The continuing adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 56 *
A good number of
Fluff Club members turned out today, John O’Gaunt has always been a popular
venue. I was last to arrive, joining the Professor, the Admiral, Moneypenny,
Foggy, Rodney, Threepio, Galilee and the Sailor! It was fantastic to see the
Sailor again, still battling the big C, out with his wife, Angela, who does the
driving now. She told me his latest misfortune was to suddenly go deaf,
virtually overnight, although he can still make out what you say if you’re
close enough that he can lip read to supplement his hearing. That man is just
not having much luck this past couple of years. They’ve both been ‘shielding’ so
this was their first trip out in a long while.
The drizzle cleared
before I started fishing, leaving an overcast morning with light winds from the
north. Foggy had brought a pal and they both fished the main lake. In fact, it
was Foggy who was first to complete a brace, before 11.00; his second, and best,
took a size 20 beaded buzzer! Quite a change, as he typically favours the kinds
of flies the Jackdaw likes: anything with some bling!
This session was the
inaugural holding of the new monthly trophy for the ‘heaviest brace’, to
commemorate Dell-boy, sadly a recent victim of the cursed Covid plague. The
trophy is named after him so that he will be remembered (under his real name),
and each month the current holder will be listed on one of our website pages, holding
the new trophy until the next outing. The Professor headed over to one of
Dell-boy’s favourite swims on the main ‘lake’ to make a few casts for our
former comrade in arms, but the fish just weren’t playing fair so he joined the
majority of us on Simms.
Rodney was fishing
the shallower, top end and I believe he was the first to catch. The cracking
three pounds twelve ounces Rainbow was super fit and led Rodney a merry dance,
all the while he was precariously fiddling with the Go-pro mounted on his cap.
This scenario is not unfamiliar to us Fluff Boys, and commonly leads to a
momentary slack line and an escapee, but today he safely netted the fish, narrating
his efforts with the usual expletives. Over to my left, Threepio was next to
catch; these Houghton fish were in wonderful nick, all scrapping really hard. An
hour and a half passed, during which I had just one, desultory follow, despite
trying a number of patterns that normally work for me at this venue. A couple
of anglers fishing over on the west bank vacated their spot and I decided to
move over. As I passed Rodney, I asked him when I should expect his posting of
the video of his trouty encounter onto YouTube. “The flicking flick-flicker
battery was flicking dead!” he replied morosely.
Moneypenny was next
to catch, also fishing the shallower end. Later on, in the same spot, he hooked
and did battle with another strong trout, before doing the Admiral’s thing, the
long-distance release, ably assisted by the nearby Rodney’s helpful barracking.
Galilee, a connoisseur collector of particular brands of Japanese rods and
reels, (sorry, can’t recall the brand), was fishing a six weight outfit and a
white dry, casting a very elegant five weight Spey line easily across to the
reeds of the larger of the two islets, around the corner from the Professor's
station. His first fish made several strong runs, the reel’s screams seemingly getting
louder each time, sounding just like that Hardy sound bite. Later, when I was
closer to him, he repeated the act using the same fly, and I said “That’s a
lovely sound” and he replied “Yes, and I’ve turned the volume up!”, I added “It
sounds like you’re playing it through a big Marshall amp!”.
The Admiral returned
to Simms after fishing the main ‘lake’ in vain for a couple of hours, whereas
he’d caught his first on Simms very early doors, albeit only one pounds eight.
He arrived just as the Professor was playing his fourth fish, in his usual
corner, casting across to the islet’s reed fringed shelf. Trout in pods and
groups were constantly circling clockwise around the islet, (but curiously not
around the other one). I’ve witnessed this circling behaviour a few times
before, including at other fisheries. The Professor had found that if he landed
a bead-head pattern into their incessant path with a ‘plop’ they might break
ranks and investigate. If more than one fish moved to the fly, he invariably
got a take, presumably due to competitive feeding?
Meanwhile I was beginning to get that uneasy feeling that there was a skunking headed my way. Over three hours had passed during which time I only had one, quick, un-hittable pluck to a Dawson’s Olive variant. I began to rue fishing a floating line, usually I use an intermediate here. At times my casting became awful, even worse than usual; the slough of despond beckoned, confidence draining into the ground beneath my feet. Once Galilee finished, I moved into his spot, and after a dozen or more casts I at last got a fish to take a green Diawl Bach, (actually tied for the Chew adventure a fortnight ago).
What relief! There remained, however, a nagging doubt that my earlier over-confidence in telling the government that I would be home early afternoon for a family Sunday gathering (resumed at last following lock-down), was ‘serving me right’. In the Professor’s corner were a bunch of the FBs watching the Admiral trying to get his second: the Professor, Foggy, Rodney, Galilee, and Threepio had all filled their tickets. Their helpful advice showered down on the Admiral, then as he started to retrieve for yet another cast there was a take and he soon netted his second fish, in full view of the gallery. They all headed back towards the cars, for lunch. I headed straightaway to the now vacant spot.
Sure enough, pods of
Rainbows were still circling clock-wise. I tried a couple of bead-head patterns
to ‘plop’ down in their path. Nada. A heavy Corixa pattern maybe? No, same
result. A little flash-back Damsel? Nope. I next tied on a Biscuit Blob, pulled
from my fly patch, a Chew leftover, checked that it was sinking, then cast
across to the shallow shelf in front of the hurrying, circling pods. That
worked! First was a four-pounder, then two more Rainbows a tad under three
pounds. It was now quarter past one, I would still be home at a reasonable
time. I called over to Angela, at the Sailor’s side, to get him to move to my
swim and to use my BB, which I handed over. I said my goodbyes and headed off
to fill out my catch return. The Sailor and Moneypenny now had Simms left to
themselves.
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