The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 42

(In which the names of the Fluff Boys are pseudonyms, in hope of the widest appeal to the readers; everything else is factual).

"Sqeezin' every drop of what's left of my time
Jumpin' on tomorrow before it goes by" …
- Blackberry Smoke


It felt so good to get out of the sleeping house, I just don't know why we have to run the central heating on the 'solar flare' setting, nor why we have to have so many lights on at once that there are aeroplanes circling overhead, believing they are in a holding pattern over Heathrow. For now, though, I was escaping. Mild of late, and no overnight frost for the previous two days, a beautiful spring-like morning awaited. The Fluff Club last came to Sportfish/Haywards Farm in episode 28, more than a year ago; that was a toughie and might well have some bearing on our poor attendance today. Just three of the Fluff Boys pitched up: the Professor, Whytee, and the Inspector, although the latter had brought a 'plus one', a former colleague.

We paid in the store, all electing to spend an extra quid on the tagged fish sweepstake, forever optimistic, but that's fisherfolk for you. In due course we strolled off, kitted out and keen. The Inspector and Plus One headed anti-clockwise, while the Professor and I, more traditional, started clockwise. The wind was a steady SSW so I spent less than an hour trying two or three spots along the sheltered east bank. A guy out in the middle in one of the row-boats appeared to not have much idea about casting a fly rod or handling the boat, randomly rowing about for a while before erratically meandering back towards the pontoon. The swims on the southern bank were either occupied or had just been fished, so my next halt was at the second little bay around the corner, coming up the western side of the lake. The chap who earlier had taken our moolah had told us it the lake fished well the previous day, with orange flies being predominant, so I had knotted on my 'Spark' pattern as an opening gambit. While I fished, another row-boat hove into view, bearing a Barboured couple plus two dogs. I didn't know that the fishery permitted dogs, but will not tell mine because otherwise they will insist on accompanying me in the future.

A twitcher would have had a field day: scattered around I could see Coots, Swans, Mallard, Grebes, Dab-chicks, Goldeneye, and what I thought were Pochard, but the latter too far away from my old eyes to be certain. Red Kites soared overhead, along with the inevitable shitehawks, and I also spotted a couple of verminous Cormorants, visiting during the session.

My line tightened with the first take of the day, not a weed-pluck for once. I played the Rainbow carefully - that first fish can be so important for the confidence! I had chosen the 'two fish plus CnR' option, and things were looking good. Plus One appeared behind me, to ask what fly I had used. He has only fly-fished once in the last year or so, and was thinking he might like to 'get back into it'. Distracted, I promptly lost the fly to a pesky tree; this fishery probably has more lurking, villainous trees than any other fishery I can call to mind. Next to be knotted on was my hitherto un-named fly, that prototype CW variant from December, still going through field testing. The couple in the boat, moored to the most southerly yellow buoy, had each caught a fish by now.
Fourteen minutes later and the second trout slipped into my waiting net. Kill quota sorted, I flattened the hook barb. The next fish took a while, another two-pounds-plus Rainbow like the brace in the bass bag. Soon after this one was safely released I had another take but it got free after only a couple of minutes of battle. These are certainly strong fish! The swim seemed to die, and I was about to move when the Professor overtook me, that is in terms of wandering the banks, he was still looking for a fish. The Inspector and I met on our perambulations, he had found no interest in his buzzers approach so had switched to a sinking line and beaded Blob approach, resulting in one in the bag and one missed.


I was passing a copse which nearly reached down to the water’s edge, when a surface disturbance, suggesting two trout chasing, about thirty feet out, caught my attention. I moved back to where there was clearance for the back-cast, finding it increasingly difficult to cast a decent length in the clearly strengthening wind. During the next hour I managed three more Rainbows, best around three pounds, all released without being taken out of the water. The next take came from a smaller trout which freed itself from the hook by thrashing the surface while I tried to bully it straight in. Time to rest the swim, I thought, and headed towards the car to grab my lunch. The two FBs and Plus One were surprised to hear that I had netted six and dropped two others, the Inspector had the only fish between the three of them.


The pale, wintry sun has withdrawn an hour and more before and the worsening wind was starting to chill. The Inspector and Plus One said they wouldn't be in any hurry to fish here again, and were going to head home after a look around in the store. The Professor said he was going to give it another hour, hitherto he hadn't had so much as a touch. I decided to return to the windward bank to try for more, after all Rainbows are supposed to habitually follow the wind, aren't they? Being a right-handed caster the strong winds began to pose problems, I hooked my wrist once, drawing a disproportionate amount of blood, snagged my trousers three times, and actually had to duck three times when my fly was heading straight at my face! I did manage to catch a seventh trout, but decided to call it a day with the conditions getting worse. There had been at least twelve other anglers around during the morning but most had already gone by now. At the north-west end of the fishery the chap who had been in the boat earlier with his partner and dogs, had waded out, closer to the discernible contour of the drop-off, and despite the wind and the chop he had caught at least three more fish that I had noticed. I will have to remember that approach for the next time we visit, though I ought to mention that the rules say only thigh wading is permitted.
Tae noa ki te wa e whai ake nei.