The continuing adventures of the Fluff Club, episode 70

 

“Omens are everywhere, you just have to find the ones that fit” – Terry Pratchett

 

 Flippin’ 70 already! Despite the seeming indifference of the readers (apparent in the few ‘likes’, ‘Comments’, and no ‘Followers’) that milestone represents about seven years’ worth of these monthly chronicles. Cor blimey!

 Today, the Fluff Club mob descended upon the ever-popular Chalk Springs, Arundel, represented by the Professor, Admiral, Moneypenny, Lumberjack, Whytee, and the Engineer (not really a current, active member, having moved from Hampshire to West Sussex a few years ago). Oh!, nearly forgot the other non-member, Dodgy, (limping badly, awaiting a new knee, now accompanied by a folding chair).

 As usual at weekends there were good numbers fishing, and I was glad to see five under-twenty-fives having fly casting and fishing tuition, including two of the fairer sex. New blood, hopefully. The catch return revealed that Saturday’s fish fell for a real mix of fly patterns: CWs, Montanas, Damsels, & Buzzers, although quite a few anglers hadn’t recorded what they had used. On the way down the track towards the ‘lakes’ we couldn’t help notice one of the stews held good numbers of big ‘uns, including doubles, circling the aerator in the centre. A real tantalous!

 We spread around ‘North’, ‘West’, ‘East’ and ‘South’ in dribs and drabs, mingling with t’other fishers where space permitted,; the Admiral and Whytee commencing operations on ‘East’, the clarity of water disguising its depths. Whytee soon surmised the fish had little interest in chasing patterns pulled on an intermediate, and began to concentrate on the floating line with a semi-static ‘on the drop’ presentation, when the Admiral called over from along the bank to the left. His wife had ‘phoned to say mine had called her, to report I’d picked up my daughter’s mobile by mistake. Sure enough, I (numpty) had, moreover it was out of charge. Apologetically I borrowed the Admiral’s to phone home (as in ET). In short, my daughter wanted to drive back to Reading in the afternoon (along with my youngest grandson), having stayed overnight with a dearth of sleep. Message received, loud and clear: get home pretty pronto! Whytee had paid for four fish, so the pressure was on! Earlier, I had noticed that there were more stocks in ‘North’ and ‘West’, but preferring the look of ‘East’ best, I stuck to my guns. Using a black Muskins and covering fish ‘on the fin’, Whytee had a take but the fish came off within seconds. After that commotion calmed, a second trout took more than a passing notice and after a vigorous work-out a two-pounder graced the bank. A number of fish inspected the fly as it sank but turned away, so a switch was made to a green Muskins, and a slightly better Rainbow succumbed. Shortly thereafter all the trout in the area had seen the fly so a move along the bank was in order. By now, Moneypenny had taken two from ‘West’, Lumberjack one from ‘North’, but the Professor had once again relapsed into ‘dropsy’, losing at least three just after striking, whilst the Admiral had performed his ‘long distance release’ speciality, remaining fishless, like Dodgy and the Engineer.

 Whytee had been struggling to keep sight of the fly as it sank, so decided to switch to something much more visible: a little size 14 chartreuse/orange Blob. This was immediately hit by a trout which dived into clumps of weed three times before coming off the hook in the fourth! The next trout fought equally as strongly and the hook-hold gave on its second or third jump - pressure mounting - was the writing on the wall? Another take, this time playing the fish very cautiously, alarmingly it fought very strongly, even tail-walking twice, but thankfully the hook-hold held and a beauty of just under three pounds was netted with great relief! All that commotion meant another change of swim before the last ‘bow obliged, later scaling just over three pounds. It was now twelve-thirty, when the Fluff Boys usually gather for lunch. I cut off the Blob and gave it to Dodgy, along with a bit of coaching about casting in front of moving fish, maybe even trying a ‘rolly-polly’ retrieve to stir ‘em up a bit, and once the fish went completely indifferent I urged him to move to find fresh fish to target. Then it was time to fire-up the after burners. Sadly, there was no time for sit reps from t’other Fluff Boys, all of whom appeared to be fishing on, a couple somewhat grimly.

 Later, once Dodgy had enough (no, he didn’t move swims) he limped up to the cars and at the office got talking to the new owner (of two or so years?), who apparently fell for Dodgy’s ‘lack of sport’ lament and even netted two trout out of the stews for him to take home, although firmly declining to net them from one particular stew, despite a Dodgy suggestion!

 Seuraavaan kertaan.

 

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