FISHING IN LILLIPUT

The Leam is not a big river at the best of times but this summer's drought has really diminished its presence. Low water levels and the almost non-existent flow have encouraged the growth and spread of both lilies and reeds. The cattle's desperate need for water and green vegetation have led to collapsing banks subsequently poached by narrow hooves and heavyweight bodies. Heavy branches are gradually losing the fight against gravity and while none have given in yet, the inevitable heatwave-breaking downpour seems likely to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. At times it can feel like the whole world is closing in on me as I focus intensely on the fiery red tip of my Porcupine quill. 

My most productive swims have succumbed to the inexorable spread of duckweed and are now closed off to me at least until the first flush of autumn rains; if we ever get them of course. I doubt there is any need to worry on that score because if the last two winters have shown us anything, it is that droughts become floods very quickly. My recent winters' river fishing have been non-existent anyway as the rain never seems to stop for months on end. The upside here is that my quest for a big summer Perch has been pushed out to different spots as yet untested; the downside is that none have yet produced that longed-for two pounder. Today was no exception even if just for a short while the light at the end of the tunnel flared brightly before fizzling out.

 I looked at two swims today. The first, totally in the permanent shade of tall trees on both banks looked like the kind of spot that might hold a monster or two. At the head of the pool a large tree lay in the water from bank to bank but fishing below such features never feels right to me and at first sight that seemed to be the only real option. With a heathy population of Otters on here, the lack of any other visible cover or aquatic plants urged me to postpone my first try there.

I moved back downstream and instead, set up in another tight swim with cover galore. What it did lack, as it turned out, was water. Three feet just didn't seem enough and after finding no clear riverbed to fish over, I quickly upped sticks and moved on. My final choice was a swim that produced a few fish last year but had not tried this. It offered five feet of water, cabbages to thread my bait in between and a very moderate flow further across. Within half an hour my horizons had diminished once more. Reeds in front, lilies to the right, overhanging trees to my left and a very specific area to fish without catching weed.

I was back in Lilliput, fishing small spots and catching small fish. My casters quickly produced a couple of 4oz Roach, a Chublet and a tiny, tiny Rudd. I'd abandoned the worms early on as I couldn't buy a bite on them but I had introduced a handful of chopped worm. That could sit down there until it drew in any Perch that should pass by while I killed the swim by catching four or five tiddlers.

Half an hour without a bite was the cue to change back and at last the float began to dance wandering out of the swim before sliding away. A nice Perch came defiantly to the net; grazing the one pound bar and a definite result but not yet the one. As usual on this stretch the fishing had started with an early flurry becoming harder and harder as the morning went on. I only had two more bites; both after abandoning the casters for worm. Just like the last fish this one felt modest at first but a powerful run toward the far bank, stretching my short elastic tippet to its limit, saw me frantically putting the butt back on the pole. This was a far bigger fish than the Perch I'd already caught; presumably a Chub. It didn't have far to go to find a snag and it quickly buried itself in the lilies to my right. There are signs that the lilies are beginning to soften up and as I applied extra pressure they began to give way. The float slid into view and I could feel the fish coming up through the weed to the top. The surface bulged and a large fish burst clear of the pads revealing not the expected Chub but the very large, olive, almost Tench-coloured hump of a big Perch.

It looked very much like the object of my summer dreams, a two pound plus, Leam Perch but I'll never know. Despite having, or more likely because it had, dragged the fish out of a couple of heavy weedbeds the hook pulled. The pool was left rocking, the air was blue and my morning was effectively over. The last two hours yielded one more bite, a 6oz consolation prize. It wasn't much consolation at all but looking back the morning was a success of sorts. I've put in a lot of effort not knowing whether the fish I sought even existed. Well now I know it does and have no reason to believe it's the only one and I can focus on this spot for the next trip or two with a little more confidence.