RH Fly Fishing

(… in which the names of the participants are pseudonyms in an effort to be as inclusive to others as possible, attempting to attain the widest readership.) “Fishing provides that connection with the whole living world. It gives you the opportunity of being totally immersed, turning back into yourself in a good way. A form of communion with levels of yourself that are deeper than the ordinary self”. – Ted Hughes Duncton Mill is a beautifully matured fishery set in a picturesque vale. Usually on a membership basis it does allow non-member day tickets in the colder months, hence today’s venue for a Fluff Club outing. The fishery was the scene for episodes 12 and 31, today was yet another cold one: last night it had dropped to just one degree c, with a forecast high of nine, but a dry day, at least. I arrived late, having collected Dodgy from Southampton docks following a short cruise celebrating his wife’s birthday; he was my guest for the second episode in a row. The In

The Demoiselle. Back when I was turning from coarse fishing to fly fishing, I caught my (still) PB Rainbow, from Dever Springs. I was yet to take up the fly-tying hobby*, so my fly supply was modest to say the least; the one that did the business that day was a ‘Demoiselle’, supplied by Rod Box I believe, out Winchester way.   That event remains vividly clear in my memory: I was fishing Spring ‘lake’ at a spot close by the road entrance, in the corner where a willow overhung the inlet pipe bearing water from the sparkling River Dever. It looked such a fishy spot I was sure there must be fish present, lurking in the willow’s cover or beneath the slow vortexes of loose, floating weed. A little side cast to my left dropped the fly into a clear patch, and once the fly sank from my sight, I began a twitchy retrieve. A bow-wave appeared to my right, zooming past in front of me and parting the drifting weed rafts, then my line locked solid. A serious struggle commenced with the trout pu