Grebe in
winter plumage
I arrived at the Middle Trent venue just after 10am, a little earlier than is usual for me but the improved conditions after a long lay off and the forum talk led me to believe there could be a few on the banks. However it was not to be, a pleasingly empty car park meant I had full choice of swims; not that there is a shortage of viable pegs, but we all have our favourites. Before I could even exit the car Conrad was requesting a sms update of river conditions and "'ave you ad owt ?"; hold your horses fella, I'll get back to you. The river was up 3 to 4 feet with some colour, the air felt warm and I was hopeful of some action. I set up the usual 2 feeder rods cast out and waited ...... and waited. Around midday a fellow angler arrived, we had a bit of a chat and then he set up a few pegs downstream of me and promised to update me with details of the water temperature so I could further appease Conrad's thirst for knowledge (being a true Yorkshire man I don't delve into my wallet for such fripperies as thermometers). An hour or so later he had his first Barbel, followed a little later by another, whilst I sat there bite less. I wandered down to see if he was doing anything different to me (like you do) but our approaches were remarkably similar, open ended feeder and pellet, standard Trent tactics. The highlight of this sojourn down the bank was his water temperature thermometer indicated an increase of one degree from 43 to 44 Fahrenheit. The Goosander I was watching seemed to be having about as much luck as me despite quartering the water and diving frequently (well I think it's a Goosander, perhaps I will be corrected on that). And I was corrected, it's a Grebe in winter plumage, thanks Tony.
The river was rising slowly, the colour deepening a little and the crap increased tenfold such that 10 to 15 yards out was the optimum distance to be fishing and even then piles of debris were soon accumulating as the line was frequently cleared of leaves, weed and the usual Trent detritus. Fellow angler then had a third Barbel and was starting to irritate me slightly (jealousy is a terribly destructive emotion, take note you fishing forum Wallahs) then, after a quiet spell, he came up for a chat. This apparently brought me luck because as we were chatting I commented that the downstream rod was bent over with accumulated debris and needed a recast when it flicked into life and a splasher Barbel of just over 5lb was gratefully netted; my first of the year and a most welcome sight. As the day darkened towards evening more were to follow, Barbel of 6lb 10oz, 8lb, 5lb 4oz and 5lb 1oz came along every hour or so. After each capture I took great delight in informing Conrad (who had by now changed venues and was some half mile upstream of me) by texting him about my latest conquest. The only downside was, as it got darker and the trips to and from the waters edge increased, the steep bank became rather lethal so I resorted to descending on my arse rather than risk a dunking from which I might not recover (I was now fishing alone my erstwhile companion having departed after his 3 fish). I always intended to pack up around 8pm for the long drive back to Leeds but ended up a little later than that as the Barbel didn't cooperate and a last cast fish on each rod saw me getting the camera out again. These two went 6lb 6oz and 8lb 3oz. I'm confident if I'd stayed on longer I could have easily reached double figures but I was happy with breaking my duck for January 2011.