can find a fishable swim.

I knew the perfect spot but getting to it proved rather fraught. The UK’s roads are a nightmare on Friday afternoons. As I crested the hill heading towards Marr I could see the A1 was at a complete standstill so I did a quick U- turn and headed for Denaby, Conisborough and the back roads to Blyth, three junctions further south. This was great until I reached Conisborough and found the road I was hoping to travel was closed for roadworks with a diversion involving 73 speed humps and some seriously narrow lanes.

This eventually took me through the bandit lands of Maltby and Oldcoates but at least the weather was pleasant and I kept moving. Eventually I picked up the A1 at Blyth and made good speed towards Newark, until I ran into stationary traffic just a few hundred yards before the exit I planned to take. Once through this I figured it would take me 15 minutes to reach my destination. Err, no. More roadworks and congestion meant a further hour was wasted.

Unlocking the farmer’s gate I drove carefully across the grassy fields, avoiding sheep as I went, and then I saw the car. Noooo! Someone was in my spot. The only other angler on the river was parked slap bang where I wanted to be.

I pulled up a respectable distance away and wandered down for a chat. He was cagey, as anglers often are. Bit noncommittal about what he’d caught but eventually he opened up and generously offered to share the swim. “Drop in here, Bob, we can put the world to rights.”

“Let me just have a look upstream,” I said, not really wanting to crowd him. But everywhere above was a raging torrent. When I got back he told me he was packing up very shortly and that I might as well have his spot.

That was an offer I couldn’t refuse. The swim screamed fish. So we chatted for a while. I set up a rod in readiness and after a while he began gathering his bits together, loaded his car and waved me farewell.

I actually rigged up two rods, one with a feeder, the second with a straight lead. The upstream feeder rod would introduce some well- fermented hemp while both would present large lumps of Spam on size 4 hooks.

This kind of fishing is a tad boring if truth be told. There’s not a lot you can do apart from sit around and wait patiently. Sooner or later something will pick up on the scent trail.

Then the bumps and bangs started. Sharp raps on the tips but nothing that you could class as a proper bite. Bream, or chub, maybe? Clearly I was not fishing efficiently. I was mounting the bait by pulling the hooklink through the meat so the cube of meat sat on the hook but fish were getting away with the bait.

First step was to push a small piece of grassy stalk through the bend of the hook to prevent the bait being pulled off so easily. Well, that kept the bait on but it didn’t convert to fish hooked, so I created a hair and put a thicker stalk under the bend of the hook to make sure it stayed on and lightly hooked the corner of the meat leaving the hook proud.

That did the trick as ten minutes later the rod hooped over. Fish on! But something was wrong. My line was through a snag, I could feel it grating and that was as close as I could get the fish to me. Eventually the hook pulled and I reeled in a gnarly old tree branch.

Frustrated, I moved my rod rests as far to the left as a large bed of thistles would allow. It wasn’t long before the same, downstream rod was away again. This time I walked downstream to play it from behind a bed of chest high nettles but it still caught on the snag. Holding the rod as high as I could, I wound down hard on the fish and a branch rose from the surface like Excalibur’s sword.

Then the line pinged off it and the fish was free. A pristine double- figure barbel came grudgingly to the net. It was a process I was to repeat successfully two more times and twice more I lost fish to hook- pulls. Three- all, then. But at least no tackle lost.

Week two...

My delayed evening trip with Alfie was rearranged. We would meet as soon as he finished work and head off to the Dyke where good nets of roach had been caught in recent matches.

The plan was to fish hemp and tares on the float but a stiff downstream wind meant that the stick float was a non- starter. It was clearly a waggler job. I set up two rods, a 4AA insert waggler for the roach plus a quivertip and groundbait feeder. The area has some bream form and I planned to start on the feeder towards the far shelf for an hour while feeding hemp mid- river that could build up undisturbed.

I hoped to catch four bream and then switch to the roach. Well, in the first hour I had four bites and four good bream on pellets before switching to the waggler with tares on the hook. No messing about with hemp, this was one of those days when the roach accepted my tares straight away.

The wind was a bind; even overcasting, slightly downstream and then sinking the line as I pulled the float back on to the feed line fell short presentation- wise but every third or fourth cast you could see the float was running at the right speed and a fish was guaranteed. Whenever the wind dropped for a few seconds the float would bury. Fish were stacked up but perfect presentation wasn’t possible or I would have caught a shedload. However, sometimes it’s more fun to work for your rewards.

And special thanks to Alfie’s wife, Laura, for delivering piping hot homemade lasagne and salad. Delicious! Fishing trips don’t get much better than this.

Despite snag problems I landed three pristine barbel

but there was I landed four bream in the photo! only space for three