Knackered, but a free day tomorrow and I’d been dreaming of those Roach ! Ever since I’d read the match reports.
I’d got loads of excuses why not to go. Hadn’t a clue about pegs and the methods didn’t seem like roach fishing to me, but by all accounts there were cracking catches to be had that had infected my thoughts.
Apparently the river fishes well with 6 feet on. Get your head around that. A Google search gave me the number and I pressed 1 for the English language version of the Welsh River Service.
Incomprehensible welsh names passed me by until I heard something resembling Hereford. ‘Two feet above”…that’ll do ! But what really clinched it was the BBC weather site, 1 mph winds forecast …whey heeeey ..where’s me big sticks ?
I couldn’t sleep. Had one of those nights when you don’t think you’ve slept at all, but you must have. Woke before the alarm with my head still full of how to fish it. No point with the pole ( favoured by some ), haven’t got the set up or the rigs. No time either, even to dig out the magazine article. I was going to have to cobble up some tactics.
Bunged a 15’ power float rod in the bag, a light float rod
(well its supposed to be roach fishing lol ) and an old John Wilson Avon to ‘touch ledger’ if all else fails. I often don’t bother with quivers.
Added a trolley, a barrow, me big new red Dynamite Baits bucket, bait apron, waders, brown crumb, PVA binder, white crumb, assorted bags of continental this and that, more brown crumb, small halibuts and god knows what.
No time to convert my canal set up, just added whatever ‘in case’ and set off looking like a family of four going on a fortnights camping holiday. The tailgate on the Avensis wedged.
Not yet fully light, it was like old days.
Sat Nav primed, I was heading for Woody’s. Only 58 miles but way out of my territory.
I arrived at his door about 9.20. He’d left the address in Widemarsh Street 10 years before !!! Bloody old internet lol. Now he’s on the Whitecross Road and I was there, bait boxes in hand.
I needed advice and bags of it, bait, tackle the lot. I got it. Smashing bloke.
He flicked over an invoice and deftly drew the most detailed map I could ever of wished for, finishing with a series of ‘x’s making the pegs.
I’d got 4 pints of whites, some red hookers, shot, a massive tin of hemp and floats resembling Zoom Icelols. Gordon Bennett.
He told me that “John fished for ‘em yesterday on the bread feeder. Struggled early on but caught later.. It’s like that when it’s this clear “
ERR WOT WOT ? CLEAR ? !!!
Oh yes, it’s clear. “ What’ll happen is… you’ll catch small roach first’…“then there’s loads of ‘chublets in there to a pound “ …. as the light fades …then the bigger roach…”
He lifted his hand out of his pocket and with his index finger pointed, made a jagged, darting movement downward at 45 degrees, accompanied by a ‘whooooar’and a blowing out of the cheeks.
Was I excited ? Well, I was still going to fish the stick ...but it must be a trick of the trade
.Looking over the old bridge I could see what he meant, and the bottom. Never mind, it's an adventure !
Walked the length, selected a peg, mainly for ease of access and tottered off to Asda for some grub. It was a long time ‘till nearly dark.
When I was setting up the surface of the river was as smooth as glass. Luverly.
By the time I was ready 10 minutes later there was a horrible downstreamer developing ! Where on earth did THAT come from ? Not only had I buggered up the river level call, but the BBC weather was at it’s usual level of reliablily.
Nothing was going to put me off though and I tried my best to trot the big stick on 4lb boat rope In a downstreamer it wasn’t easy.
These roach ain’t finicky though, I’d read , two to three maggots on a fourteen with .14 hooklength is a decent start. Still couldn’t quite get my head round it, but I was trying. Couldn’t get my head around resorting to a waggler either. Must have a stubborn streak in me.
Plugged away feeding constantly. Ages since I’d done this, standing and trotting a big stick.
A young lad appeared on the top of the bank, maybe eleven or twelve, complete with grubby face. He scrambled down to my level and looking over the river like a captain looking out to sea , hands behind his back, uttered …
“Are you catching any here today ?”
A bit different to the Brummie “ av you ad anthin’ mate ?” lol.
I couldn’t help smiling.
“No not yet” I replied.
The conversation lulled and with hands still behind his back, he rocked back on his heels like a constable and said “bit chilly here today” I couldn’t help but chuckle.
Off he went to leave me plugging away.
It wasn’t long before he was back, complete with a 7’ foot Fladen spinning rod, some extremely thick line, a waggler and a mate.
