The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 7

... In which the real names are disguised to protect the innocent.
(I missed the last Fluff Club fishing trip, so I apologise that it's been a while since I blogged episode 6)

Life is full of mystery, one thing that's mystifying me at present is 'Father's Day', the recent one. The Fluff boys were scheduled to have their monthly fishing trip on Father's Day, but it was decided to postpone it for a week so the dads could do stuff with their families. What??!! Surely, on Father's Day a dad is supposed to be able to do what he wants, it's only once a year after all? So, how on earth was it decided that the Fluff dads would rather do something else that day instead of going fishing?
Anyway, on the rearranged day I drove into the fishery's car park to find two of our posse already there. This fishery is over 70k from our 'hometown' and the Professor hadn't expected many to put in an appearance, but as it turned out eight of us actually made it. Perhaps it's not just me that quite likes a longish drive with rock music blaring?

I finished setting up a 5-weight floating line outfit, signed in, paid up, and headed for the far end of the pond. On arriving it started to rain, which I hadn't expected so had no wet weather gear with me. However, I was able to shelter under the canopy of two densely foliated trees and side-cast towards the nearby island whilst avoiding getting a soaking. Because I was so close to the trees they didn't have the opportunity to sneakily grab my back-cast like they normally would. From time to time the showers petered-out to a light drizzle permitting me to mosey along the bank trying one or two other places, bolting back to cover whenever it poured again.

The fishery opened a new pond three or so years back but it seems most of the visitors still prefer the original larger one. There is also a C&R beat, plus some two and a half miles of excellent small river fishing to go at, although it's quite overhung in places so you need to keep your wits about you.

I had decided on a three-fish ticket, hoping to fill that then have a go on the Catch & Release part. My last visit here had been a corporate day, where we were allowed to take two fish from the lake then C&R. Back then, after getting my brace and a superb lunch I switched to a light outfit for the C&R beat where I took another seven Rainbows from one-and-a-half to two pounds, making for an excellent nine-fish-day. Today I was hoping to do similar and had a 3-weight in the car, equipped with a furled leader that Scaramanga had made recently on one of our tying evenings when demonstrating how-to on a jig he had got a friend to manufacture for him, using the prescribed dimensions off the Inter-web.

It being summer I started with a little olive flash-back damsel pattern tied one evening in the week, and had a brief knock on about the tenth cast. Two casts later and I hooked up, then enjoyed a spirited scrap with the rainbow which eventually managed to tangle the tippet around a few reeds to my right. Fortunately, my landing net handle was long enough to reach and the fish was mine, weighing about 2 pounds.

Wondering if I ought to find cover as the rain increased again I noticed that the Inspector, around the bend to my right was bent into a fish. It looked like a good 'un as it surged away on long runs towards the largest island, time after time. It was a while before the surges diminished and the Inspector was able to recover line more easily.

While watching I had continued casting semi-automatically without thought, when I had another take, and this fish also commenced a determined bid to be free, but it made a fatal mistake and ran towards me giving me the upper hand because it was now under the rod tip in front of the platform and I had complete control. After circling a few times it went onto its side and was ready to be netted. This was a better fish, later making 3 pounds 6 ounces.

Heavier rain made me move back to the sheltered spot. The breeze was blowing from my right across that end of the lake, pushing the surface along between the bank and the nearby island, so I thought a buzzer under an indicator might be the most effective method. I changed my set up, putting on an adhesive foam indicator and knotting on a buzzer about two feet deep. A couple of drifts later it stopped dead, but I missed the fish, as I had to side-strike to my left to avoid the foliage above. Two more drifts and the orange dot dipped beneath the surface but I was too slow and missed again. More vigilant, having cursed myself under my breath, the orange dot again dipped but I connected this time. Soon in the net, this was about the same size as my first, so with my 3-limit in the bag I headed to the lodge for a coffee before setting up the 3-weight outfit. On the way I spoke to the Professor who was still looking for the fly that would do the business. The Admiral had caught one so was taking his time over the second, covering most of the bank as he moved around, socialising. The Lumberjack and Dell-boy hadn't had any luck yet, but Jackdaw had caught one. I couldn't see Moneypenny, who must have been down the other end where I had been. I wondered why some anglers habitually walk around a fishery clockwise, while others seem to go anti-clockwise? I tend to do either, in no particular order.

I made my coffee, checking the milk carefully, remembering when I brought Dodgy-Phil here, when he made me a java, adding milk so rancid I almost choked before I could spit out my mouth-full. This time though it was a nice mug of coffee, no cheese in it. By the way, that was the last time I took Dodgy fishing.

The rain started to ease off while I tackled down and then put up the 3-weight, swapped two boxes from my vest for two boxes of dries, swapped my tippet spool down to 3lbs mono, and headed off down the roadside bank. At the far end, where the footbridge crosses the inflow stream, I caught up with Moneypenny standing on the bridge.

I said " I noticed a couple of fish here when I crossed earlier ",

" There's loads of them here " he replied " I'll have to give it a go ",

" Tight-lines " I replied, moving off down the path.

As I approached the C&R stretch I could see fish, but no sign of any risers. Looking closer I noticed some were definitely marked, others quite pale. There was nothing 'on the fin' as far as I could see, these fish were just holding station in the slight flow, almost doggo. I kept switching flies as I fished back up, trying to find what might provoke some reaction, but the fish were definitely not interested at all. There seemed to be absolutely no vitality in them, making me slightly uneasy. Surely they can't all have been recently caught and therefore still off-colour? There were a good number of them so next I wondered if they were suffering from a lack of food, but then I thought if there was a shortage of food wouldn't that make them more eager to feed? I kept back from the edge using cover where I could and gradually covered the water up to the end near the trout farm, hunting for fish which appeared to be on the move rather than just holding station, inertly uninterested. Right at the top end near the trout farm I found two fish moving, but after many casts and many changes of fly I put them down and they disappeared. Retracing my steps, I did eventually find two separate rainbows more alert and actually managed to take both to a little elk hair pattern. I was pleased to have caught two amongst this legion of the un-dead, but didn't fancy fishing on at all, so it seemed time to call it a day, or rather a half day.

Heading back over the bridge I found all of the Fluff boys, except the Inspector, gathered in the corner watching the Professor casting to several fish in this small corner of the fishery. Scattered around were their rods, nets, other gear and assorted fish. Apparently, Moneypenny had bagged his limit quickly and the word went around the other Fluff boys, who gathered here to 'shoot fish in a barrel' as the Sailor would have no doubt said if he wasn't far, far away, sailing.

" They're taking anything " Lumberjack said, which was no solace for the Professor who fished on grimly, the butt of a fair bit of ribbing and banter. I wondered what form of fly psychedelia Jackdaw would have used for his limit?

I was away before they stopped for their lunch around 13.30. If it had been the proper Father's Day I could have been tempted to buy an extra two-fish ticket to try the newer pond, but it wasn't, so I didn't.

Sayonara.