The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 38
(In which the names
of the Fluff Club crew are pseudonyms, but everything else is real).
The four mature 'lakes' and the stretch of the River Dun which wends through them make this probably Hampshire's most beautiful small stillwater fishery. With the additional colours from autumns cloak it looked stunning, despite the sheets of rain doing their best to obscure everything. The Fluff Club last visited Holbury Lane Lakes in episode24, and before that in 3, 14, and 19. The rain hammering on my roof woke me before the alarm rang; the country lanes en route to the fishery ran like rivers in places, standing water everywhere, I wondered if anyone else would venture out. Even though I've come to expect October to be stormy for at least a handful of its days, our seasons have definitely gone topsy-turvy; nesting Coots at Chalk Springs last month, and just yesterday on the tidal Itchen there were a pair of Black Swans (yes, the Australian ones) with a little, grey cygnet just out of the nest. Poor little thing, it will have a major struggle come the winter, (unless they know something we don't?).
The Admiral and Jackdaw were sheltering in the hut, having travelled together, but the Admiral wasn't here to fish, he had a GAIA instruction and practice day on the green in front of the big barn. We all donned our wet gear slowly, not in any hurry to face the wet onslaught. The Professor arrived with Dell-boy, just after Snowy, who was another non-fisher having had a knee replacement operation recently. When the guv'nor, George, came in the hut was positively snug, a bit too crowded until we had all signed-in and paid-up and therefore no longer had an excuse to linger longer, we had to go and fish. In that rain. Dell-boy had forgotten his wet weather gear but George lent him a Gore-Tex hooded jacket. We shambled off in different directions. I headed straight for Willow 'Lake', the farthest, with the express aim of catching a trout from each of Willow, Long, and Island 'lakes', a 'three from three' challenge for myself, before considering paying the extra to try for 'four from four', or not. I was covering water, fan-casting from left to right, when the Admiral came along, having a look around because the other GAIA chaps hadn't turned to yet. I was telling him I'd had a couple of taps when my line tightened; simultaneously, when I felt the fish tug back at my strike, I also felt that heavy, slow encumbrance of weed. Luckily, the fish came free from the weed bed with just a clump of strands on the tippet, acting as a brake to all its lunges. When a shroud of the weed worked down to its eyes it gave up the struggle, as they often do, and I netted it with the weed. What a stunning creature, fantastically patterned spots in glorious technicolour, gleaming despite the grey daylight. The Admiral continued his perambulation while I moved back across the footbridge to Long 'Lake'.
About half way along the bank with the Dun behind me, I noticed a fish swirl a couple of times. The spattering rain made it very hard to see into the water, despite its amazing clarity. I cast towards the last swirl, counted the fly down to ten-one-thousand, and the line tightened into my second trout, another Rainbow, this one around three-and-a-half pounds, a pound heavier than the first. I felt it was time to have a brew up at the hut, but when I crossed the Dun again to Island Lake I spotted a nice fish moving over that deep hole in the corner and I simply had to have a try for it. The rain could not get any heavier, but now the wind got up, swirling around, bringing down more leaves and pushing them into rafts scudding hither and thither, a complete nuisance. I couldn't see where my target had gone, but after a couple of casts, pausing for more depth, a slow retrieve brought that slow tightening indicating something was holding the other end of my line. After a brief but spirited scrap this 'bow turned out to be around two-and-a-half pounds, not the one I was after, but hey-ho, I had managed the 'three from three', and all of them had fallen for the charms of my little Limit Damsel. Delighted, I went for that hot cuppa, glad to get out of the rain. George and Snowy were still inside, and we chatted about this and that while watching Dell-boy, Jackdaw, and the Professor fishing in sight on Pond and Island. Dell-boy was clearly struggling with his line management, suddenly throwing his rod down onto the sward then hurling his landing net further along the bank. George went to help, how's that for customer care? Nearby, a pair of Dab-chicks apparently found the tantrum highly amusing, cackling maniacally.
I was still pondering whether to dig deep into my pockets and buy another one fish permit so I could try to do the 'four from four' by catching one in Pond, when the Professor caught his second, using a small red nymph that the Fluff Club recently tied. Next, Jackdaw caught a fish using that 'reel retrieve' again, reeling in line and BFD preparatory to moving. Seems to be becoming his speciality. Dell-boy threw another paddy, this time George and the Professor went to his assistance and when I saw the Professor cast then hook a fish for Dell-boy to play my mind was made up. The rain started to ease as I went to the left-hand bank of Pond, where I had to side- or roll-cast due to the trees lurking right behind me. I had a couple of follows but no real commitment so I started to change flies. Several selections later I had made no progress, but the Professor and Jackdaw moved from their positions opposite me so I moved around to that side. A blue van pulled into the car park and Gallilee disembarked from it, back from foreign climes it seems. He hadn't fancied the deluge, but when it started to ease he had decided to join us; this meant five Fluff Boys fishing, George's only paying customers thus far on the day.
