The good, The bad & the Nuisance fish!

by Brett 'whitey' White

 

Okay, to begin with, this is a story about 3 of the lads, myself included, slipping away for a few days fishing on the River Ebro in Spain. I’d never been there before, so don’t think I’m any kind of expert on the place, there’s plenty of others out there that are. You’ll find no telephone number at the end of this article plugging an ebro fishing holiday company, in case you’re wondering. If you thought 'this is the same old patter with a hidden agenda, because it was a freebie', you’re wrong. It’s about anglers doing their own thing, and if I mention a branded product it’s because I’m using them for their reliability and performance... I’d rather pay for something that’s gonna work than settle for second best because it’s free, and why not pass the info on if it does the job? So now we’ve sorted that out, you can relax, sit back and hopefully enjoy a good old honest fishing tale...

It was the middle of May, and the week before me and my good friend Johny Pearl were meant to be going to Holland for a long weekends carping with a couple of Dutch mates... I was particularly looking forward to it because I hadn’t been carping abroad for nearly 9 years due to running my own business and playing the field... A business, I must add, totally unrelated to angling and which only allows me one night a week to do so. Anyway, John got a call from one of the Dutchies telling us not to bother "coz the lake ain’t fishing and it’ll be a wasted journey, especially as we were going to be night fishing from a boat"... So, we’d wasted a couple of flight tickets! - That was, until I spoke to one of my mates from Essex, Nigel, who was going out to his new apartment on the River Ebro with another of our pals, 'dib dob' Rob, for a 3 day carping trip... he then said that me and JP were welcome to tag along... sorted!

Unfortunately for John, his work schedule meant he couldn’t go, but I was up for it and changed my flight accordingly... we would take the morning flight to Zaragoza and get the evening flight back from Reus, so we could fish ‘til the afternoon on the last day. During the run up to the trip I did as much homework as possible to find out about fishing on the Ebro. Rob and Nige had only been once, and that was back in November when they’d had lots of carp to mid 30’s. On that occasion it was just by whacking out 5oz leads and single large halibut pellets to fish they’d located by walking the banks the previous evening.

First problem was that I only had 12ft 2.75 lb test curve rods... hardly capable of chucking out 5ozs of lead! There’s a 2 rod limit on the Ebro, so I thought I’d try to ponce a pair of 3.5’s, then discovered I had a brand-new Free Spirit 4lb test spod rod... I gave it a good bend and she looked the part and what’s more, my good mate Ritchie had another that wasn’t getting used... so that was purloined to make the pair! Now for the reels, my baitrunner M’s aren’t really for distance casting as it’s not my game, so my other good mate (handy to have a few!) Lee Watson brought round some big pit reels which, on first inspection, looked ready to retire, but he assured me they’d just been serviced and had acquitted themselves well on Chanticoque. I took his word for it, loaded ‘em up with 15lb big game and was ready.

After doing some homework, it looked like the carp on the Ebro had turned onto halibut pellets big style... so much so, that they weren’t interested in boilies. Hard to believe I thought, so I got a few kilos of fishmeals and air dried them for a couple of weeks with a view to glugging them in liquid Belechan when I got there, then, with the addition of a Korda boilie funnel-web stick filled with some Dynamite meaty marine groundbait, 3mm halibut pellets and a dose of Solar’s Slayer Salmon Oil, how could they resist that. The plan was coming together, and so the day arrived to fly out from Stanstead.

Now I dunno what it is, but you know when something goes wrong early on and you start to wonder if it’s a prelude as to what’s gonna follow... the guy at the check-in gratefully took our 3 passports then inquired "who’s this then?"... we looked hard at the picture and as much as we like to think we look younger than our years in our photo, there wasn’t much point in trying to convince the bloke that one of us was 2 years old!... There was a loud slap as Nige’s palm hit his forehead, "shit!"... he’d picked up his son’s passport by mistake! What made things worse was that there wasn't enough time to drive back and get his own one!

