Grayling Magic
Posted: Mon Nov 30, 2020 2:12 pm
'There's no grayling in this river now mate!'
'Why's that?' replied the Fatter protagonist, in between scoffing chunks from an impossibly large Pork Pie.
'Well all the predators 'ave 'ad 'em, and that's what's left have been taken by Eastern Europeans for the pot!'
'Oh dear' replied Fatty whilst swilling and slurping tea from a very large thermos.
The strained silence that followed this divulging of vital information between the two seeming ignoratii ended when the shorter, fatter one declared, after making sure his mouth was empty, doffing his cap and belching loudly 'Well I'll just have a look up stream and see what's what.'
'Yer wasting yer time Moley!'
And with that the taller man strolled back into his water-side domain, the short, fat one stomping upstream for a look see and what's what.
Tackle carried by Fatty was scruffy but serviceable, consisting of a Kennet Perfection partnered with a Match Aerial, large stick bulk shotted and 4lb maxima. In a small disreputable leather bag worn around his neck, lie a pint reds. The only other tackle was a horrid looking net and rolled up mat. The pockets of a once fine jacket, now unspeakably stained with god knows what were full of more pies, a thermos of tea, spare hooks, shots, disgorgers, triple signed Waffen stamped travel documentation, a small camera and a signed picture of the Pope. Thus armed Fatty was on his way.
About half a mile or so upstream from the conversation, a decent run cried out to be fished. Not wanting to disappoint the river Fatty did just that.
The float actually made 15yards before it dived under.......
A lovely fish, bigger than the usual stamp but not a grayling; nice though and always welcome.
No more fish decided to pop by so Fatty scoffed another pie, slurped his tea and then moved a few hundred yards to another glide of exceptional beauty. This time the float only made two yards before doing the Houdini......
Not wasting any time the fish was put back in the roach swim, a dozen reds lobbed in with the float just about making 5yds before another fish that are not in this river anymore dropped the proverbial. In fact half a dozen came to see Fatty, all like peas in a pod before the float could not be seen any more; it was stuck half-way up a tree
That's it then with no spares time to get back home but not before calling in to a certain Keeper to show that sometimes not all is as it seems, so to speak.
Happy days
As ever,........
Moley
'Why's that?' replied the Fatter protagonist, in between scoffing chunks from an impossibly large Pork Pie.
'Well all the predators 'ave 'ad 'em, and that's what's left have been taken by Eastern Europeans for the pot!'
'Oh dear' replied Fatty whilst swilling and slurping tea from a very large thermos.
The strained silence that followed this divulging of vital information between the two seeming ignoratii ended when the shorter, fatter one declared, after making sure his mouth was empty, doffing his cap and belching loudly 'Well I'll just have a look up stream and see what's what.'
'Yer wasting yer time Moley!'
And with that the taller man strolled back into his water-side domain, the short, fat one stomping upstream for a look see and what's what.
Tackle carried by Fatty was scruffy but serviceable, consisting of a Kennet Perfection partnered with a Match Aerial, large stick bulk shotted and 4lb maxima. In a small disreputable leather bag worn around his neck, lie a pint reds. The only other tackle was a horrid looking net and rolled up mat. The pockets of a once fine jacket, now unspeakably stained with god knows what were full of more pies, a thermos of tea, spare hooks, shots, disgorgers, triple signed Waffen stamped travel documentation, a small camera and a signed picture of the Pope. Thus armed Fatty was on his way.
About half a mile or so upstream from the conversation, a decent run cried out to be fished. Not wanting to disappoint the river Fatty did just that.
The float actually made 15yards before it dived under.......
A lovely fish, bigger than the usual stamp but not a grayling; nice though and always welcome.
No more fish decided to pop by so Fatty scoffed another pie, slurped his tea and then moved a few hundred yards to another glide of exceptional beauty. This time the float only made two yards before doing the Houdini......
Not wasting any time the fish was put back in the roach swim, a dozen reds lobbed in with the float just about making 5yds before another fish that are not in this river anymore dropped the proverbial. In fact half a dozen came to see Fatty, all like peas in a pod before the float could not be seen any more; it was stuck half-way up a tree
That's it then with no spares time to get back home but not before calling in to a certain Keeper to show that sometimes not all is as it seems, so to speak.
Happy days
As ever,........
Moley
