The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 4
The names of the
Fluff Boys (the Fluff Club members) are changed to protect the innocent, and
the places un-named for the same reason!
The February trip, second of 2015, already consigned to history. Didn't Stephen Hawkins write that the universe is slowing down? If you ask me it's definitely speeding up!
Saturday had seen heavy rain, almost a biblical deluge, but the temperatures had at last climbed past 5 degrees C. Today dawned dry, brief patches of sun but mainly cloudy, with a few breaths of wind from the east but not heavy enough to chill the water any more. When the infrequent sun appeared the temperature actually rose to 10 degrees, first time for a while!
Six members of the Fluff Club made the shortish hop to this fishery, which consists of just the one pond (as opposed to a 'lake' which is natural, not man made you see) and would be crowded if about twelve anglers turned up. In areas it is supposedly over 25 feet deep and spring fed, so is not much affected by either heat or cold, the water is usually pretty clear too.
The gentle valley-side is not that far from the city, but on this particular morning in the immediate environs I spotter greater-spotted Woodpecker, wagtails, mallard, moorhen, deer (3), and a pair of kingfishers; a few Geese flew in and circled, but didn't stop when they spotted us.
The fishery's 'guvnor' is in hospital, so Scaramanga was supposed to be collecting the dues, although he wasn't exactly there to greet us.
Tackled up we set about it in our own inimitable ways; I was using an intermediate line and counting down to get the depth I thought the fish might be at, a couple of the others doing the same and the other half of our posse using floating lines. Scaramanga said it had been fished very little of late, so most flies and lures ought to work, and the smaller sizes would probably be best. Most of us elected to go ‘catch and release’, but the Professor went for a ‘take’ ticket, having promised a friend he'd drop off some fish on his way home afterwards.
The platforms here make catch and release really straightforward, once netted you can keep the pan of the net in the water, kneel down and unhook the trout without having to pick it out, pretty stress- and handling-free. Once unhooked just invert the net and off it swims (the fish not the net).
Tiny, a new member, off to my right two platforms along, caught first, soon followed by the Inspector, and in turn the Admiral. My turn came next, a feisty Rainbow on my pinky-white & chartreuse CW variant. I decided to pause and amble around amiably to see what flies had been catching. Tiny said he'd had his on a "nymphy thing I tied last night" but it was now languishing out of sight in an oak tree. Now you know why veteran FDG members try to tie at least three at a time.
The Inspector had caught on an ultra-slim olive damsel with a small red bead-head. The Admiral's success was down to a PTN featuring some flash on its back. So Scaramanga had told the truth, they were taking anything, no particular pattern was emerging.
In the next hour we three all caught again, but the Professor was struggling under the burden of having to take fish, the pressure seemed to be getting to him, and not even one bite yet!
The Sailor, opposite me, caught next, invariably he would have been using something 'natural' rather than the ‘abominations’ (that's what he calls lures) that I was using.
Having already ribbed the Professor about not being able to catch anything, Scaramanga came back around the pond to his swim, and from behind his back he hurled a pan-full of trout pellets out onto the water in front of the Professor, saying " Maybe a bit of ground-bait will help you !"' causing much mirth all the way round the banks.
The February trip, second of 2015, already consigned to history. Didn't Stephen Hawkins write that the universe is slowing down? If you ask me it's definitely speeding up!
Saturday had seen heavy rain, almost a biblical deluge, but the temperatures had at last climbed past 5 degrees C. Today dawned dry, brief patches of sun but mainly cloudy, with a few breaths of wind from the east but not heavy enough to chill the water any more. When the infrequent sun appeared the temperature actually rose to 10 degrees, first time for a while!
Six members of the Fluff Club made the shortish hop to this fishery, which consists of just the one pond (as opposed to a 'lake' which is natural, not man made you see) and would be crowded if about twelve anglers turned up. In areas it is supposedly over 25 feet deep and spring fed, so is not much affected by either heat or cold, the water is usually pretty clear too.
The gentle valley-side is not that far from the city, but on this particular morning in the immediate environs I spotter greater-spotted Woodpecker, wagtails, mallard, moorhen, deer (3), and a pair of kingfishers; a few Geese flew in and circled, but didn't stop when they spotted us.
The fishery's 'guvnor' is in hospital, so Scaramanga was supposed to be collecting the dues, although he wasn't exactly there to greet us.
Tackled up we set about it in our own inimitable ways; I was using an intermediate line and counting down to get the depth I thought the fish might be at, a couple of the others doing the same and the other half of our posse using floating lines. Scaramanga said it had been fished very little of late, so most flies and lures ought to work, and the smaller sizes would probably be best. Most of us elected to go ‘catch and release’, but the Professor went for a ‘take’ ticket, having promised a friend he'd drop off some fish on his way home afterwards.
The platforms here make catch and release really straightforward, once netted you can keep the pan of the net in the water, kneel down and unhook the trout without having to pick it out, pretty stress- and handling-free. Once unhooked just invert the net and off it swims (the fish not the net).
