The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 27
In which everything
is factual save for the names of the participants, and the venue is not named,
on purpose.
"... Well, but this ol' river keeps on rollin', though
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow
And as long as it does I'll just sit here
And watch the river flow "
- Bob Dylan
Episode 27 saw us return to the fishery we last attended in episode 10, doesn't tempus fugit? Six of the Fluff Club stalwarts made it, we signed-in inside the lodge and shuffled out to commence battle: the Professor, the Sailor, Jackdaw, Rodney, Dell Boy and Whitey; a fine body of men if I can say that without being sexist. The remainder were either overseas or just plain indifferent to the plight of the small stillwater put n' take fisheries we rely upon here in the UK. The water hereabouts is cooler now, and this fishery was gin clear, but with a profusion of weed. Nice word 'profusion'. A casual scan around showed fish moving in most areas but no surface feeding apparent. I set up a midge tip #5 floater, just because. "Aha!" says the reader, "he's going to fish nymphs", but in fact I intended to give a new pattern for me, the Mohican, a go first and then if that failed my fall-back plan was to fish some hare's ear bodied Diawl Bachs, then maybe try PTNs, then so on and so forth, (thanks Mr G M Skues). The Mohicans had been tied the eve before, with black mink strip and a thorax of chartreuse straggle string on a size 12, reminding me a bit of Cormorants. As I walked down to the main 'lake' the water’s surface just down from the lodge's deck had a covering of fallen oak leaves, but there was a fish swirling among them, so I cast to it parallel to my bank, it bow-waved to the sinking fly and I was in! "You can cut that out ..." said Rodney from the deck "put that one back" but I didn't.
After safely netting the Rainbow I moved further along the bank: Jackdaw hadn't had a touch yet; beyond him the Professor was eliciting follows quite regularly but getting no actual takes, he was changing flies frequently and including some of the more exotic permutations made with obscure materials that he demonstrates at the Fluff Club tying nights. To his right the Sailor was throwing nice, long line shapes but hadn't caught yet.
Past them is the dam end but there was a large patch of loose weed and blown leaves on the surface so I crossed the dam and moved back up the fishery on the opposite bank, facing the others. There were more than a dozen anglers fishing in, so I walked slowly up the bank on the lookout for fish in areas where I wouldn't have someone directly opposite me, because the ponds here are not the widest so two anglers opposite each other would be covering most of the same water. Opposite the lodge there are a couple of large oaks and before long I found myself at the base of one of them which meant I would have to side cast to the left or to the right, beneath the spread branches above me. There was still some detritus bobbing about but there were clear patches too. I cast left where I spotted some surface movement, barely starting to tighten up before I had a take from a strong-fighting fish. This new Mohican was proving to be a bit productive. I cast to my right twice, each time catching a fallen leaf, but on the third go the fly was taken on the drop, and before long there were three trout in my bag, biggest 2 pounds twelve ounces. Off came the Mohican, and on went a Booby Minkie (red eyes) which I had caught on at Draycote recently. I chose the Booby deliberately because the fishery manager and his predecessor both have said that Boobies don't seem to work here. Before casting though, I headed back towards the others, stopping for a coffee on the way round.
When I walked past Dell-boy he hadn't had a touch, Jackdaw said he had a pull but didn't connect on the strike. The Sailor had caught a fish on a Shuttlecock Yellow Owl (which I had demonstrated recently), despite the fact he had seen nothing rising. It's typical of the Sailor that he so often catches on a dry fly when no one else sees any reason to try that approach. The Professor had a Rainbow on his stringer and was still getting follows and the odd pluck. Rodney was around the dam but it didn't look like he was having much action there. The Sailor decided to have a mosey around now, as is his wont, so I fished close to where he had been standing. First cast elicited a follow but the fish soon pulled up and turned back. The next cast same thing, different fish. The Professor hooked a fish which gave him a battle royal. Once netted we could see it was way over 5lbs, and when weighed later it went close to 7lbs, resulting in an entry card for the excellent Troutmasters competition. Fingers crossed for the Prof.
