Martin Bowler
Roach are back... with a little help from their friends!
THE Hampshire Avon is rightly reckoned to be our finest lowland river – its gin-clear, chalk-filtered water has captivated anglers for years and its history of big fish can’t be matched.
For decades barbel, chub, salmon and pike have been synonymous with the Avon. Times change, though, and its mantle did slip with the demise of its roach population.
Huge fish disappeared down the throats of ravenous cormorants, with nothing following on to replace them, and for a long time the future looked bleak.
PROJECT SUCCESS
Not all super heroes, I have discovered, wear capes. When, soon after the millennium, the Avon’s roach extinction seemed likely, two unlikely characters came to the rescue – Trev Harrop and Budgie Price. Through sheer bloody-mindedness and hard work the Avon Roach Project was born and has thrived, with new generations of Avon roach reared in a safe environment and then released. Today, we can dare hope for their survival.
Loading roach tackle in the van and cutting across Wiltshire, the river’s birthplace, was something
I hadn’t thought I would do again. But there I was, heading south on a bright and beautiful morning.
Was I just wallowing in nostalgia? Thanks to those involved with the Avon Roach Project I had a chance of success, and that was good enough for me.
Chub would have been a much easier target but the challenge wasn’t the same, so I ignored half-a-dozen tails poking out from beneath an overhanging tree and carried on down to where the river veered right and shallowed up.
A run of gravel came next before a small depression appeared, flanked by waving fronds of weed over deeper water.
I stood and stared, allowing my vision to become attuned to the surface boils and furls and register what was below. I was treated to a sight for sore eyes!
At least 50 small roach jostled for position, but it was what sat beyond them that made the day. Half-a-dozen specimens of 2lb or even more gently glided to and fro across the hole, apparently without a care in the world.
Occasionally one would rise higher in the water, enabling the sun to glint off its scales to reveal its true beauty. A classic fish dwelling in a classic river, and I wanted one! Trouble was, there were a lot of other, far smaller and eager, mouths to avoid.
Had my task been to catch as many roach as possible until a
big one came along it would have been relatively easy. The problem was, I knew the fish I wanted would vacate the swim the moment any roach was hooked, regardless of its size.
A lucky first cast seemed unlikely, so I needed to feed the swim and look for a window of opportunity. Maggots would only add to the dilemma with hordes of minnows, and I felt it was too early for bread.
So two tins of hemp were my game plan. Without further ado I threw a large handful upstream and watched the grains tumble into position. The nutty aroma and crunchy shells instantly found favour with most of the shoal except, predictably, the ones I wanted – these were sulking at the back. My confidence remained high, though, and I stuck to my plan of feeding every five minutes.
It took an hour before one of the biggest roach upended and began to peck cautiously at the riverbed. Another hour on and there was no question that they were feeding – better still, there were two distinct lines of activity. The roach had
split into year classes and I now had a real chance!
A Drennan Bomb rod with a ¾oz tip and a reel loaded with 4lb line would present a link carrying a small cage feeder. At the business end, a size 18 Drennan Carp Bandit hook to 4lb nylon was connected loop-to-loop.
The pellet band on the hair was too large to grip a single hempseed but it had a purpose. A blob of glue in the hole was the perfect housing for three grains, which stuck to the band and looked like the perfect offering.
The cage feeder carried a black groundbait into which I could tuck the hookbait. Otherwise weed was likely to be a problem. You’d be amazed how many fine strands are just waiting to grab your hooklength, and even though you’ll feel the weight land on the gravel bottom with a thud, your bait will be snared up above it. Time, then, to see if my plan would work...
The feeder landed in the big-fish zone with a little disturbance and the roach I sought soon settled again. But which of the roach would suck the hemp in first?
Holding the rod, I watched the tip tap before jagging round. A lovely big roach momentarily flanked and shook its head in disapproval. This was when a hook-pull was most likely, so I could only hope it had found a good anchor. The flow would test it next as the fish twisted and turned.
The final danger moment came with jagged runs towards the marginal vegetation, and each time the fish tried to reach sanctuary I stretched the rod out as far as it could go. Finally I got what I wanted – a Hampshire Avon roach and a sign that there is real hope for the species.
Well done, Avon Roach Project!