The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 6
The names are
changed to protect the innocent, likewise the venues are not named.
We have had nice spring weather since Easter, warm and sunny. Friday and Saturday became cooler and quite wet. Sunday found six of the Fluff Boys gathered under a grey sky with a chilly northerly blowing. This four-and-a half-acre fishery has an inflow at its north end and two outflows at t’other; the water was clear despite the recent rainfall. As we tackled up one or two fish were showing. Coots were squabbling, Moorhens clacking, and Little Grebes as busy as bees. We soon spread around the fishery and seemed to have the water to our happy selves.
The Admiral took his first cast and was just wondering if his fly was sinking at the right sort of speed when he noticed the line moving away at a tangent. He lifted into the fish and it went ballistic, he was barely able to get some sort of control as the fish shot off on one blazing run after another, when suddenly the hook came free! His first long range catch and release of the day.
There were a few Blue trout visible, their very visibility meaning they probably see all sorts of flies and lures chucked at them. No wonder they sometimes seem to be aloof from our efforts to entice them into taking.
I tried for some Blues I could see in the left-hand corner, looking north from the lodge, although they were a good way out and moving in and out of my casting range. After a good number of casts and several fly changes there had only been one half-hearted follow of my fly for just about a metre, then suddenly, my line suddenly tightened ... not a Blue but a nice Rainbow which really put up an account of itself, running hard several times nearly taking me onto the backing. If finally threw the hook just when I was beginning to think about the landing net. I wandered up the west side heading to the narrower northern end, scouting for fish to cast to.
Before long the allure of those Blues turned me back to my starting point, where Sailor and I chatted and fished about fifteen feet apart. He was trying more imitative, natural looking flies while I was on ‘the dark side’, fishing lures on an intermediate. Sailor had a take and struck into a very fit fish which appeared turbo-charged, he was more than happy to be christening his new Hardy Jet rod and giving it a real work-out. Once he had landed his fish he took his flask out to have a celebratory coffee, whilst watching my efforts. After witnessing me lose two flies in a row to a hooligan Hawthorn on the back cast he moved off around the lake to see if he could tempt a fish to take a dry, or maybe he was moving a respectful distance away before dissolving into paroxysms of laughter at my casting?
Another fly change, this time trying a yellow Cruncher, and one of the Blues finally took. This fish didn't exhibit the usual speed and dash they are known for, instead it fought doggedly with much head shaking, and it was a few minutes before I could scoop it into my net. Despatched and in the bass bag I was ready to go again, and promptly lost the fly to a different pesky Hawthorn which was lurking unseen behind me. I decided to try a red holographic Cruncher featured in FFFT magazine recently. By using a micro ring on the end of the tapered leader, putting on a new length of tippet is a doddle. Fitting a new tippet and adding a fresh fly is something I can do quickly, but not quite as quick as the very little time it takes me to lose the fly in another damned tree! Curses ensued.
The Professor was on the far side of the lake from me, obscured from my sight by one of the two islands. Jackdaw had caught one of his brace so was strolling round to kill some time before heading back to his patch he had staked out near the lodge and car park; he told me that the Professor was catching.
I had high hopes for a second Blue and one or two seemed to show fleeting interest in the fly when it was suddenly grabbed by a force unseen. This Rainbow was turbocharged and twice nearly took me onto the backing, fighting way above its three pounds all the way to the net. I wandered along the west bank toward the narrow northern end of the pond where I came across the Inspector netting his second of the day. He said there were one or two good fish about but that he was having to go finer and use smaller flies in order to get any interest. I left him to it, rounding the top and heading back down the other bank looking for fish to cover. About half way down I met the Admiral coming the other way. He pointed to a plastic chair and informed me the Professor had landed three Rainbows there. The Admiral had experienced another of his now customary long range catch and releases, and then upon changing over a fly had dropped it into the margin whilst stripping line from his reel preparatory to casting, to have his fly seized by a trout hiding close in to the bank, so now he too had managed half his brace, despite his tribulations.
I completed my perambulation, ending up back where I had started to fish. We were all doing a bit of random rotation but come 11 o'clock we all headed in the same direction: to the lodge where the management provided us with ex gratia bacon and egg rolls. The Jackdaw got there first, and he and I were enjoying our grub when the Inspector arrived, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, bearing a cracking Rainbow which pulled the scales down to 8lbs 12 ounces! It was in superb condition and the fishery advised the Inspector to make an entry for the Troutmasters competition for April, as nothing bigger had been caught he was almost certain to get into the water's Fish-off next year.