My next cast resulted in a determined follow from a small trout and I had to pull very quickly to avoid it! It went quiet then, the fish in the area I was covering seemed to have seen enough of my BM. I didn't mind, the whole point of using it was to prolong the day, at least until after lunch.
Later, whilst watching the Professor playing his third trout, I was idly retrieving when I felt the line tighten and it seemed my fourth and final fish was on the way. While I reached for my landing net, however, the trout thrashed its way into a bunch of floating weed at the water's edge and the fly lost its hold! Good.
I walked back towards the lodge to the area where I had found my first trout, espying a big trout patrolling leisurely. Off came the BM, and on went the first of three, different coloured stalking bug patterns. Standing well back from the bank I covered the fish each time it patrolled past, just to see it turn its head away and move on. A drab little PTN brought the same response, a hare's ear bodied Diawl Bach didn't do any better; next a black nymph was completely ignored. On went a mini lure which is orange with a lime green bead-head, but no. A small Cats Whisker deviant went next, drawing nada. Then the biggie simply disappeared, I waited and waited but couldn't see it again.
Wondering if it was still about but deeper I put on a #14 Biscuit Blob to fish sunken and static, the fly slowly submerged until I lost sight of it. Many seconds passed. The line began to tighten under the rod tip so I struck, but it was not the big one: it turned out to be my smallest of the day, just under two pounds. Oh well, I had made it last to lunch time.
At lunch we all sat out on the deck munching and having the craic, inclusive with a couple of the other anglers. We seemed to have converted one to joining our number, he seemed quite keen but in time it became apparent he must have had a change of mind,
Afterwards I decided to try the catch n' release beats for an hour or so and changed my line over to a #5 full floater with a 25' hand-made tapered cast from the USA, care of Funky Fly Tying I think. The Sailor still needed one for his brace, but Rodney, Jackdaw, and Dell-boy were still fishless, although Rodney told us he had been getting follows from fish which just veered away at the last moment. The Professor also had one still to come and was adamant you just needed to keep giving them something different in order to get takes.
I headed down the valley to the two C n' R beats. The first was heavily weeded for about two thirds, and the second was also weeded except for an area at the deep end near the dam. There were two guys fishing but they gave up soon after I arrived, Suddenly, a small Brown jumped high and splashily back down. The closest of the two anglers said "That's the only fish we've seen down here!"
I was really pleased with the long leader, it turned over perfectly straight despite a breeze, casting a #16 olive emerger pattern with a suspender ball/sight post. Nothing disturbed the tranquillity however. After a few casts I decided to head back up, slowly and stealthily creeping along looking for any sign of a fish, hoping to find a riser. Halfway along the lower section I spotted a fish close to the other bank, an easy cast. It was moving slowly but showed no interest in my efforts and disappeared into weed after a few minutes. On the upper section I spotted another fish moving close to the surface, but when I could see it more clearly, I could see it was one of those poor things with a concave belly so I left it and headed back to the lodge to pack up and tube my fish. The Professor had his four, and was hanging with Dell-boy, Rodney and Jackdaw, with the Sailor watching having finally caught his second on "an olive nymphy thing". The Sailor and I chatted while I dealt with my fish, when he told me it looked like the Professor had just lost one.
It subsequently turned out that the Professor was having a go with Jackdaw's rod, but decided the leader was too short and had suspect knots, so he had put a longer one on, then had hooked a big trout, invited Jackdaw to play it but the latter had declined. When it was ready to be netted Jackdaw swung his too-small net at it in a wild scoop but only succeeded in knocking it off the hook and away to freedom. I bet it was the one I was after, it was in the right area!
Six of the Fluff Boys fished, three had caught but three hadn't. The only common denominator that we came up with was that the unsuccessful ones habitually use much shorter leaders than the others.
