And finally ...

 

Bri and I were successful with a 2020 bid for fishing the Leconfield FFC waters around Petworth, but a number of factors conspired to prevent us utilising one lot: a day for two rods on the River Rother. We aren’t blaming Covid alone, bad weather intervened twice, and the last time we came close, my own health let us down. Anyroadup, we had a date, and were both looking forward to this particular tantalus with great expectations. Came the day, came the meet. Below us, a wide pool featuring an Archimedes screw right next door to the fish pass where sea trout run. Our host, the estate’s Mr. Andrew Thompson, expressed mixed feelings: the screw generates electricity which is a help to the local economy, but he feels it may be situated too close to the pass, already difficult for fish to negotiate, but there’s the added risk of some being mutilated in the machinery. To stop us brooding on this conundrum he then told us about the twenty-one-pound-something British record Barbel that was caught here, in the coarse fishery, just last November! Wowee!, that is a lump, and a species I haven’t got on my ‘life list’ [yet]. Our beat for the day, some three miles in all, is just upstream of this fishery.

 First mistake: we hadn’t found out much about the beat. We knew the banks are high, but had assumed there were places we could get down to the water and wade. Wrong! Very few access points, and depths averaging from five to ten feet, of tinted water, means wading is neither safe nor practical. Nor had we brought long handled landing nets. We were up against it before even kitting up. We followed AT, in part along a narrow, single track lane which used to be the main route between London and Brighton! He showed us the car parking, provided us with a beat map, and left us to it.

 The surrounding countryside was simply stunning, a handful of fluffy clouds in an azure sky, with mother nature using her whole palette of greens. I found myself looking as much at the unfolding vistas as I was at the river, watching for a rise. There is a shallower bit downstream of a footbridge, so this was my target, stealthily walking, keeping back from the banks, scanning for activity. Earlier, AT confirmed fish had been coming to Mayflies according to the catch returns, so that was one thing we could look out for, specifically an afternoon hatch. Whenever we crossed paths we’d air our counts, I don’t think we got past twenty in total. There was no ‘hatch’ in the accepted sense.

 When I found the shallow bit I was looking for, a splash indicated where something lay in wait. At the time I had on a foam terrestrial pattern, purely for prospecting. I covered the spot, another splash, but I felt nothing, and nothing else happened here. Soon I made my way back to RDV with Bri, refreshment calling. We ate on the sward, in dappled shade, still river watching, in awe of our surroundings; near the far bank a white, farm duck hunted dark blue demoiselles, quite successfully.

 Neither of us find ‘prospecting’, fishing blind, particularly enjoyable; covering water without knowing where fish might be, unable to distinguish runs, pools, or riffles because the flow is pretty constant; yes, we know trout are likely to be close to ‘cover’ but there are trees and overhangs throughout. If nothing of a finny nature is moving it doesn’t take long for the fishing to become metronomic and us fishers automatons. Nor did we find any sign of a Mayfly ‘hatch’, or any other hatch; despite no shortages of robber flies, caddis, olives, or damsels.

 Around 16.00 B rang AT to thank him and to say adieu, then cheekily enquiring might it be possible to have a final cast or two at one of the trout lakes? Post haste we were up at the two pounds in the little valley we fished last time we were Leconfield FFC guests, and there we both landed a Brown Trout around the one pound mark, gingerly unhooked with wetted hands and straight back into the peaty water. After a ‘struggle’ sort of day it’s very nice indeed to avoid the dreaded blank, just a tad sad the brownies came from the stillwaters and not the river.

 I commend you to have a go in the next Wild Trout Trust fishing lots auction; the Leconfield Fly Fishing Club’s waters on the estate are absolutely immaculate. You can whet your appetite by looking at their web site, but to properly enjoy this part of Sussex you will either have to apply for membership or make some auction bids at the next opportunity.