After some frantic phonecalls he managed to get his dad to deliver it to the airport... and with 5 minutes to spare, we boarded the plane... Just a minor blip we thought, from here on it’s plain sailing... albeit with crossed fingers! As a point of interest, for those of you who are wondering... your baggage allowance is 15k, handluggage 10k, and rods and bait etc can go through as 'sports equipment' with a maximum weight of 32k and an extra charge of £17 each way.

So after 2 hours we finally arrived in Zaragoza and picked up the hire car. Nearly an hour later, we arrived in Mequinenza... I was amazed by the serene beauty of the place as the graceful Ebro slowly meandered through the steep sided hills and mountains and black kites circled majestically above... it was so refreshingly tranquil. First things first, we popped into the Bavarian Tackle shop to sort out the licences and day tickets. Nigel had sent all our passport details on a few days earlier so there was no wait for the licences. The licence cost 26 euros and the day tickets 3 euros, night fishing is not permitted here so if you're carping you have to pack up an hour after dark, and catfishing ‘til midnight with both being resumed at 6am... and you will be checked, be careful or very tucked away!

Mequinenza is situated at the point where the River Segre meets the Ebro, allowing for some fine angling. That evening we decided to fish a few hours up on the Ebro and keep an eye out for the carp with a view to getting on them in the morning. After a couple of hours we’d not caught or seen a thing, so we loaded up the car and went for drive up the Segre. We happened upon a pukka looking spit of land that jutted right out into the river... which, as it happened, turned to be the swim that produced the new Spanish record - a 64lb common - a few months earlier.

It was now dusk and as we looked up the river a carp nutted out, followed by some more, good enough, that’ll do for us... and at 5am the next morning we were setting up in the same area. There were carp topping everywhere... from the margins to the far bank 500 yards away, surely we were gonna clean up? Rigs were quite straightforward... a 2 foot length of Solar armatube, Korda tadpole rubber and lead clip, Korda snaplink to allow for the quick and easy use of dynamite sticks, 8 inches of 12lb Seaguar fluorocarbon to a size 4 Korda Longshank X, and the whole lot would be chucked out using a 4 or 5 ounce Korda gripper lead, depending on the flow.

Strangely enough, we never got a bite until the sun broke over the mountain and hit us with all it’s radiant glory. Nige had the first take, and a 22lb common soon graced the net after picking up a pellet. It was then that we realised the fish were spawning in the floating weed some 80yards in front of us and as we continued to watch, they thrashed about shagging their little tails off! Rob had a dropback and a 17 lber fell victim to the pellets. I was on boilies without so much as a bleep and so switched both rods over to pellets... then 10 minutes later had a 16lb fully-scaled - which was as rare as rocking horse turds on here - and so declared myself a specimen hunter!

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried drilling a pellet, but you need to be very patient otherwise they split... so after about a dozen I was close to head-butting the pod... and as much as I wanted to use the Dynamite ones, it was too much hassle, so I opted for the pre-drilled ones we bought in the tackle shop which, as it happened, lasted twice as long in the water. I pulled the hair through the middle of it and put a line of boilie stops on to prevent it coming off. Now, whether it was my casting style or what I dunno, but I had problems with the pellets sliding up the hair during flight, resulting in the stop coming out closely followed by the bait. There had to be a solution... and so the 'loop der loop' rig was born.

It was pretty simple really, and a braided hooklink was better for the job, I just made an extra large loop in the hair which would then be pulled through the hole in the pre drilled pellet then wrapped around the bait once and tightening up the hooklink secured it in place with no stop required, it worked a treat. Rob and Nige had another couple of fish, and I noticed, about 100 yards further up, there was a nice big gap in the line of floating weed with carp showing... these were fish that looked they were feeding rather than bonking, so I made the move. 5 minutes later I had a long 22 pounder, followed shortly by a single and a lost fish. Whether it was my aftershave or dashing good looks I don’t know, but all of a sudden Rob and Nige were plotted up either side of me... hmmm.

