The continuing adventures of the Fluff Club, Episode 72

 

 “The river still chattered on … a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the unsatiable sea.” – Kenneth Grahame

 Nowadays the very-excellent Meon Springs operates on a ‘booking in advance’ basis, so if you want to follow in the footsteps of the famous Fluff Club, you know what you’ll have to do. Greg will do his utmost to accommodate you. This trout fishery featured in episodes 10, 27, 34, 40, 51, 59, and 63. Anglers weren’t the only visitors today: in addition to the usual couple of pairs of Dabchicks, some Mallards, Coots, Swans and Moorhens, were a couple of farmyard ducks, a loud mob of Greylag Geese, and a small flock of Tufted Duck; the wildfowl easily outnumbered the anglers.

 Representing the Fluff Club today were the Professor, the Inspector, the Admiral, Lumberjack, and Whytee. There were at least twelve other fisherfolk, including two of the fairer sex, … Right on! (as we used to say way, way back). Driving here was a matter of squinting into a low sun, which was soon replaced by driving rain.

 Coomb and Whitewool were both bank high with all this rain, and chalk milkiness was seeping from Coomb down through the stock ponds, under the little road bridge and into Whitewool, although it hadn’t yet reached the C&R beats further down the valley. Strong winds were swirling around the fishery, and the rain was expected to cease by the afternoon, but blimey, the gusts were cold! Of the Fluff mob, only the Professor gave Coomb a go, getting two of his bag there before coming down to join the remainder, all splashing around and fishing here and there. Whytee had been the last to arrive and decided to spend the first hour, and the worst of the rain, enjoying the warmth of the woodburner in the lodge, a free coffee, and the attentions of a black Spaniel and a black Labrador. Eventually the bullet had to be bit, and Whytee ventured forth, wrapped up.

 About half way along the lodge bank Whytee started with a ‘Wossname’ on a fast glass. On the third cast there was a hit, but it didn’t stick. A few casts later that feat was repeated, and thereafter just knocks which were too sudden and brief to hit. Over the other side, the Lumberjack took two trout from different swims. Later, Lumberjack revealed he caught all of his fish on either a ‘green thing’ or a ‘black thing’ which is how he christens his tyings. The Inspector had called into the lodge earlier for a warming brew, and told Whytee and Greglas he had caught a nice Brown Trout, but had released it without it leaving the water; he passed by now, as ever trying just a few casts in likely spots before moving on. The Admiral hove to, having caught a fish from that point half way along Whitewool , and now having a stroll to chat to his fellow FBs before trying for his second. When he did just that he splattered on down to the C&R beats, where several other anglers were already having a go. Even in the worst of the wind and rain rods had been bending, but the C&R beats were much harder.

 Having tried three newly tied patterns without any interest, (to be frank they weren’t tied for use in today’s conditions), Whytee switched to a Blob tied on a #8 B160 with a ‘pink’ (I would call it purple) tungsten bead and a body of MX-D in ‘Biscuit’ colour. That abbreviation stands for ‘mixed density’ (?). A sprightly Rainbow soon snaffled the offering then tried in vain to avoid being netted, a couple of fish did get off the hook, before a second and third trout followed into the bass bag, from different swims while coming back up the far side, which is always less pressured because the tree line is much closer. Yes, three trees and a bramble, if you really want to know.

The Fluff Boys lunched in the glow of the log burner, holding a sit-rep. The Professor had his four-ticket completed already, all on a little Buzzer featuring red and amber in the thorax. Greglas had called it a Traffic Light buzzer, but there wasn’t actually any green to be seen. The Lumberjack had finished, bagging three, whilst the Inspector and the Admiral were also resting their laurels, on two each. The Inspector had caught his on a ‘Pseudo’ Diawl Bach, of a colour somewhere between orange and light tan, whereas the Admiral had used a green-bodied white-marabou-tailed pattern for his fish. Thus only Whytee would be back on the bank post prandial. As they departed the Fluff Boys wished everyone the best for the new year, none expecting to be fishing again before January. Whytee trudged back through the mud to continue, not very far from the lodge. The day visibly brightened. The first three takes were missed, before the next one stayed on, another healthy, fighting Rainbow, even despite a stab wound just above its pectoral fin. Back to the lodge to weigh, log and pay … with some added confusion. Duh! Whose eyesight couldn’t discern Kgs from Lbs on the scales? Yeah! You know who! Driving home meant once again squinting into a very low sun.

I wish you all that you would wish yourselves for 2022. Salut! Hangtod sa sunod nga higayon.