RH Fly Fishing

  Wading up a small river, completely steeped in the natural world, is like nothing else; it’s so good for the spirit, soul, and well-being. Casting a fly for wild Brown trout, the jewels of British freshwater, takes things to an even higher level, simply sublime. Any troubles bouncing around in my head were soon drowned by the busy noise of the stream as it whispered, chattered, and giggled on its way.     The first two spots didn’t produce a take, provided you exclude the trees, but in the third little pool the pink foam indicator twitched as something inspected the size 18 jig fly, but the fish kicked away straight after my strike. I changed flies again, now trying a Red Dart jig which elicited no interest, although a ten inch Brownie actually rose to the indicator!   Time to move again; a deeper channel past a large tree trunk and roots mass finally produced the goods, an eight inch Brown battling wildly having eaten a little quilled jig nymph, but nothing...

  “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 re...

  “In all things of nature there is something of the marvellous” – Aristotle.     Pittleworth Trout Lake? No, me neither! Only appeared on our radar earlier this year, thence onto our fixtures list, seemingly it was a well-kept secret beforehand. The Inspector was responsible for finding this gem and bringing it to the Fluff Club’s attention, he joined us for a look around whilst walking his young dog, “Buddy”, a canine in a big hurry, bursting with energy and enthusiasm to explore the whole world.   Once a John Lewis Partnership water, and apparently quite neglected before being taken on by the current owners a few years ago, we suspect it was syndicated for a time but is now available for pre-booked whole days for a minimum of six rods, 24 fish to take, and strictly no C&R. Fed by the River Test, this mature, meandering 3.5 acre pond is absolutely stunning!   The Fluff Boys RDV’d at the fishing hut, where the catch return book evidenced good fishin...

  “… when my life is over, And my time has come to pass, Bury me upside-down, So the world can kiss my ass”.          – Blackberry Smoke     Alarmed before dawn, and in the car before 06.00, …”Brrrrrr” … the coldest morn for some time, but the heat from my stereo soon warmed things up; coordinates set for our northerly destination Draycote Water, for the annual Fly Dressers Guild John Watts Competition. The event is as social as it is competitive and everyone who fishes it always looks forward to the next; as the years mount so do the friends made from being boat partners for eight hours, there’s much meet n’ greet first thing.   The Fluff Boys’ competition section ‘Wessex Flyers’ were going to be a man down but the Fly Fishing Forum’s Fly Dressers Guild thread enabled us to find our fourth rod, one Paul F, who was very welcome indeed. The remainder of our team was made up of the Professor, Inspector, and Whytee. St...

    “Who?” you might ask, probably quite correctly. The man wasn’t famous in fly-tying and fly-fishing circles, so most readers will be unaware of him. Well, blowing his cover, he features in ‘The Continuous Adventures …’ under the pseudonym ‘Sailor’, due to his proclivity to set sail across the Atlantic (and other seas and oceans) at the drop of a hat. Sadly he has joined Dell-boy in the ranks of ex-Fluff Boys.   He and Whytee joined the Wessex branch of the Fluff Club on the same day, often enjoying a beer together before the weekly branch meetings, and developing a rivalry in fly tying competitions run by ‘FlyFishing and FlyTying’ and ‘Trout Fisherman’ magazines, eagerly checking the placings each month. Peter was more ‘traditional’ but innovation was never far away.   On the Fluff Club’s monthly outings, when he wasn’t at sea or road-tripping the USA, the rivalry continued, adding a frisson to our fishing which will be sorely missed. Peter much preferred dry ...

“If fishing is a religion, fly fishing is High Church” – Tom Brokaw  Whytee missed the last Fluff Boys’ outing, so could hardly contain the wait for this one: we were heading for one of the ‘homes’ of small, stillwater fly fishing, the legendary Damerham Trout Fishery, which also just happens to be the origin of the Blue Trout! A double delight! Luminaries, like Charles Jardine, learnt their trade here, back in the 80s. For much of the time since then the fishery has been syndicated, almost exclusively, but now it’s available to fish on day tickets!  Molly (my sat-nav) guided me to the lodge along narrow, residential lanes, despite the doubts in my mind at times. In due course the Professor appeared, soon followed by Moneypenny, then the Admiral, who had actually passed each other going in opposite directions on one lane. We half expected the Inspector and Lumberjack would turn up too, but no. I wondered whether they too had suffered some sat-nav gobbledegook, become complet...

    Segars Carrier, part of the River Itchen system, ran as clear as triple distilled spirit. Heavily weeded in places but offering plenty of clear channels, holes and glides. I often struggle with malevolent trees and shrubs lurking just out of my peripheral vision, waiting for a chance to pounce on line, cast or tippet; today thistles, nettles, brambles, sedge, et al, joined ranks. High levels of vexation were soon reached, but the sun and 25C heat rapidly burned off the blue air.   I had rigged two outfits, one for dries and the other for nymphing, both with 3lb. b.s. tippet due to the lush growth in the stream and along the banks. The plan was to take time, stalking slowly upstream, fishing late afternoon and early evening. I spotted about three dozen spotties in all, three of which were probably stockers, the remainder smaller, wild Brown Trout. Two Chub passed, heading downstream, but as far as I could tell there were no Grayling. There were some fry in places, to...