Life and Death of a River
by
Frank Sawyer
Shooting Times and Country Magazine 11th November 1972.
“The water in the Nine Mile River is no longer fit for human consumption.” This was the wording on one of several notices which were erected in the village of Bulford while I was still at school well over half a century ago. It was something which caused dismay in the homes of many families who lived close to this little stream. Consternation, too, amongst the older people because the river had been a source of water supply for all domestic purposes, and concern amongst us youngsters because this stretch through Bulford was one of our favourite paddling places and where we could always find a wealth of aquatic life to interest us. One of the big boards had been set up beside what we had come to know as the village pump, a place where many of us would stop on our way to or from school, to have a drink. Here water, cold, pure and sweet, would issue at every press of the pump handle and there many a thirst had been quenched.
Well over fifty years have passed and yet that lettering is still very vivid in my memory. So also is the dying of the little river for it did not take long for the healthy and productive stream to become a place where only undesirables could flourish, where creatures of death replaced those which had given us so much pleasure and excitement.
But I will tell you about this little stream as I knew it when a boy and as I knew it a long time afterwards, when I spent many hours of hard work for several years in trying to restore it once again to the first-class trout water it was before the first World War. But I must tell you too, that today, despite all my efforts, and the efforts of many others, the water is again unfit for human consumption. Through the village of Bulford runs a stream where Nature cannot possibly compete with the requirements of human habitation and general civilisation.
The, little Nine Mile River is a stream which was well known to my grandfather when he was a boy, and throughout his life, and it was a favourite haunt for my father in his young days. Both knew it as an excellent tributary of the River Avon into which it runs just downstream of the main road bridge at Bulford. I knew it well too, in the years before the First World War and, with my young friends, spent many hours of enjoyment in it, and along the banks. It is a stream with sources entirely separate from those of the Avon. The springs which supplied most of the water years ago were in the valley which sweeps away and up into the great expanse of downland which lies mid-way between the Garrisons of Bulford and Tidworth.
Though called the Nine Mile River I think it is very doubtful if it ever extended for that distance. The most distant spring source that I have ever recorded cannot possibly be more than six miles from the confluence. The upper part was always considered to be a winterbourne which dried up considerably during summer. But the lower half ran freely. On could say it was a miniature chalk stream and as such it provided an abundance of lime loving vegetation and hordes of the animals which thrive in good alkaline conditions. But its chief and most important function was for the spawning of trout and each season scores of fish ran up it from the main river an, deposited their eggs in the bright clean gravel. Germination was excellent and the result was that the stream teemed with trout of all sizes from fry to many of seven or eight inches. After spawning, most of the mature fish would drop back down to the main river but a few would remain in some of the deep pools.
Nowhere was the stream more than twenty feet in width and it narrowed considerably in the upper reaches. The average depth was about a foot, or so, with here and there a pocket up to perhaps three feet deep. Along each side watercress grew in profusion while much of the bed was a bright green throughout most of the year where beds of water celery and water parsnip checked the flow of the water and directed it into clean gravelly runs. In these runs the trout took up positions to feed. Every big boulder or stone sheltered a mixed bag of bullheads, loaches and crayfish, while stuck on to everything beneath the water, were thousands of caddis. A seething mass of shrimps would show in each bunch of weed pulled from the bed and the larvae and nymphs of many different insects were legion, in addition there were always lots of minnows and sticklebacks.
The meadows on either side of the stream were called The Leas. Maybe in the days of my grandfather these had been of great value. But my earliest recollection is of tracts of land in which grew a mixed crop of bull grass, meadowsweet and willowherb, a paradise for warblers and birds of many other kinds, whose nests we could always find either in the rough herbage, or in the hedgerows which bordered the valley. Here was a haunt of the heron and the kingfisher, for in those days there were plenty of fish for them all. And we would see the clutches of young ducklings together with broods of moorhens and dabchicks. It was indeed a fascinating place for a boy who loved nature as I did, and I must confess that there were many days; during spring and summer, when I was late home from school.
