RH Fly Fishing

  “… the eye-catching splendour of the natural world exceeds even the finest (beauty) in art, or literature, or music.” - Todd Tanner   Whytee ain’t well, it’s a bummer, and his current meds rule out driving. Thankfully, the Professor stepped-in and drove the pair both ways to Avon Springs, Durrington. A lovely day to be driving through England’s green and pleasant land, of which we saw more than was strictly necessary as we rolled thunderously through Hampshire, Berkshire, and into Wiltshire. A combination of too much chat and a shy sat-nav meant some key directions went unnoticed. Ten minutes later than anticipated, we pulled into the car park, spotting Moneypenny, the Lumberjack, Daisy, and Foggy already there, along with three or four other anglers. The two ‘lakes’ provide seven-dot-something acres of water, so it was not exactly crowded. My Fluff Club records show we haven’t been here as a group before (in my time as a member, that is) and on the day the fishery failed ...

  Bri and I were successful with a 2020 bid for fishing the Leconfield FFC waters around Petworth, but a number of factors conspired to prevent us utilising one lot: a day for two rods on the River Rother. We aren’t blaming Covid alone, bad weather intervened twice, and the last time we came close, my own health let us down. Anyroadup, we had a date, and were both looking forward to this particular tantalus with great expectations. Came the day, came the meet. Below us, a wide pool featuring an Archimedes screw right next door to the fish pass where sea trout run. Our host, the estate’s Mr. Andrew Thompson, expressed mixed feelings: the screw generates electricity which is a help to the local economy, but he feels it may be situated too close to the pass, already difficult for fish to negotiate, but there’s the added risk of some being mutilated in the machinery. To stop us brooding on this conundrum he then told us about the twenty-one-pound-something British record Barbel that ...

  Bri and me on the Meon   Thanks to the wonder that is the annual Wild Trout Trust auction, Bri and I have some chunks of river fishing coming up in Wales, West Sussex and Yorkshire. Readers may have spotted that most of our fishing is small stillwaters, so to try and get some semblance of river competence we thought we would start on the River Meon, one of my club’s beats where I can use a guest ticket. Full of enthusiasm we decided to fish up the beat together, taking turns to ‘have a go’, so we set up a ten foot nymphing rod with a NZ indicator, and a eight-and-a-half footer to cover dries or downstream wets, etc., in case the need arose. The river was in great nick, carrying a tinge from the thunder storm’s rain two days previously; this day was cloudy and sunny alternately, and quite warm. The first stretch produced nothing, and we moved stealthily up to the next. Brian would have walked past the shallow gravel run below a deeper, eddying bend, but I insisted he giv...

   Traffic was light and Whytee pulled into the car park a few minutes before nine; when signing-in on the catch return sheet it revealed that Foggy, the Inspector, the Professor, and new member Daisy, had already done so. It appeared Jackdaw was here to, [turns out he came with Foggy], unable to fish yet following his stroke, but keen to just be around fishing again. Moneypenny arrived last, so a slightly better turnout.  The Met Office forecast gave “cloudy all day” but Whytee was only on the third fly change, fishing ‘Birch’, the really deep one, when the first drops of rain fell. The Inspector related he’d had plenty of activity in his first fifteen minutes, and Foggy had just dropped one of maybe four pounds, but this pond was not showing much movement otherwise. As Whytee was about to move away the Professor managed to drop a fish, down at the deep end [35 feet apparently]. Later, fishing the same spot, he was snapped off by a fish, but acknowledged later it could...

  “The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits” – Albert Einstein   The car park was as full as I’ve ever seen it, apart from a corporate day I attended here once. Sadly it was not a vast horde of Fluff Boys that were responsible, there were only four of us Fluff Boys plus Dodgy, but its good to see Manningford Trout Fishery is doing well, customers-wise. Indeed, other vehicles came and went throughout the day. Dodgy isn’t a FB member, but does like to join us fishing from time to time;   that said, I know his three previous wives consider him a f b (of an entirely different ilk). Monies changed hands and we had our permits: the Professor and Whytee going for 4 fish, the admiral and Moneypenny for 2, while Dodgy surprisingly went for 3. Into the fray, then.   There was still plenty of spaces around Manor ‘Lake’, as some of the visitors were up on Squires, and at least one fishing the young River Avon. Whytee had a plan, the method ba...

  In the time before social me me me media, the written word ruled. There was plenty of it too, although attitudes to the ‘self’ were very different. Modesty was considered a virtue, especially in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century, and many writers, particularly the prolific ones, often   chose to use pseudonyms rather than their real identities, in order to avoid direct public scrutiny, or appearing grandiose, or boastful.   Anonymity is a striking contrast to today’s all pervading cult of celebrity for its own sake, merited or not.   When I write in ‘The continuous adventures of the Fluff Club’ I use pseudonyms for the participants, the Fluff Boys, to preserve their identities, in the hopes of making them more inclusive to the readers, while their fishy activities are accurately recorded. In the earlier days I didn’t even name the fisheries, but do now; on reflection I couldn’t see a downside to revealing them, it could actually help the fisheries....

    The balmy, bright spring morning was punctuated by barrages of rifle fire somewhere nearby on Salisbury Plain, probably extra training in response to what’s going on in eastern Europe. Heavy ordnance chipped in from time to time, while various helicopters put in the odd appearance passing overhead, some pretty sinister looking. Bri and I chose Avon Springs because we haven’t fished it together for what must be ten years, and I was last here in 2015. It’s too good a fishery for that, and still reasonable VFM at 4 for £50. Why should Wiltshire generally be cheaper than Hampshire? The young Avon alongside is run by Fishing Breaks now, so we had Club ‘Lake’, 5 acres, and Spring ‘Lake’, 2.5 acres, at our disposal.  We both set up intermediate outfits, received wisdom suggesting it’s still time for lures until the spring advances a bit more. Last day of the coarse fishing season, BTW. Not wishing to incur any bad luck by going widdershins, we set off down the left hand b...