The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 21
As usual, the names
and place are disguised, all else is true.
Yes 21, key of the door and all that, but still no comments or feed-back ... does nobody care?
"They say you forget your troubles on a trout stream, but that's not quite it. What happens is that you begin to see where your troubles fit into the grand scheme of things, and suddenly they're just not such a big deal anymore". (John Gierach)
How did the theme music for 'The Magnificent Seven' go? I couldn't quite remember but here was the thing: a magnificent seven Fluff Boys turnout for our monthly fishing trip! Actually, there were eight of us because Jackdaw had brought a colleague along, although not a member of the Fluff Club. The allure of a full English may have exerted some influence, it often does. A beautiful warm, sunny, spring day lay before us. We last visited this fishery as a Fluff Club outing back in 2014, before these chronicles commenced.
Whytee was determined to break free from the slough of despond, arising from a blank the day before: two takes all day, both hooked but the trout escaped by leaping repeatedly, so not a total skunking per se but bad enough. I assembled two rods today, one for a slime line and t'other for a mini sink-tip floater, so that I could be more versatile approach-wise, changing tactics back and forth with ease. (I hasten to add my use of the word 'wise' implies nothing whatsoever to do with 'wisdom').
It was good to see Moneypenny fishing with us once again, he’s been absent for a while. The 'us' being the rest of us: the Professor, the Admiral, Jackdaw, Rodney, Dell-boy, and Whytee, truly a motley crew. We set to fishing, the air around the lodge becoming increasingly redolent as the breakfast fare advanced in the lodge's kitchen.
Starting with the intermediate and a Damsel proved to be a good choice, after about nine casts I tightened into my first fish, a fighting fit Rainbow of two-and-a-half pounds which made me anxious that if it jumped I might lose it, but in due course it was despatched to the bass bag to be immersed in the shallows.
This fishery has more than its fair share of trees skulking about with evil intent for the unwary angler. Forget for just an instant and one will sneakily snatch your back cast. It is said that we laugh at slap-stick because of pure relief that it's not happening to us. Before the breakfast bell rang from the lodge decking there had been bursts of mirth and merriment, followed soon after by cursing, from all around the pond as the trees did their worst.
As they used to say up north, the breakfast was 'top scran', nevertheless we were soon back in action, disturbing the vegetation more than the fish. After trying different lures and nymphs on the slime line I switched to the mini-tip floater and tied on a biscuit Blob, letting it sink slowly from sight into the deep water near the middle while I counted down to "one thousand and thirty". On the third chuck the line jagged down savagely but I fluffed the strike by letting the line slip through my fingers. Wally. Only a few casts later the same savage take re-occurred, contact was made, and I scrapped with a two-and-a-half pounds beautiful Brown for quite some time before I subdued it.
I continued with the method for a few more casts but only drew a half-hearted follow from a small Brown. This can often be the case using a Blob, the trout can soon start to ignore a particular colour. I tried some naturalistic nymphs but eventually swapped back to the intermediate line. The third lure change to the orange/lime green bead thing brought a take which turned out to be my smallest, a Rainbow of two-and-a-quarter.
Off to my right Moneypenny caught a fish. Next Rodney came along and reported he had caught two of the small Browns and lost two; he released both of his fish as we had been requested to do if they were on the small side. This was more action for Rodney than he had seen in the last couple of FC trips.
Yesterday’s and today’s sessions were both sunny but contrasted in other ways: today's was all peace and tranquillity, FBs aside, and a huge improvement on yesterday, when warring Canadian Geese were loudly honking and wing-whomping the water around and around the island over a background of noise from motorcycles racing on the nearby circuit. Back to today and I decided to stroll round and have a look-see, it was half an hour until midday when I intended to finish.
The Admiral took my place. He was clearly way ahead in the tree stakes; indeed, his fly was aloft arboreally so often that it was a wonder he hadn't hooked a bird yet!
The Professor thought that he had a couple of taps on his flies but otherwise had nothing to report. I knew Dell-boy hadn't had any luck yet as he'd been fishing just to my left. Jackdaw and his guest were grimly fishing around the circumference, trees permitting, but no fish yet.
I hadn't got a third of the way round, it's less than an acre, before the Admiral hooked a feisty trout which he duly netted.
I had virtually completed my circuit and back to the lodge decking area when I noticed two fish moving in a gap in the weed beds only three rod-lengths out. This was just as well as the raised deck and its particularly vicious pergola thingy meant I could only roll cast from this position. Out went the biscuit Blob, landing two feet in front of my target fish which completely ignored the slowly sinking fly, turning 180 degrees away, but the other trout shot forward and sucked in the fly. Game on! soon became game over; four fish was enough for me and it was now past the midi. I paid up, packed the gear in the car, then watched the others from the sunny deck with a cold beer in hand, until they broke for lunch. Moneypenny departed first, he had decided it was getting too hard to catch his second. I bade the guys adieu until our tying evening in the week. It transpired that the Professor caught one a little later, otherwise that was well and truly that.
