The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 15
 |
| Edith, who'd like to go fishing more often |
(In which the names
of the people and places are disguised, to protect the innocent).
Today's Fluff Club fly fishing outing saw a return to the venue previously visited by the posse in episode 2, nicer weather this time. Five of the Fluff Boys made this one, Whytee being the last to arrive, car stereo set to 'stun'. It was a bit surprising that none of this fishery's regulars were evident as the fishery only re-opened about a week previously after shutting down for the high water temperatures we have experienced in the last while.
Tackling-up, I scanned the water: everywhere I looked I could see intense feeding, Dabchicks, Coots, Moorhen, Golden-eye and all those domesticated Ducks, but unfortunately not trout. Never mind, the water looked clear and once rigged I went into the lodge to shed some spondoolicks and sign-in.
It's not a big pond; there are two islands, the largest of which effectively separates the water into two halves and there is a wooden bridge onto that island. I chose to walk the whole perimeter bank first, looking for trout to target with my #5 midge-tip. The Professor commenced operations with his back to the lodge, Dell-boy and Jackdaw headed onto the island to cast towards the right-hand aerator, while the Sailor went to the middle of the windward bank, although there wasn't really a breeze to speak of. The assorted birds called, whistled, clucked, hooted, crowed, chirped and generally sang, whilst the passing motorbikes roared and screamed.
My bijou strollette had revealed a large shoal of trout in the locally famous "duffers’ corner". They were tightly packed and constantly circling sub-surface like a bait ball in Attenborough's Blue Planet. I felt this might be a tad too easy, so I headed for the other half where there were three other smaller pods of fish which were not circling but were much more mobile, moving quickly in their respective groups on random courses, swimming a little deeper too. Apart from these schools there were one or two solitary trout to be seen hither and thither but it was obvious the best target for some action would be the shoaled ones. There were quite a few small Rudd and some Carp visible too; quite often in the past I've watched people casting to cover the larger dark shapes with the usual attractor patterns and lures, believing they were fat trout, failing to notice the forked tails!
The #14 nymph I was using sports tiny bead-chain eyes, said material sourced from the Professor last year in a variety of colours, the feather fibre is Macaw centre tail, and the rib an amber fine wire. I really ought to come up with a name for it! Anyroadup, casting to the smaller pod which was passing from the right quite quickly elicited a response, strip strike and I was in. A lively two-pounder soon slid into the landing net, it was firm, brightly spotted and fully finned. Nice.
I headed to the lodge to get the fish tubed and into the courtesy refrigerator, passing the Professor on the way. I told him about the shoal in 'that' corner, using the term "fish in a barrel". He retorted "Well, they're certainly not taking my PTN here, so I may as well give them a go". In fact he was using a restored split cane rod and an old traditional reel he had purchased this summer at a country show, and he really wanted to bend the rod into a fish, the acid test after all’s said and done.
The bank has three spots from which you can cover this infamous corner, and on walking back from the lodge I noticed the Professor still casting into the melee, so the demon perched on my shoulder tempted me to have a cast to the circling mass en passant. Two casts at the sweet spot and nowt. I figured the fly just wasn't being seen in the crowd. On my fly patch was a "Tup's nymph" which I had been inspired to tie after re-reading Skues, it was still on the drying patch after a visit to the Test, where it had been no use at all. Duly tied on, cast out, then Wallop! A strong, fit Rainbow around three pounds soon graced my net. With that "barrel" phrase nudging my guilt I thought it was time for a coffee and a bacon butty. While the latter was being cooked I sauntered across the bridge and told Dell-boy and Jackdaw about ‘that’ corner and its shoal, which had been screened from their sight by the island's foliage.
Jackdaw didn't need telling twice "That'll do me" he said, moving off.
Dell-boy said "Rude b****r, didn't even say cheerio". He had a couple more casts with his lure before moving off too, heading for the hot spot.
The sandwich and coffee were consumed while sitting at a picnic bench watching the others and the bird life. There can be few places better to enjoy a breakfast on a beautiful morning. Once finished I wandered around the other end to the Sailor to tell him why the other three were now ensconced in the far corner. Being a bit of a purist, his preference is for slightly trickier targets, and anyway he still had plenty of time to fulfil his brace ticket. I fished at the next peg to his right and we exchanged banter. The sailor and his wife have been in the US of A for about a year and a half, and there were plenty of fishing things to talk about. I hadn't been paying much attention but guessed the other three Fluff Boys had at least caught a fish each by now. Five trout hove into view moving quickly from my right so I intercepted their path with a cast before they neared the Sailor. The #18 version of the eyed nymph proved the un-doing of one of them, another three-pounder fought valiantly before being quickly despatched. The Sailor at last had a take, but from a diminutive Rudd, which was not "pulling back" to use his phrase. Within the hour the Professor caught a Rudd too, but his was smaller, so the coarse fish trophy should be going to the Sailor for this month (if only we had one), at least he had the bragging rights.
