The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 51

(… in which the names of the participants are pseudonyms, in an effort to be as inclusive to others as possible, an attempt to attain the widest readership. Everything else is factual.)

 The Fluff Club’s final outing of the year saw just four Fluff Boys roll into the Meon Springs car park: the Professor, Admiral, Whytee, plus Threepio, our noob, who joined a few weeks back. Mucho cars were already parked and even more people arrived as we tackled up; this was going to be a very busy day for a Monday. Indeed, the churned-up mud of the sodden banks indicated plenty of footfall around the fishery since the rainy days packed it in.  The milkiness washed in by the deluges was clearing from Whitewool, although Coombe and the stock ponds still looked quite cloudy.

Night temperatures have been the right side of five degrees C for some weeks, today was forecast to just hit double figures with mists and wintry sunshine. I checked I could use my loyalty card points (nine stamps earn a free trout) and Greg gave me the nod; I could take three fish, just paying for two. Nice.

 Whitewool’s surface was almost as busy as the banks: a pair of Swans, three large farm Ducks from somewhere, a couple of Mallards, a small flock of Goldeneye, five Greater White Fronted Geese (I think), while at least two pairs of Dabchicks were creating a cacophony of calls amidst lots of surface splashes and swirls, easily mistaken for rising trout.

 I had another new tie to try. Before Christmas I had found some magenta marabou, which seemed to have a purplish UV property, whilst following Mission Control around Hobbycraft. A real “Aha!” moment. Back at the vice I created a ‘Wossname’ variant: silver bead-chain eyes, Coral Pink Blob fritz body, magenta tail flanked both sides by a couple of strands of UV flash It looked okay, through my eyes. First, though, I was using one of the original Wossname pattern as the control in this experiment, three or four casts and I had a smash take, but the tippet’s knot gave way at the micro ring, “Drat, Bother, and even Blast” sayeth I, or words to that effect. It’s horrible, losing a fish with your fly in its mouth, but I took some comfort that I was using barbless Firehole Sticks hooks. I was fishing in the corner at the dam end, above the catch and release beats, and spotted the Professor fishing off that little isthmus about half way along Whitewool, and the Admiral about thirty yards nearer to me, and I had also noticed both of them had been playing fish. I decided to move to the opposite side, which is heavily treed and therefore fished less often, and more to my liking, there wouldn’t be as much churned-up, claggy mud to wallow in and stick onto the line. Casting obliquely, due to the trees, I had a take but the trout didn’t stick; the next take, though, saw me net a Rainbow (which later weighed three and a quarter), after a thrilling scrap which entailed the trout jumping and running, taking me all over the place before it began to tire.  I stuck with the trial and promptly dropped another one. I moved another thirty feet along the bank and tried again, still the same fly to prove there was no fluking.  The line tightened but I dropped another one before netting my second, about two and a half pounds. Across the lake I saw the Admiral net his second fish, and the Professor managed to part company with at least two, shortly after striking. I think this has definitely become a ‘thing’ with him, the phrase ‘dropsy syndrome’ sprang to mind. Okay, I had dropped more than my share today, but was happy to think it was the barbless hooks, whereas readers of this chronicle will remember he’s been ‘dropping’ on the last couple of outings too.

 Up to the lodge for a brew, where the Admiral confirmed he’d got his brace, both to the same small PTN pattern. During the conversation I mentioned the stamps and the loyalty card, so he rifled his pockets to find his; sure enough, the brace filled his card, so he could have another fish for free. His face lit up as though it was another Christmas day! He told me that Threepio had a couple of knocks, but hadn’t caught yet, and the Professor was indeed suffering from ‘dropsy syndrome’, hooking at least four fish that the Admiral saw but only getting one into the landing net. The Admiral headed back down the bank while I had the craic with the irrepressible Greg while finishing my cuppa. I sauntered over to the far bank again, same fly on the tippet to prove its effectiveness. It didn’t take long! Another great scrap ensued before I netted a Rainbow over three pounds, the best of my trio. I saw the Professor had moved towards the dam, while Threepio was now fishing from that little promontory. Rather than walking right around to help I called across my masterplan “Cast towards me, I’ll cast over your line, we retrieve until we make contact, then you wind-in until you get to my fly, then cut it off, and you can try it!”. Simples, right?

 Wrong. We both made several casts but Sod’s Law meant we failed to connect at all. In trying to reach closer to him, the lurking trees behind me began to pounce on my back-casts, after cursing them roundly I decided to go with plan B, ‘Shanks’s Pony’. When I got over there, I suggested he try the fly on a longer cast than he had been using, and I put a micro ring onto his tapered leader, plus a longer tippet, then the Wossname variant. He had a couple of fast takes but missed them, before connecting with the third. Alas, mid-fight and the fish was off … my tippet knot had failed at the ring! Disaster. Annoyed at myself, I passed him another of the magenta variants from my box and six feet of tippet, this time insisting he tie the knots! Before long he connected again, this time successfully.

The Professor was now fishing opposite us, following the route I had taken. It was obvious he was still suffering the ‘dropsy’ but eventually got a couple more to stick. This area of Whitewool certainly held good numbers of fish, all morning rods had been bending. Threepio hooked his second, over two pounds, quite similar to his first, and at virtually the same moment, the Admiral hooked his freebee. Mid-day was looming so we went to the lodge for refreshment. Threepio and the Admiral decided to give the C&R beats a try after lunch, despite hearing that there were eight to ten anglers fishing down there. Both rods I brought along for the day were five weights, and I didn’t think they would be much cop for the C&R waters, where I would usually employ a three weight for tiny flies on fine tippet. I decided to try to find some photo-opportunities which might prove of use for the Fluff Club’s (soon to be launched) revised web site.

 The Professor confirmed he’d been suffering the ‘dropsy’, and even with four on his stringer he intended to try for a couple more up on Coombe; he was certainly having more sport than most. I headed to my car, tackled down and stowed my gear, and returned to the lounge for another coffee on the decking, before sauntering past the impressive collection of. Shepherds’ Huts. I found Threepio and the Admiral on the first C&R beat, below Whitewool’s dam wall, where the Admiral had already caught two feisty Rainbows on that same little PTN, whereas Threepio hadn’t had a touch, despite rising fish in front of him. We couldn’t see what they were rising to - presumably micro midges? I took a couple of shots with my camera but the light was not good so I had little confidence the results would be fit for purpose. With hindsight, however, I wish that I had videoed the Admiral commencing to comically caper on the bank, sort of a cross between a slow motion Morris dance and modern ballet, trying to unstick his line which had become glued to both boots in the cloying mud!

I wished both of the FBs a Happy New Year before heading back up to find the Professor, and Greg. The Professor had managed two more from Coombe. I wished him and Greg the very best for 2020, as I do to you, dear reader, let’s hope it’s a good one.

 Any comments or feedback will be welcome, as ever.

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