The temperatures had until recently been exceeding the usual bitterness of the average British winter granting opportunities to many anglers around the Uk to extend their autumn endeavours of carp, bream and other species. That is, until now. The temperatures have assuredly abandoned the high singles and fallen to the lows, with frosts almost every night and the river slowly stacking up the inches; Barbel sprung to mind.

My first run-ins with old whiskers were during a drunken walk home in high summer around 5am one still morning. Over the bridge and a small fence, stumbling through the nettles and going weak at the knees ducking under tree branches, I found my self there. A quiet corner of the earth, secluded and hidden in plain sight, this is where I found them. Two long, darting Barbel, both pushing dobules, galloping against the gravel in the low water. They would both shoot upstream and shoot back at greater speed and as soon as I found them, they vanished.  The season was closed, yet I knew I may one day have a short run in with these reigning princes of that stretch of river.

I'll save you the natter of my first sessions chasing these nomadic creatures as they were mostly uneventful, with the best fish caught going 8lbs 1oz leading to a long break of targetting other species. But on a cold, January night, something magical bestowed my net. A light setup was equipped from my arsenal, a 5lb link to my pellet of choice on my 1.5lb Avon rod as I set off to a stretch I had lightly been feeding here and there with some matching pellets. Stealth, is always imperative, especially for spooky fish in shallow water. With as light a weight as possible on my line, I crossed my heart as I gently lowered my rig to the depths. I struck gold as a  hard donk was felt in the tip section, I knew I was on the solid gravel and right in the firing line of a hungry Barbel.

I sat behind my rod with the expectation that I would be savaged by debris falling downstream yet, somehow, my line threaded the needle and wasn't bothered for two hours. That was until the rod tip gave a few tell-tale twitches that my bait may have caught someone's attention. After two hours of comatose, I sprung to life and lifted the rod sharply, setting the hook without a doubt.  The fish, felt slight as it was rising in the water, unaware of its current situation, it like I suddenly revived and made a run for the darkness. Starting off leisurely, before exploding into the night, peeling 20 yards of line in a single run! My heart was in my throat as I coaxed the worthy adversary towards me, inch by hard-fought inch. After 5 minutes she surfaced, and let off a hearty thrash on the surface. Now the pressure hit me, I knew this was a fish worthy of my hard work and while it was so close, I knew an upset could happen at any moment. After two attempts of guiding her above of my net, she slipped back head first and humped over, sitting comfortably and she was mine.

A quick trip up the steep bank and onto the matt, a few pictures with my selfie tripod and I slipped her back into a slack piece of water. We sat together, I on the bank, her in the net as we shared a moment of comfort. Slowly she regained her strength, thrashing at the net after 10 minutes and I knew she was ready to go home. She slipped herself back strongly, and I was ready to pack in the session, happy in the knowledge that a new personal best had been made. Moments like these are why I live for angling and seeking out fish reflecting my ability. This Barbel was caught in a river not much wider than the length of my carp rods, proving you don't need to fish big, expensive venues to find big fish. Explore your local waterways, do some research and you may find some uniquely rewarding fishing right on your doorstep.