Off the Log #1 John O'Gaunt

Brian, long-time fishing buddy, and I haven’t fished together much these past couple of years, the old enemy, stuff, always getting in the way. When schedules allowed this particular opportunity, it didn’t take long to decide the venue. John O’Gaunt trout fishery is our ‘spiritual’ home of fly fishing. It’s where I first cast a fly in England, and subsequently, where I first introduced B to the sport. That’s not the only reason: it is a very beautiful place, and apart from birdsong and the occasional splash of a fish, it can be absolutely silent. Mr Purse keeps the place tidy and almost manicured. Okay, there is very little in the way of facilities: the ‘gents’ is a patch of gravel screened by old fence panels, the water supply comes from a rain butt, and if you fancy a warm drink, you’d better have brought a flask. They don’t advertise, relying on word of mouth; Purse knows that if people have a good day, they will tell their mates about it. Good fishing for quality fish is a fairly straightforward business plan.

We arrived, independently, mid-morning, and rigged up before handing our readies to the geezer in the hut to trouser. We eschewed fishing the first, larger lake facing the car park, instead heading to the ever-clear Simms, albeit smaller. There, one guy was packing up, a carrier bag obviously containing some fish. Brian told me another guy was putting his kit, and a few fish, into his car when Brian puled in. It seemed the fish were indeed feeding, despite the night dropping to one degree C and the day forecast to top out at seven of the same. I had a #5 midge-tip outfit to fish two new buzzer type flies, whilst B had gone for an intermediate line approach. We went at it; my first tie-to-try was a Chironomid Frenchie (aka Silver Lancer), thanks being due to Fly Fish Food. It wasn’t too long before a sudden pull on the sunken tip signalled interest, and I was playing my first trout of the day.

Several casts after landing that one I had another tug but missed it on the strike. B hadn’t had any action yet, other than untangling tippets and leader, and when he saw me playing my second Rainbow, he didn’t look particularly happy. He decided to move farther around anti-clockwise, but he had gone to a much shallower part. I stopped fishing to take some photos, then took him a couple of my flies, hoping to improve his chances some, handing over a ‘Wossname’ and a ‘Spark’. He moved back to his original swim and I suggested he mash-up his retrieve a bit, it seemed too metronomic. It didn’t take long before he was into one, soon safely in the net. I headed to his old SUV to fetch a beer each, to maintain our tradition of toasting our ‘first fish moments’. I switched fly to my other tie-to-try, an olive turkey biot buzzer featuring a red flush to mimic eclosion. B headed to the other side of the ‘lake’, a peg that’s been very consistent for holding fish over the years. Still fishing the ‘Wossname’ he soon caught two more ‘bows, both over three pounds, in short order, before calling across “This fly is a masterpiece, Mr H!”. Once I caught my third, at honours even, we headed towards the hut to eat our lunch under the canopy, only pausing on the way to have the craic with Mr Purse, loading some timber onto a truck.

How’s this for synchronicity? We had both brought along our split cane rods without discussing it previously, both being of a mind to catch our final fish on them. How do things like that happen? Mine is a Partridge from the 1980s, whereas B’s rod and reel (Hardy and Chas Farlow respectively) have a combined age of over two hundred years! I usually pair mine with a reel also from the 80s, a Rimfly, but had neglected to bring it this day, … the mind’s definitely going. A cane rod is a joy to use, although casting requires quite a bit of adjustment from your norm, but then they weren’t meant for distance anyway. We decided to try the main ‘lake’, whose name escapes me (told you about the mind), for the simple reason we haven’t fished it for a few years.

Back on the ‘Silver Lancer’ I had a gentle take and hooked the fish, playing it for some time with the cane taking on a very satisfying curve, until the hook-hold just gave. B caught his final fish, another heading towards four pounds, this time using the ‘Spark’, which I thought would do well in the more coloured water. I tried a couple of other spots while B tackled down and filled out his catch return. Not wanting to delay too much I decided to go back to Simms, where second cast with a ‘Tequila Blob’ I finished off my ticket. Job done; game over player one. Nice. Just time for final photos.