Martin Bowler goes pollack plundering!
World War II ghosts are a haven for sporting fish
WHAT would make six Welshmen hire a minibus, leave Cardiff in the middle of the night and head to the English Channel?
Well, who would pass up the chance to catch pollack off the Devon coast, especially when your host is Dave Harrison, who skippers Gemini out of Dartmouth?
Alas, I missed out on the threehour journey and the boyos’ banter over who would catch the biggest fish. I’d be meeting up with them at 6.30am, travelling direct from my home in Wiltshire.
Chartering a boat with a group of mates is the most sociable form of angling I know, and I was looking forward to seeing the lads, whom I knew from my shark fishing adventures with Andrew Alsop.
On the quay, Andrew immediately asked me for my fiver to go into the big-fish kitty. No doubt he was confident of beating this upstart of an Englishman at odds of six to one!
After a couple of years it was good to see skipper Dave again, a man known for putting his customers on the best fishing.
In the mid-English Channel lies a ghostly host of crumbling, rusting wrecks, doomed to decay on the seabed after being sunk by the Nazi wolf packs. However, since World War II the sea has given back what it took – life. First came the kelp and crustaceans, followed by fish that swam through the eyeless portholes in search of refuge.
More than 60 years on, these doomed vessels have become a haven of marine life, and with Dave’s knowledge we hoped to strike gold.
Vast shoals of pollack would be gathering ready to
spawn, and it was the prospect of tangling with these that fired our imagination.
During the 2½-hour journey to the fishing grounds we prepared our tackle. You fish best for pollack with refined equipment, which then have a chance to show their full fighting fettle.
I set up two 10lb-15lb class rods with small multipliers carrying 30lb braid. On to the mainline, connected via a slimline Albright knot, went two rod lengths of 40lb rubbing leader. This would give some protection against the jagged edges of the wreck.
Next came a long boom with a snap link swivel carrying an 8oz or 10oz cannon ball lead. A spherical lead like this permits a clean drop to the bottom.
My Welsh shipmates chose a different but equally effective arrangement based on a Portland rig. Instead of the boom, a threeway swivel works helicopter-fashion on the leader. Both types of rig work equally well, and
share hooklengths 12ft-20ft long to help with presentation. Mine was created from 18lb E-S-P fluorocarbon.
As for lures, nearly everyone chose a sandeel imitation – my favourite is a 6ins Sidewinder in rhubarb and custard. Others opted for the Tronix Artic Eel, but the common denominator was a yellow and orange livery. With everything sorted it was time to eat our packed lunches and chat about the fishing still to come.
The sea was soft and gentle, with barely a ripple. Unbroken cloud cover sat low over the water, giving the illusion of no horizon, and when the engine was killed the silence was palpable.
From the wheelhouse Dave shouted ‘down you go!’ and seven weights and lures plunged over 200 feet with a stream of bubbles in their wake, signalling the start of the first drift of the day.
Fishing next to me were Harry Asprou and his son Mario. The youngster was pushing the sporting element to the limit with a fixed-spool reel and a 7ft 6ins, 20g-80g lure rod loaded with braid. A terrific tussle with any pollack was guaranteed.
Our instructions were to hit bottom then reel in up to 40 turns very slowly, repeating the process until the drift was complete. Dave would then go back uptide and the fishing would begin again, hopefully with a few pollack to show for our efforts.
Far below us, the team of waggling orange tails sent down close to the seabed worked at a furious pace. The drift began in open water then a hull, tilted over on its side, came into view on our screen. Safe in the rusted metal lay the pollack, their large eyes perfect for spotting our lures. Hungry as ever, they were in no mood to pass up on a meal.
As our Sidewinders rode over the broken hulk, so the pollack came in force, slashing at the sandeel imitations. To my left and right, all I could see were smiles as rods hooped over. No wonder the lads had been willing to leave Wales in the early hours!
For the record, Harry Asprou won the cash for the best fish with a 15lb pollack, so on this occasion the Welsh got the better of this solitary Englishman.