The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 33

The names of the Fluff Club members are pseudonyms purely to allow these otherwise true adventures to be enjoyed as widely as possible.

We Fluff Boys last came to Chiphall Lake in episode 25 and prior to that episodes 6 and 22. ‘Twas a warm day with the sun slightly troubled by cloud from time to time and very little breeze. We geared up for the fray, our last arrival being Jackdaw “What’s the hurry?”. There were a few fish swirling at the surface, a few Mallard dotted around, and the mercurial Dab-chicks appearing and disappearing without warning. Seven of us had turned out, but I’ll skip the magnificence this time. Looking around we could see that the weed is growing fast now, not yet a problem though, and the water still crystal clear.

This is a Troutmasters water and at least two of our number were mindful to try to catch a good ‘un and hopefully qualify for the fish-off then beyond. T’management informed us that any trout would have to exceed five-and-a-half pounds to stand a chance this month, which set the bar pretty high. Off went the hopefuls but after two complete circuits of the bank I hadn’t seen anything which looked bigger than four pounds. In the process of trying a cast at the bigger ones I could find I managed to spook all three of them and realised things were not going to be easy. I was trying out a pattern I tied a couple of days previously, a cross between a WAEF and a Buzzer: six lead wraps on a heavy, black barbless Carp hook, Hends UV orange collar and a white glow-floss ‘bow-tie’ set of breathers at the hook eye. Very much a stalking bug approach I persevered and half way up the east bank a very lively three-pound Rainbow obliged when I targeted it, the first of my three-fish ticket and a boost to my confidence in the fly and method. Off for another circuit, I came across the Inspector who was on the prowl too, he confirmed he was yet to see any big fish and had hardly made a cast yet; unsurprisingly he was fishing a snail pattern. The Professor told me he had missed several takes but was yet to hook-up. I suggested that was becoming his habit. Foggy was stationed at the first platform, in front of the lodge, with a younger pal whom he seemed to be coaching, leastways they were taking turns fishing into that deep hole out front. Further along the bank were Dell-boy and Jackdaw, fishing close together. I could see the Admiral stalking around between the two big trees along the western side, he too likes to keep on the move.

I followed the Admiral’s route up the western bank but the surface was quite scummy in places with lots of loose, floating weed, there was no wind or water movement to push it into the banks, so I kept right on until halfway down the east bank again, back where I had caught. At the next peg along the Admiral was just netting his first, which had taken a Damsel variant while he was preparing to cast it for the first time, reminding me of the big Brown I completely fluffed at John O’Gaunt. Beyond him the Professor had caught a couple on something gaudy he was trying, having had no luck on his smaller patterns. When I heard that Foggy and Jackdaw also had caught it spurred me to hurry up with a second, so I knotted a Biscuit Blob with a short orange tag onto my intermediate outfit. There were no bow-wave chases after the roly-poly retrieves so I switched to letting it sink slowly. Nada followed zilch. I tried a figure-of-eight retrieve, a trout hove into view behind the fly and swallowed it. This was smaller than the first, but with two out of three it was time for a coffee over at the lodge. As I prepared to move off the Admiral, now to my north on the island, hooked something that took him on a merry dance with several powerful, surging runs and proved hard to subdue. It turned out to be the best of the day making four-and-a-quarter pounds, fractionally better than one the Professor grassed.

After my courtesy cup (the second actually) I took another stroll right around, catching up with the Inspector, still searching for the elusive big one. He had switched to a red (bloodworm) Buzzer, and like me was two out of three. Onwards and upwards I went, until I was back on the east bank, close to where I had been before. I cast the WAEF Buzzer thingy on the floating line, trying to pick out a bigger Rainbow which was patrolling, managing to avoid an offer from a smaller fish by pulling fast. A couple of chucks later, however, I wasn’t quick enough and hooked my third, another two-pound-something ‘bow. Ticket complete, I checked the watch, five minutes to mid-day, time for my sandwich. Sitting on the deck, eating, I watched Foggy play his second after which he let his pal take over to try for his last; fifty yards away the Jackdaw and Dell-boy were fishing side by side, seated on plastic garden chairs. I already knew that Jackdaw had caught his brace, that the Professor was looking for his fourth, whilst the Inspector was still searching, so I wandered over to see Dell-boy. He complained he hadn’t had a touch yet, and his shoulders and hips were aching badly. Jackdaw lounged in his chair nearby, contentedly smoking a cigar, feet up on the platform edge board, looking just like someone sunning on a beach somewhere. I asked Dell-boy if he wanted me to try for a fish for him, he readily agreed, probably because of the aches and pains. I took over his Sonik outfit, casting to sighted fish with a number of fly patterns, but the warmth of the day seemed to have put the fish off somewhat, although some were still visible here and there. After a while I decided to have a go at the odd fish that were topping, albeit infrequently, so I put on a #14 black Bob’s Bits. Second or third cast a fish nudged the fly without taking it, but as many casts again there was a gentle rise to the fly, just a sip, I struck into it and passed the rod over for the fight; in due course Dell-boy was able to christen the new landing net his son bought for him only the day before. I took back the rod and waited for another riser to show, whilst covering passing fish, but no risers were in range and Dell-boy soon made it clear he had had enough, he was hot and in pain and it was close to one o’clock.

Over on the left bank, between the trees, I noticed that the Inspector was into a fish, the Admiral standing by with the net. It turns out that the Inspector reverted to a snail pattern for his final fish, and accidentally landed the fly onto one of those barely-floating canvas contraptions this fishery uses, presumably to inhibit weed growth by the large rectangle of deep shade it makes. He tugged the fly off the edge of the tarpaulin, it started to sink and was hit by a three-pound fish that had been lurking in the gloom. An interesting tactic for future consideration, perhaps? All in all it had been pretty good, all of us bagged-out, save for Dell-boy, in about four hours or less.

Bis zum nachsten Mal.