By now I was fishing a green Muskins, targeting any fish I could spot. I noticed the temperature had plummeted when the wind came from the NNE; yesterday had seen 22 degrees C, but now it had hit just 11, a fifty percent fall. I was thinking the sudden drop in temperature plus constant casting had put Pond's fish down when the Professor hooked another for Dell-boy, presumably this meant the Prof had already made his limit. I don't think Dell-boy was enjoying the fishing, he was cold and soaked through, needing to be somewhere warm and dry to lift his spirits. Jackdaw, fishing the back of Island, caught his second, still using his BFD, and I was thinking about a move when a light-coloured Rainbow moved into range, I covered it, saw the mouth open and close, then I struck. Immediately, the fight felt peculiar but I soon saw that somehow the fish was hooked in the top edge of its dorsal fin. The trout was totally bewildered and hardly fought, as soon as it was in the net I pulled the hook out then set it free. I suppose, technically, I had made the 'four from four' but felt it was unsporting to claim it with a foul-hooked fish. Nothing else in Pond seemed to want to play, so I reluctantly decided to take my fourth from Island, as time was getting on. Three casts at a particular trout spooked it out of range, but a Blue hove into view just as the Admiral pitched up, having a post lunch walk round. We watched the cast land, as the fly sank the trout moved towards it, then turned to swim away, suddenly changing its mind it turned 180 degrees and swallowed the nymph. "I must be bringing you luck" said the Admiral. "If you could bottle it" I replied "you'd make an absolute fortune!".
The other Fluff Boys were packing up now, but before I started for home I walked the length of the fishery to chat to Gallilee, fishing near the far end of Willow. He had just caught one on his zonker pattern that he won our John Hardeley Memorial competition with, last December. We talked about a bunch of topics, including his collection of rods and reels made by an American company who folded a few years ago, before discovering we both have a bit of an interest in split cane. In fact, next month he should take delivery of a two-piece blank, with ferrules fitted, currently being hand-built bespoke for him in the USA, which he'll do the finishing work on.
Maybe one day?
Ate a proxima vez.
The four mature 'lakes' and the stretch of the River Dun which wends through them make this probably Hampshire's most beautiful small stillwater fishery. With the additional colours from autumns cloak it looked stunning, despite the sheets of rain doing their best to obscure everything. The Fluff Club last visited Holbury Lane Lakes in episode24, and before that in 3, 14, and 19. The rain hammering on my roof woke me before the alarm rang; the country lanes en route to the fishery ran like rivers in places, standing water everywhere, I wondered if anyone else would venture out. Even though I've come to expect October to be stormy for at least a handful of its days, our seasons have definitely gone topsy-turvy; nesting Coots at Chalk Springs last month, and just yesterday on the tidal Itchen there were a pair of Black Swans (yes, the Australian ones) with a little, grey cygnet just out of the nest. Poor little thing, it will have a major struggle come the winter, (unless they know something we don't?).
The Admiral and Jackdaw were sheltering in the hut, having travelled together, but the Admiral wasn't here to fish, he had a GAIA instruction and practice day on the green in front of the big barn. We all donned our wet gear slowly, not in any hurry to face the wet onslaught. The Professor arrived with Dell-boy, just after Snowy, who was another non-fisher having had a knee replacement operation recently. When the guv'nor, George, came in the hut was positively snug, a bit too crowded until we had all signed-in and paid-up and therefore no longer had an excuse to linger longer, we had to go and fish. In that rain. Dell-boy had forgotten his wet weather gear but George lent him a Gore-Tex hooded jacket. We shambled off in different directions. I headed straight for Willow 'Lake', the farthest, with the express aim of catching a trout from each of Willow, Long, and Island 'lakes', a 'three from three' challenge for myself, before considering paying the extra to try for 'four from four', or not. I was covering water, fan-casting from left to right, when the Admiral came along, having a look around because the other GAIA chaps hadn't turned to yet. I was telling him I'd had a couple of taps when my line tightened; simultaneously, when I felt the fish tug back at my strike, I also felt that heavy, slow encumbrance of weed. Luckily, the fish came free from the weed bed with just a clump of strands on the tippet, acting as a brake to all its lunges. When a shroud of the weed worked down to its eyes it gave up the struggle, as they often do, and I netted it with the weed. What a stunning creature, fantastically patterned spots in glorious technicolour, gleaming despite the grey daylight. The Admiral continued his perambulation while I moved back across the footbridge to Long 'Lake'.
