Pete’s River Diary

After a busy few days with site meetings with the WCSRT, EA, landowners, local clubs etc regarding our BS habitat works on the Avon and Stour, it was good to have a day free to go fishing! As I wandered expectantly towards the river, I passed beneath a tall oak tree, a large and ancient specimen that is probably a few hundred years old. Something fell from the tree, and landed a few feet in front of me, with that soft, sickening thud that can only be made as a dead body hits the ground. It was a large rabbit, with no head, and a few entrails on show. My first thought was that it was lost prey from either a leopard, or a buzzard, both of which will stash a kill up a tree for a while. I quickly discounted the leopard, not common in the Avon valley, although there are tales of large black cats that could be escaped mountain lion. It was likely that one of the buzzards that I often saw perching in the oak had accidentally dropped a meal from a feeding branch above my head; I imagined it cursing to itself about a lost lunch, but took the dead rabbit as a bad omen, and fished with not much confidence.

The rabbit turned out to be lucky, though, and I had a couple of clean sprightly barbel of seven and eight pounds within a couple of hours, who had moved in on the bed of hemp I had introduced a day or so before when I last fished the swim. A quiet spell followed, then, as dusk approached, the slow purr of the centrepin suggested a better fish had […]

It is usually clear enough to find your Avon barbel by spotting, but the water remains stubbornly murky, enabling spotting to be feasible in only the shallower swims, whereas in normal years we can see them in eight feet of water.

The weed is growing slowly, and I guess it takes the nutrient out of the water that is causing the bloom of algae/diatoms that is staining the normally crystal-clear summer Avon.

Found a shoal of barbel in some shallow, weedy water, and a whole bunch of greedy chub, but it took a second session in the swim before they responded to the bait and came onto the feed properly. High water temperatures may not have helped, but eventually they got their heads down and I had a bag of five barbel, all six and seven pounders, and seven chub, two of them over six. All fought well, and were fin-perfect, and there were a couple of big barbel lurking about that will have to wait until next time.

If you take time to look at your fish, you will see all the colour variations and slight abnormalities that are quite normal. The chub had very bright, orangey-yellow fins, it seemed, and some of the barbel had one or two orange spots on the belly that are apparently caused by a tiny skin parasite. All fish will carry a range of parasites, both internally and externally, and these are quite harmless unless weakness and disease or environmental conditions favour a boom in parasite numbers.

Another couple of barbel today, but both were clearly quite old fish. As barbel get older, they seem to show signs of fin damage, which mostly repairs itself.

An honest 9.15 was also a bit blind in one eye, but still capable of feeding and fighting hard. The dorsal was very long and scythe-like, and the gnarled fins and patchy scales told the story of a long life, and often the damage is due to being caught and mis-handled.

The smaller fish had some tail damage, but very old and well-repaired, and the cause could only be guessed at. It was about six pounds, but could have been more than 15 years old, and probably a male. I have caught it before, two years ago, from the same swim.

The fresh young fish are also there, however, and there are increasingly encouraging signs of younger generations coming through.

An old acquaintance in the form of a mirror carp of about twelve pounds had me thinking he was a barbel for a while, tearing off across the river in a sizzling run. This fish was caught by me a few years ago, a mile downstream, and his distinctive tiny mouth can not be mistaken. It is difficult to put a forefinger in the tiny tube of a mouth, maybe a simple deformation, or a result of hook damage perhaps, but he can still feed greedily and take my bait again.

A twelve pound barbel is a nice way to start the season in terms of double figure fish, and this fish was a longish, lean and probably fairly old fish, but it fought like a tiger despite its age.

At first I thought it was a chub, as it shook its head and thumped about, but it soon realized what was happening and screamed off downstream and convinced me it was no mere chub.

I think I have caught it before, same swim, same time last year, and if so it is a fish that stays at home, unlike some, which are real roamers and are never caught twice in the same place.

Hard to see in still, but the baitdropper and a bit of dragging the lead and bare hooklink across the bottom will find a clear spot, though there is a nasty snag in the swim too, a sunken tree trunk half buried in the bottom, which takes no prisoners.

A young, clean, spotless eight pound barbel, from the next generation, came next cast. The scale readings from the Avon barbel scales that we have been sending to Bournemouth University indicate a good range of year classes and a sustainable barbel population, and despite the miserable, negative moanings of some, the evidence is that the Avon barbel are holding their own and showing signs of stability and some improvement.

The chub are still coming thick and fast, and fight really hard on the barbel tackle; strange how they are almost a pest when barbel fishing, but a worthy sole quarry in the winter on finer gear, and much more welcome at that time of year! They are learning fast, and once caught a time or two they will […]

A chance of a few days on the lovely River Vienne, after an invite at fairly short notice, was not to be missed. I have fished here before, and relished the scenery, the food, the wine, the fishing, and meeting the people that make this part of France so relaxing and charming.

The Vienne, a rocky, surging river, not unlike the Wye, is largely unfished, and the carp are more attractive to the locals than the barbel. The local anglers are becoming very educated in fish welfare, and the young carp anglers are keen and respectful of their quarry. The carp in the Vienne do not grow big by French standards, but fight like crazy. The silures, the catfish, are still prized by all as a delicacy, as are the sandres, zander, but the barbel are left alone for some reason.

They do not grow big, but are numerous and fight hard, and a pleasant day catching fierce little French barbel in virgin swims, with sight of another angler a rarity, is an experience I shall return for.

We found lots of new swims, spent lazy days catching barbel and carp, and few bream, and had a glorious time. A five pound barbel was a monster, and truly felt like one.

I learnt a recipe for bream that involved a lot of boiling, making a bouillon, and addition of a range of herbs and spices, from a strange but fascinating lady who came to chat, as the French do, while I was fishing, but do not intend to try it out.