It was then that I had a steady run on the left-hand rod. The dynamite sticks fished with the pellet and Slayer oil were working a treat, and I pulled into a nice solid fish. Up until now we’d only had doubles and low twenties, but, at last, this one felt good. In fact, after 10 minutes it felt a bit too good... maybe it had a lump of weed on the line as the slow steady flow was causing us a few problems with the floating salad. Twenty minutes in and it was becoming obvious that some kinda beastie had taken a liking to me pellet... it was slow, heavy and laborious, with every yard gained it took five back, it had to be a cat! I was grateful for switching over to a 20lb braided Merlin hooklink, although I began to wonder if the 15lb mainline and spodrod were up to the task, time would tell.

With no boat to jump in and follow the unseen beast it was a test of patience and aching muscles. With half an hour gone I had it under the rodtip... although it was still hugging the bottom of the cloudy Segre with visibility down to about an inch. Then slowly, inch by inch, the tubing broke the surface proceeded by the lead then something from Jurassic park. "You've gotta be Fu***g joking!" I shouted as the massive head of a huge catfish revealed itself... only to then disappear again back to the bottom... followed a few minutes later by it’s tail!

Rob then offered one of lifes great understatements, “I think we’re gonna need a bigger net!"... we only had a 42inch net, which Nige held in the water not quite knowing why. The Cat stayed tight to the bank and I had to hold the rod out as far as possible to prevent the line being cut by the boulders we were standing on. Thank god I was using Armatube... not even a rock would cut through that, and it had saved me a few fish in the past. Any doubts I had about Lee’s reels were unfounded as they stood up to the massive task, despite a few odd noises and clunks.

Up she came again and, amazingly, Nige somehow managed to get her in the net (funny how we refer to big fish as she’?). Our relief was only short-lived though, as the netting had done no more than give her the hump, and she instantly thrashed back out of the net into the river... showing total disregard to our efforts, it was futile to try to stop her. "Ok lads what’s plan B?" I enquired, whilst back winding furiously as the now disgruntled catfish headed for Barcelona. A stunned silence was the reply, shortly followed by nervous laughter and head-scratching!

It was another 15 minutes before she was ready again... she looked beat and lay on top of the water. Nige skilfully manoeuvred the net, so that as she turned, her body formed a loop and he thrust the net forward then lifted it around her quickly, pulling the net towards him and grabbing the cord. She was in, and it was with excited relief that we started laughing and whooping like kids around a xmas tree ready to open their presents. The 'F' word was quickly shared around as we peered into the net... it was obvious our meagre 60lb scales weren’t quite up for the job... along with the pathetic little unhooking mats that seemed so big for a mere carp... fortunately, 500 yards down the bank were a group of English anglers who’d been there all week catfishing... one of which was Derek Ritchie, whom I’d met a few times on my travels.

I drove down to Del and his gang and explained my predicament and they kindly lent me some 200lb scales, a massive weighbar, and a weighsling that looked like a hammock. They’d caught quite a few cats upto 157lb, so were well happy. On returning to the swim, me and Rob tried to lift the fish out in the net... it was so heavy there was a chance it could rip right through the bottom, so we pulled the weighsling under the whole lot and dragged it unceremoniously up the bank onto the waiting collection of mats that were placed in a line. We wrestled the fish out of the net onto the sling where it transformed itself into some prehistoric monster. She was a proper old warrior, and huge, a good 7ft long!

The Longshank was buried neatly in it’s bottom lip... it wasn’t going anywhere, and amidst the vast mouth it looked like a fly in the Albert Hall! We gathered up the sling and hooked it onto the scales. Nige and I grabbed either end of the bar and up she went, 175lbs, less the sling, so we settled on 165 lbs... it was a shocking realisation. The euphoria was immense, she’d taken 45 minutes to get in and after the photos were taken I got in the water to grab the sling encasing the cat as Nige and Rob lowered her down. I pulled her out and stood there holding her steady ‘til she was ready to go and gradually with dented pride she drifted back off into the depths... I was shattered, the temperature was now around 40 degrees, my arms and back were aching, but the enormity of what had just happened made it strangely pleasurable.

