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Time for a bit of a change I thought as I wandered across the damp field.

The air temperature had hit the heady heights of 11.5 degrees according to the Vectra and that felt about right. It had been decidedly chilly over the last few days and my mind kept turning to a slower section of river near Radwell that I have always fancied the barbel drop down to from time to time.

The river looked perfect at that important first glance that can either lift you or drop into despondency. About 6 inches up and still carrying a touch of colour from the rains over the last few weeks.

The thermometer gave me a touch of bad news telling me that that river was still cool at 5.5 degrees. I was not concerned, as I knew that the temperature must rise taking the air temperature into account.

I had never fished the area in front of me but had walked past it a great many times so had a passing knowledge. I made up my mind that I would bait a few swims and fish them in rotation.

Swim 1 was a near side crease formed by an upstream reed bed. Nice enough you may think but an overhanging bush 10 yards down stream topped it off.

Swim 2 was a slack caused by a small bay in a reed bed. Part of the reed bad downstream had been blown over at some point covering the margin.

Swim 3 was the banker. Overhanging tree 20 yards downstream and a crease less than a rod length out caused by an overhanging bramble bush. The crease ran a yard or two from another reed bed.

All 3 were given 2 small baitdroppers of hookbait samples.

This is the difficult part for me. Three corking swims but I knew that to cast, drop would be more accurate, a bait within 10 minutes was tantamount to throwing in a brick.

I have a love hate relationship with far bank features. I love them as I usually catch but hate the fact that I cannot prepare the swim as accurately as a near side swim. My answer to this is to use a PVA bag, which does the job, but I still cringe when I see and hear the splash of it hitting the water.

A little upstream of swim 1 was a far bank overhanging tree with a traditional Ouse raft of flotsam. This was chosen due to being quite close, getting old! to the other swims but not close enough to disturb them should I catch.

The golf ball sized PVA bag and terminal tackle soon sailed across the river unsurprisingly missing my intended spot by 5 yards as I hadn’t managed to wet a line for a week so my aim was off. Happily it went 5 yards upstream of the raft so I left it be. I was happy about guessing the amount of weight needed correctly as the ¾ ounce bomb moved a touch as the PVA bag left the hook. Job done thought I and turned to rummage in the rucksack for my flask.

The rummage did not last long as it was disturbed by the butt of my rod banging against my knee! I turned and did the river fisherman’s leap after the rod as it seemed intent on going to Bedford. After the initial surge it was soon obvious that I had a chub. Quite a nice chub of 5lb.

It had been an hour since baiting the three swims so it was time to top them up with another small baitdropper full of bait. Apart from a few knocks nothing else came from under the tree so after another hour I was itching to get to swim 1.

As I was unsure of the resident population of this area I decided to err on the side of caution and not add a PVA bag as is my usual practise as I did not want to overfeed any fish visiting the swim.

I gently lowered the bait just 6 inches from the end of the reedbed at the head of the crease. I had also reduced the lead to a ¼ ounce flat lead. The lead did not get a chance to settle as the rod hooped over. This wasn’t a chub. After a tussle a picture perfect 8lb barbel graced my net. I put in another two bait droppers and moved to number 2.

Not a nibble of interest from swim 2 but a rather funny battle between two Dabchicks on the far bank kept me entertained. After 30 minutes in went some more bait and before I went I checked the temperature. It was up to 7 degrees.

Nothing to note from swim 3 on my first or second visit or the other two for that matter so I was wondering as I crept into the swim if I had selected correctly. By now dusk had passed by and was a half hour into dark as the bait was gently lowered. I was a little hungry by this stage so as I find it difficult to eat and touch leger time for a bobbin as the pace was slow. Time to improvise as I usually manage to forget bobbins every time thought I as I took the last cigarette from a packet. The fag packet bobbin was again pressed into service!

I will say this of the bite it did give me a chance to finish my sandwich, very considerate. I suspected the culprit as the bobbin had smacked against the rod with a thwack that foretold a battle. This one was seriously interested in the downstream tree but I just managed to turn it every time after every bit of pressure I could force. Just a number I know but 11lb 8 ounces of barbel that meant that I was pretty pleased with myself.

Have you ever had a feeling that you should stay put? I do from time to time and now was such a time. Took the temperature again and it had managed to reach 8 degrees.

The mobile rang and Dick was asking if I was certain it was a barbel, as I must have forgotten what they looked like! That’ll teach me to text him! To be fair he did congratulate me as well.

The bobbin twitched and lifted an inch. I hovered and grabbed the rod as the bobbin reached the top of its drop. The familiar surge of a chub was evident but it did not turn after the first run as most do when using barbel tackle. This old girl was having none of it and surged off again and again. She eventually saw reason and after a bit of a rest put 5lb 9 ounces on the scales.

What a chub river the Ouse is that is the second time this season I have had the pleasure of two 5lb fish in a session.

I had work the next day so when the clock got to 6.45pm I was starting to pack up as the fag packet hit me on my forehead. I can take a hint and again dived for the rod. Barbel was my instant thought. Big barbel as the initial powerful run was changed to a deep deliberate fight. This fish also had a un -natural urge to see what was under the downstream tree. I could not turn it though. It sat bumping under the tree for a while and to my delight decided it wanted to go upstream. There it went with me just holding the rod with the realisation there was nothing I could do to stop this fish if it wanted to go somewhere. All I could do was hang on hope it didn’t get snagged and wait for it to tire. After 30 minutes I could at last drag the fish over the net.

No not a barbel. A clonking 6lb 2 ounce eel !

Cheers
Andy