Its always hot when the Purple Queen (yes she’s been promoted) and I pack the tent and head west and this time it was fucking scorchio. The worst conditions to attempt to catch fish from a river that is already painfully low. This time we pitched up somewhere different to normal but our routine was the same, in the daytime we planned to explore the local Towns and pubs but in the evenings I would be making my first attempts to catch fish from the River Severn.
The whole trip was a bit last minute to be honest so we ended up in a busy campsite with lots of rules and much more hustle and bustle than we are used to. During the days we toured the towns and pubs in the area; Stourport is a dump but we liked Bewdley, Worcester and Shrewsbury, the latter two seem to be thriving unlike many urban centres these days. We also had an excursion to Stratford on Avon a place we hadn’t been to since a school trip to see “Twelfth Night” in 1984, I think? I was aware that Will’s birthplace was on the must see list for foreign tourists but was surprised to encounter bus loads from USA and Japan. Obviously the town trades on the Shakespeare connection but the way this is milked is crass and spoils the overall effect, it seems tacky, cheap and totally out of place. We dined in pubs most days, well we had to escape the heat somehow. The best meal of all was at the ‘Mug House’ in Bewdley, Tuna steak washed down with a couple of pints of Hereford Pale Ale. Almost perfect.
My first attempt at fishing was a few miles upstream of camp
where I was able to park conveniently close to the river. I left the PQ at the car while I went for a
wander, the further downstream I got the more I liked what I saw; shallow
rippling rapids and slightly deeper pools, it looked bang on. There was one spot half way down the stretch
which was perfect, rapids upstream and down as well as room bankside for both
of us. By 1715 I was fishing with two
feeder rigs and pellets on the hair – basically the same things that have
worked on the Wye. One rod was fishing
about one third the way across and slightly downstream, the other I cast here
and there, mostly on the upstream side of the swim, sometimes to the far bank
trees. This side of the swim was more
rocky so I swapped the feeder for a lead and attached a PVA bag of hemp and
pellets to the hook to hopefully avoid snagging.
The water in front of me looked perfect to my untrained eye, I started getting knocks and rattles from the start so there were definitely fish about. After forty five minutes I had a proper bite on the downstream rod and bugger me I was attached to a fish. It didn’t fight much but had a bit of weight and it was no surprise to see a Chub of a couple of pounds or so come to the net. My first fish from the Severn, nice one! With that confidence boost I put four cricket ball sized lumps of groundbait out then settled back in confidence.
The action on the rod tips dwindled for a while but as time went by and the sun got lower, things started to happen again. Nearly three hours passed before I got another proper bite on the same rod which I missed, I got this one back out as quickly as I could and a few minutes later it banged again and I was in. “Serious fish” I said to the PQ as it roared down river taking line off the clutch. It turned and I brought it back upstream, the fish had power but for its apparent weight and I was pretty sure I had a Barbel attached. As usual it didn’t like the net the first couple of times but I soon had it in. A small fish it may be but my first Severn Barbel on my first attempt had me feeling well chuffed and a bit smug. After that I got the rod back out quickly but was running out of time and all too soon was humping the gear back to the car.
I hoped for more of the same over the coming days but the weather just got hotter and hotter. I did fish two more evenings, once just outside town where we settled into an idyllic spot with a pool above rapids that looked ideal, then a return to the upstream stretch which was busy on the day and without a plan B I ended up fishing a spot I wouldn’t have picked otherwise. On both occasions the result was the same, a couple of bites and a Chub of around two pounds landed. My first impressions of the Severn; the stretches I’ve seen further downstream are big, wide and to my eyes featureless but the river above Bewdley has much more variation and is more to my liking. I love rivers that have a voice and really enjoyed fishing the Severn and I’m sure I will do so again but it doesn’t thrill me like the other western river.
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