It was with a huge grin I returned the scales and sling back to the chaps who kindly congratulated me, "Bloody nuisance fish!" I shouted as I drove away laughing hysterically like a crazyman who’d just landed a 165lb catfish on 15lb line from the bank!

I recast the rods during which Rob had his first ever cat... although Kitten might have been more appropriate as it was only about 5lb... and that was us being generous to him!

I sat back in the shade reliving the encounter when a dropback signalled another inquiry on the pellet... it had only been out about 15 minutes!  

I wound down fast and on contact the fish hit the surface 80 yards out. This felt like a good carp but ten minutes later a familiar pattern was taking place... yep, another big cat! I won’t bore you with another fight description coz all you've gotta do is read the last one again! Rob managed to get another cat whilst I was playing mine - another 5 pounder! The netting took a little longer this time as it just wouldn’t go in, but finally with the aid of two nets, we managed to scoop her into one. She was in great condition with no visible marks and after the trip back down to borrow the scales again weighed 115lbs.

It was quite unbelievable, a brace of fish, 15 minutes between, for a combined weight of 280lbs on carp gear! The rod performed brilliantly, so if anyone’s thinking of getting one for this purpose then have a look at the Free spirit 4lb test spod rod, coz at £90 it’s for nothing! The 15lb big game mainline took it all in it’s stride and those Longshank X’s never even looked like bending.

The rest of the day glided by... I was on a cloud... and we managed a few more carp to low twenties then packed up about 4pm to go and clean up, eat, then return for a few hours in the evening. I couldn’t wait to get back to the swim. I had my marks all sorted out and knew there’d be more action. On arrival back to the swim we were shocked to find it occupied, not just that swim but the whole bank was swarming with Spanish anglers! Unbeknown to us, the following day (Friday) was a bank holiday so they’d all arrived for a long weekend... if only one of us had stayed in the swim we’d have caught a shedload, but then hindsight, as always, is a wonderful thing.

Driving around revealed anglers in their droves, all mostly catfishing along with their families, pets and probably even the kitchen sink, definitely check the public holiday dates beforehand should you ever fancy a trip. We managed to find a small stretch of bank/road and fished the evening amongst an electric storm. We caught a few, and I managed the biggest so far, a 27 common, in the rain which the chaps kindly photographed from the comfort of the car rather than get wet .

We returned to that swim in the morning armed with a newly acquired catfish mat/sling and 200lb scales just in case. We knew everywhere else was taken for the rest of the weekend and so it was a case of making the best of it. The carping was slow, the fish were still spawning, I had another cat around 50lbs which crapped all over our nice new mat. As the sun got up I looked down the river towards our old swim hundreds of yards away... I was saddened by the sight of god-knows how many buoys, as far as I could see, and to each one of those was attached a large livebait - usually a carp - with a big single and treble hook embedded in it awaiting the jaws of a catfish.... all of which was connected via thick ol’ line to a boat rod and multiplier. I felt sorry for the cats, it was a minefield out there, and with the added distinct lack of unhooking mats, they deserved so much more respect.

By lunchtime we decided to hire a boat and go exploring. It was great to get out on the river although the murkiness of the water made visibility impossible and a fish finder a necessity... which we didn’t have, especially as there are large shallow areas concealing snags. These we found by pushing the oar in the water and doing emergency stops when the propeller hit a branch and spun the boat round! With no swims available, we decided to moor up next to a marshy island where the Segre split into two using the oars as stakes and tying off to them. It was cramped in the boat with 3 of us fishing, but with 2 rods each just lying on the deck or on half a pod it felt like extreme fishing and was a right buzz.