At our Fluff Club tying evening a couple of weeks ago the Sailor presented me with a bag of Spirit River ‘squirmy worm’ material, which he believed was the original product outside of the toy-making world. There were seven colours including the Azurri's blue. In return I naturally tied him seven Squirmy Wormies, in particular because he feels these modern patterns are abominations from the dark side. Now I ribbed him, suggesting he had better tie one on if he didn't want to be skunked. He answered me in anglo saxon.
As efficacious as the SW is, however, I wasn't at all sure about the blue version, I couldn't think of any flies or lures which are 100% this bright ocean blue, so I tied one on now, telling the Sailor what I was doing was in order to give him a chance to catch-up while I practised casting, then I dangled it in front of his eyes to prove it.
A shoal of about nine fish swimming quickly came within range. I covered them and was a little astonished to see three bow-waves converging rapidly on my fly, but presumably they got in each other’s way as there was no take. I cast again when this group were back in range and straight away strip-struck the take, enjoying the fight with another three-pound 'bow.
Fully ticketed I headed back to the lodge, and was shortly joined at the picnic benches by Jackdaw who had secured his brace. I don't know what flies he had used but would bet money that any description of them would include the words 'big' and 'gaudy', if not 'unusual'. We were shortly joined by Dell-boy with his brace. He had caught his first on a silver and UV nymph that the Professor had earlier caught a couple on, now in tatters, and his last fish came to one of his own Damsels. We chatted and watched. The Professor soon made his four and joined us to eat his lunch. Ever so slightly embarrassed, the Sailor moved round to the hot spot. He caught one on a Damsel pattern, then couldn't elicit another take despite several fly changes. A guy from the Angling Trust arrived and joined the chat section. He wanted a couple of action shots, which provided more ammunition for calling rude things across to the Sailor, then his rod bent to a fish and we went round there to be his cheer section, only for the fish to come unstuck. He admitted he was actually now using one of the SW patterns! He had another take, but again the fish came off. I apologised I had tied the seven flies on #16 hooks, but the Sailor found a worm pattern he had actually used on the San Juan river and which had a slightly wider gape, and before long he had landed his second trout and that was that, game over.
No one was in any hurry to leave. A cracking session: beautiful day, nice fishery, good fishing, plus lively banter.
"See you next Tuesday" I called, leaving. My wife would have had a fit.
Today's Fluff Club fly fishing outing saw a return to the venue previously visited by the posse in episode 2, nicer weather this time. Five of the Fluff Boys made this one, Whytee being the last to arrive, car stereo set to 'stun'. It was a bit surprising that none of this fishery's regulars were evident as the fishery only re-opened about a week previously after shutting down for the high water temperatures we have experienced in the last while.
Tackling-up, I scanned the water: everywhere I looked I could see intense feeding, Dabchicks, Coots, Moorhen, Golden-eye and all those domesticated Ducks, but unfortunately not trout. Never mind, the water looked clear and once rigged I went into the lodge to shed some spondoolicks and sign-in.
It's not a big pond; there are two islands, the largest of which effectively separates the water into two halves and there is a wooden bridge onto that island. I chose to walk the whole perimeter bank first, looking for trout to target with my #5 midge-tip. The Professor commenced operations with his back to the lodge, Dell-boy and Jackdaw headed onto the island to cast towards the right-hand aerator, while the Sailor went to the middle of the windward bank, although there wasn't really a breeze to speak of. The assorted birds called, whistled, clucked, hooted, crowed, chirped and generally sang, whilst the passing motorbikes roared and screamed.
My bijou strollette had revealed a large shoal of trout in the locally famous "duffers’ corner". They were tightly packed and constantly circling sub-surface like a bait ball in Attenborough's Blue Planet. I felt this might be a tad too easy, so I headed for the other half where there were three other smaller pods of fish which were not circling but were much more mobile, moving quickly in their respective groups on random courses, swimming a little deeper too. Apart from these schools there were one or two solitary trout to be seen hither and thither but it was obvious the best target for some action would be the shoaled ones. There were quite a few small Rudd and some Carp visible too; quite often in the past I've watched people casting to cover the larger dark shapes with the usual attractor patterns and lures, believing they were fat trout, failing to notice the forked tails!
The #14 nymph I was using sports tiny bead-chain eyes, said material sourced from the Professor last year in a variety of colours, the feather fibre is Macaw centre tail, and the rib an amber fine wire. I really ought to come up with a name for it! Anyroadup, casting to the smaller pod which was passing from the right quite quickly elicited a response, strip strike and I was in. A lively two-pounder soon slid into the landing net, it was firm, brightly spotted and fully finned. Nice.
