Anglers diary
The anglers diary brings you detailed reports of
holidays with Hacienda Angling on the river Ebro.

GIRLS DOING IT FOR THEMSELVES... HOLA!
Report by Allibee taken from www.rmcangling.co.uk


I’d read of Ian Welch's (RMC Angling) trips with Hacienda Angling on the middle Ebro in Angler’s Mail and had to listen to him raving about them, but even so I was still a bit dubious about booking up a trip alone with a guide affectionately known as ‘Dodgy John’ so I decided the best course of action was to check out all the different operators in the area - but I kept coming back to the guys at Hacienda for a couple of reasons.

Firstly I knew from Ian that they had had results on both of his trips, and secondly that the middle Ebro stretch from the warm waters of the chemical works at Flix to the nuclear power dam above Riba Roja was relatively untapped by the banksticks and boilie brigade. Sorry guys if this is you, but it ain’t my idea of fun.

Sure, the upper section around Mequinenza is where the biggest fish seem to come from to boys on the bank throwing out 25kg bags of bait, but it’s all down to what you want from your fishing. Personally I wanted some peace, a boat guide that knew exactly what they were doing not only with the fish but the boat too and the chance of a PB cat – I hadn’t even caught a cat this side of the English channel, so I had no real expectations of a whopper – just a chance to get in amongst them.

Secondly, as I was travelling completely alone, I wanted someone who could speak the language and organise everything I needed from licence to transport to entertainment and I knew I wouldn’t be let down in that department either... I’d heard the stories.

My first decision was how to get there. The normal (and cheapest) route is to fly Ryanair to REUS and then hire a car for the 45 minute drive to Riba Roja. It is very straight forward (on reflection) but I didn’t fancy landing at a strange airport in the middle of the night and then pfaffing around trying to navigate my way out of a paper bag, let alone and airport so I went for the slightly different route of a daytime flight with Easyjet to Barcelona and then one of the English contingent (of which there are plenty in the village) did the return transfers in his car for 150 Euros. It is a two hour transfer from Barcelona, but it would take me nearly that long to get to Stansted from where I live so it is all swings and roundabouts and whatever suits you best. If you are going with a few others or you are confident about driving abroad, then I’d definitely recommend the Ryanair to REUS and hire car way of doing things.

The daytime flights and transfer was a real bonus actually as we pretty much drove past the river all the way up and I was amazed at the size of it. Norman gave me the running commentary on who had caught what fish where and when, and also plenty of amusing banter about the town and it’s inhabitants – not to mention all the relative blurb about what would be happening and where and when and how.

On arrival we found ourselves outside of John’s office – otherwise known as POTAS Bar. A nice Catalynian drinks and eats establishment, very conveniently situated next to the only bank in town with an atm. So the first order of the day was to join in with the 4 hour siesta and down a few very refreshing Shampoos – yes, that is really what a lager top is called out there (Thicky take note ;) ). This is served fresh from the draught and a big flagon of the stuff will knock you back the princely sum of 1.75 Euro – about £1. And more than a few will knock you off your feet so if you are planning on spending 4 hours at a time out on a boat in 30+ degrees Celsius, beware.

Next order of the day was accommodation. John and his business partner Mick have land just above the dam with fantastic views over their mini tabletop mountain and the lower end of the upper lake and are currently building self catering chalets, a swimming pool and a bar there but it’s not quite finished yet (next year) so they found me a room at Pepitos – the only hotel in town. It was a fantastic room on the top floor away from any noise. It had room for three beds, en suite facilities, satellite tv and cost 20 Euros per night – definitely value for money considering how well kept and friendly it is. A good breakfast there in the restaurant – which accepts credit and debit cards - is about 6 Euros. One word of advice, don’t agree to the ‘hot chocolate’ drink at breakfast – unless you are into melted Mars Bars – you could stand a spoon up in it!

Unpacked and refreshed it was getting dark so a few of the guys came to meet me and we all walked down to Andrews gaff – a local guiding competitor and all around nice bloke – where we invited ourselves in to watch Chelsea on his big screen sat tv and eat his dinner and drink his beer – yes, it really is that friendly out there! John wore his Chelsea top and precious little else to mark the occasion. Meal cooked by Rob the chef and washing up after feeding the 5000 by Tommy and I thought YES! I can handle all this being waited on by blokes. A 1 – 0 win and lots of good company that night made for a very pleasant start to my trip

But before I knew it it was 8am the next morning and time to meet up for the first day guiding and John came by with his dog Juna. On our way to the boats we detoured to the riverside finca (farm) of a friend and fellow ex-pat who kept our eel live baits in holding tanks as it was a good 100 mile round trip to the eel fishermen downriver for more.

