Fishing Trip

Well, despite the fierce squalls and stormy English weather, I ventured out at the weekend for a day by Draycote Water. I'm not what it is about fishing that I find so appealing, after all, what would compel a person to don a pair of thigh length rubber wellies, wade out into a freezing lake and spend 6 hours thrashing the waters with a fly rod in the search for slippery, smelly fish? Perhaps its the Zen-like appeal of a monotonous but nevertheless satisfying ritual; your mind focused on one simple but all-consuming task? Perhaps it's just the prospect having a tatsy Trout for your tea, or maybe it's just being outside knee deep in nature. In any case, we all caught at least 3, and at least one was over 5lb, which really is something to behold. Decided I need to get some kind of snazzy fishing hat, not the awful American style baseball affair, more a Fedora, Raiders of the Lost Ark number in which to ensnare a few dry flies and dazzle passers by with my remarkable resemblance to a sad case in an Indiana Jones hat. I've already bought myself one of those fishing waistcoats with all the integral pockets and clips (thank you e-bay) so I'm nearly there. Been having day dreams about trekking through the Colorado hills in a River Runs Through It homage, but for the time being I think I'm just going to have to settle for the lakes and rivers of Middle England.

Went to the county libarary and selected a few fly fishing classics. Unfortunately they didn't have much of a selcection, but I cherry picked a couple of hefty tomes on the art of getting up at 6am on a weekend. Also got a book on the insects of England in the hope that I might develop an aptitude for identifying which flies the fish are taking. Also learned that there is an artificial fly called a 'Booby', so called because of its two massively out of proportion polystyrene eyes that resemble the insect equivalent of a boob job. The boob job fly is, according to my reliable source, a fly suited to mid summer when larger, mature insects reach their full size and consequently end their days floating around on a lake somewhere after getting just that little bit too close to the surface. why these flying morons should choose to pursue their mates just inches from the noses of hungry trout is beyond me, but don't all creatures put themselves into all manner of dangerous situations just for the mere promise of a quick shag? A lesson for us all perhaps. There's also the 'buzzer' which kind of looks like a maggot in drag. It's a gaudy, glittery based number with a silk tail, and when paired with the booby bears a striking resemblance to a couple of good fun gals on a night out. Boob Job and Drag Maggot offer a formidable team when paired as a dropper and a point fly, and the trout just luv 'em!

Also learned that amongst fly fishermen it is considered a heinous crime to kill a Brown trout. As our native Trout, the Brown is a much slower maturing fish in comparison to its North American brother the Rainbow, although the Rainbow cannot for some reason reproduce effective in the wild, and has to be nututred in stock pools. Not sure how true this is, but that's what the 'The complete fly fisher claims.' Never kill a brown trout, to do so would be call down the wrath of god himself and he may well smite you like he did in the days of old, when by all accounts he was a much grumpier god and had a tendency to torment and kill whatever pissed him off the most. If you should catch a Brown trout it is advised that upon its release you should offer up a libation to the great Trout headed god, which usually takes the form of several pints of mild and a bag of sampy fries. mmmmm Scampy fries.