I headed to the lodge to get the fish tubed and into the courtesy refrigerator, passing the Professor on the way. I told him about the shoal in 'that' corner, using the term "fish in a barrel". He retorted "Well, they're certainly not taking my PTN here, so I may as well give them a go". In fact he was using a restored split cane rod and an old traditional reel he had purchased this summer at a country show, and he really wanted to bend the rod into a fish, the acid test after all’s said and done.
The bank has three spots from which you can cover this infamous corner, and on walking back from the lodge I noticed the Professor still casting into the melee, so the demon perched on my shoulder tempted me to have a cast to the circling mass en passant. Two casts at the sweet spot and nowt. I figured the fly just wasn't being seen in the crowd. On my fly patch was a "Tup's nymph" which I had been inspired to tie after re-reading Skues, it was still on the drying patch after a visit to the Test, where it had been no use at all. Duly tied on, cast out, then Wallop! A strong, fit Rainbow around three pounds soon graced my net. With that "barrel" phrase nudging my guilt I thought it was time for a coffee and a bacon butty. While the latter was being cooked I sauntered across the bridge and told Dell-boy and Jackdaw about ‘that’ corner and its shoal, which had been screened from their sight by the island's foliage.
Jackdaw didn't need telling twice "That'll do me" he said, moving off.
Dell-boy said "Rude b****r, didn't even say cheerio". He had a couple more casts with his lure before moving off too, heading for the hot spot.
The sandwich and coffee were consumed while sitting at a picnic bench watching the others and the bird life. There can be few places better to enjoy a breakfast on a beautiful morning. Once finished I wandered around the other end to the Sailor to tell him why the other three were now ensconced in the far corner. Being a bit of a purist, his preference is for slightly trickier targets, and anyway he still had plenty of time to fulfil his brace ticket. I fished at the next peg to his right and we exchanged banter. The sailor and his wife have been in the US of A for about a year and a half, and there were plenty of fishing things to talk about. I hadn't been paying much attention but guessed the other three Fluff Boys had at least caught a fish each by now. Five trout hove into view moving quickly from my right so I intercepted their path with a cast before they neared the Sailor. The #18 version of the eyed nymph proved the un-doing of one of them, another three-pounder fought valiantly before being quickly despatched. The Sailor at last had a take, but from a diminutive Rudd, which was not "pulling back" to use his phrase. Within the hour the Professor caught a Rudd too, but his was smaller, so the coarse fish trophy should be going to the Sailor for this month (if only we had one), at least he had the bragging rights.
At our Fluff Club tying evening a couple of weeks ago the Sailor presented me with a bag of Spirit River ‘squirmy worm’ material, which he believed was the original product outside of the toy-making world. There were seven colours including the Azurri's blue. In return I naturally tied him seven Squirmy Wormies, in particular because he feels these modern patterns are abominations from the dark side. Now I ribbed him, suggesting he had better tie one on if he didn't want to be skunked. He answered me in anglo saxon.
As efficacious as the SW is, however, I wasn't at all sure about the blue version, I couldn't think of any flies or lures which are 100% this bright ocean blue, so I tied one on now, telling the Sailor what I was doing was in order to give him a chance to catch-up while I practised casting, then I dangled it in front of his eyes to prove it.
A shoal of about nine fish swimming quickly came within range. I covered them and was a little astonished to see three bow-waves converging rapidly on my fly, but presumably they got in each other’s way as there was no take. I cast again when this group were back in range and straight away strip-struck the take, enjoying the fight with another three-pound 'bow.
Fully ticketed I headed back to the lodge, and was shortly joined at the picnic benches by Jackdaw who had secured his brace. I don't know what flies he had used but would bet money that any description of them would include the words 'big' and 'gaudy', if not 'unusual'. We were shortly joined by Dell-boy with his brace. He had caught his first on a silver and UV nymph that the Professor had earlier caught a couple on, now in tatters, and his last fish came to one of his own Damsels. We chatted and watched. The Professor soon made his four and joined us to eat his lunch. Ever so slightly embarrassed, the Sailor moved round to the hot spot. He caught one on a Damsel pattern, then couldn't elicit another take despite several fly changes. A guy from the Angling Trust arrived and joined the chat section. He wanted a couple of action shots, which provided more ammunition for calling rude things across to the Sailor, then his rod bent to a fish and we went round there to be his cheer section, only for the fish to come unstuck. He admitted he was actually now using one of the SW patterns! He had another take, but again the fish came off. I apologised I had tied the seven flies on #16 hooks, but the Sailor found a worm pattern he had actually used on the San Juan river and which had a slightly wider gape, and before long he had landed his second trout and that was that, game over.
No one was in any hurry to leave. A cracking session: beautiful day, nice fishery, good fishing, plus lively banter.
"See you next Tuesday" I called, leaving. My wife would have had a fit.
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