The Continuing Adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 53

“Fly fishing is not an escape from life, but often a deeper immersion into it” – Herbert Hoover


 Previous visits to John O’Gaunts Trout Fishery have been described in episodes 20, 23, 32, 35, & 47, guess what? Here we are again! Upon arrival we were greeted by a pair of honking Canada Geese, watched by a scattering of Mallard, afloat on the main pool, and more sullenly by the chap who was there to relieve us of some moolah. Another poor showing I’m afraid: the Admiral, Inspector, and Whytee made up the Fluff Boys, plus I had brought Dodgy again, which was just as well, as nobody else showed for most of the morning, probably due to the weather forecast, but as it happened we had showers although none heavy as predicted; they got the gusting wind right though. I wish all this wind and rain would blow somewhere else and give us a break. Both the fishery’s pools were actually overflowing, submerging areas of the bank.

 Simms was as clear as ever, just those wind gusts disturbing the surface, that restless ruffling making sight fishing a non-starter today. As often happens, I had a new tie to try; this one based on something watched on YouTube, by Piotr Soltysik, essentially another ‘Zonker’ derivative. Inevitably, I had changed it up somewhat, using Polar Flash for the undertail, then a rope of Polar Flash fibres wound up for the body, next the Mink strip, and finally a thread loop with chopped Polar Flash to form a collar ‘hackle’ to cover up the thread wraps behind the silver bead head. I pulled this fly on my clear intermediate for quite a while. Nada. Not even a follow (that I could see). On the opposite side, the bank I normally favour, the Admiral caught a decent trout on a gold-head BFD. Shortly thereafter, close by in the next ‘bay’, the Inspector hooked a fish which he battled for quite some time before netting it. Generally, the stock does fight well here, but I think this particular Rainbow must have been on steroids!

 I tried a couple of other patterns, as did Dodgy, at the next peg. I spotted a couple of follows but no takes. The lack of a proper take soon started that slight gnawing in the gut. I moved spots, changed flies, mixed up the retrieves. In the ‘bay’ containing most of the springs there were some fish moving, disturbing the surface. One took a ‘Dawson’s Olive’ variant, but the barbless hook slipped out after a minute or so. Damn (etc., etc.). The next take came a couple of casts later, but this time I netted the Rainbow in due course, a sparkling three-pounder. Dodgy had experienced a couple of hits, but they were much too quick for him to react to, so I gave him one of the DOv’s to try.

 The ever-restless Inspector was by now on his second lap of the entire fishery, and hooked his second fish in almost the same spot as his first, enjoying another prolonged scrap with an even better trout which eventually went four-and-a-quarter. Both had taken the same buzzer (what else?), one with a yellow abdomen becoming gold then a tint of blue, with a fine rib over. I took a second on the DOv, a half-pound bigger than my first. Soon after I hooked up again and was just settling in to the fight when my tippet-knot-to-micro-ring snapped, but luckily the barbless hook should be out of the escapee ere long.

 The Admiral had been taking pictures for our new webmaster’s consideration, but now returned to the fray and took up his rod again. A couple of casts of that same gold bead BFD and he was connected to his second and final trout, and another strong, determined fighter. Three times, as he stretched out with the landing net, the fish surged powerfully away again, before succumbing. Good fish, good fun.

The Admral, finally gittin down wid his homie.

 I tied on another untried tie, this one a wire bodied nymph pattern on a jig hook, designed really with rivers in mind. Anyroadup, it worked second chuck, and my third ‘bow was soon in the bass bag. Dodgy caught next, soon after moving to the spot vacated by the Admiral, who had followed the Inspector’s path around the main pool. A few casts after that battle, Dodgy hooked up again, another power-packed fish that lead him a merry dance, but he was holding it on too-tight a line and the inevitable happened, the hook pulled out and the fish was free.  Twenty minutes later he was into another nice trout and this time made no mistakes. I was a little unhappy at my performance, because I was not getting as much action as I expected, given that the fish were obviously in feeding mood. Next, I ventured to the dark side, knotting a ‘Tequila Blob’ on t’end, and fished it for a while, fast to slow retrieves, even static and sinking, but gleaned no interest from our fellow non-human earthlings of the scaled variety. I began to be a little concerned, not least because I was due to watch England v. Ireland rugby with my eldest, involving not a little beer, and to be followed by a curry at a place new to me. I changed fly, to a ‘Wossname’ and set off around Simms, trying places that have produced in the past.

 The Admiral and Inspector returned; the former for some casting practice while the latter covered the area that had proved so productive earlier. Using a different buzzer, this time one with a distinctly bright green body, he fought his third and fourth fish, long, drawn out fights, the opponents at either end of the line equally dogged and determined. One of these two Rainbows proved to be ‘fish of the day’ making four-and-three-quarter-pounds, I think. (That’s ‘best fish’ and ‘best brace’, again). By now I was closer to that area, on the slight isthmus I normally favour. The other two Fluff Boys sauntered off to pack up their gear before eating their victuals. Dodgy was perched nearby on the shooting stick. I retrieved a cast made towards the gap between the islands, until my tapered leader and tippet were under the rod time, preparatory to making the next cast, when Bang! Fish on! … it had followed the lure right in to the bank! This one was under three pounds and was soon netted despite its best acrobatics. I was going to make the kick off!

 At the car park as we stowed the gear in my car, the Inspector found himself in a bit of a fix, he couldn’t locate his car keys, but his ex-profession provided the solution. Using a process of diligent deduction and elimination, the culprit was soon discovered: just one too many pockets in the Fishpond vest!

 “Hmmnn?” I mused as I filled-in the catch book, and saw that Dodgy had filled in his brace as 4.0 and 4.8, but then, that’s exactly why I gave him that epithet in the first place.

 Gis la sekva fojo.