A Place in Time - Barbel Fishing in Extremadura

                                           The business end of a female Comizo Barbel

 A few months ago, my old mate Tony Rocca wrote an excellent book about his exploits in the Extremadura area of Spain. He has been visiting there for fifteen years, usually in the company of the Ninja Barbeller, Ian Hobkirk. Plenty of others have joined him and stopped over in his flat, nestling between the terraced buildings of the village of Medallin. I've fished there twice before but not for a few years. So, when I read his book, I was motivated to have another go. 

                                        A Tony with 20.04 caught earlier this year

 Enter Mark Everard, best known as Dr Redfin. I spoke to him and the subject came up, he was especially excited when I told him that Tony and his mates had all had 20lb + fish. Tony said we could join him and plans were made. These were almost put on hold when the area was deluged by mountainous floods. However, the rain stopped a few days before departure and Tone said "Be Rayt". Apparently, that’s Northern talk for, 'We'll be fine, everything will come up roses'. 

 The river was high, brown and angry on arrival but on day one, Tony and Mark had two or three each. I sat in the 'easy' ie shorter casting swim and blanked my arse off. It was a huge pool fed by a turbulent flume that left a long crease. How come I couldn’t find a fish?

Tony lands one and Mark poses with a carp

 

 Next day, we went looking for some sensible water and the Gypsies (Andalusian barbel), that thrive in a massive reservoir. On arrival, the scene shocked Tony as the levels were up by many feet and submerged the bankside foliage. I fished a little point and saw one or two half-decent fish roll but none of us had a bite. I sat feeding Gibel carp in the margins. If you don't know, this invasive species it comes from the far east and makes an easy but hard-fighting fish loved by match anglers. Professor Mark hates them as they hybridise with most carp and do passable impressions of Crucians that cause a lot of false claims for that hallowed species. I caught a couple just by leaving my hookful of maggots in the margin for a minute or so. It was nice to feel a fish but a very hollow result. 

                                                           The dam at the reservoir

 Just before we left, Mark dropped into my swim and also caught one to avoid his blank. Unbelievably, he later said, "I was so pleased to catch that Gibel". Words I doubt he had ever before uttered or indeed will again. 

                                                                                            A pesky Gibel

 I have to add a word about the birdlife there. Tony had his 'Merlin' song identifier on and recorded Serin, Iberian chiffchaff, quail, three types of thrush, black wheatear, bee-eaters, warblers and finches .... the list went on and on. I even had 14 Great Created Grebes in front of me. The birds everywhere were a constant distraction with Vulchers, Booted and Short Toed eagles, countless Storks along with quite a few Glossy Ibis and Hoopoe. You could never float fish.

Day three saw us back at the long crease with me sat in the middle. At last, I opened my account. The fish were easier to find as the levels were noticeably dropping. Tony had 4 or 5 along with a few hard-fighting common carp. Mark did likewise, including a ten pound barbel. I got off the mark with a pair of small barbel. The first was dropped straight back by Mark so, no picture. And a little one of 3-4lb. It was good to be on the score sheet.

                                                                                At last

I never worried about the lack of fish, I stuck at it and plodded along knowing that my turn would come. There’s no point in changing anything when everybody was fishing the same way, it’s just something that happens sometimes. Nicky told me I had a good ‘un coming too, or was she just using psychology? Yes, that’s what I thought.

That evening we hit the bar again and Mark and I shared fish and chips Spanish style. The plate of chips dwarfed the fish, and we nearly burst.

With just two fishing days left, we headed to a new spot. This was after our morning visit to another bar for two feet of toast and coffee. The toast was half a baguette, split then toasted with jam, cheese, ham, butter….. We settled for butter and strong coffee.

The bar was always full in the morning, alive with excited chatter; everybody seemed to know each other. The conversation was rapid with little laughter coming through but everybody was charming and seemed happy in their tight community. I felt very comfortable there and quite envied the village life that Tony enjoys on his frequent visits. I did however, upset the owners wife when I mistakenly visited the ladies instead of the gents. No harm was done and my charm offensive got me away undamaged.

                                                                     Beer and Tapas - joy!

The new swim had deep water with a decent flow coming from the shallows above. It has a history of ‘Big Girls’ at this time of year but we continued to catch mainly males complete with spawning tubercles. I had three fish between one and three pm. All of them gave me a slack line bite as they lifted my bait then plodded towards me, not the usual screamer associated with barbel. The biggest fish was a female but ‘only’ 11.8 which made me very happy. They really do put up a scrap, staying deep and nodding their head until they come up in the water and shoot off in violent bursts of speed. My knackered shoulders ached from the playing as well as the casting.

Tone again had a barbel, this one had a lot of short-head about it but, as there are five species of barbel sharing a river and spawning grounds, finding a mint example is often difficult. We just accepted them as barbel and got on with it. 

Mark worked hard in his swim that needed a long chuck. He went biteless and was a little irked. 

Next day we swapped around and Mark had ‘my’ swim. I went down into Tony’s and Tone took the ‘dead spot’. He didn’t get a barbel from what is usually a good swim, just landing a couple of small catfish - which he dislikes and refuses to touch. Mark had three including another ‘ten’ and I had two of 8 and 9lbs. The sun was hot and relentless, I even put a brolly up. I was sorry to miss seeing a Mongoose running along the far bank and had to put up with a steady stream of bee-eaters arriving from Africa and a constant accompaniment of Cettis warblers that infest the area. 

 Our last trip along the bumpy track to the road was tinged with disappointment but we had all worked hard and had each caught fish to over ten pounds. Maybe Mark and I will get the timing better next time and find one of those amazing Big Girls - that is a dream but could yet happen.

Tony’s book is available by contacting Tony on lazytombstone1884@gmail.com