The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 26
(The names are
disguised and the venue not named solely to protect the innocent)
"... He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness ..."
- Psalms 23
Back at the scene of episode 17 but the first thing was a visit to one of the fast disappearing icons, a Little Chef (it might already be the last one?). When we got to the fishery an hour later, after technical problems with the till further delayed us, our host informed that there was already one of our number at it, fishing that is. This made the headcount another magnificent seven, the third in consecutive trips. Now, three sevens is usually considered lucky, auspicious even, the Chinese would have been very excited. Could this be a good omen, a portent of great things to come?
No.
I set up two rods, preferring to faff about up-front rather than having to walk back to the car to faff about setting up a different rod and line later. Armed with a floating and an intermediate rig I sallied forth past the fish-farm stews to catch up with the others. The four fishing ponds are compass orientated, and I decided to fish round counter-clockwise starting from the fishing hut. The water was very clear, the weeds a lush emerald colour. Fish were visible all around, some doggo and some moving lazily. A few were looking a bit off-colour which I guessed was as a result of the summer's high water temperatures. I much prefer sight fishing because you can quickly tell if your fly or retrieve are eliciting any piscine interest. It quickly became apparent that mine were not in the ball game at all. I had passed Snowy, the Professor, and the Lumberjack at the first pond, and I had this one to myself for now. After trying all the favourite starters (which accumulate on my fly patch) I realised this was going to be tough going. I eventually tied on a dry, despite not seeing anything rising, and covered a few different fish. A young Coot came at the fly fast, and I had to lift the fly away quickly, but nothing else moved. At least the Coot had been impressed by my fly tying. Nada after that, so I crossed to the next pond to speak to the Sailor. He said "I saw you strike but you must have missed it" so I told him about the Coot. He hadn't had an offer yet. The Inspector came past, scouting, two fish to the good already, inevitably victims of the buzzer. The Admiral was just along the bank from us, but he hadn't had any action either.
The Sailor remarked that he always seemed to struggle at this particular venue, I confessed I have found it hard to get my quota here once or twice. I moved up the bank to an area which hadn't seen much angling activity during the time I was on my first pitch. There were a few fish visible in a couple of places. A scruffed-up emerger pattern on a #14 featuring Hends number 17 in the thorax area raised my first take but the Rainbow proved to be a tad lethargic and was easily overcome. A fish, however, is a fish, and very encouraging.
I walked back down, choosing a spot past the Sailor and the Admiral. Second cast the tree on the bank opposite me pounced without warning, my successful fly was gone. I knotted on the dry that the Coot nearly succumbed to, a black CdC Shuttlecock, having just seen a Blue trout swirl at the surface, after something. Nice cast to the area, lo and behold: up she came. My strike was over-eager, much too hard, and I snapped off. I hate that happening, but at least the Davy knot hadn't been the culprit because there was no evidence of a 'curly' at the end of the tippet, (a sure sign of knot-slip failure). I turned the air blue, takes were that hard to come by.
Each time I saw the Inspector pass by he had caught another fish, four by midday leaving just the one to get for his limit.
I decided to go back to my car to get my lunch and on the way back I had a chat with the guv'nor. He said that those who were in the know got there first thing and caught a few before it became busier, thereafter fishing could be sporadic, to say the least. He added that it usually became very quiet from about 1 pm for two or three hours, then when anglers started to drift away it would pick up again.
The Fluff Boys gradually assembled at the hut for lunch, except for the Inspector who was still hunting, still doing circuits. The Lumberjack had already left for home, having a domestic duty to perform that afternoon; he hadn't even had a take for his two-fish ticket. We had a general moan over our assorted lunches, except for Snowy who had actually filled his two limit first thing (to a BFD and a buzzer/spider), the Sailor had found a taker but bumped the fish off, the Professor and the Admiral hadn't even had a touch between them.
Whytee decided to try buzzers but the tapered leader was too long (no bungs/indicators allowed on this fishery) so I took it off and instead tied 8 feet of tippet direct to the fly line's end loop and applied mucilin so I could suspend the buzzer about three feet down. I would watch the end of the floating line for bite indication, which is what the Inspector had been doing. This set-up proved to be less than satisfactory so after a few different buzzers had received a dunking I gave it up and returned to my intermediate set-up.
My patience and the afternoon wore on. The Sailor gave up, pausing briefly to tell me about his forthcoming trip abroad; I retrieved while we spoke, there was a sudden pull which I missed, taken by surprise. Encouragement!
The Inspector came along, he had got his fifth, which had taken a while but was still a fantastic feat in the circumstances. Whilst the three of us were talking that fish came to the fly again, this time I connected, and despite its struggle it soon came to the net, expertly wielded by the Inspector, now acting ghillie. This was a nicer Rainbow, later making 4lbs 7ozs and the best for the FBs' day. The Sailor had seen enough and departed.
Two-up was enlivening, I moved to the pond south of the hut, into a spot not long vacated by the Professor. Still using my olive Limit Damsel, I took two more nice trout in a ten-minute spell, both netted for me by the very obliging Inspector. This pattern had saved the day again, which unsurprisingly is exactly how it got the name. I think this was the straw that broke the camel's back, because the Admiral and the Professor packed up at this point.
Seven of the Fluff Boys fished, but four had blanked - a bit unusual to say the least.