Jusqu'a la prochaine fois.
Yes 21, key of the door and all that, but still no comments or feed-back ... does nobody care?
"They say you forget your troubles on a trout stream, but that's not quite it. What happens is that you begin to see where your troubles fit into the grand scheme of things, and suddenly they're just not such a big deal anymore". (John Gierach)
How did the theme music for 'The Magnificent Seven' go? I couldn't quite remember but here was the thing: a magnificent seven Fluff Boys turnout for our monthly fishing trip! Actually, there were eight of us because Jackdaw had brought a colleague along, although not a member of the Fluff Club. The allure of a full English may have exerted some influence, it often does. A beautiful warm, sunny, spring day lay before us. We last visited this fishery as a Fluff Club outing back in 2014, before these chronicles commenced.
Whytee was determined to break free from the slough of despond, arising from a blank the day before: two takes all day, both hooked but the trout escaped by leaping repeatedly, so not a total skunking per se but bad enough. I assembled two rods today, one for a slime line and t'other for a mini sink-tip floater, so that I could be more versatile approach-wise, changing tactics back and forth with ease. (I hasten to add my use of the word 'wise' implies nothing whatsoever to do with 'wisdom').
It was good to see Moneypenny fishing with us once again, he’s been absent for a while. The 'us' being the rest of us: the Professor, the Admiral, Jackdaw, Rodney, Dell-boy, and Whytee, truly a motley crew. We set to fishing, the air around the lodge becoming increasingly redolent as the breakfast fare advanced in the lodge's kitchen.
Starting with the intermediate and a Damsel proved to be a good choice, after about nine casts I tightened into my first fish, a fighting fit Rainbow of two-and-a-half pounds which made me anxious that if it jumped I might lose it, but in due course it was despatched to the bass bag to be immersed in the shallows.
This fishery has more than its fair share of trees skulking about with evil intent for the unwary angler. Forget for just an instant and one will sneakily snatch your back cast. It is said that we laugh at slap-stick because of pure relief that it's not happening to us. Before the breakfast bell rang from the lodge decking there had been bursts of mirth and merriment, followed soon after by cursing, from all around the pond as the trees did their worst.
As they used to say up north, the breakfast was 'top scran', nevertheless we were soon back in action, disturbing the vegetation more than the fish. After trying different lures and nymphs on the slime line I switched to the mini-tip floater and tied on a biscuit Blob, letting it sink slowly from sight into the deep water near the middle while I counted down to "one thousand and thirty". On the third chuck the line jagged down savagely but I fluffed the strike by letting the line slip through my fingers. Wally. Only a few casts later the same savage take re-occurred, contact was made, and I scrapped with a two-and-a-half pounds beautiful Brown for quite some time before I subdued it.
I continued with the method for a few more casts but only drew a half-hearted follow from a small Brown. This can often be the case using a Blob, the trout can soon start to ignore a particular colour. I tried some naturalistic nymphs but eventually swapped back to the intermediate line. The third lure change to the orange/lime green bead thing brought a take which turned out to be my smallest, a Rainbow of two-and-a-quarter.
Off to my right Moneypenny caught a fish. Next Rodney came along and reported he had caught two of the small Browns and lost two; he released both of his fish as we had been requested to do if they were on the small side. This was more action for Rodney than he had seen in the last couple of FC trips.
Yesterday’s and today’s sessions were both sunny but contrasted in other ways: today's was all peace and tranquillity, FBs aside, and a huge improvement on yesterday, when warring Canadian Geese were loudly honking and wing-whomping the water around and around the island over a background of noise from motorcycles racing on the nearby circuit. Back to today and I decided to stroll round and have a look-see, it was half an hour until midday when I intended to finish.
The Admiral took my place. He was clearly way ahead in the tree stakes; indeed, his fly was aloft arboreally so often that it was a wonder he hadn't hooked a bird yet!
The Professor thought that he had a couple of taps on his flies but otherwise had nothing to report. I knew Dell-boy hadn't had any luck yet as he'd been fishing just to my left. Jackdaw and his guest were grimly fishing around the circumference, trees permitting, but no fish yet.
I hadn't got a third of the way round, it's less than an acre, before the Admiral hooked a feisty trout which he duly netted.
I had virtually completed my circuit and back to the lodge decking area when I noticed two fish moving in a gap in the weed beds only three rod-lengths out. This was just as well as the raised deck and its particularly vicious pergola thingy meant I could only roll cast from this position. Out went the biscuit Blob, landing two feet in front of my target fish which completely ignored the slowly sinking fly, turning 180 degrees away, but the other trout shot forward and sucked in the fly. Game on! soon became game over; four fish was enough for me and it was now past the midi. I paid up, packed the gear in the car, then watched the others from the sunny deck with a cold beer in hand, until they broke for lunch. Moneypenny departed first, he had decided it was getting too hard to catch his second. I bade the guys adieu until our tying evening in the week. It transpired that the Professor caught one a little later, otherwise that was well and truly that.
Jusqu'a la prochaine fois.
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