The continuing adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 61 *

 

  “If you are going through hell, keep going”-W Churchill

 Nine Fluff Boys today! Well, that’s really eight plus an ex: if we took the register it would read the Professor, the Admiral, Moneypenny, the Inspector, Lumberjack, Threepio, Galilee, Whytee, plus the ex (the Engineer).  Duncton Mill looked beautiful. A settled barometer, a half moon, and a still(ish) overcast day, all indicated the fishing should be okay, but what do I know? The car park was quite full and I think total attendees must have been around twenty, no wonder the fragrant Carole looked so chipper, beaming her greetings. At this time of year the fishing is usually concentrated on Birch and Rosie’s pools, but Carole informed us that Coot was also on the cards, having been cleaned up and re-stocked, and has become the favourite of the members of late.

 I started on an intermediate line, rigged on a rod just bought off t’web, a s/h Sonik Black, at 9’. On the business end I knotted a CW variant: a hook with a fluo-orange underbody that shines through the white marabou and chartreuse straggle chenille when wetted. This fly also came from t’web, accompanied by comments such as “best stillwater fly”, “absolutely guaranteed to catch” and “my go-to when nothing else works”. I hit Rosie’s going clockwise, wouldn’t go widdershins because that’s just a recipe for bad luck. Virtually fished the whole circumference: nada, zilch, zero!

 Didn’t even see a follow, despite the very clear water. That was the first hour wasted, although I had espied some action: the Engineer, Moneypenny and two other fishers all landing a fish. I decided neither ‘wonder’ fly nor this rod should be allowed to continue, and headed for the car dragging my chutzpah through the mud.

 Earlier, I had set myself a target for the day at this fishery, a new PB which seemed a reasonable enough aim, given that hitherto I haven’t caught anything here over 1lb 11ozs. Reasonable? Not, as it happens. Changing my rod made my casting feel much more comfortable so I renewed my efforts, changing flies regularly, concentrating on the spots where I’ve caught in the past. As I moved around I picked up the scuttlebuck. The Admiral caught one early doors on a black and silver buzzer, the Inspector had three takes fishing Birch, but failed to hook up. Lumberjack had one out of Birch and a second from Coot, both to a green damsel lure. Threepio had bumped one and missed a second take. Thereafter, Moneypenny soon caught his second so he and Lumberjack had both secured their braces before mid-day, making the rest of us look a tad desperate!

 After a drink at the car, and a chat with the other FB’s scattered around the car park having lunch  (thanks Covid19), Whytee headed for Birch, still on sweet FA, as indeed were Threepio, the Inspector, the Professor and Galilee. On Birch, Galilee was fishing a Snipe & Purple #16 using a fine tippet on his hand-built #3 weight Switch/Spey rod, but was sadly broken when he struck too hard reacting to a lightning take.

 The Professor took a nice fish using a ‘Yankee Blob’ (of his devising), then moved on  to one of the other pools now that he was off the mark. I’d packed up in disgust (disgrace?) and left by now, but he managed another two decent fish to a ’Frosty Nymph’ and a ‘Pope’s Blob’. (No, I don’t know, either, not a scoobie!). Later on he said “Loud seemed to be the key”. The Inspector managed to catch a brace in the end, fish to two-and-a-half pounds, that both took a #14 gold-bead Hopper. This meant that there were just three blankers:  Galilee, Threepio, and Whytee. Some might say there’s another word, much more apt.

 Kuze kube yisikhathi esilandelayo.

*in which the names of the participants are pseudonyms in an effort to be as inclusive to others as possible, in an attempt to attain the widest readership. I will be grateful for any comment the reader cares to make. Thank you.