Modesty forbids, but I casually mentioned I had won a different venue's Fish-off recently and was looking forward to the final in September on Grafham Water. In reality at 1,360 acres, or whatever, that I have never even seen before it will be very daunting ... but faint heart never won fair maid, as they say. I wouldn't actually know where to start looking for the trout in Grafham Water, never mind where to find any of those maids, fair or otherwise.
Fortified, I was raring to go again and exhibiting my creep tendencies fully I set off towards the Inspector's end of the fishery. I spotted a nice Blue and covered it with a new fly I had tied at home: black grab hook, thin green marabou tail and copper ribbed body, orange tungsten bead head, but a strand of UV each side of the short tail. The targeted fish disdained my offer, turning its back, when the fly was nailed by a smaller fish which zoomed up from the gloom of the depths. Once again, I had a cracking tussle, these fish were superbly fit today. Three in the bag so I thought I'd go back to where I had been wearing away the wet grass to see what those Blues might think of this new fly.
Jackdaw had his second and started to pack up, Sailor had also caught his brace; given his river fishing background he would probably have used a Stimulator, Klinkhammer, or an Adams.
The Inspector had already left, he'll be picking up the best fish and best brace trophies for this month when the Fluff Club convenes for the forthcoming fly-tying evening. The indomitable Admiral and the Professor were still after a fish each to complete their respective limits.
First cast, a Blue turned away (again), but then the fly was taken by a Rainbow I had completely failed to notice and another battle royal commenced. These fish were in impressive nick for sure! Three times I got this one to the net only for it to surge away again, strongly. At last I steered it into my landing net and that was the four-fish ticket filled ... and coincidentally the scales showed four-pound-four-ounces, so all the fours then. This was my best fish of the day but didn't even make half of the Inspector's monster. I put my gear away in the car before chatting to the two remaining Fluff Boys. Having talked of what and when, we agreed the fishing had been good; they continued to fish whilst I headed off, watching them in my rear-view mirror until I turned out of the gate.
We have had nice spring weather since Easter, warm and sunny. Friday and Saturday became cooler and quite wet. Sunday found six of the Fluff Boys gathered under a grey sky with a chilly northerly blowing. This four-and-a half-acre fishery has an inflow at its north end and two outflows at t’other; the water was clear despite the recent rainfall. As we tackled up one or two fish were showing. Coots were squabbling, Moorhens clacking, and Little Grebes as busy as bees. We soon spread around the fishery and seemed to have the water to our happy selves.
The Admiral took his first cast and was just wondering if his fly was sinking at the right sort of speed when he noticed the line moving away at a tangent. He lifted into the fish and it went ballistic, he was barely able to get some sort of control as the fish shot off on one blazing run after another, when suddenly the hook came free! His first long range catch and release of the day.
There were a few Blue trout visible, their very visibility meaning they probably see all sorts of flies and lures chucked at them. No wonder they sometimes seem to be aloof from our efforts to entice them into taking.
I tried for some Blues I could see in the left-hand corner, looking north from the lodge, although they were a good way out and moving in and out of my casting range. After a good number of casts and several fly changes there had only been one half-hearted follow of my fly for just about a metre, then suddenly, my line suddenly tightened ... not a Blue but a nice Rainbow which really put up an account of itself, running hard several times nearly taking me onto the backing. If finally threw the hook just when I was beginning to think about the landing net. I wandered up the west side heading to the narrower northern end, scouting for fish to cast to.
Before long the allure of those Blues turned me back to my starting point, where Sailor and I chatted and fished about fifteen feet apart. He was trying more imitative, natural looking flies while I was on ‘the dark side’, fishing lures on an intermediate. Sailor had a take and struck into a very fit fish which appeared turbo-charged, he was more than happy to be christening his new Hardy Jet rod and giving it a real work-out. Once he had landed his fish he took his flask out to have a celebratory coffee, whilst watching my efforts. After witnessing me lose two flies in a row to a hooligan Hawthorn on the back cast he moved off around the lake to see if he could tempt a fish to take a dry, or maybe he was moving a respectful distance away before dissolving into paroxysms of laughter at my casting?