Tiny, a new member, off to my right two platforms along, caught first, soon followed by the Inspector, and in turn the Admiral. My turn came next, a feisty Rainbow on my pinky-white & chartreuse CW variant. I decided to pause and amble around amiably to see what flies had been catching. Tiny said he'd had his on a "nymphy thing I tied last night" but it was now languishing out of sight in an oak tree. Now you know why veteran FDG members try to tie at least three at a time.
The Inspector had caught on an ultra-slim olive damsel with a small red bead-head. The Admiral's success was down to a PTN featuring some flash on its back. So Scaramanga had told the truth, they were taking anything, no particular pattern was emerging.
In the next hour we three all caught again, but the Professor was struggling under the burden of having to take fish, the pressure seemed to be getting to him, and not even one bite yet!
The Sailor, opposite me, caught next, invariably he would have been using something 'natural' rather than the ‘abominations’ (that's what he calls lures) that I was using.
Having already ribbed the Professor about not being able to catch anything, Scaramanga came back around the pond to his swim, and from behind his back he hurled a pan-full of trout pellets out onto the water in front of the Professor, saying " Maybe a bit of ground-bait will help you !"' causing much mirth all the way round the banks.
But it didn't help.
Instead, after about 30 minutes, the pellets had floated along with the surface
drift into the westerly bank, and now there were fish splashily rising and
head-and-tailing, hoovering up this bounty. The Admiral simply couldn't resist
and changed position so he could cast to this feeding zone, despite first
nearly coming a cropper off his chosen platform (to more merriment all round).
He made a few casts into the melee, but nothing.
After watching this for a few minutes I too couldn't resist and moved closer to the area, but I was now fishing a "Squirminator" pattern which was sinking too quickly due to its tungsten bead, plunging straight past the surface feeders.
After a few chucks I moved back to my starting platform, but the Admiral stayed put, and switched flies to a small dry "gulper Adams", and in the next hour took three good trout off the top, all were better sizes than the others that had been caught and all scrapping hard to avoid being netted. The feeding activity lessened markedly, and during the next hour four of us caught again from our diverse swims, and then the Professor at last managed to get one. I also lost a couple (vigorously head-shaking trout and barbless hooks can be an unhappy combination), then the Inspector had a fish which actually shed the hook and simultaneously leapt out of his landing net and away as he drew the net towards the bank - is it really a 'catch' if it doesn't actually get to the bank? Pedant? Me?
The Sailor came past me and I pointed out there were still a few fish mopping up pellets at the feet of some cut-back dead rushes. Almost in the time it takes to write it he took two in consecutive casts to a small brown nymph, but the Sailor opined that it was a bit too easy, muttering "like spearing fish in a barrel" and then moved away to talk to a couple of the happy band of brothers.
I switched to a gold-bead flashback olive damsel pattern, and soon took my tally to six netted, and around 13.15 hours did the cheerios thing and packed up. This time I concentrated my feeble mind a bit harder than last time out and actually put my rod away very carefully! Tiny headed off as well, having enjoyed his first fishing session with his new-found Fluff Club, leaving the remaining four to it. We would find out how the rest of the trip had gone when the group convenes on Tuesday evening again.
Until the next time ...
After watching this for a few minutes I too couldn't resist and moved closer to the area, but I was now fishing a "Squirminator" pattern which was sinking too quickly due to its tungsten bead, plunging straight past the surface feeders.
After a few chucks I moved back to my starting platform, but the Admiral stayed put, and switched flies to a small dry "gulper Adams", and in the next hour took three good trout off the top, all were better sizes than the others that had been caught and all scrapping hard to avoid being netted. The feeding activity lessened markedly, and during the next hour four of us caught again from our diverse swims, and then the Professor at last managed to get one. I also lost a couple (vigorously head-shaking trout and barbless hooks can be an unhappy combination), then the Inspector had a fish which actually shed the hook and simultaneously leapt out of his landing net and away as he drew the net towards the bank - is it really a 'catch' if it doesn't actually get to the bank? Pedant? Me?
The Sailor came past me and I pointed out there were still a few fish mopping up pellets at the feet of some cut-back dead rushes. Almost in the time it takes to write it he took two in consecutive casts to a small brown nymph, but the Sailor opined that it was a bit too easy, muttering "like spearing fish in a barrel" and then moved away to talk to a couple of the happy band of brothers.
I switched to a gold-bead flashback olive damsel pattern, and soon took my tally to six netted, and around 13.15 hours did the cheerios thing and packed up. This time I concentrated my feeble mind a bit harder than last time out and actually put my rod away very carefully! Tiny headed off as well, having enjoyed his first fishing session with his new-found Fluff Club, leaving the remaining four to it. We would find out how the rest of the trip had gone when the group convenes on Tuesday evening again.
Until the next time ...
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