Floods and Storm Force Winds get the Barbel Feeding – Martin James

Driving up from Gatwick airport after a bonefishing trip to the Bahamas, I heard the weather girl say, “Heavy rain with gale force winds from the south west. Expect flooding in some areas” As David and me drove up the M40 I could see bank high rivers and streams, many fields were flooded. As we drove north, my mind was on the River Kennet. I called Paul Smyth who said “The River was bank high with a water temperature of 49 degrees farenheight the barbel are feeding”. I decided there and then I would travel down to the Kennet the next day; I asked Paul to collect me two buckets of lobworms then ended the call by saying “I will see you about 9 o’clock tomorrow evening”

Arriving home I made arrangements to travel south the next day with Ewan Turner of Southport. First stop was the butcher shop in Chatburn for a supply of sausage meat, one of my successful winter baits for barbel; it can be good bait for chub in coloured water. During the summer months I use it for tench. My other baits were lobworms and Pallatrax Jungle paste. After unpacking all my gear from my travels, I then sorted out the food for me and Ewan, which included a big hotpot to last a couple of days.

For my two days on the Wasing Estate syndicate water on the River Kennet. I chose two eleven foot Avon action rods for lines between 4-6lbs a twelve foot rod designed for lines of 8-10lbs; this was my designated barbel rod. I also packed a twelve foot Harrison Triptych rod. I have two of these models, but as yet they haven’t been used. I find my old model barbel rod still does the job it was designed for. The Harrison rods were purchased in case my other barbel rods got broken or stolen.

I packed three centre pins reels with four, six and 10lb lines. The lighter line should the perch show up. Six pound line for chub, ten pound line for barbel. Two Mitchell 300’s went into the tackle bag, also a leather float case containing a selection of cork on quill floats, and some stonzes weights. Tape recorder, Nikon SLR and my waistcoat which carried all my small items of gear were included. Having sorted out all the gear and clothing it was off to the studio to finish off a programme for transmission on Thursday.

Wednesday morning I listened to the weather forecast it said “Rain showers and gusting wind from the south west, Thursdays forecast was better. Heavy rain, with gale force winds from the south west. Fridays the forecast was rain showers and winds from the North West with a cold front. I reckoned Thursday could be a good day, especially with the low pressure zone. Storm force winds and heavy rain wouldn’t bother me. The drive south on Wednesday wasn’t a problem, in fact we done the journey in about four hours.

I suppose it was about ten in the morning when Ewan and I arrived on the Wasing Estate to find the river bank high, the colour of a light pea soup. The river looked the best I have seen it for the past ten years. Checking the water temperature at 48-49 degrees farenheight I turned and said to Ewan “Conditions are perfect, in fact they couldn’t be better” Within minutes the wind started to blow, the sky changed from grey to black, light levels dropped dramatically, then the rain sheeted down, it was torrential, the wind roaring through the trees sounding like an express train. We both stood still letting the rain pour down over us. It wasn’t a problem we had dressed for the conditions. Fifteen minutes later the sky become lighter, the rain eased off a little, the wind still blew strongly.

Collecting gear and bait from the car we moved off down river. It was a hike of about a mile to an area where I thought we might catch. Walking downstream through the riverside trees, we could see many pheasants looking quite miserable as they sheltered from the wet weather. Groups of long tailed tits were moving through the willow trees, I heard the manic laugh of a green woodpecker. Suddenly I heard a roaring sound; the trees shook and shuddered, the sky clouded over it looked as if day had turned to night, the rain sheeted down. It was torrential; the thunder sounded as if a bombing raid was taking place. We continued our walk downstream until we came to a large S shaped stretch of river with over hanging trees and bushes. I suggested Ewan should fish the inside of the first bend and left him to sort himself out. I would fish twenty yards further down river at the next bend.

The water looked a bit quieter in my chosen swim. I reckon paste on a size 4 hook would be the way to start. Putting together rod, reel and line, I fixed a stonze weight on the line about two feet from a size 4 hook. Then baited with a pigeon egg size chunk of paste dropping it tight to the bank. Within minutes I had a good tap, then nothing. Five minutes later I retrieved my tackle, the bait was gone. Re-baiting I dropped it back in the same area; another good tap, picking up the rod I waited for a steady pull. It didn’t come.

Lifting the rod I couldn’t feel the bait, it was gone. Five more casts, five good taps. Nothing. I was exasperated. On the next cast I held the rod, within minutes I felt the line tighten. Striking, the rod hooped over, I was forced to give line. It felt like a good fish. For some minutes it was give and take, but slowly the pressure on the fish started to tell, I started to pump the fish towards the surface.

