Pursuing the Stream

Reading and researching every available article and note (there ain't much) to squeeze that extra drip from the fruit that is the tiny River Leam has helped, but not as much as one might prefer.

It's now around five or six years since the tiny Warwickshire River Leam drew this convert into its thrall with that irresistable 'Trust in me' aura.

In those years the perpetual targets have been a 4lb chub and a roach of 1lb 8ozs.

The best chub to date had been one of 3lbs 13ozs a few winters ago, but I know I lost a bigger one on the penultimate day of the season before last, confirming the suspicion that they are in there.

Records are kept of all chub over one and a half pounds in weight and up until this partucular day 69 had been caught, headed by the 3.13 of course.

In terms of roach, the number falling to the float, flight & flannel rod that exceeded one pound have been very limited, numbering in fact less than a handful of individuals, with the biggest 1.4.6 taken from a shallow gravelly glide with some water on.

Whenever chub are the target the approach is similar, tried and trusted. Bait is the established favourite of bread usually fed as mash but occasionally loose pellets of flake squeezed for a slow sink. Then the hookbait alternates between crust on a 3" pop-up and flake with a 15" tail. Line is 5-8lb straight through and, although often coupled with a 6 or 8 hook, currently the rig carries a 10 or a 12 in the clearer water while getting to understand three new meadows of The Stream.

When roach might be around a 1 or 2 swan link of stiff 8lb fluorocarbon that the main line can glide through is preferred to pinched-on shot, just to provide that psychological comfort that the first thing the fish feel as they pick up the bait will not be the weight. Of course this is all irrelevant because when a decent fish bites, be it chub or roach, it's always positive, but it can make an angler confident to have thought these things through.

Enough of the 'how to...' though.

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So, yesterday evening, after a tiring day, a couple of hours crawling in the undergrowth seemed appealing and the F, F & F bus headed for the new stretch.

Previously, different pegs had been fished each time and this time would be no different.

Flicking a few loose flake offerings, squeezed just enough to make them slowly sink, into the fastest flow emerging from behind a heavy green bulrush bed, dulled by a blistering summer, and down under a willow casting a mysterious darkness over the water preceded the first free-lined 'cast'. The flake floated though and, drawing it back, it appeared to want to sink so sink it did and it was given slack line. Immediately a shape emerged from the darkness and the faint white blob was consumed.

In a confined space, where the only rod curving option was horizontal and sideways, it instantly became clear that this would be the only fish from this swim as it churned clouds of silt from long-unwashed weedbeds but at 2lbs 1oz this chub was a good start.

Creeping upstream, via a couple of blank dobs in a tiny clearing, a narrowed channel of accelerated water caught the eye, as it rolled off the base of a gravel bar and swirled into a pool. An upstream cast was the obvious solution and, with a large chunk of crust to maximise the chances of a chub spotting the waft of temptation, the line was tightened.

As the muscles relaxed into a repose, a twitch, a twang and battle was taken-up. Soon though the head-shaking turned into the typical dive for nearbank cover and, this time, still being out of practice, this was the one that would indeed 'get away'.

Further swims were investigated. Overhanging trees, steady glides, rapids between reedbeds; small one lost, two pounder landed; and eventually, as dusk fell, the trusty Avon took on a nervy arc, bent double. The line singing under pressure and the clutch ticking accentuated the fact that this was a worthy opponent. Certainly more so than anything else on the evening.

Recalling and learning from the lost fish this one was 'mouth-out' as soon as was feasible, without taking too much risk, and, with the gasp of air taken, it was ready and waiting to be hoiked onto the bank.

Without ceremony upon exposing it's true value from the folds of the enveloping mesh, a fish floating around the magical mark revealed itself.

Would this be it? I could have been

Scales settling at 75.1 ounces made for some optimism, less 64 for 4lbs left me hoping the net weighed less than 10.1ozs.

11.8ozs - disappointment, but then elation at a new Leam P.B. and knowledge that by February this could be that target 4 pounder.

3.15.5 - so, so close!

...but now I know where it lives!