Heading for the Bathelane lake
Five in the morning: I see headlights at the end of the boulevard. The appointment is all set. Mario and I head for Tence to take part in the 18 ème Coupe de la Haute-Loire, a friendly artificial fly-fishing competition around the Bathelane lake. Since its creation, we've never missed this event, which brings together twenty teams. We even won a distant edition. The luggage is loaded in a jiffy, the engine is humming and already the conversation is buzzing about our chances of winning.
we'd still have to finish in the top five, especially after last year's debacle," says Mario with a vengeance. Ah, let me know how much I owe you for the registration fee. Good accounts make...good friends. Okay, that's 45 ? with the morning coffee and the meal. But we'll settle up tonight after the competition. You never know, we might end up on the podium!"
Two hours later, we arrive. Reunions, hugs and greetings of convenience, the atmosphere is warm over coffee and croissants. Then it's time to unpack the gear and get fishing: five rods set up in a hurry, a short discussion on strategy and choice of techniques, and a quick analysis of the morning's fishing spots.
Find the solution
At the briefing, the President of the organizing club reminds everyone of the basic rules and wishes everyone good luck: "Blow the horn at 8:30 a.m.: be ready!"
The latecomers hurry up and all the teams reach their posts as indicated on their score sheets. For us, it's post 7, right in the middle of the straight stretch along the river.
We're in the starting-blocks. The first round is often decisive in determining the mood of the fish. In this little game, Mario finds the solution and catches three fish, which is not very many for the start of a competition. Around us, too, the mood is gloomy, apart from a couple of good scores at the far ends of the pond.
Second round
A change of scenery for this second round. Here we are on the roadside, leaning against the embankment. At berth 12, there's no longer any question of double traction in view of the shrubbery and low branches. Nevertheless, from the swirls that shake the surface, it looks well populated. Newly landed rainbow trout, looking for their bearings, tend to congregate. It's a great opportunity, but we're nervous and clumsy. Four catches, just enough to ensure a decent place in this round.
The next spot was promising. With characteristic conviction and his good old streamer and pink blob tandem, Mario secured the result by bringing in three fish. Then came the morning run, often the most difficult. Despite our best efforts, changing techniques and reversing places, neither my partner nor I scored a single hit. We're hoods. We score 20 place points on this one. Listening to the comments from neighboring teams, we're not the only ones. A trout, unfortunately unhooked, would have earned us ten or twelve points on this run.
A pleasant surprise
Midday already. Time for festivities and libations: sixty or so guests of this calibre, young or old, but all fly-fishing enthusiasts, don't feel sad. At our table, Mario finds his audience. His jokes and Homeric fishing stories captivate the audience, triggering unsinkable bursts of laughter. I suspect, however, as I do inwardly, that he's guessing the morning's standings, based on the clues he gathers from the more talkative competitors.
As dessert approaches, the Club Mouche secretary announces the interim results. A pleasant surprise! Our team is momentarily ranked second, proof if proof were needed that fishing proved tricky for all participants. The calculations are simple: in the order of the heats, 4 ème , 2 ème ,2 ème and 20 ème 28 place points. This suits us perfectly.
But there are still four rounds to go this afternoon!...
