Week three...

With 4ft of extra water in the Trent and reasonable night time temperatures, it seemed rude not to take advantage and target a winter barbel, or two. On face value, conditions were near perfect and I knew just the spot that was likely to throw up a few bites.

Arriving in darkness with rain hammering down, mine was the only vehicle in the car park so I gave it half an hour to see if the weather improved. No such luck, so in the half- light of dawn I loaded up and set off to my distant banker swim, head down and hood up.

The river had crept into the fields and I was soon caked in mud. Twice I almost walked out of a moon boot as the glutinous sludge sucked on my soles and wouldn’t let go, causing me to stumble and only save myself from a very messy pratfall using my chair as a foil, plastering it in crud.

Of course, I couldn’t get near my chosen spot and had to retrace my steps through the mire and stumble back to the swim I ought to have chosen in the first place, a mere 30 yards from the car.

As flood swims go, it was perfect. Just off a bend, a sunken bush deflecting the flow to create an area of steady water that was a good 10ft deep. Two ounces was easily enough to hold and there was no rubbish coming down. This was a case of cast out a big lump of meat doused in garam masala, a shake of garlic salt and a dash of virgin olive oil, then sit back and wait for the inevitable action.

Three hours later and not a sniff, I was beginning to wonder what was going on. How could

I not have caught? And then the penny dropped. Three days earlier there had been snow on ‘ the tops’. The Snake Pass was blocked, Woodhead barely passable. This rain had melted the lot and brought it tumbling down the Dove and the Derwent, filling up the Trent with snow water.

Even with the odds stacked against me I just knew I’d get a chance eventually and in the fading light I had a stuttering bite. It could have been a plastic bag caught on the line, or an eel, but I lifted the rod and, sure enough, there was a solid ‘ fishy’ resistance. It could still have been a big eel as it didn’t scream off. It just sat there shaking its head. Then a sudden burst of power told me this was definitely a barbel.

I nearly lost it, twice, as it snagged me up in submerged vegetation at my feet but the Gods were smiling on me today and my persistence paid off. Remember, effort equals reward in winter.

Meat in garam masala, garlic salt and virgin olive oil did the trick a Bushes in the water created fish slack into which I could it for this stick at I had to ngs barbel knocki last