Bob Dellar

  • Avoiding The Football
    I’m afraid I’m a tad indifferent when it comes to football. I only ever take a mild interest if Spurs, the team favoured through family tradition, or the national side start to perform well and show signs of actually winning something significant. Such was the case with England’s recent Euros performance but I have to […]
  • Clarissa, a catfish and the Frankenpike.
    From the minute the bite alarm announced her presence on that beautiful late summer morning to the bitter sweet moment I watched her great, golden shoulders slide back into the pellucid depths of Marsh Lake, I knew I’d been in the company of one of nature’s rarities, a real gem.
  • The River Prince: An Encounter With A Wye Barbel
    This was my very first trip to the Wye and I have to tell you that it’s as impressive a river as I’ve ever seen, truly magnificent.
  • Two PB’s In One Day! I must be dreaming…
    Then the old warrior came, and by God he fought. He wasn’t pretty but I was very, very pleased to meet him, my biggest tench ever at 7.4lb.
  • Casting Like A Dead Man: My Feeble attempts At Fly Fishing, Plus A Near Death Experience.
    My first trip to Corrib, a vast glacial lake covering an area of sixty eight square miles, was a highly enjoyable, but fairly frustrating soirée into the deep and windswept end of wild lough fishing.
  • A Useful Brother In Law, Or How I Started Fishing.
    My swim was next to a gnarled willow amongst a drift of nodding Bulrush. It took me a while to set up my fishing tackle as I was so enthralled by the teeming life around me.
  • The Night of the Five Pound Tench
    It was indeed a beast. I couldn’t believe it at the time and even now, forty three years later, I still can’t believe it. A five pound tench in 1978 was a very large fish.
  • The Carp and I. Part 2
    Despite my reservations about modern-day carp fishing, I still find them a fascinating fish. It’s their propensity for huge size, wiliness, sheer power and, let’s face it, breath taking beauty that attracts me to them.
  • The Carp and I. Part 1
    In a flash my attention was centred entirely on the fishing as the red bottle top crashed into the rod butt and line zipped from the reel.
  • Stour Diaries: Two Sessions To End The Season.
    So off I went with my new Shakespeare 10ft trotting rod, (great for small rivers), a pint of mixed and my dog Indy. It was a bright day with a brisk easterly wind but the river itself had some colour and a bit of pace so I was hopeful.
  • A Tale of Four Weir Pools
    I’m drawn to weir-pools, from boy to man they’ve always held a fascination. It’s their differentness, and the fact they add mystery and potential to a river that for the majority of its course flows evenly and true and then there’s a weir, like a twist in a novel you didn’t expect.
  • Call of the pike part 2 (with a chub thrown in).
    There is something compelling about pike. Of all our freshwater fish their call, for me, is the most insistent. They are the black-eyed death-dealer of our fresh waters, the equaliser, the remorseless destroyer without whom natural balance would falter.
  • The Call Of The Pike Part 1
    Painting: Ice river by Bob Dellar