Suddenly there was a big boil on the surface, I glimpsed a golden flank. The fish dived; it was its last burst of energy. I pulled the fish back to the surface then dragged it over the net, it was mine. That’s a double I though about ten and a half pounds. After taking out the barbless hook I lowered the landing net in the water while I set up the scales.

Having zeroed the scales with a wet weight net I moved the fish from one net to the other, hanging the net on the scales. I watched the needle go past the 11lb mark stopping at 11-6-0 I punched the air. First fish of the trip and a double. I was more than happy. Putting the fish back in the landing net it I lowered it back in the water. Walking up to Ewan I said “Can you come and photograph a fish for me?” He was as surprised as I was at catching so quickly. After taking some pictures we watched the fish swim off strongly.

In the next six casts I caught six barbel weighing between seven and nine pound, I was quite pleased to see the high average size. Without weighing these fish I reckon the average weight was over 8lbs. I then hooked and lost what felt a very good fish. I cursed, thinking I might have lost the shoal. No they were still feeding as I quickly had two more fish. Unlike chub I do really find barbel to be a bit on the thick side, their not the brightest fish that swims. Perch, roach and chub are a more difficult quarry, than barbel. What the barbel lack in caution and fear they make up with their fighting qualities.

After a wait of some thirty minutes I had a slow pull on the rod tip the strike connected with what I reckoned was a heavy fish, for about two or three minutes the fish hung on ther bottom, just plodding around. Unlike the smaller fish which often dash off on fast runs. This fish stayed close to the bottom. I cramped on the pressure, it worked I started getting the fish to the surface. Suddenly it dived I was forced to give line. After a few tense moments I started to get line back on the reel. Suddenly I had a big barbel on the top; it was certainly a personal best. No way did I think I would lose it. Suddenly it dived and was gone. I was left with a limp line. To say I was gutted would be an understatement.

I fished on and quickly caught three more fish; including another double which weighed 10-4-0 it was a certainly turning into one of those ‘Red Letter’ day sessions. Walking up to Ewan I said what you have had? He answered “four barbel all on paste baits” I said “Are you ready to go off for some hot food”? he answered “Yes” We had a two hour break enjoying a hot pot followed by a couple of mugs of freshly brewed tea and some cake made by Ewan’s wife Gill which is ideal for diabetics. During our food break we heard about the tornado that had hit an area of London. I wasn’t surprised. The wind we fished in was certainly near storm force. Dinner finished it was back on the river.

In the next couple of hours I had five more fish, Ewan had another three, it was now dark the temperature was dropping we decided it was time to leave. I reckon our big mistake was going off for some food when the fish were really feeding. On seconds thoughts we should have taken a lunch box and fished through till darkness. There have been many times when I have caught more fish in a day but not with such a good average size. On the Teme I have had several catches of barbel numbering twenty or more but nothing like the average size of the Kennet fish... This was certainly my best ever Kennet session.

Day Two on the Kennet

Overnight the river had dropped back some six to nine inches, the wind had gone round to the north west the air temperature had dropped a few degrees, a cold front had moved in. The water temperature was 48 degrees farenheight, with more anglers on the river today we decided to rove from swim to swim. My first swim was the one fished the day before in an hour I didn’t get a touch. Not even a slight movement. It was time to move. Ewan and me tried several swims, with very little to show for our efforts. I had one barbel and lost another. Ewan couldn’t get a bite. About one o’clock we stopped for lunch, I didn’t realise how sandwiches and fresh tea could taste so good. It was certainly a welcome break.

After a Tough Struggle - I Hit the Right Spot

After two hours roaming up and down the river without a bite, I said to Ewan “Lets go and fish one of my after dark banker swims, we probably want catch in the daylight but hopefully we might catch at dusk” Talk about luck. I chucked out a chunk of sausage meat paste, and then put the kettle on. As I ignited the gas, I heard Ewan shout “Your reel is going” Casually I picked up the rod thinking it was rubbish. Suddenly the tip slammed over I was into a fish. It fought very well in the fast water, after some minutes it was ready for netting. Ewan did the job perfectly. A barbel of about seven pounds. Now that’s what I call luck. In the next hour I had five more fish and lost two. The best fish of this session weighed in at 11-8-0. Now Ewan and I fished identical end tackle, the same baits about a foot apart, but poor Ewan had just one bite which was hooked and lost. It wasn’t that I was a better angler in these circumstances I was just very lucky. Lets be honest there is a lot of luck in this pastime. With the temperature dropping fast we decided not to fish into the darkness. Packing away our gear, I suggested to Ewan that if we get a frost tonight, then we should head off home early tomorrow morning. He agreed. Saturday morning very cold and bright, the car was frost covered. Our Kennet session was over