Seuraavaan kertaan.
"... Well, but this ol' river keeps on rollin', though
No matter what gets in the way and which way the wind does blow
And as long as it does I'll just sit here
And watch the river flow "
- Bob Dylan
Episode 27 saw us return to the fishery we last attended in episode 10, doesn't tempus fugit? Six of the Fluff Club stalwarts made it, we signed-in inside the lodge and shuffled out to commence battle: the Professor, the Sailor, Jackdaw, Rodney, Dell Boy and Whitey; a fine body of men if I can say that without being sexist. The remainder were either overseas or just plain indifferent to the plight of the small stillwater put n' take fisheries we rely upon here in the UK. The water hereabouts is cooler now, and this fishery was gin clear, but with a profusion of weed. Nice word 'profusion'. A casual scan around showed fish moving in most areas but no surface feeding apparent. I set up a midge tip #5 floater, just because. "Aha!" says the reader, "he's going to fish nymphs", but in fact I intended to give a new pattern for me, the Mohican, a go first and then if that failed my fall-back plan was to fish some hare's ear bodied Diawl Bachs, then maybe try PTNs, then so on and so forth, (thanks Mr G M Skues). The Mohicans had been tied the eve before, with black mink strip and a thorax of chartreuse straggle string on a size 12, reminding me a bit of Cormorants. As I walked down to the main 'lake' the water’s surface just down from the lodge's deck had a covering of fallen oak leaves, but there was a fish swirling among them, so I cast to it parallel to my bank, it bow-waved to the sinking fly and I was in! "You can cut that out ..." said Rodney from the deck "put that one back" but I didn't.
After safely netting the Rainbow I moved further along the bank: Jackdaw hadn't had a touch yet; beyond him the Professor was eliciting follows quite regularly but getting no actual takes, he was changing flies frequently and including some of the more exotic permutations made with obscure materials that he demonstrates at the Fluff Club tying nights. To his right the Sailor was throwing nice, long line shapes but hadn't caught yet.
Past them is the dam end but there was a large patch of loose weed and blown leaves on the surface so I crossed the dam and moved back up the fishery on the opposite bank, facing the others. There were more than a dozen anglers fishing in, so I walked slowly up the bank on the lookout for fish in areas where I wouldn't have someone directly opposite me, because the ponds here are not the widest so two anglers opposite each other would be covering most of the same water. Opposite the lodge there are a couple of large oaks and before long I found myself at the base of one of them which meant I would have to side cast to the left or to the right, beneath the spread branches above me. There was still some detritus bobbing about but there were clear patches too. I cast left where I spotted some surface movement, barely starting to tighten up before I had a take from a strong-fighting fish. This new Mohican was proving to be a bit productive. I cast to my right twice, each time catching a fallen leaf, but on the third go the fly was taken on the drop, and before long there were three trout in my bag, biggest 2 pounds twelve ounces. Off came the Mohican, and on went a Booby Minkie (red eyes) which I had caught on at Draycote recently. I chose the Booby deliberately because the fishery manager and his predecessor both have said that Boobies don't seem to work here. Before casting though, I headed back towards the others, stopping for a coffee on the way round.
When I walked past Dell-boy he hadn't had a touch, Jackdaw said he had a pull but didn't connect on the strike. The Sailor had caught a fish on a Shuttlecock Yellow Owl (which I had demonstrated recently), despite the fact he had seen nothing rising. It's typical of the Sailor that he so often catches on a dry fly when no one else sees any reason to try that approach. The Professor had a Rainbow on his stringer and was still getting follows and the odd pluck. Rodney was around the dam but it didn't look like he was having much action there. The Sailor decided to have a mosey around now, as is his wont, so I fished close to where he had been standing. First cast elicited a follow but the fish soon pulled up and turned back. The next cast same thing, different fish. The Professor hooked a fish which gave him a battle royal. Once netted we could see it was way over 5lbs, and when weighed later it went close to 7lbs, resulting in an entry card for the excellent Troutmasters competition. Fingers crossed for the Prof.