But war, and what goes with war, the preparation and the aftermath, caused many changes on Salisbury Plain of which Bulford and Tidworth are a part. Long before the start of the 1914-18 war, plans had been made to increase the buildings and general accommodation for troops at Bulford Camp, and the provision of a water supply became an essential part. Boreholes were established and pumping stations erected which tapped and drained the spring heads in the upper part of the valley. Consequently, except in times of heavy rainfall during winter, the top half of the Nine Mile River ceased to flow. Extraction was bad enough, but worse was to follow. Somewhere had to be found to make a sewage disposal plant. The Authorities chose a place on the high ground to one side of the river valley.
The first real indication that anything was wrong with the Nine Mile River came one afternoon after a very heavy thunderstorm. There had been several weeks of hot summer weather without any appreciable rain. It was during a holiday from school, and after the storm cleared I was allowed to go out. Quickly I discovered there was excitement on the road bridge over the river in Bulford. A number of people were standing looking at the water and several boys around my age were paddling. Others were running up and down the banks with sticks. The river had risen and was very dirty but I could see that the excitement was caused by trout and grayling splashing at the surface and dying. Here and there a big trout would dash to one side or the other and run aground where it was grabbed and thrown out onto dry land. Trout and grayling of all sizes up to two pounds came floating down with bellies to the sky, some still gasping and struggling feebly. Quickly I pulled off my shoes and stockings to join the other boys in the water. Soon piles of dead fish were spaced at intervals along the banks of the stream, each boy claiming his own pile. Excitement increased as one really big trout quite three pounds was taken.
We were all busy when there came a shout from the bridge. It was the village policeman. At once he ordered us all out of the water. The stream was poisoned he said. None of the fish must be taken away. They must be left for the authorities to deal with. By then we must have collected well over a hundred and others were continuously drifting down the stream. But out we had to go, for in those days we knew better than to disobey an order from the police. It was only after I got to the bank that I realised I had cut the bottom of my left foot and that blood was running freely from it. In the excitement I had felt no pain but examination proved I had gashed it badly and I had a deep cut over an inch long across the instep. It started to hurt badly and my one thought then was to get back home to my mother. Little did I know that this was to be my last sight of the little river for nearly two months. That cut festered and poisoned badly, causing me a lot of pain, for in those days a cure for blood poisoning was the application of boiling hot bread poultices every two hours or so.
For information about what happened after I left, I had to rely on the stories of my friends. When the water cleared it was then possible to see that all the aquatic life had been killed. Together with trout and grayling, all over the bottom were dead minnows, sticklebacks, bullheads and loaches, with scores of crayfish. With them were thousands of shrimps, caddis and other smaller creatures. The weeds and the stones all turned brown and slimy, and the whole river stank. A week later the notice boards I have previously mentioned, were erected.
We were all too young fully to understand what had happened. My father was in the army and away, but I gathered from my mother, and general information, that the trouble had been caused by an overflow of the sewerage system at Bulford Camp. This had been brought about by the heavy thunderstorm. It was some years later that I was able to find out exactly, but the truth of the whole matter was that the disposal plant was inadequate to deal with the increased population
Ironic as it may seem, my first regular job on leaving school just after the war, was on the farm where the Bulford Camp sewage disposal plant was situated, and so I was able to learn exactly how the whole thing operated. Some improvements to the plant were then under way and others were effected during the four years I was there. Throughout the war nothing had been done. No one, seemingly, was worried about the death of a trout stream while the slaughter of so many humans was taking place.
Whoever designed the disposal plant at Bulford Camp had the right idea but unfortunately he chose a locality where any overflow or seepage was bound to run by gravity into the Nine Mile River Valley. The actual plant was on rising ground where the level was quite twenty feet higher than the river bed but a series of big sludge tanks with made up earthen banks, were located within fifty yards of the stream. I found out that it was one of these that had burst a bank and caused the initial trouble in the river. The plant, generally, was on an irrigation principle. Crude sewage and storm water from roads etc, entered into a series of big concrete tanks where the solids and sludge were separated from the actual liquid and piped down to the sludge tanks at a much lower level. Overflows from the concrete tanks carried the water in a series of open channels along the high level where it spilled over a big stretch and soaked away in the land. The channelling must have extended for quite a mile.
