RH Fly Fishing

  Idly leafing through some back copies of fly fishing magazines I had one of those moments of clarity: I hatched a plan to take a younger member of the family fly fishing, what was there to loose?, I would encourage someone new to have a go at our wonderful sport, plus have myself some ‘me’ time on the water, and best of all I would earn some brownie points with mission control. My eldest grand- daughter fitted the bill, the poor girl doesn’t get much opportunity to have time in the fresh air, was at a loose end in the summer holidays, a bit anxious about starting college after the hols, and unlike most of the others she always shows some interest in the fish I’ve caught and even flies I’ve tied. She jumped at the idea of having a trip out with her Grandpa when I phoned. On the appointed day we headed for a small stillwater fishery where there are two lakes (ponds really, being man-made) plus two other stretches for catch n’ release. The top lake, higher in the gentle valley,...

The names of the participants are disguised, all else is factual, (but you should know that by now). Life is not about finding yourself Life is about finding fish RANT: Just back from a two-family holiday in north Devon and here is a new fact (based on driving both ways) - it now takes much longer to drive one-hundred-and-sixty point something miles cross-country than it did twenty years ago. Progress? I think its more a case for the phrase containing the words 'handcart' and 'hell'. Six fully paid-up members of the Fluff Club duly arrived at the very excellent Chalk Springs in Arundel, all keen for the fray; this venue last appeared in this blog in episodes 17 and 26. There were good numbers of other anglers present including a complete family group and a few dad/son combos; its always great to see youngsters getting involved and learning. The 'Fishery Full' sign went up in short order. The Sailor and I were already tackled-up when the rear-guard ...

The names of the Fluff Club members, the Fluff Boys, are pseudonyms, all else is factual. With some of the other stillwaters in the south shut, due to the hot spell, Manningford has been very busy of late. Indeed, there was a club booking for twenty-plus anglers, but they very kindly agreed to let we three Fluff Club members join in the proceedings. Yes, that's right, just three this time, another drop in numbers. Mind you, that just mirrors the drop in reader numbers for this blog: I noticed that episode 35 was way, way down on previous readership numbers. I rarely get feedback but it would be great to hear any suggestions for getting it more widely read, as you know I'm just trying to 'spread the love' of fly-fishing and fly-tying. Maybe you could pass a link onto anyone you think might enjoy reading these chronicles? No more wallowing though, on with the blog … The Fluff Boys last fished here some time ago (episodes 7 and 13) and I haven't been up here se...

Pick the right Lough By our standards we’d had a brilliant week. The Irish weather had gone soft on us, the cloud cover allowing just enough brightness through to bring out all the colours of the small islands dotted about the lough. The only fly in the ointment came late in the week when my fishing buddy tangled his legs up with a lurking oar, hands full of rod and equipment he fell heavily onto the stone dock, full weight onto one knee; the pain was obvious. Back in the hotel we tried copious glasses of knee oil but come the morning of our last day we both knew Brian wouldn’t be fishing. Reluctantly, I took the boat out by myself, intent on one area we had not fished yet, for my parting shot. The wild Brownies went loony toons, hurtling up to snap at my flies, six to twelve-ounce jewels that put a spirited bend into my three-weight. Late morning, however, the sun broke through completely, the surface of the lough turned into a beautiful mirror and the fish did their vanishing ac...

The names of the Fluff Boys (members of the Fluff Club) are pseudonyms, the rest is factual. "I never go to rivers to kill trout, I go to un-kill parts of myself that otherwise might die" -Nick Lyons, 1974 A Fab Four of us turned out to John O'Gaunts trout fishery, probably missing at least three stalwarts away vacationing, it’s that time of year after all. We visited this fishery in blog episodes 20, 23, & 32; previously we came here a few times before I started this blog, including once when we were mob-handed and collectively camp-cooked an English breakfast. Note that I didn't say 'full English' although we were, actually. Full, that is. Still hot. Bloody hot. I reckoned it would be best to start as early as possible, before the water warmed so much the fish would lie doggo down in the springs, so I was first to arrive, just after yer man unlocked the gate at 08.30. It was already 19 degrees C and climbing. The main lake looked murky, as it...

In which the Fluff Boys' names are pseudonyms, but all else is true. "Fishing is a discipline in the equality of men... for all men are equal before fish". - Herbert Hoover We hit Meon Springs Trout Fishery for six - by which I mean six of the Fluff Club fellows managed to assemble at the venue last visited in episode 27, (before that in 10). Whytee was first to arrive, closely followed by the Sailor. The Professor, Dell-boy, the Admiral and Jackdaw turned up after we two had actually started fishing. In addition, there were a number of other anglers, including two Dad-and-son combos plus one Dad-and-daughter. Great to see! Walkers, runners and cyclists were also very abundant, probably because it was a beautiful summer's day. By 09.00 the temperature had reached twenty degrees C, and I expected the bright sunshine and heat could oppress the fishing from mid-day for at least a couple of hours. Not that I was going to be around: I had received strict ins...

The names of the Fluff Club members are pseudonyms purely to allow these otherwise true adventures to be enjoyed as widely as possible. We Fluff Boys last came to Chiphall Lake in episode 25 and prior to that episodes 6 and 22. ‘Twas a warm day with the sun slightly troubled by cloud from time to time and very little breeze. We geared up for the fray, our last arrival being Jackdaw “What’s the hurry?”. There were a few fish swirling at the surface, a few Mallard dotted around, and the mercurial Dab-chicks appearing and disappearing without warning. Seven of us had turned out, but I’ll skip the magnificence this time. Looking around we could see that the weed is growing fast now, not yet a problem though, and the water still crystal clear. This is a Troutmasters water and at least two of our number were mindful to try to catch a good ‘un and hopefully qualify for the fish-off then beyond. T’management informed us that any trout would have to exceed five-and-a-half pounds to stan...