The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 19

In which the names and places are disguised. 'Alternative facts' as the White House has it.

After nearly three weeks of very low temperatures, sub-zero at times, things have become a little milder of late. Catkins, Snowdrops, and other signs of Spring are at large. I got to the breakfast RDV late, no sign of the Fluff Boys, so I hurried my brekkie along and arrived at the fishery fifteen minutes later to find most of the posse still kitting out in the car park, only the Professor was already in action, but then he's one who usually drags his kit with him and does the setting up at the first likely spot. I was keen to try out my new Airflo Camo Intermediate #5 line - and excellent it indeed proved to be. Somewhat recklessly I purchased a four-fish permit despite the catch book records of the last few weeks. There were two good reasons: a friend of my wife had requested four fillets for her family and our freezer has no more trout in it, also when I fish this fishery I like to try to catch one fish from each of the four 'lakes', a challenge bringing a little extra frisson to the visit.
Just like our last sortie to this venue I headed away to start at the furthest end, musing as I walked the banks that we might see the Admiral back in action come our next Fluff Club outing. He hasn't featured in recent blogs due to an accident whilst boarding a vessel much smaller than he was accustomed to throughout his naval career - he snapped his Achilles tendon clambering aboard a canal boat or some such, so no purple heart!
I went through a few of my go-to flies, generating half-hearted interest from a couple of trout which were moving around. At my feet there was a Blue and a Rainbow taking turns to occasionally swim right into the in-flow pipe, which appeared to be running full bore, I could neither figure out why nor present a fly to them in that jet of water. The Sailor strolled up and tried this pond for a while before giving up and heading back onto the neighbouring one.
I persevered. For two flipping hours. Fish appeared to check each new fly closely but wouldn't commit to a take. The Sailor came back to announce he had his brace so would be heading off and suggesting the 'four from four' was a complete folly today. I had to agree and moved to the next pond, the largest, where the Professor had one on his stringer and he later told me he had bumped three others there.
The Lumberjack had caught his brace on a yellowish-brown Damsel variant, and was enjoying a stroll around the fishery, taking a break. It was quite busy today with assorted anglers fishing plus some GAII instructors putting wannabee casting instructors through their repertoires of casting, on the grassy field below the barn. I walked the bank, searching, and found some fish moving near the inflow at the top end, beside the river bridge. The little lure featuring orange glo-brite body, pearl mylar rib, orange marabou tail, and a lime green tungsten bead-head (mentioned before in these pieces) quickly generated some follows, and a couple of casts later I netted my first Rainbow, about two pounds. Instant gratification and relaxation, at last; time for a coffee so off to the lodge.
Rodney, Jackdaw, and Dell-boy were up at the first pond, by the car park. The Lumberjack was on the far side from those three, practising casting.
All four were exchanging volleys of banter, as is their wont, whilst whipping the water into a froth. Rodney suggested I should go and ask Jackdaw to show me the whopper he had caught. I sidled over with a "Where's this monster you've caught?". Jackdaw replied in purest Anglo-Saxon that he hadn't caught any Anglo-Saxon trout. What a wally I was, I should have twigged!
After my coffee I was about to head back to where I had managed to catch, when the Professor came along, on a break.
Rodney called across to the Professor "You oughta go over to Jackdaw and see the size of the one he's caught!".
I retorted "You just keep reeling them in, don't you, Rodney".
Back at the scene of my modest success I pondered what fly to try now, electing for the Biscuit Blob, to be fished static, 'on the drop'. Nothing for two casts, but on the third a long count-down and a few seconds after it had sunk out of sight I started an ultra-slow figure of eight retrieve, and the line tightened. I soon netted a second 'bow, again around two pounds. I stripped her eggs into the long grass after the priest's visit had alerted me to their presence. Feeling fifty-percent I headed for another coffee as it was now nearly lunch time. On the way, I found the Professor had bagged his second so he was a fifty-percenter too. Up at the lodge Jackdaw, Rodney, the Lumberjack, and Dell-boy were finishing up their lunch. Inside, brewing up, I could see through the window that the Professor's rod was in a healthy bend, so assumed that must be his third, later to find the trout got off, literally on the rim of the net.
As four of the Fluff Boys were now fishing the corner nearest the entrance from the lane, I headed across to the farthest corner opposite them, casting towards the in-flow into the deeper water and counting the seconds to get about 8 to 10 feet down, before starting a retrieve, when everything tightened. This was a much bigger trout which fought hard, making several strong runs before I could subdue it.
"Bloody Hell" said Rodney to the others "He's got one exactly where I was fishing before lunch!"
Next cast, doing the same thing produced the same result.
"For Anglo-Saxons sake" someone exclaimed. This was another good fish, fighting as hard as its predecessor. As I netted it all four F Boys came over to see exactly what I was using. I pointed out that I was fishing an intermediate and a long cast whilst they were all fishing floating lines and shorter casts. They gave it a go nevertheless and were soon joined by the Professor, now looking for his fourth. As usual, there is always stuff to be done on a Sunday so I started to pack up.
It transpired that Jackdaw, Dell-boy, and Rodney were skunked, and definitely not best-pleased because of the cost of a two-fish ticket at this venue. All the places we've been to have increased their prices, I wonder if we'll ever see any reductions? Perhaps that's one of the reasons the sport seems to struggle to attract newcomers?
Indtil naeste gang.