Other people on different sections of the river live bait with crucians and mullet, both of specimen sizes, but getting hold of them is the tough part in the middle Ebro. Common carp are about in plentiful supply and easy enough to catch and make absolutely ideal big catfish bait. The only trouble is you can’t catch them small enough – they’re all too big! That aside John felt confident eels would catch.

I knew before I went that it wasn’t going to be easy as the river was quite low, there was tons of weed and precious little oxygenation going on bar that up at the dam, which was unpredictable as it was only opened on a supply and demand basis and John was honest and up front about it before I’d even booked up with him and fair play to him for not bigging it up like some cowboys would.

Apart from the stationary growths of weed throughout that section of the river, there was the added complication of the moving weed that had been set in motion by the divers up at the dam clearing the grilles of millions of razor mussels that had been clogging up the flow and attracting the weed growth. Having an outboard motor we couldn’t outrun the weed all the way so had to stop every now and again for him to unclog the prop.

I spent the first 4 hour session learning to stand upright on a little boat whilst casting out live baits with 6lb test curve Freespirit cat tamer rods supplied as part of the package by the Tacklebox, Dartford and Shimano 6500B baitrunner reels loaded with 68kg braid. It was a truly different experience to the pottering on the Kennet for chub I’d been doing just a few short days before! Please note here that a hat and sunblock are ESSENTIAL items during the summer months – there is no respite from the blazing hot sun sitting anchored up in the middle of the Ebro trotting for hours on end.

Then it was siesta time – obviously it is up to you how you want to spend your 8 hours per day fishing – either straight through – not good for man nor beast in that kind of summer weather – or broken into 2 x 4 hour sessions with a 3 – 4 hour siesta in between. Now that siesta can include Shampoos and Lomos Bocadillo (hot pork sandwiches) or a full on meal or just a snack and a 2 hour doze back at your room. But for the more hardy it’s generally 4 hours eating and drinking and chatting at John’s office – Potas Bar – with the rest of the English contingent of ex pat guides n girls generally popping by at some point.

After no action on the first shift of the day bar John ducking from my size 8/0 maruto eagle wave hook up the back passage of the eel bait whizzing strangely close to his ear at regular intervals, on the second shift we decided to move down to the chemical works end at Flix. We reasoned that the water was warmer in the evening and hopefully the cats would be in better mood.

Now up to this point I had yet to see an ebro cat in the flesh and I’ve got to tell you I was totally gobsmacked when, having only trotted about 10ft of line out this mottled leviathan surfaced from nowhere, glided as gently as a kitten over the few feet of floating braid out there, and disappeared as quietly as she had arrived back into the depths. I was completely overawed. She has miles of river to choose from and she chooses to test the small area of water that has a bit of braid on it? Are they really unintelligent animals? Makes you wonder...

But now the excitement of seeing my first big silurus set in and whilst it hasn’t generally been known to hook up to a showing cat I stuck one back out there anyway and within 10 minutes the rod ripped out of my shaking hands and I went to strike – too soon – and I found myself back on my bum in the bottom of the boat and an angry eel whizzing toward me at speed. I’m not sure which was worse: losing my only bite or seeing that eel up close and personal!

The light dropped and we started making our way back to Club Nautic, passing only one other boat on the way – strangely enough the same boat that was alternately trotting and sinking (LOL) when we came back to our mark first thing the next day... news travels fast I guess!

It soon became apparent on session 1 day 2 that we couldn’t fish that mark at the same time as the other guys, it just wasn’t cricket, so we moved to the deeper margins and clonked the entire length of the middle Ebro trying to get the cats interested.

We used the silent Minn Kota engine to edge our way along the river with the baits right under the rod tip and, although visibility up to 25ft down was absolutely perfect and I saw shoals of 20lb+ carp swimming along in the different water layers, there was neither sight nor sound of a single catfish and I was beginning to get very disillusioned indeed, feeling it was going to be one hell of an expensive blanking exercise and the only action was John regularly offering to apply my sun lotion for me and asking to see my Chelsea tattoo!

The fishfinder showed the water to be a balmy 75.2 degrees on the surface, but we had heard that 4 big cats had come out of Asco on another part of the river that day so the temp really didn’t have a big part to play in the lack of activity, just my dumb luck – although we were rather pleased to see Nigel and Mike, a couple of other guides, coming towards us as we headed back at lunchtime with a coolbox full up with ice cold beer. It was kind of surreal meeting up for a social in the middle of this huge river, but a cold drink delivered to you on a boiling hot day is not to be sneered at!

