The continuing adventures of the Fluff Club, episode 65 *

 

“We’ve all heard that a million monkeys banging away on a million typewriters will eventually reproduce the entire works of Shakespeare. Now, thanks to the internet, we know this is not true”.

 I interrupt this adventure to explain why there are no photographs: wade fishing the River Rother two days ago saw me more than belly-button deep, and my faithful field camera got a soaking from which it might never recover. My apologies, I hope to resume normal service as soon as possible.

As I splashed along the lanes towards Kings Somborne through the deluge, I wondered how many of the Fluff Boys would brave the elements. John O’Gaunt fishery is certainly on our map, we’ve visited per episodes 20, 23, 32, 35, 47, 53, and 56, and despite two Covid lockdowns. First job on arrival was to pay and dash to cover, to change into waterproofs and wellies. In all, just four of us mustered in the rain: the Professor, Moneypenny, Lumberjack, and Whytee, with the addition of Dodgy, a non-Fluff Boy, possibly a stalker. To be fair, the Met Office had shown lightning as well as heavy rain, and that probably dissuaded the rest of the dwindling band. There were two other anglers already fishing. It was so wet that the Mallards had abandoned the water, and instead were shuffling about on the grass, in the company of a cock Pheasant who obviously had identity issues.

 I had three targets, apart from a four-fish ticket. There was a new #6F with a five-foot sink tip to be ‘christened’ (Wychwood), secondly, a rod and reel never previously combined despite having them for years, the #8F line was definitely over-gunned for this fishery but I wanted to get a ‘feel’ for it with Reservoirs in mind. The third thing was to trial a ‘Balanced Damsel’ I’ve tied, to be fished static under an indicator rig, a technique I haven’t tried.

 Dodgy started on the main pond (whose name I never seem to recall) as it was the shortest hobble for him, accompanied by Whytee, t’others headed for the ever-clear Simms. Remedial work last year seems to have much  improved the water clarity of the larger pond (whatever), it seems to be as it was in the 90’s, before the Roach infestation. The odd Mayfly hatched, chancing the heavy rain, and there was an occasional rise. Whytee caught a two-and-a-half Rainbow on a Wild Thing. All the fish caught by the Fluff Club today were terrifically fit fighters and fully finned beauts. I thought Dodgy might like to try a WT and passed him one which he dropped in the grass before switching. Helping him search I found a BFD and a Humpy, but the WT had hidden itself. After a while he knotted the Humpy on, just because, then missed two risers before he hooked up on the third, a belting fish of three pounds ten. One each, time to head for Simms.

 As we arrived the Professor was stringing his fourth fish; he’d caught his final two from what I’m now calling ‘E corner’. On the far side Moneypenny was playing a fish from one of the two little points. While Whytee discussed the fishing with the Professor, off to the right Lumberjack hooked-up with his first. Simms was looking good! It didn’t take very long for Whytee’s second, the WT luring another fish grown on steroids. New line well and truly ‘christened’, so back to the car, the second outfit soon rigged up and Whytee returned to Simms, accompanied by the Professor. Moneypenny had bagged his limit by now, on a BFD I think, and was heading for home, glad of the chance to get out of the rain. Lumberjack caught his second, after which he sauntered over to Dodgy for a bit of craic, probably not realising how loud Dodgy’s banter could be, with much of it outrageous!

 Out went the indicator rig and new fly. The rain paused and a gentle breeze ruffled the surface from right to left, drifting the indicator along nicely. The clarity of the water showed the fish to be about six feet down, so the foam indicator was set at one fathom. This seemed to be the right move, with two strong fish falling for the horizontal fly’s allure before long, both ably netted by my new gillie, the Professor.

Now past midday the sky darkened menacingly, so Lumberjack, the Professor and Whytee headed for the shelter in front of the hut, to eat our lunches. Dodgy fished on as the rain strengthened, but our quiet, civilised munching was soon disturbed by his presence, having caught his second, which took a Cat’s Whisker being dragged along the surface while he moved to another swim!

 Whilst we stowed our equipment and wet gear in the cars, the fishery’s guv’nor rolled up in his truck, wound down the window and said “You’re all mad, fishing in this!”, …  not your classic customer relations style exactly, but then he knows what his customers want and why they return.

Indtil naeste gang.

 

*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.