I got the first run after about quarter of an hour, which ended in the fish getting snagged and shedding the hook. After that, it was a run nearly every ten minutes, and we caught lovely long commons up to low twenties. It was exciting fishing and the size of the fish was immaterial. With the sun reaching 43 degrees by mid afternoon, we had to call it a day as it was sweltering sitting there with no shade. On our way back we found a secret little jetty that would accommodate us nicely, so after some refreshments, we set up there for the rest of the day and again caught commons of a similar size. The great thing about that swim was that behind the steep bank leading to the jetty was a great little restaurant overlooking the river. As the sun slipped back down over the mountains we frequented it, sitting outside admiring the view... whilst drinking ice cold San Miguels, and feasting on the biggest steaks we’d ever seen. I’m sure all they’d done was pulled it’s horns off and wiped it’s arse!

So the last day beckoned, and we had until lunchtime before it was time to pack up and get sorted before the drive to the airport. Rob fancied a swim by the bridge, yes, a vacant swim... and the reason it was vacant was because there was about a twelve foot drop into it... and when I say swim, I really mean about 4 foot to set yer gear up on all the crap that had been floating down the river and had made a beeline for the bank in the same spot! It was duly christened the Rathole. After much stumbling around and snapping of dead branches underfoot, we were set up. Rob chose to fish just off the stanchions of the bridge... being able to walk along it and bait up. Nige was in the middle and I fished right... I just about had room to cast, but the others had to clamber to the top of the escarpment and chuck out from there then abseil back down with the rod.

It wasn’t long before I had a take, but all too soon there was a grating on the line and the fish was snagged solid, I lost that one, and the next two, despite casting further round each time. They all headed straight for the snags, even with the boat we couldn’t shift them, so I moved both rods straight out to hopefully avoid it happening again. Rob then had a belting run that soon had him scrambling to the top of the parapet, back winding furiously, as an angry fish headed across the river. Despite the rod being in full fighting curve, whatever was attached didn’t seem impressed... it had to be a big cat again, and with line being taken, it slowly started moving left towards the bridge.

We had no choice but to take to the boat to close down the gap and keep it away from the concrete pillars . A great battle commenced with the fish fighting hard , at times we were precariously close to the bridge with bemused locals staring over the side and cars stopping to see what all the fuss was about. Finally she surfaced, but despite numerous attempts, the fish was so heavy the boat would move before the cat did... and so we slowly led it back to shore where it was played out into the now very experienced Nige, who netted it first go. She was another beauty and gave us a chance to christen our newly acquired 200lb scales, just in case, they swung round to 95lbs and Rob was well chuffed.

Shortly afterwards we hit a mad 20 minute spell when a shoal of carp came through. We managed half a dozen, all around the 25 to 28 lb mark, with Rob taking the biggest... but the clock was ticking and all too soon it was time to pack up. It had been a great 3 days with a few fish caught, tales to tell, and plenty of lessons learnt, but there was to be one last twist...

After a one and half hour journey to Reus we arrived at 8.25pm. The plane was leaving in an hour nd we queued up in one of the two long lines of Ryanair check-ins. By the time we reached the desk it was 8.50, "sorry, but the check-in closed at 8.45 for the stanstead flight, you are in the wrong queue" came the greeting, "it wasn’t on the screens"... we questioned, “that’s because they are not working" came the reply! Well, I’ll not bore you with what happened next, but they refused to let us on despite their cockup, and much abuse and mayhem followed... resulting in security guards being called and a threat to ban us from all Spanish airports!

They offered us a flight the next day but couldn’t guarantee a seat, so we paid an extra charge and changed the flight to one out of Zaragoza at 1pm the next day. 3 other English guys were in the same predicament, we’d already dropped off our hire car and so had no transport... they had a van they were leaving there. and so it was. We all travelled back in the beaten up motor to Nige’s apartment in Mequinenza at a steady 50mph, taking two and a half hours and arriving at midnight.

We all crashed out for the night and got up the next morning to what can only be described as "Groundhog Day", then poodled off to Zaragoza taking nearly two hours. and finally caught the flight home arriving a day late... in future, we’ll stick to Zaragoza, the balls up at Reus cost us some more valuable fishing time, and that hurt ,but all in all, the trip was well worth the hassle and I’d like to thank Nige and Rob for letting me tag along to share this rollercoaster of an experience. Now I’m hooked, and can’t wait to get back, cheers lads.

 

Brett White