Off the Log #4

 The four pools (and river) that are Holbury Lane Lakes each have distinct characteristics, which its why its such a cool challenge to buy a ‘four fish’ ticket and then try to catch a fish from each. The water looked like milky tea, but up closer there was probably about three feet of visibility

 Our first outing of 2020 together, B and I stumped up the fee then squelched and slithered our way to the far end of the fishery to start the challenge on Willow. We were both trialling a blue variant of my ‘Wossname’ pattern, fingers crossed.

Ere long we both had ticked that particular box with scrapping Rainbows, so next onto Long ‘Lake’, splitting up. B caught first whereas I had to change spots three times before I connected with a willing combatant, fighting hard all the way; the fish was a good ‘un, and markedly rotund. Once the priest had been, the roe started to spurt, so I stripped the remainder. I reckon that took the trout from four-pounds-something towards the three mark! {Stockers are infertile by the way, but some produce ova in response to cold water and early spring} We were now close enough to the parked cars to observe our tradition (a bit elastic today) of “first fish of the day for each of us, it must be beer o’clock!” Better late than never.

 Suitably refreshed, the celebrants moved onto Island ‘Lake’. We wondered whether the blue Wossname was doing well because the dark profile enabled it to ‘stand out’ in the turbidity, but those thoughts were soon purely academic. Here, out of each other’s sight due to the island, we almost simultaneously lost our blue flies to the ever-vindictive trees. B next chose an olive lure of some kind, while I gave the original Wossname a swim. On the first cast, in a swim I had been covering for half an hour, the line tightened and “Fish on!”. When I had landed it, I walked round to find B had also caught: we were ‘three from three’.

 Pale sunlight began to deliver a little warmth, almost lifting the temperature to ten degrees C, so we elected to have lunch at one of the picnic benches in front of the fishery office. We chewed the fat, also a huge pork pie, sandwiches, and chunks of mango. All seemed right in the world, save for when conversation turned to the worsening problem of fake news and falsified imagery. We’ve come so far with HD cameras, computerised graphical enhancement and image manipulation, so that who knows what images are actually real anymore? The age of manipulation.

 For now, let us avoid matters of politics and the control of the masses by the very few, and return to fishing, far more enjoyable. The stocking truck turned up, so we watched George dividing up the consignment and topping up all four pools, although the super-muddy conditions meant he had to take a wide detour to get to the furthest. After quiet and tranquillity returned, we had just The Pond left for us to go at. By that stone bench on the left-hand bank, first chuck I connected with a bluish Rainbow, another good size but also eggy, losing weight when I stripped the roe

. B had also hooked up, having switched to the Wossname original, but the fish slipped the hook mid-fight. When I vacated my spot to take down my tackle, he moved up and first cast hooked into and played his final fish. Each of us four from four: job done, challenge met!

 Cracking fish, beautiful fishery; what’s not to like?