Another fly change, this time trying a yellow Cruncher, and one of the Blues finally took. This fish didn't exhibit the usual speed and dash they are known for, instead it fought doggedly with much head shaking, and it was a few minutes before I could scoop it into my net. Despatched and in the bass bag I was ready to go again, and promptly lost the fly to a different pesky Hawthorn which was lurking unseen behind me. I decided to try a red holographic Cruncher featured in FFFT magazine recently. By using a micro ring on the end of the tapered leader, putting on a new length of tippet is a doddle. Fitting a new tippet and adding a fresh fly is something I can do quickly, but not quite as quick as the very little time it takes me to lose the fly in another damned tree! Curses ensued.
The Professor was on the far side of the lake from me, obscured from my sight by one of the two islands. Jackdaw had caught one of his brace so was strolling round to kill some time before heading back to his patch he had staked out near the lodge and car park; he told me that the Professor was catching.
I had high hopes for a second Blue and one or two seemed to show fleeting interest in the fly when it was suddenly grabbed by a force unseen. This Rainbow was turbocharged and twice nearly took me onto the backing, fighting way above its three pounds all the way to the net. I wandered along the west bank toward the narrow northern end of the pond where I came across the Inspector netting his second of the day. He said there were one or two good fish about but that he was having to go finer and use smaller flies in order to get any interest. I left him to it, rounding the top and heading back down the other bank looking for fish to cover. About half way down I met the Admiral coming the other way. He pointed to a plastic chair and informed me the Professor had landed three Rainbows there. The Admiral had experienced another of his now customary long range catch and releases, and then upon changing over a fly had dropped it into the margin whilst stripping line from his reel preparatory to casting, to have his fly seized by a trout hiding close in to the bank, so now he too had managed half his brace, despite his tribulations.
I completed my perambulation, ending up back where I had started to fish. We were all doing a bit of random rotation but come 11 o'clock we all headed in the same direction: to the lodge where the management provided us with ex gratia bacon and egg rolls. The Jackdaw got there first, and he and I were enjoying our grub when the Inspector arrived, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, bearing a cracking Rainbow which pulled the scales down to 8lbs 12 ounces! It was in superb condition and the fishery advised the Inspector to make an entry for the Troutmasters competition for April, as nothing bigger had been caught he was almost certain to get into the water's Fish-off next year.
Modesty forbids, but I casually mentioned I had won a different venue's Fish-off recently and was looking forward to the final in September on Grafham Water. In reality at 1,360 acres, or whatever, that I have never even seen before it will be very daunting ... but faint heart never won fair maid, as they say. I wouldn't actually know where to start looking for the trout in Grafham Water, never mind where to find any of those maids, fair or otherwise.
Fortified, I was raring to go again and exhibiting my creep tendencies fully I set off towards the Inspector's end of the fishery. I spotted a nice Blue and covered it with a new fly I had tied at home: black grab hook, thin green marabou tail and copper ribbed body, orange tungsten bead head, but a strand of UV each side of the short tail. The targeted fish disdained my offer, turning its back, when the fly was nailed by a smaller fish which zoomed up from the gloom of the depths. Once again, I had a cracking tussle, these fish were superbly fit today. Three in the bag so I thought I'd go back to where I had been wearing away the wet grass to see what those Blues might think of this new fly.
Jackdaw had his second and started to pack up, Sailor had also caught his brace; given his river fishing background he would probably have used a Stimulator, Klinkhammer, or an Adams.
The Inspector had already left, he'll be picking up the best fish and best brace trophies for this month when the Fluff Club convenes for the forthcoming fly-tying evening. The indomitable Admiral and the Professor were still after a fish each to complete their respective limits.
First cast, a Blue turned away (again), but then the fly was taken by a Rainbow I had completely failed to notice and another battle royal commenced. These fish were in impressive nick for sure! Three times I got this one to the net only for it to surge away again, strongly. At last I steered it into my landing net and that was the four-fish ticket filled ... and coincidentally the scales showed four-pound-four-ounces, so all the fours then. This was my best fish of the day but didn't even make half of the Inspector's monster. I put my gear away in the car before chatting to the two remaining Fluff Boys. Having talked of what and when, we agreed the fishing had been good; they continued to fish whilst I headed off, watching them in my rear-view mirror until I turned out of the gate.
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