About half way along the bank with the Dun behind me, I noticed a fish swirl a couple of times. The spattering rain made it very hard to see into the water, despite its amazing clarity. I cast towards the last swirl, counted the fly down to ten-one-thousand, and the line tightened into my second trout, another Rainbow, this one around three-and-a-half pounds, a pound heavier than the first. I felt it was time to have a brew up at the hut, but when I crossed the Dun again to Island Lake I spotted a nice fish moving over that deep hole in the corner and I simply had to have a try for it. The rain could not get any heavier, but now the wind got up, swirling around, bringing down more leaves and pushing them into rafts scudding hither and thither, a complete nuisance. I couldn't see where my target had gone, but after a couple of casts, pausing for more depth, a slow retrieve brought that slow tightening indicating something was holding the other end of my line. After a brief but spirited scrap this 'bow turned out to be around two-and-a-half pounds, not the one I was after, but hey-ho, I had managed the 'three from three', and all of them had fallen for the charms of my little Limit Damsel. Delighted, I went for that hot cuppa, glad to get out of the rain. George and Snowy were still inside, and we chatted about this and that while watching Dell-boy, Jackdaw, and the Professor fishing in sight on Pond and Island. Dell-boy was clearly struggling with his line management, suddenly throwing his rod down onto the sward then hurling his landing net further along the bank. George went to help, how's that for customer care? Nearby, a pair of Dab-chicks apparently found the tantrum highly amusing, cackling maniacally.
I was still pondering whether to dig deep into my pockets and buy another one fish permit so I could try to do the 'four from four' by catching one in Pond, when the Professor caught his second, using a small red nymph that the Fluff Club recently tied. Next, Jackdaw caught a fish using that 'reel retrieve' again, reeling in line and BFD preparatory to moving. Seems to be becoming his speciality. Dell-boy threw another paddy, this time George and the Professor went to his assistance and when I saw the Professor cast then hook a fish for Dell-boy to play my mind was made up. The rain started to ease as I went to the left-hand bank of Pond, where I had to side- or roll-cast due to the trees lurking right behind me. I had a couple of follows but no real commitment so I started to change flies. Several selections later I had made no progress, but the Professor and Jackdaw moved from their positions opposite me so I moved around to that side. A blue van pulled into the car park and Gallilee disembarked from it, back from foreign climes it seems. He hadn't fancied the deluge, but when it started to ease he had decided to join us; this meant five Fluff Boys fishing, George's only paying customers thus far on the day.
By now I was fishing a green Muskins, targeting any fish I could spot. I noticed the temperature had plummeted when the wind came from the NNE; yesterday had seen 22 degrees C, but now it had hit just 11, a fifty percent fall. I was thinking the sudden drop in temperature plus constant casting had put Pond's fish down when the Professor hooked another for Dell-boy, presumably this meant the Prof had already made his limit. I don't think Dell-boy was enjoying the fishing, he was cold and soaked through, needing to be somewhere warm and dry to lift his spirits. Jackdaw, fishing the back of Island, caught his second, still using his BFD, and I was thinking about a move when a light-coloured Rainbow moved into range, I covered it, saw the mouth open and close, then I struck. Immediately, the fight felt peculiar but I soon saw that somehow the fish was hooked in the top edge of its dorsal fin. The trout was totally bewildered and hardly fought, as soon as it was in the net I pulled the hook out then set it free. I suppose, technically, I had made the 'four from four' but felt it was unsporting to claim it with a foul-hooked fish. Nothing else in Pond seemed to want to play, so I reluctantly decided to take my fourth from Island, as time was getting on. Three casts at a particular trout spooked it out of range, but a Blue hove into view just as the Admiral pitched up, having a post lunch walk round. We watched the cast land, as the fly sank the trout moved towards it, then turned to swim away, suddenly changing its mind it turned 180 degrees and swallowed the nymph. "I must be bringing you luck" said the Admiral. "If you could bottle it" I replied "you'd make an absolute fortune!".
The other Fluff Boys were packing up now, but before I started for home I walked the length of the fishery to chat to Gallilee, fishing near the far end of Willow. He had just caught one on his zonker pattern that he won our John Hardeley Memorial competition with, last December. We talked about a bunch of topics, including his collection of rods and reels made by an American company who folded a few years ago, before discovering we both have a bit of an interest in split cane. In fact, next month he should take delivery of a two-piece blank, with ferrules fitted, currently being hand-built bespoke for him in the USA, which he'll do the finishing work on.
Maybe one day?
Ate a proxima vez.
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