Fins a la propera vegada.
"... He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness ..."
- Psalms 23
Back at the scene of episode 17 but the first thing was a visit to one of the fast disappearing icons, a Little Chef (it might already be the last one?). When we got to the fishery an hour later, after technical problems with the till further delayed us, our host informed that there was already one of our number at it, fishing that is. This made the headcount another magnificent seven, the third in consecutive trips. Now, three sevens is usually considered lucky, auspicious even, the Chinese would have been very excited. Could this be a good omen, a portent of great things to come?
No.
I set up two rods, preferring to faff about up-front rather than having to walk back to the car to faff about setting up a different rod and line later. Armed with a floating and an intermediate rig I sallied forth past the fish-farm stews to catch up with the others. The four fishing ponds are compass orientated, and I decided to fish round counter-clockwise starting from the fishing hut. The water was very clear, the weeds a lush emerald colour. Fish were visible all around, some doggo and some moving lazily. A few were looking a bit off-colour which I guessed was as a result of the summer's high water temperatures. I much prefer sight fishing because you can quickly tell if your fly or retrieve are eliciting any piscine interest. It quickly became apparent that mine were not in the ball game at all. I had passed Snowy, the Professor, and the Lumberjack at the first pond, and I had this one to myself for now. After trying all the favourite starters (which accumulate on my fly patch) I realised this was going to be tough going. I eventually tied on a dry, despite not seeing anything rising, and covered a few different fish. A young Coot came at the fly fast, and I had to lift the fly away quickly, but nothing else moved. At least the Coot had been impressed by my fly tying. Nada after that, so I crossed to the next pond to speak to the Sailor. He said "I saw you strike but you must have missed it" so I told him about the Coot. He hadn't had an offer yet. The Inspector came past, scouting, two fish to the good already, inevitably victims of the buzzer. The Admiral was just along the bank from us, but he hadn't had any action either.
The Sailor remarked that he always seemed to struggle at this particular venue, I confessed I have found it hard to get my quota here once or twice. I moved up the bank to an area which hadn't seen much angling activity during the time I was on my first pitch. There were a few fish visible in a couple of places. A scruffed-up emerger pattern on a #14 featuring Hends number 17 in the thorax area raised my first take but the Rainbow proved to be a tad lethargic and was easily overcome. A fish, however, is a fish, and very encouraging.
I walked back down, choosing a spot past the Sailor and the Admiral. Second cast the tree on the bank opposite me pounced without warning, my successful fly was gone. I knotted on the dry that the Coot nearly succumbed to, a black CdC Shuttlecock, having just seen a Blue trout swirl at the surface, after something. Nice cast to the area, lo and behold: up she came. My strike was over-eager, much too hard, and I snapped off. I hate that happening, but at least the Davy knot hadn't been the culprit because there was no evidence of a 'curly' at the end of the tippet, (a sure sign of knot-slip failure). I turned the air blue, takes were that hard to come by.
Each time I saw the Inspector pass by he had caught another fish, four by midday leaving just the one to get for his limit.
I decided to go back to my car to get my lunch and on the way back I had a chat with the guv'nor. He said that those who were in the know got there first thing and caught a few before it became busier, thereafter fishing could be sporadic, to say the least. He added that it usually became very quiet from about 1 pm for two or three hours, then when anglers started to drift away it would pick up again.
The Fluff Boys gradually assembled at the hut for lunch, except for the Inspector who was still hunting, still doing circuits. The Lumberjack had already left for home, having a domestic duty to perform that afternoon; he hadn't even had a take for his two-fish ticket. We had a general moan over our assorted lunches, except for Snowy who had actually filled his two limit first thing (to a BFD and a buzzer/spider), the Sailor had found a taker but bumped the fish off, the Professor and the Admiral hadn't even had a touch between them.
Whytee decided to try buzzers but the tapered leader was too long (no bungs/indicators allowed on this fishery) so I took it off and instead tied 8 feet of tippet direct to the fly line's end loop and applied mucilin so I could suspend the buzzer about three feet down. I would watch the end of the floating line for bite indication, which is what the Inspector had been doing. This set-up proved to be less than satisfactory so after a few different buzzers had received a dunking I gave it up and returned to my intermediate set-up.
My patience and the afternoon wore on. The Sailor gave up, pausing briefly to tell me about his forthcoming trip abroad; I retrieved while we spoke, there was a sudden pull which I missed, taken by surprise. Encouragement!
The Inspector came along, he had got his fifth, which had taken a while but was still a fantastic feat in the circumstances. Whilst the three of us were talking that fish came to the fly again, this time I connected, and despite its struggle it soon came to the net, expertly wielded by the Inspector, now acting ghillie. This was a nicer Rainbow, later making 4lbs 7ozs and the best for the FBs' day. The Sailor had seen enough and departed.
Two-up was enlivening, I moved to the pond south of the hut, into a spot not long vacated by the Professor. Still using my olive Limit Damsel, I took two more nice trout in a ten-minute spell, both netted for me by the very obliging Inspector. This pattern had saved the day again, which unsurprisingly is exactly how it got the name. I think this was the straw that broke the camel's back, because the Admiral and the Professor packed up at this point.
Seven of the Fluff Boys fished, but four had blanked - a bit unusual to say the least.
Fins a la propera vegada.
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