There was no direct discharge of effluent into the river valley but after years of soaking down into the land the gravel strata beneath it became fouled and filtration less and less efficient. Many thousands of gallons were disposed of each day and it was very noticeable that seepage was entering into the river at many different points. This seepage would not have done so much harm but for the fact that slowly though surely the flow of water down the stream diminished as the pumps sucked up more and more from the spring heads and so there was less and less diffusion.
Years passed on but there was no improvement to the stream. It is true that never again was there a breakage of banks and a direct discharge of crude sewage. But the water remained polluted and unfit for trout and trout food. In 1928 I started as keeper for the Officers’ Fishing Association and the Nine Mile River came to be part of the fishery I had to look after. Through the years I had kept the memory of my boyhood and knew just how valuable the stream had been in those early days. And I told my employers about the stream as I knew it then.
We tried in various ways to effect a restoration but to no avail. More years passed and then, just before the Second World War there came the welcome news that the sewage system was to be abandoned in favour of another site well away from the Nine Mile River Valley. At the same time a new pumping station was constructed to take a supply direct from the Avon which meant that far less would be extracted from the spring heads of the stream. The news was indeed welcome, but fate, in the form of the Second World War, put a stop to any plans I had made to bring life again to the stream and valley. Six years were to pass before I could realise my ambition.
After so many years of neglect the Nine Mile River and its valley had become a sorry sight. In many places it was completely overgrown and trees and bushes had fallen into the course where mud and rushes covered most of the bed. Though many years had passed, the mud still stank of sewage and in places we churned up an oily, oozy, mess. Parts of the stream were choked and water spread all about the adjacent meadowland. To make matters even worse the Army decided to use some of the old sewage sludge tanks as a dump for rubbish. Every conceivable thing went on to this dump and amongst the general rubbish were scores of what was known as jettison petrol tanks for aircraft. Many of these had the shape and size of a small canoe and, as you may well imagine, they were soon and put to use by the local boys. They floated well, and in soon rafts and boats of varying descriptions were made and launched into the river. In addition, there were hundreds of empty oil drums, tin cans and baths. For over two miles the river and the valley was littered with rubbish from the dump and this was the sight which confronted me when at long last decided to try and restore the stream. It was a mammoth task and I feared it would be months before we could make any headway. I wondered what my grandfather would have thought if he could have seen it in such a state.
But I still had many other worries to contend with. In one place there was a big drainage pipe which discharged surface water from the camp. Some of this drainage from a big washdown and square in the motor transport (MT) area and carried with it the waste of oil, grease, acids and other chemicals, together with the silt and mud washed from vehicles. Then for some reason the authorities decided to switch their pumping once again to the sources of the Nine Mile River and to abandon the direct intake from the Avon on the construction of which they had spent many thousands of pounds. The result was quickly apparent. Long before midsummer in the years following, the upper reaches of the little river were dry. The old story was being repeated and further stocking with fry had to be stopped.
Much has happened in the past decade and the situation has gradually become worse than at any time in my memory. I have felt frustrated, annoyed and saddened, for I realise the little stream is doomed. Never again in my lifetime will I see the river as it was when I was a boy and as it was after our work of restoration. Extraction of water was bad enough but other things happened soon afterwards. Someone discovered the work I had organised in diverting the drainage pipe. The pit had filled with spoil. Water from it had overflowed on to the land of a farmer who had complained about the smell and the effect on his crops. So, without consulting anyone, the pipe was unblocked and linked up again so that a direct discharge could be made in to the river. But this was not all. The Army needed a swimming bath. This was constructed so that it could be filled from the mains but, to empty it in times when the water had become stale and unhygienic, a big waste pipe was led to connect with the Nine Mile River. And so, periodically during the summer months, a great flush of water entered the stream. This was water which had been treated with chemicals to kill off algae and other life considered to be harmful to those who used the swimming pool. Apparently there had been no thought that those same chemicals could kill all the aquatic life in the stream.
