The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Clu, Episode 46

(In which the names are all pseudonyms in an effort to be as inclusive as possible, in order to attain the widest readership; everything else is true.)

A right old hiatus, eh? Maybe I should call these blogs ‘intermittent’ rather than ‘continuing’ adventures. The fact is, the last two scheduled outings were called off: firstly, the fishery announced it had closed down (again), then in the second month only two Fluff Boys were available to make the trip to Farmoor, so they cancelled on the eve. Anyroadup, today five of us, plus Mrs Sailor, pitched up at the excellent Manningford T.F., last featured in episode 36, and before that in 7 and 13.

Having driven through a deluge I was pleased to see it changing to lighter precipitation when I arrived in the car park; the rain ceased altogether by the time the Professor, Admiral, Sailor (plus one) and Whytee were ticketed and tackled-up. At that moment the Inspector came along the bank to greet us, casually swinging his bass bag containing a trout. He had already christened his newest Atomsix rod, on virtually the first chuck!

We spread out, finding spots along the bank amid the dozen and more other anglers fishing. I started down the left-hand bank, trying a couple of casts here and there where there were vacant swims, eventually arriving at the farthest end from the lodge, where it appeared to be shallow with weedy patches, gradually deepening further out by the islands. There seemed to be one or three fish moving. I noticed the inestimable Malcolm has carried out a lot of tree cutting and clearance to ensure plenty of room for back-casting, also that several platforms have been removed. I was fishing a Wossname on a #5 glass which soon brought a very fit, spirited Rainbow just under three pounds. Rather than move I tried another cast, whereupon my fly was taken just after I started my retrieve. When I saw this fish was a decent Brown, I began to play it much more carefully, with an anxious moment when it went around an old upright left from the ex-platform. I took a quick picture as soon as it slipped safely over the rim of my landing net. Later, this stunning-looking fish pulled the scales round to three pounds eleven ounces, my best of the day. Time to slow it down, so I strolled to the lodge for a coffee. The Sailor had just missed a take, whilst the Professor had seen several fish following his flies but not committing; the Inspector and the Admiral were on the opposite side, so I would have to wait on their sitreps. I chatted to Mrs Sailor while I drank an instant; the Sailor’s health is a real concern: he’s waiting to go into hospital for yet another op, so we are unlikely to see him at our tying evenings for the time being. It is still great, however, to see him still enjoying the important things, like fishing.

Break over, I headed down the right-hand bank. The Admiral had bagged one, while the Inspector had dropped a fish mid-fight (deliberately?), before moving closer to the outlet stream corner, whereupon he assumed his alter-identity: the Great Grey Heron, silent, immobile, intently staring into the depths to espy the big ‘uns. I took a vacant place close by to pursue two or three patrolling trout, including a couple easily over three pounds. Almost inevitably, the Inspector found a big Brown which intermittently patrolled through the area in front of us, as did a not-as-big Rainbow, albeit much less often. He and I kept changing flies, endeavouring to find something acceptable to the fish. The big boys (or girls) were not on the same hymn sheet though, disdaining our offerings whenever in range. I actually managed to bounce a Muskins off the Brown’s nose without it bolting or even deviating off its slow, deliberate course! Inevitably, each of us caught a Rainbow which intercepted flies meant for their bigger brethren. Now that I had three-quarters of my ticket limit, I decided to go for the last one with a dry fly approach, heading back to my car to change reel and line over to a #5 floater. On my way I found that the Professor now had three trout on his keeper, whilst the Sailor had taken a small Brown and the Admiral had completed his usual brace ticket. T'was nearly time for lunch so I remained at the lodge. Mrs Sailor had been chatting with the lady angler in our midst, (as the female of the species are prone to often do), and revealed said lady had given birth just two months ago, and that this was her very first time away from the new-born. Nice to see she had her priorities right, in choosing a day’s fly fishing.

The FBs soon gathered for lunch, discussing this and that, disclosing individual progress and discoveries thus far. The Admiral announced he was going to try Squires, the catch and release ‘lake’  after lunching. I told him I was hoping to do the same, as soon as I’d got my last fish, using a dry.

Lunch over, I headed back to the far end where I had caught my first two. It doesn’t get a lot of attention from many fishers because it looks shallow and weedy, and I was guessing that the fish (largely hidden) might be much less pressurised than in the other swims. On the third cast my foam Ant pattern suddenly disappeared in the rings of a leisurely rise and I struck. Yet another great scrap ensued, (these Manningford fish are really fit), but before long it yielded and slid into my net. Despite being long it was quite slim, and only took the scales to two pounds dead. While waiting for a rise I had spotted a big Brown’s patrol pattern, so I went to tell the Inspector before I walked up the track from Manor, past the fish farm and its stews, to the much smaller Squires. The Inspector had caught his third now, so was even more intent on hunting up one of the bigger fish.

At Squires, which is prettily picturesque, the Admiral confirmed he had seen several risers about, mostly amongst the debris from the surrounding trees, brought down by the earlier storm. I went to the left-hand corner and continued with my little foam Ant, missing four rises before I managed to connect. Post tussle, I was able to grasp the fly to unhook the fish in the half-submerged net, before tipping it back, untouched by human hand. The Admiral repeated his feat at Barn Elms, a fish hooking itself on his Adams while he intently sorted out a wayward loop of line on his reel. This one also fought strongly, running clear across to the far bank before succumbing to the pressure. The number of willing risers began to dwindle as we covered them. I switched to a claret Shipman’s with a UV rib, soon catching another Rainbow, identical to the others at around two pounds. Much later, the Professor suggested that they stock this size in an effort to curtail too much Cormorant predation. Makes sense. The old C&R beat here used to be stocked with pound plus fish way back when. I fondly remember one afternoon when I caught thirteen trout, fantastic sport, to an emerger pattern fished ‘on the drop’ in a narrow section.

The Admiral had to head home around two-thirty so I fished on alone, but could not raise any more fish to my fly and I stopped just after three and walked back to the lodge. There I found that the Professor had completed his bag and headed for home too. The Inspector and the Sailor had finished as well, indeed had actually just finished enjoying tea and cake in the afternoon sunshine. Several other anglers had also departed. All in all, I’d say we had enjoyed a cracking day’s sport. Let’s hope the next time the Fluff Club’s match section fish together is as productive: the forthcoming Fly Dressers Guild John Watts Trophy at the illustrious Draycote.

Kusvika panguva inotevera.