The continuing adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 64

 

“Some fish are worth more points than others” … “no two fish are equal” [anon.]

 One hundred and forty-something miles to go, so warp drive was engaged, hurtling northwards to Elinor Trout Fishery at sunrise. When I loaded the car in the dark I had mused about how much tackle I take with me; when I started fly fishing one of the reasons that appealed was how little I needed compared to the paraphernalia I used to lug when coarse fishing!  

The last time the Fluff Boys (under their FDG branch name) went to this fishery was reported in episode 60, hodie ut obliviscator in my case [a day to forget]. Surely there was no way that today could be any worse? Unless, perhaps, if I drowned, or was trampled to death by a gang of crazed sheep. Buoyed by that thought I rolled into the car park, where the Inspector was already setting up, we were soon joined by the Professor, thus making our team of three. The Admiral was not able to make this one. We readied for the fray with sixteen other Fluff Boys from other branches of the Guild.

 The previous week and more saw nights around zero, while bright Spring skies raised the days to thirteen degrees C and higher. The water held a tinge of khaki, its surface occasionally lightly ruffled by gentle breezes. Water fowl abounded and the surrounding pasture was dotted with ewes and their lambs. Nearly all of the boats were taken and there were plenty of bank anglers scattered around the perimeter, some occasionally being harassed by nosy lambs, in two’s or three’s. I find the best deterrent is a jar of mint sauce.

 The dreadful C-19’s closing of hotels and guest houses meant scant intel on how it was fishing, save for the fishery’s own on-line reports, as only those domiciled nearby had been able to practice on the venue. Buzzers and diawl bachs were starting to work and black/green lures had been a steadfast, but we all know only too well about “You should have been here last week”. Whytee and the Inspector, independently, set up two outfits each, intermediate and floater. Whytee intended to fish the ‘washing line’ with FABs on point, and t’other rod would be for lures, deeper. I think the Professor relied on one rod. The Inspector headed straight to the spot on the Dam where he had seven fish two years ago, Whytee went further along, just past the Overflow Corner, and the Professor chose the peg in front of the first copse on Brookside Bank, which produced three trout for him last time.

 The first hour passed with little action visible anywhere, before one or two of the boats started catching the odd fish. A chap out from the dam’s tiny slipway was casting a long way out, to the drop-off, and he caught two before losing a third, thankfully not in our competition. Next, the Inspector netted a nice fish which took a buzzer ‘on the drop’ … the game was afoot!

 Whytee felt a tiny tap, struck, and soon slid the net under a one-pound Roach which ate the black Muskins. A big improvement over last year’s half-ounce tiddler – could this be a good omen? It was also the new PB for a fly-caught Roach. 

No further action, however, during the next hour began to dampen down the enthusiasm and optimism, heralding time to move, along Brookside and up to the East Arm.  

Whytee waded out through a broad scum-line, noting the shucks of buzzers around twenty millimetres long, as were some Olives’ shucks. A half-inch, green damsel nymph wriggled past, and one or two midges came off, but there were no rises. An angler chest-deep off Pylon Point was catching quite regularly, I speculated that if he were in the competition, he would already have it won. After a while his activity ceased, and with nobody in sight catching, it was time to move on again, looking for signs of fish off Coarse Bank, the Creek, the Lagoon, and Shallow Bay. There was the odd boat about but few bank anglers until I passed Goodfellow Bay towards Pensioners Point where I began to recognise some of the FDG competitors. Ho-hum, back to the Dam end then, where I waded out in front of the last tree of the copse, the Inspector to my left, still fishing where he had started, yet to add to his tally. We could see the Professtor had also remained where he had commenced operations, which suggested to me that he might have caught. On about the fourth cast a fish took one of the short droppers of the ‘washing line’ but Whytee perhaps played the fish too hard, anxious to net it, the trout made a determined, final run, and came off! Devastation! A real gut-wrencher. The only consolation a feeling in the back of the mind, that as the water warmed, more fish might start to feed, so there was still hope and nearly three hours.

 The Inspector decided to move elsewhere, heading around towards the Professor and Brookside Bank. Soon afterwards, Whytee had a sudden take and this time played the fish carefully to the net. What a relief! 

The long-caster moved away, his place soon taken by our Gen Sec, whom promptly had a bite-off from a Pike. Other Fluff Boys were changing swims, not our particular Club/branch members, and I overheard some were still to catch, as well as snippets like “it’s a bit of a struggle today”, “Lee’s (Comp Sec) got five, one’s a lump”, “so and so’s on two now”, “I’ve had one trout and a flippin’ jack”. Whytee hooked a bigger, strong fish and played it even more carefully, a four-and-a-half pounder with a caudal fin like a shovel, had taken the grey buzzer just to be different. 

 

The Gen Sec caught two more trout, after which Whytee was in again, albeit a run-of-the-mill sized stocker. The competition entered the final hour. The Professor walked past on the way to his car and a much needed drink and very late lunch, three trout swinging on his stringer. He later recounted he had four takes on four different flies, and netted all four, save one was a jack Pike which took a static GRHE! Whytee fished hard hoping for another, but in vain.

 At the bell (there wasn’t one), we returned to the car park, clambering out of assorted waders, before taking our trout to be recorded. The nineteen Fluff Boy competitors caught thirty-two in total. The third and fourth placed teams each had six fish, whilst the first and second teams had both amassed seven. In the event of such a tie in numbers, weight is taken into account, and by dint of the Inspector’s three-pound-plus Rainbow and Whytee’s four-and-a-half one the Fluff Club’s bag weighed most: we were declared winners! The Inspector’s joy, however, was expressed through gritted teeth: he had a cricket-ball shaped swelling on his ankle, following a fall on one of the steep banks. After driving the one hundred and forty-three miles painfully homeward it transpired he had broken his ankle in two places, but then he has always maintained that fly-fishing is an extreme sport!

 Result! No longer at the foot of the heap – but will this success last? The next FDG competition is the John Watts Trophy (boat fishing), at Draycote Water in August. There are already rumblings about even getting a bit of practice there, Covid permitting.

 Safe!

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