TCAOTFC Prequel A

The first time I went fishing as a bona fide Fluff Club member was a very windy day, to say the least. Barometers were heading for the floor, and within the next twenty-four hours the super-storm St. Jude would hit. Venue for this outing was Holbury Lane Lakes. The sharp eyed amongst you will spot that in earlier episodes of TCAOTFC I usually avoided naming venues. Hey-ho, here we go.

 The source, my fishing log of nearly seven years ago, neglects to record which Fluff Boys attended, but from memory ‘twas the Professor, the Admiral, Lumberjack, Jackdaw, Whytee of course, and possibly Dell-boy, maybe the Sailor as well. The wind blasts were swirling 360 degrees, leaves flying everywhere, occasional twigs and branches coming down, compiling hazards to our casting. As is my wont, I walked the length of the fishery to Willow to make a start. The strong, unpredictable gusts made casting beneath the big willow trees very hit and miss so I moved further around to that deep hole nearer the far end. It took a few casts, but in the end a three-pound Rainbow finally obliged. Conscious I might be appearing to be a bit of a loner, I moved across the footbridge onto Long, where two of the guys were fishing with their backs to the river Dun. My olive Limit Damsel didn’t seem to work here, nor did the orange or the black versions, despite my trying new spots regularly. The whipped-up surface made sight-fishing almost impossible, save for the Blue Trout which could be spotted as a sort of faint, grey-blue glow, in the otherwise glassy-green water, amongst all the accumulating surface debris. I decided to target these Blues, working from Long onto Island. A few fish turned towards the fly, but no takes. I saw both the Professor and the Admiral into fish, before I moved to the lee of the island to see if it were easier spotting fish. It was not, neither side of the island provided any noticeable protection from the blasts swirling viciously from all quarters. I moved to Pond, finding slight shelter under the trees that fringe that side of the fishery from the lane. Now rain squalls began in earnest, just to make our day complete! Opposite me, Jackdaw and Lumberjack fished grimly on, pelted by rain, seemingly still fishless.

 I tried a buzzer under a stick-on foam bung, reacting far too slowly to a sudden movement. Next, I tried a little pink Blob suspended under the indicator, and a Blue eventually tried a taste but I missed it and the disturbance spooked the fish, which zoomed away. I targeted a Blue whenever I could spot one, but to no avail. Maybe the disturbance in the atmosphere had something to do with it, it certainly was a tough session, with some blanks recorded but two of the Boys did manage a brace each, the Admiral even managing to catch one trout with a dry fly, cast amid floating leaves. Initially, full of enthusiasm, I had stumped up for a four-fish limit, so you might think luck had deserted me, but it really hadn’t: earlier, while concentrating on a particular Blue, a big bough slammed down onto the sward just six feet away!