The siesta back in Riba Roja that afternoon was a quiet affair of reflection and silent hoping, interspersed with Juna making pathetic faces that ensured she got more of my lunch than I did – in fact she got most of everyone’s lunch outside the bar!
Finally the clock tower in the square rang out 4pm and signalled the end of the post mortem so we set off back to the dam end, hoping they would have opened the gates a bit and we’d have more of a chance with the fish up there with a better flow and some much needed oxygenation.

4.30 came and went, as did 5.30, 6.30 and 7.30... and still not a bite or a sight of any fish. Even John’s legendary line in cheery banter had died down a bit although he occasionally grabbed my airborne bait and gave it a good talking to but it didn’t seem to understand so I half-heartedly made my last cast of the day and watched the float disappear downstream...

Disappear...

Did I say DISAPPEAR? Jesus H Christ! The float had gone and following Johns instructions I hit that bite like there was no tomorrow and bugger me if that bite hit back – I thought it was going to rip my arms off! All hell let loose on a small boat bobbing up and down in the middle of the dam and the adrenaline started flowing by the gallon as John guided me through every turn of the reel and pump of the rod. But my heart soon sank as I felt I had lost the fish. I turned that handle on the reel for an eternity and got nothing back at all in the way of resistance and was just about to resign myself to another missed opportunity when suddenly the fish tore off - nearly taking the rod and me with it.

I really wasn’t prepared for the immense power of an Ebro cat and I admit my arms were soon aching and my hands cramping up, my groin was suffering and I begged John for a butt holder for the rod, but he just laughed at me and told me they didn’t carry them as that first cat had to really hurt and my god did it!

As she neared the boat John ran around like a headless chicken convinced I was going to let her go under the boat and snap the unsnappable rod as the full 6lb of test curve was bent double from butt to tip and I was having real trouble applying enough side strain to keep her from going underneath.

I developed a new playing technique – apparently – of sitting down in the boat and putting the butt of the rod under my leg and holding the rod up near the spigot to get the side strain I needed and slowly I turned her out to John shouting "I can see her, **** me she’s a good ‘un!!!"

"What – 30 or 40lb?" I grimaced.

"NO! I mean a good ‘un" and with that he gloved up as she surfaced at the side of the boat and pulled in 92lb of Ebro catfish. My first ever cat.

It hadn’t occurred to me until after John weighed her in a sling the size of a coroners body bag that I would actually have to hold a fish that I had always been drawn to but repulsed by but the second John put her in my lap all that was forgotten and I think my smile says it all! She was incredibly well behaved and had less slime than my pb eel of 1:14 so I did my Rex Hunt and kissed her on the head for making my dreams come true and let her go.

What a fantastic end to my second days guiding! We shook hands, danced about and John got a sloppy kiss – on request Boss, honest - as we were both so pleased to have had any cat, let alone a good ‘un!!!

That night wasn’t spent celebrating though as I realised the next day was my last day of guiding and that going on current form my one fish would be my lot. Instead I started getting my gear together and had a quiet night in front of the LCD screen on my digital camera, replaying that wonderful moment when I had my dream fish in my arms, over and over again.

The next morning there was a definite chill in the shade at 8am and there was even dew on the seats of the boat as we set off back to the dam. Autumn had arrived on the Ebro.

The hours ticked on and it got hotter and hotter. By mid morning the resonance of a few weekend anglers arriving and banging in banksticks into the solid gravel nearby was the only sound the broke the silence. I had no expectations at all for the last day so John and I exchanged a few jokes but for the most part just chilled and enjoyed simply bobbing about with no pressure to catch, job done already.

Eventually the dam gates were opened a little and the water started flowing powerfully and a few small cats and carp started showing – when I say small cats I mean at least 50lb though. John had got the hang of ducking under my casts and I had got the hang of getting within millimetres of his ear quite early on in my trip and I just cast and trotted and cast and trotted to pass the time as my mind drifted to home and going back to reality the next day.

However the river had other ideas and without warning the rod was ripped from my hands as the biggest fish I have ever known tore off with my bait. As instructed I gave it a few seconds of line to make sure the eel had been taken fully and pointed my rod tip straight at her, clamped my hand down on the spool and hit the bite with every bit of strength I could muster and we were in!

The first few moments were a bit of a daze as I leaned back with the rod and got as much line back as I could but again no sooner had I hit the thing then everything went slack but John reassured me she was coming my way at speed and I wound that reel for England!

So much for slack lines because as soon as she saw the boat she was off across the expanse of the river heading straight for a weed mountain 20 feet away nearly dragging me with her, but I wasn’t going to let go. Everything went on fast-forward for a few moments with me pumping that fish and her ripping braid through my fingers and gaining some line while I did everything I could to stop her.
My shoulders and arms and fingers and groin were killing me and I think I developed muscles in places I never knew existed before I got her to turn back to us. Oh for my twin handled shimmys! I was convinced the reel handle was going to snap off and that by the end of the day the butt handle would have carved me out a new set of genitalia. Jesus it HURT!

