The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 41

(In which the names of the Fluff Boys are pseudonyms in hopes of the widest appeal for the readers; everything else is factual)

"Just remember, when you're over the hill, you begin to pick up speed." -Charles M. Schultz

Moorhen nowadays shuts at the weekend, unless by prior arrangement, thus the gates were open for the Fluff Club members, as indeed they were in episodes 2, 15, 18, and 30. Considering we're in mid-January, we had enjoyed a mild week but there was a strong wind swirling angrily around, at times making casting hilariously inaccurate but also assisting those evil trees to engulf the fly of the unwary and careless. The water was very clear but it was virtually impossible to spot fish due to the choppy surface and the low light angle of the distant sun, although now we are past our shortest day so the sun is on its way closer to us again - things will get better! That's despite our politicians collectively trying to misguide us for their own ends … I've long believed that a degree in political science should automatically bar anyone from being an MP or Minister! Back to the important things though … today's posse comprised the Professor, Admiral, Sailor, Dell-boy, Rodney, Foggy, Whytee, the Inspector, and within an hour we were bolstered by Moneypenny's arrival. Rodney brought the Lion along as his netsman. After warm brews and badinage we set forth to battle the elements; I started along the near bank, in front of the gateway, casting into the teeth of the wind, the Inspector next peg along. We soon found that our back casts were being picked upwards behind us and blown up into the grasp of the greedy trees, so it wasn't long before we decided moving was the way to go. There was nobody on the island's isthmus so I headed there. Foggy's rod took on a healthy bend and he soon landed the first fish of the day, it's always a lift to know that something's biting!
On the point of that isthmus I started casting towards the bird feeders area of the bank, with the Professor and the Inspector on that bank but casting towards me. The Inspector had two trout in short order, both taking his BFD. The Professor was next to catch, then it was my turn, fishing that baby pink prototype lure, still not properly named. My second Rainbow followed shortly, a little bigger than the first at two pounds eleven ounces, and I decided that a coffee was in order, particularly because I had elected to only go for a three-fish ticket. I passed by the Admiral on the island, fishing by the aerator, and told him where the shoal of trout were hanging out.
The Professor's second was an absolute cracker, taking the scales down to seven pounds nine ounces; I believe he's only ever had three or four that were bigger. After a coffee break chatting to Wendy R. I came back out of the lodge. The Inspector and I conferred, deciding to try bigger fly patterns fished deep. While he went to change his line to a sinker I sought out Mark R. to ask where the deeper water was; he told me there were two deeper areas, both around nine feet. One was the left hand bank beneath the little row of trees before 'Duffers' corner', and t'other was the area from the tree in front of the car parking to almost in front of the gateway, close in. I tried that left hand swim first, fishing a four-inch long pink Snakefly, letting it sink deep before retrieving. After about ten casts without so much as a tickle I decided to move to the other deep 'hole', letting the Inspector know what I had been told when we passed each other. Casting parallel to the bank towards 'that' tree I had a pluck, two casts later another pull and my third and final fish was on, but not the bigger one I'd been hoping to find, this one the same weight as my second. My race was soon run. I thought I should fetch my field camera and have the craic with the FBs on a walk around to establish the status quo.
The Admiral had finished, having taken his brace from that point. Moneypenny had completed a brace too, using a jelly-fritz based lure, however, the Sailor, Dell-boy, and Rodney were still fish-less. Indeed, Dell-boy took down his rod and was heading to the Professor's car, so I asked him why. He replied he'd had all he could take of being snagged in the trees, losing flies, and now his leader was just about non-existent after all the breakages. I ushered him onto a vacant spot on the 'bird feeders' bank, then gave him my rod to use, as it was still set up. In the first six consecutive casts he had takes every retrieve, managing to miss them all. Next cast he hooked a fish but it came off after a second or two. Three missed takes after that he finally hooked up, at last banking a fish. Now he managed to lose the Snakefly up the tree, so we changed flies looking for something that seemed to work until settling on a small black and blue lure. Dell-boy seems to be used to retrieving until his fly breaks surface, he began to struggle with my longer leaders, pulling-in until the loop knots rattled through the first four or five rod rings, causing me to have to pull them back out so he could recast. Then he managed to get in an almighty tangle, trying to cast an already tangled line and leader which he just hadn't noticed; it took quite a while to untangle, after which I felt the need for sustenance. I watched from the lodge, enjoying the warmth of the log burner, my bacon sarnie, and a steaming mug. Dell-boy hooked his second, which he soon landed, then set about barracking Rodney, now on the peg next to him, vacated by the Professor. Rodney didn't help his case by losing two fish, a recurring problem it seems. Foggy completed his brace with a pink bead CW variant we tied one evening. The Professor had secured his third and like the Inspector was now looking for his fourth, trying different swims. The Sailor had moved onto the island's point, now fishing the Blob that the Inspector had used for his third fish; I joined him. We were chatting about the fly tying competition in Trout Fisherman magazine. "You've just had a pull" I said, he hadn't noticed while talking to me, he lifted his line to recast and the fish was still there but let go in a flash. "Drat and bother" said the Sailor. Happily, a couple of casts later his strip-strike was met with lively resistance. His demeanour lifted visibly as soon as the fish was safely netted, his first after quite an accumulation of fishing hours.
The Professor returned to the 'bird feeders' bank and finished his four-fish ticket ere long. Seemingly every time, in this last hour or so, that I looked over to the Inspector he was playing a fish, so often that I assumed he had purchased another four-fish ticket. With a bit of coaching from the Professor Rodney had a fish, duly netted by the Lion. At that moment I remembered that I had two Partridges hanging at home, which needed to be 'sorted out' in addition to my three trout, so I hurried away. It turns out that, quite unusually, the Inspector didn't manage to bank his fourth, several fish had managed to slip the hook before being brought to the net. Oh well, at least he enjoyed plenty of action.
Tot die volgende keer.