In the meantime a new housing estate was being planned and built. For over a mile on the high ground to one side of the valley hundreds of new houses appeared to accommodate both Army personnel and civilians. The river valley was an ideal place, the engineers thought, to run all surface water from the buildings and the roads. Soon all the land adjacent to the river became a playground and a dump for every conceivable form of rubbish, including cars.
Liquid of a kind still runs in the lower reaches of the Nine Mile River. In times of heavy rain an oily, stinking mess finds its way through a maze of rubbish and over a bed that is dead. No longer is this a little stream which could delight the heart of a fisherman or a lover of the countryside, but just an example of the cost to us all of what the planners call progress.
Death from the Roads
by
Frank Sawyer
Shooting Times and Country Magazine, 3rdMarch 1977.
Years ago it was quite a simple job to wash dawn a car and get it into a reasonable state of cleanliness. Often, just a gentle spraying with a hose was enough to get the dust and dirt off most of the bodywork and then a rub over with a cloth was all that was needed. Perhaps a little more attention was required on the wheels and beneath the mudguards, but even so, the whole operation did not take many minutes. It is different now. To make a good job of car cleaning you have to mix detergents with the water and then use a soft brush to go over every inch of paintwork and the chromium. It is no longer a chore which takes a few minutes but one which is a concentrated effort for an hour or more. I wonder how many realise that this filth on the car is but a small sample of what is going into our waterways after every heavy storm.
There is no need to be an analyst to find out just what kind of mixture it is, for all one needs to do is to give a little thought to the matter. For a start there are the materials used in road making and in surfacing the roads afterwards. That roads need resurfacing periodically is simply because the top layer is pulverised. It is continually ground up by the traffic until it becomes a powder so fine that it can become soluble and held easily in suspension to be carried away by water. Many thousands of tons are atomised in the course of a year. But that is but a part of the ingredients. Mixed with the granite powder, the bitumen and the tar, is the oil and grease which are used as lubricants for the traffic. Then there are the escapes of petrol, diesel and acids. With these are the fragments which come from the rust and wear of all metal parts, and the flaking paint. Then, to cap it all is the rubber worn off tyres to mix with the carbon which falls from exhausts. Add to this the detergents used for washing windscreens, a few thousands cigarette and cigar butts, plus the general decay of nature, and you have quite a brew. In winter salt and grit are added as a kind of spice.
Now, no one would dream of making up such a lethal potion as this and pouring it in a trout stream, thousands of gallons at a time, unless they were crazy, or had in mind to kill all the aquatic life. And yet, day after day, week after week, year in and year out, this is happening whenever rainstorms come to wash the roads clean, and send the drainage into gutters, and thence to the low lying parts of the countryside. Along some roads there are traps which retain a certain amount but along others there is a direct discharge to the nearest ditch or stream, when eventually the outfalls enter into the main watersheds.
Years ago I did quite a lot of research regarding the effects of road washings on general aquatic life. It was bad enough then but in recent times this kind of thing has worsened considerably. It is not difficult to find out what is happening. All you need to do is to take samples of the aquatic life downstream from an outfall of road drainage and compare these with others taken a few yards upstream. The result can be enlightening but at the same time very disturbing for one’s peace of mind. You begin to wonder where it will all end.
Some twenty years ago we constructed a series of pits at intervals all along our stretch of the upper Avon where outfalls from road drainage occurred. The pits were arranged to intercept all washings and to act as filters. They acted to collect a very high proportion of the spoil which entered. An examination of the amount of spoil collected and the nature of it, is sufficient proof that such arrangements are both effective and desirable. In several of our pits the excavations have filled almost level during the years since they were constructed.
Many and varied are the pollutions which enter into our fisheries but I consider that road drainage represents the greatest danger to general aquatic life. The time is long past when fishery owners can be expected to deal with the result of the great increase in road traffic. This is a job which requires the attention of our Minister of Environment. That something can be done I proved years ago but now it has become even more essential.
Looking after fishing is a continuous fight against adversities. As the years advance so civilisation increases and with it comes more and more problems. And this is a problem, whoever tackles it, and one likely to be expensive. When components, which are entirely alien to the countryside, and indeed country, are used and introduced widely, trouble is bound to occur. This is the case with the materials used for roads and the addition which is added by the traffic.