"It has to hurt," cried out John to remind me – I laughed back with all the bravado I could gather; only this time I made a mental note to inflict some kind of physical revenge on him when back on dry land!

But in what seemed like only a few minutes she was nearing the boat and John could finally see her – me? I had my head down and was still fighting to keep her away from the prop of the outboard engine or from diving under the boat and dragging me with her because one thing was for sure – there was no way I was letting go!
Grunt, wheeze, pump, strain, wind.

Braid whizzing as she gained some line, me swearing as I gained some back. It really was a catfight in no uncertain terms with John exclaiming in true Jaws style that we’d need a bigger boat for this one only made me more determined not to give in when my body wanted to. Each time I looked up I could see people on the bank and motorists up by the dam had stopped their cars and got out to watch – pressure, pressure, pressure!

Finally she got the message and came up alongside the boat and John, big and experienced lad though he is, took more than a couple of goes to get her mass over the lip of the boat until finally she came slithering in to join us. He got grazed by her pecs and mouth a couple of times but didn’t seem to care. He seemed more excited about the fish than I was actually... I was just totally in awe of this beast that stretched from the front to the back of the boat.
We unhooked her between us as she’d swallowed it a way back but the eel bait lived to fight another day and she was in fine fettle and John gave me the hooklength as a momento.

The reality of the situation kicked in and John told me there was no way he could weigh this on his own and so we upped anchor and headed to the bank where a couple who had been fishing were watching. He began making frantic phone calls to all and sundry to get to the dam to help him weigh it and within literally moments three other guides were heading to us either by land or water.
As we got to shore Mick, the other half of Hacienda Angling, was waiting for us along with the german couple who walked up from the next swim. I left the boys to it and just stood back as they got her into the sling and the scales stopped at... 108lb! I’d done the ton alone on my first ever catfishing trip!

Everyone was excited and I was frankly knackered and could barely lift her head throughout the photocall. Seems like everyone had arrived to take pictures. I doubt that it was just because she was a very good fish – I reckon no one had seen a girl up there doing it for herself!

It was high noon and we headed back to Potas bar for our last siesta and the drinks were on me but that was cool, I’d been treated to a fantastic time by John and everyone in Riba Roja and the banter consisted mainly of the one that didn’t get away and four hours later, as the excitement died down and the adrenaline eased off, we headed back up river for one last session on the mighty Ebro.

If I had any gripes about the trip at all – and I really am picking hairs here – it was that I was a little disappointed over the fact that these two fish took a combined total of about 10 minutes from start to finish to land and for the most part they were coming at me so not the hardest scrap in the world, but that was about to change.

My last bite of the trip came at 6pm, just as the sun started to lose it’s heat and the dam opened up again. I missed the first pulls but a few minutes later I was into a fish that put up the most tremendous struggle right from the word go. It tore braid off the reel at an alarming rate and was unstoppable as it buried itself deep in a weedbed downstream.

I pulled and heaved and panted and strained but she wasn’t having any of it so John left the anchor on a buoy and I had to wind the boat to the fish. That wasn’t particularly difficult but when we got to the fish it was rolling and writhing and wrapping itself up in tons of weed. After a huge amount of sweat, far more than the other two fish I got sight of my float and then my fish and she finally boiled to the surface.

At 66lb she was the smallest of the trio but, typically, the one that led me the merriest dance

Photos done we got straight back out there for the last hour of daylight but I wasn’t too worried about hooking up again. In fact I was secretly hoping I wouldn’t as I was so completely knackered. And slimy. And happy. And satisfied... Very, very satisfied.

That night we celebrated the success of the trip at Georges restaurant at the top of the town as the first bad weather rolled in over the Pyrenees and a storm let loose of massive proportions. With fine cuttlefish or snails for starters and humungous 32 oz T Bone steaks cooked exactly to your liking in an open oven it was a lovely place to wind down – but don’t look up – the escapee snails have colonised the roof!

Bleary eyed the next morning Norman picked me up and we drove back to Barcelona through the most torrential rain. The airport was even closed for an hour because of the weather but as I sat in the departure lounge I was smiling, knowing the rain was bringing the Ebro back to life and if I’d known her when things were quiet, I’d hate to be around when they hotted up!

I’d set out on the trip with the idea that if you can’t beat them, you can join them – but I came back knowing that even if I can’t join them, I could beat them – and that was a nice feeling.

Allibee

Report by Allibee taken from www.rmcangling.co.uk


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