Had to tell him I still hadn’t caught anything, standing amongst my mountain of kit.
I Christened them ‘urchin one’ and ‘Urchin two’.
He came back again and enquired how I was doing.
Then I caught sight of his waggler and how it was tied onto his line :o
He’d got no shot. What chance had he got :o
I began setting up his float for him as best I could. Nearly bust my teeth gettin’ the shot on before resorting to pliers and still having a job. Could hardly straighten the line out either, it was so springy.
“Did you get this line on holiday ? “ I asked. “ Yes, the man said it was river line “
“Right”, I said.
He was an absolute bundle of questions, whats that for , what do you do with that etc.etc looking wide eyed at my gear.
Then he asked "
o you go to Sue’s ?"Errrr “No I don’t go to Sue’s” I said.
I shout point out here that I knew from my internet searches, that ‘Sue’s’ was a local tackle shop, which I understand to be of very high repute.
“Do you do to Woody’s then ?”
“Yes. I’ve been to woody’s,.today.” I said.
Amidst all this I remembered I was trying to build a swim, catapulted some more maggots into the wind and spat out the dust
“Let me put a different hook” on I said,
“Sue said it was proper river hook”.
“Well, it is." I sad, "Just a bit big” and tied on a 14.
I just couldn’t help but be impressed by his enthusiasm.
“I think my mates got a bite” he said and scurried off to find him. I could see a rod top banging up and down beyond the bush but it looked pretty snagged to me. Couldn’t see him catching anything with that tackle, but what can you do ? I’d come to fish myself.
I continued to plug away trying everything I knew, but also knowing it was probably just the time of day and clarity of water.
He came back again and asked if I’d caught anything. By now I was beginning to feel a bit of a dope :(. All this effort for nowt. Not a touch.
Out of the corner of my eye I’d seen some dimples close to the far bank. Bleak or Dace maybe ? Too big for bleak, I’d never have seen them. Decided anything was better than nothing and heaved a big feeder as far as I could, just above the rowing club steps.
First chuck and bang. Missed it. After several frustrating casts I managed to hook a Dace by piling on more lead. No idea what was happening really but I picked off another couple.
Out of the blue, Urchin One and Urchin Two appeared on the far bank ! Then plop, chucked a lead not far from mine
.I couldn’t help but laugh, some would have gone barmy but I wanted nothing more than for them to catch something.
"Hey mate, I’ve got one ! " Their excitement was uncontainable. They had a couple more dace, a perch and lost a pike that was hanging onto something on the retrieve.
They both stood staring down into the water, dumbstruck for ages, before eventually continuing the banter.
I continued to pick off odd dace at distance, but never really got them going. At about 3.15pm I came back on the inside line.
At 4.56 pm I had my first bite. A big perch of about a pound and a half, maybe more. On the very next cast I had a chub about a pound. Aye, aye I thought, I’m into the ‘chublets’ lol
but no more followed.Two or three casts later my first roach, a ‘four ouncer’. I then continued to catch roach fairly steadily, enjoying the chase of trying to keep in contact with them.
Each one a plump, colourful, pot bellied miniture of what I was after. Lovely fish and I could clearly what what they would grow into. None of yer pale thin roach, these.
I managed to fish ‘till nearly six o’clock, aided by the amber pathlight behind me. Eventually giving in, feet cold and float obscured by the darkness. It was just past the middle February and the mild day air had turned cold.
My best Roach was probably no more than the right side of 6 ounces, but they all gave an account of themselves. The day had finished and Hereford as a city was awakening. I was in no hurry to leave and lingered, walking the shops and eating fish and chips, pleasantly happy. That’s what fishing is all about to me.
Despite the decades between me and those two lads, there wasn’t much difference at all in what we were about. It’s all an adventure.
My sat nav managed to find me a longer route home,73 miles. But I didn’t care and settled down for the late night radio phone in.
The question for the night….‘How many tins of soup are in your cupboard ?’
I kid you not.
Host Rob was struggling for interest and callers. “ Can anyone beat Five ?
Let’s widen it out a bit ….. what flavours have you got ?”
“On the line we’ve got Mary. Hello Mary”
“Hello Rob”
“I haven’t got any soup in my cupboard, Rob”.
“Oh why’s that, Mary ?”
And in a slow, deep drawl she replied “ Weeell I don’t reeeeally like soooup Rob “
It didn’t get any better, but I loved every minute, just like the fishin
