TCAOTFC Prequel B

 The second time I went fishing with the Fluff Club was at a fishery I won’t name, for reasons that will become clear, although there are one or two clues in this piece. Some half a year since K retired, there had been some rumours that the standards at the fishery had dropped way below the horizon. Despite them, the Fluff Club went ahead with the visit, because the Professor had confirmed the booking before we began to hear the mutterings.

 Once again, my log fails to inform exactly which Fluff Boys (or Girls) showed up, but I recollect the Professor was one, Whytee too, and possibly four others, although some others had been put off. There had been a lot of rain in the preceding weeks, and a few gales, but the water was crystal clear, a surprise to me because rain often creates some milkiness at this venue. The gossip appeared to be true: we could see a few trout that were clearly infected with that white fungus, and in some swims we could see dead fish lying on the bottom, some already decaying; this sorry state extant on both main pools, whilst the C&R beats further down the valley were all but choked with weed. Despite the disparaging scuttlebuck, there were quite a few other anglers in attendance as well as the FBs, but I suspected they had chosen to come because of the reputation established by the previous management, rather than the new incumbents.

 I tried a few spots as I went down the main pool, pulling a variety of lures. I hooked a fish on a UV Kennick Killer, but inadvertently let some slack form in the line and the trout threw the hook. I had de-barbed it to get the blessed bead on when I tied it! Further along I lost the fly to a tree which had crept behind me un-noticed, so I knotted another version on, this time bead-less and barbed.

 Down near the dam I managed to hook another, larger trout, but when I had it safely in the net I spotted a large patch of the fungus on one flank, towards the tail. I duly despatched it. Those rumours had brought caution, and I had only paid for a two limit, so I took the fish up to the lodge, weighing it out of interest, before finding the manageress. I told her I didn’t fancy taking the fish for the table due to its obvious ailment. She agreed, offering to put it into the waste bin for me. I waited for her to say not to count this one in my tally, but she said nothing of the sort, only suggesting that I fill out a Troutmasters entry card, because “Not many have been submitted lately”, so I did, partly to keep the interaction going. When she had signed the card, however, she just left to do something or other elsewhere, and so I returned to the banks. The fishing was proving to be hard going, and I had seen very few fish being caught, then at last managed to hook a Rainbow on a green/white ‘Wild Thing’, one of my own patterns, but the fish turned out to be only one-and-a-half pounds. Not only were some of the fish in poor condition (or dead), but the stocking density seemed to have been reduced too. It really was sad to see the decline since K had left; he had established an excellent fishery during his tenure, with almost a ‘clubby’ atmosphere, and the fishery had become a favourite of many anglers. Oh well, such is life; things can get better (despite a marked propensity not to).

 This was probably the worst outing I’ve had with the Fluff Club, there was so little joy in it. The only up-side was that my Troutmaster entry won for that month, although that meant I would have to return for the fish-off later in the year, if I wanted to qualify for the national final.



“Time runs in one direction only …”   - Olivia Laing