My next cast resulted in a determined follow from a small trout and I had to pull very quickly to avoid it! It went quiet then, the fish in the area I was covering seemed to have seen enough of my BM. I didn't mind, the whole point of using it was to prolong the day, at least until after lunch.
Later, whilst watching the Professor playing his third trout, I was idly retrieving when I felt the line tighten and it seemed my fourth and final fish was on the way. While I reached for my landing net, however, the trout thrashed its way into a bunch of floating weed at the water's edge and the fly lost its hold! Good.
I walked back towards the lodge to the area where I had found my first trout, espying a big trout patrolling leisurely. Off came the BM, and on went the first of three, different coloured stalking bug patterns. Standing well back from the bank I covered the fish each time it patrolled past, just to see it turn its head away and move on. A drab little PTN brought the same response, a hare's ear bodied Diawl Bach didn't do any better; next a black nymph was completely ignored. On went a mini lure which is orange with a lime green bead-head, but no. A small Cats Whisker deviant went next, drawing nada. Then the biggie simply disappeared, I waited and waited but couldn't see it again.
Wondering if it was still about but deeper I put on a #14 Biscuit Blob to fish sunken and static, the fly slowly submerged until I lost sight of it. Many seconds passed. The line began to tighten under the rod tip so I struck, but it was not the big one: it turned out to be my smallest of the day, just under two pounds. Oh well, I had made it last to lunch time.
At lunch we all sat out on the deck munching and having the craic, inclusive with a couple of the other anglers. We seemed to have converted one to joining our number, he seemed quite keen but in time it became apparent he must have had a change of mind,
Afterwards I decided to try the catch n' release beats for an hour or so and changed my line over to a #5 full floater with a 25' hand-made tapered cast from the USA, care of Funky Fly Tying I think. The Sailor still needed one for his brace, but Rodney, Jackdaw, and Dell-boy were still fishless, although Rodney told us he had been getting follows from fish which just veered away at the last moment. The Professor also had one still to come and was adamant you just needed to keep giving them something different in order to get takes.
I headed down the valley to the two C n' R beats. The first was heavily weeded for about two thirds, and the second was also weeded except for an area at the deep end near the dam. There were two guys fishing but they gave up soon after I arrived, Suddenly, a small Brown jumped high and splashily back down. The closest of the two anglers said "That's the only fish we've seen down here!"
I was really pleased with the long leader, it turned over perfectly straight despite a breeze, casting a #16 olive emerger pattern with a suspender ball/sight post. Nothing disturbed the tranquillity however. After a few casts I decided to head back up, slowly and stealthily creeping along looking for any sign of a fish, hoping to find a riser. Halfway along the lower section I spotted a fish close to the other bank, an easy cast. It was moving slowly but showed no interest in my efforts and disappeared into weed after a few minutes. On the upper section I spotted another fish moving close to the surface, but when I could see it more clearly, I could see it was one of those poor things with a concave belly so I left it and headed back to the lodge to pack up and tube my fish. The Professor had his four, and was hanging with Dell-boy, Rodney and Jackdaw, with the Sailor watching having finally caught his second on "an olive nymphy thing". The Sailor and I chatted while I dealt with my fish, when he told me it looked like the Professor had just lost one.
It subsequently turned out that the Professor was having a go with Jackdaw's rod, but decided the leader was too short and had suspect knots, so he had put a longer one on, then had hooked a big trout, invited Jackdaw to play it but the latter had declined. When it was ready to be netted Jackdaw swung his too-small net at it in a wild scoop but only succeeded in knocking it off the hook and away to freedom. I bet it was the one I was after, it was in the right area!
Six of the Fluff Boys fished, three had caught but three hadn't. The only common denominator that we came up with was that the unsuccessful ones habitually use much shorter leaders than the others.
Seuraavaan kertaan.
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