News From The Front Line

 

Travelling Europe since April has been epic for many reasons. However the fishing had proven to be difficult as the purchase of licences and permits was prohibitive on the cost front for the amount of time we were spending in each country. Finally we arrived in Spain and a meet up with two of our besties for a couple of weeks fishing on the Rio Ebro.
At this stage I must point out that my mate Kev is a secretive fellow when it comes to fishing so to protect Kev’s identity he will be referred to as Dog Chops, or Dog for short. Mr Chops is married to the lovely Mrs Chops, who has no issues at all with regard to her identity and will hereafter be referred to as Lynn.

 

We met Kev and Lynn (bored with Dog already) on the Promenade Swim where they had been having mucho success catching Carp in the twenty to thirty pound bracket, Roach and Rudd to nearly 3lb, truly remarkable specimens of pristine, piscatorial perfection. They had gradually manoeuvred themselves into a position, which, once we arrived would give us selfish possession of 120 metres or more of one end of the Promenade. We arrived at around eight in the evening sat-navving in on the co-ordinates which Kev had sent us previously, just as he was landing a 20lb-ish Catfish on his Carp Gear. We had a few beers and a catch up as we hadn’t seen each other since Sian’s 40th birthday, some 37 years earlier. (Just kidding my love X).
The next day, and disaster occurred on a couple fronts. I was setting up our gear and discovered that I had forgotten to pack our Catfish reels which were loaded with expensive 75kg breaking strain braid. Then some Spanish geezers turned up and informed us that there was a match taking place on the promenade swim and we would have to get the heck out of town. Tool tart and tackle tart are phrases that have been used to describe me, so the first disaster was happily overcome with a trip to the tackle shop to buy some shiny new reels and braid and other miscellaneous items, permits etc. The second disaster turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The Promenade swim is in the gusset of a large bay and we had moved to a new swim at the upstream end of the bay called Dead Fred’s Finger. As soon as the match started the gusset became a very dirty gusset as tons of floating weed drifted in making the fishing next to impossible. Now I’m not one to bear a grudge but …..Hahaha, serves them right. Before we left, in the morning, Aaron decamped and started poking around the rocks at the side of the river. Suddenly he shouted for attention. Dad look at this… its some sort of crab or something. He’d found a Crayfish which promptly scurried underneath a rock. Aaron stuck to the task of catching the creature finally managing to trap him between a rock and our fresh water watering can he had pilfered from the van. Sadly at this point he entrusted the final act of extraction to Sian who promptly failed in her task and Pinchy (he had been affectionately named) escaped to pinch another day. Not deterred by this set back further plans were hatched for capturing the elusive Pinchy.

If the Prom Swim was in a very dirty gusset, Dead Fred’s Finger was in some lightly soiled panties. Although we had problems with some light clumps of floating weed, causing us to re position our baits when they were dragged out of place, it was still eminently fishable. Over the next three days we landed 9 Common Carp and only one under 20lbs.
The biggest fell to one of Kev’s rods at a little over 40lbs. This on the 19th of November. The River Ebro near Mequinenza is vast. The river levels are controlled by a series of Dams producing Hydro Electric power to the grid. After the dams were built and the valley was flooded, the houses, farm buildings, Olive and fruit groves all disappeared under the water, presenting an added challenge to us highly skilled, resourceful and dedicated piscatorial gladiators. The size and topography of the new river bed and the location of the old mean that casting baits to the fish is rarely an option. The bait, in most cases has to be taken out to the fish in a boat.

 

We heard at night and saw during the day, Carp and Catfish rolling and lunking over what would have been the near bank of the old river bed, they were clearly feeding; this meant rowing the baits out up to 200 metres into the river. There was a thick mist in the morning and Kev rowed his baits out on his own, due to the fact that no-one else was committed enough to the cause to be up before dawn. His Nibs had pushed it a bit too far this time, even for him, and when he placed his furthest bait, there were but a few reel handle turns of line remaining on the spool. Kev figured that the situation could be rectified if, when the bait was picked up by a fish, he jumped into the dinghy and fought the fish from there. This would enable him to reel himself towards the fish without risk of having the rest of the line stripped from the reel, losing the fish in the process. Fine in theory but when he had a run on this rod it all went horribly wrong.
The fish tore off stripping the remaining line from the real at an alarming rate. However Kev hadn’t informed me of the situation with the line, or his plans for the battle if his bait got nailed. Kev picked up the rod and leant into a strong fish. He somersaulted into the dinghy, desperately trying to stop the thing he had become attached to. Now, not many people are aware that Kev is a black belt in Origami! As he transitioned gracefully from bank to boat his leading foot sailed within an inch of my chin as I held the boat steady for his boarding. This fish was having none of it and as it began to tow the boat out into the river two things became apparent. That this was no small fish and that Kev had forgotten to take the landing net with him in his haste to get out on the water. “Tone! Chuck us the net”, he bellowed and the net was duly despatched, landing in the boat, more by luck than judgment, before the fish had towed him out of reach. As the distance from the shore increased the line on the spool decreased until Kev was looking at an empty spool and one suspect, dodgy spool knot. After a frantic battle of wills he managed to get some line back onto the spool only to find that he was once again without a landing net which he had knocked overboard in the mayhem. All that could be seen was the last ten inches of the handle, slowly sinking into the depths. Anyone who thinks men can’t multi task would have be convinced otherwise having watched him rowing the boat whilst attempting to control the forty pounds of angry Carp on the other end of the line, with rod clasp between his legs and retrieve the landing net at the same time. Finally the battle was won and the Carp was on the bank. Photos, cheers and back slapping ensued and the fish was safely released to fight another day. (There was no such mayhem apparent on the prom from the unfortunate match anglers). He followed his forty up with an eighteen pounder and a 33lb 12oz fish.

 

With all the excitement of fish on the bank Tom and Aaron were desperate to catch one of their own and set to feeder fishing for Roach. Patience however is a very necessary requirement here and both boys tended to reel in and recast ever so slightly more often than necessary. During one of these moments when Tom was reeling in yet again contrary to, Kev, Sian and my advice (what do we know?) we heard the wonderful words “Dad I’ve got one, I’ve got one”. As he reeled in there was definitely some additional weight on the line and when the terminal tackle was finally lifted from the water, who should appear, gripping the feeder tightly in his Claw, but their old mate Pinchy . What a feeling, he was made up as was Aaron who was as excited as Tom to finally see Pinchy on terra firma and this time gripped tightly in Sian’s hand. The Crayfish was duly named Pinchy (or Pinchy 2). Poor Pinchy was kept for two nights in a bait box. The boys diligently changed the water regularly and tried to tempt Pinchy with various delicacies but the dude wasn’t tempted. Pinchy was relocated and released in the Promenade swim a couple of days later.