The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 49

(… 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 Inspector also brought a guest, his pal who came along in episode 42, so you could say we numbered seven, but was it to be a lucky number? Of course, there were others fishing in addition to the combined rabble of Fluff Boys and guests, but the catch returns clearly showed some might struggle today. Always up for a challenge, Whytee decided on a three fish ticket, an element of caution after the cold night, Dodgy followed suit. Next, though, was coffee and cake on the house, by the woodburner in that comfortably cosy lounge, then out onto the banks. I set up two rigs: a camo glass line to get depth, plus a midge-tip and long leader to test two new ties – a turkey-biot-bodied-buzzer, and a ‘Chironomid Frenchie’ aka ‘Silver Lancer’ (credit to Fly Fish Food).

Operations commenced on ‘Rosie’s lake’, joining the Professor, Sailor, Inspector, and +won, not to mention others, who were already all at it. There were surface disturbances everywhere, unhappily not being caused by Trout but by the hordes of Coots, Goldeneye, Mallard, Dabchicks, and a pair of Swans. Dodgy was struggling to cast a six-weight sinker I had given him, but it wasn’t the line’s fault, it was entirely operator error(s).Things began to improve when I suggested he didn’t need to use his upper arm and shoulder, but he was struggling to reach the deeper channel that runs across. To be fair, its only his second attempt after a near ten year lay-off, talk about rusty! Nearly an hour’s casting practice passed before there was a tug on my ‘Wossname’ (a fly). The Inspector caught a fish over to our left, while a guy fishing from the little promontory on the opposite bank grassed at least two that I spotted. Another tug on my twitched lure and this time my strike met resistance from a beautiful and very lively Rainbow Trout, not two pounds and soon safely netted. Buoyed by the ‘first fish feeling’, I next gave Dodgy a pink CW variant that was one of the forerunners of the Wossname, and it wasn’t long before Dodgy netted his first, his Trout the spitting image of mine. The successful fly soon fell into the clutches of a lurking tree, one which I’m very familiar with after previous visits. Time to move across to ‘Beech lake’ where Dodgy would be easily able to fish deep water. The other Fluff Boys had made the same change too, one by one, save for the Sailor who remained faithful to Rosie’s.

On the smaller water we found the Admiral had caught a diminutive fish early on and had slipped it back. Even earlier, the Inspector had started here and had caught a trout on a Daddy, fished deep, before moving to Rosie’s, where he had caught on one of his trusted Buzzer patterns. The Professor was alternating between hooking trees and sundry submerged obstacles while failing to hook up on any takes. The regular reader will now know this is a definite trend. Fishing with the lane at my back I missed a pull in deep water straight beneath the rod tip, but soon connected on another offer. The fish, looking around three pounds, ran to my left then dived, arcing around beyond a clump of dead, half submerged reeds near the bank. The only thing to do was lift the fish to the surface, up over the reeds: the trout pulled one way, the angler the other, and the inevitable happened – the tippet snapped with a ‘ping’, “Drat and bother” (or words to that effect) sayeth I. The Admiral caught the next fish, followed by +won catching his second, both of his were over three pounds; he would have taken the trophies if he’d been a bona fide Fluff Boy! Now fishing the deepest water swim, I caught another sub-two Rainbow on the trusty Biscuit Blob, presented virtually static straight down. You can do the maths on the time I had to wait out each cast: the line sinks at about two inches per second and this part of Beech is supposedly thirty-five feet deep! I also had a couple of follows up out of the gloom but the fish didn’t take, just turning back down. I believe the Professor had made at least one stick by now, and that the Admiral had completed his brace. The Inspector had also caught a tiddler which he safely returned. We had agreed to stop for lunch around 13.00, heading for the warm lounge, save for the Sailor, still on Rosie’s, still after a fish. His confidence is very low, in great part due to his ongoing battle for his health. Dodgy was now fishing from a bench, and he asked Whytee to bring him his lunch on the way back. He’s got a dodgy knee (no, nothing to do with the moniker) and was in obvious pain. The Admiral was preparing to take some pictures after he had eaten, mindful of the soon-to-be re-vamped FC website, hopefully launching January twenty twenty. During lunch the Professor revealed he had caught on a #18 lure (yes) that we tied recently; thus the only one of the seven not off the mark was the Sailor. We chewed the fat as well as our assorted lunches, washed down with filter coffee.

Once more on the banks, I took Dodgy his sandwich and pie, it transpired that was the only bite he was going to get on Beech. I fished the midge tip and the two ties to try for a while; zilch.  At the swim where I broke that fish off, the Inspector hooked a lovely Brown but when brought to the surface it splashily rolled and thrashed and the hook-hold failed. At the first sign the light was beginning to fade, with an increasingly chilly breeze, Dodgy and Whytee decided to go back to Rosie’s, as Beech had definitely had the most angling pressure. Passing the wooden platform at the top of Rosie’s, an angler there caught a fish and I could see when netted that there in its scissors was an orange Blob. Back in the swim where Dodgy had caught his first I tried a couple of my patterns on the camo intermediate before knotting on an orange Blob. Cast out into that channel and the fly was taken by another sub-two Rainbow, fin-perfect and pristine, but less spirited than t’others. Upon unhooking it I found a second fly in the side of its mouth, trailing several inches of mono. I have never before seen anything like this foreign fly; four tungsten 3.5mm ‘rainbow’ beads on a slightly curved hook (a #10 or #12), a tail of just two dark feather fibres and a ‘wing’, if you could call it that, of just four or five dark feather fibres. It looked alien, but I cut the mono away and put it onto my fly patch, before tackling-down my two rods. Dodgy showed no surprise at seeing this thing, only noting “It would get down quick”, I gave him the fly saying I was not likely to get around to using it if I lived to be a hundred. He made a couple of casts before knotting it onto his tippet, saying “Well, if one fish thought it looked like food, then another one might”; you can’t fault that logic. Second cast, he was into a fish! Once this one had been safely landed, another sub-two, I left him trying for his last one and went to chat to the Sailor, whom I found in much better spirits, having caught a Rainbow around two pounds. He told me he will start a new treatment soon, nevertheless he thought he would try to get to our next outing, in December.

Two Herons were screaming loud abuse at each other in a tall tree beside Beech while Dodgy and Whytee headed for the car park; the birds fell silent so I assume they were watching the Inspector doing battle with a Brown again, bigger than before, but sadly the same result, the hook-hold gave. Later he told me this was on a bright-green-bodied buzzer with a thorax coated in a dark green and sparkly nail varnish!

+won had put his fish in a bag in the kitchen area earlier, but one of the cats had found them and chewed their tails a bit. Apparently, you need to be very aware of these varmints trying to steal your fish at any chance. So endeth another episode. Now then, where have I put my packet of Rainbow Beads?