I booked early enough…… so where are the fish

So I have been back for a few weeks now, waiting for a flash of inspiration, a muse or even a kick up the arse to make me sit down and write… but it just hasn’t happened, my mind a swirling vortex of ideas and memories but nothing that can be lucidly cobbled together with readable cohesion.

I had for so long unrealistically believed I could cram a year of fishing into what amounted to eight days on the water, how would anything ever live up to my expectations?

Herself’s car was rammed to the point where I had the spawn of Satan playing the ‘one potato’ game to see which one would have to stay ‘home alone’ to allow me to get an extra box of tackle in the back seat.

In the end I gave in and said all three could come over but they had to have some lure bags and my waders on their lap… see I am a big softie after all.

To a chorus of “are we there yet” we cruised the hour and forty minutes to Pembroke Dock, accompanied by the whistling of the Bazooka rod tube that was lashed to the roof. Boarding could not be easier as we had booked on-line. Other than being asked my name and how many people in the car we were not asked for any identification either leaving or entering both countries there and back.

Now I have to say a little about the wedding in Wexford, it was simply the nicest wedding I have ever been to. everything was perfect. The venue, the weather, the guests and especially the service. Now I would not be much of a church goer, even when I lived next door to one and had a gate from my garden into the church yard. If I can recall the last time I set foot in a church was the day I buried my parents in 2008.

This ceremony was different.

The celebrant  was Dara Molloy, a Celtic Priest from the Aran Isles and it was the most unusual, sincere and touching ceremony I have ever attended. With all the chairs in place for the outside service I never even noticed it was held in the middle of a small standing stone circle.

It was great to meet so many of my family I never knew existed and to catch up with the few that I had already met. We were given the kind of welcome that just isn’t found outside of Ireland.

Congratulations to my cousin Ciaran and his bride Colette.

 
The day after the wedding I sprang out of bed like a kid at Christmas and harangued the rest of my little clan to load up for the onward journey to Clare where the fishing holiday was to commence.

I installed myself into Joe’s mobile home in Fanore, from here I was hoping I could walk to most of the marks that I wanted to fish….. until I found out otherwise.

Like any tourist who knows the West Coast my first fear was the weather and had I travelled all thet way for ten days of unfishable seas, but what was going on ? It was splitting the rocks for ninety percent of the time! In all the years I lived there the sun never shone so hard for so long, and yes I was justified with my eternal chant that the sun always shines on the Burren.

THE FIRST NIGHT

Saturday evening was typical Irish weather, Overcast windy and a fairly large swell. I had my first visitor, Red Joe, who has been doing well on wrasse and pollack since I left. With few options and recent local knowledge I said to Joe ” take me to the wrasse” and so we drove and walked…. and walked, but the air was clean and it was great to be alive again and off the ever turning wheel of the rat race.

We travelled light..very light and this is the part where a red-headed Clare Native hangs his head in shame for what could have been.. the compulsory tale of ‘the one that got away’

Conditions were tough, the smattering of rain meant that I never took my camera out of the bag, but for those of you who want a feel for the mark we were fishing here is a picture of the place a few days later.

If you are a rock-hopper this place cannot fail to stir you. I will not name the location and if you do already know it then you deserve that knowledge  as it isn’t easily stumbled upon.

The night we were there the water was inky black and foaming, the swells pushing up over the lower platforms leaving us only the highest points to fish from. Weedless Texas rigged AGM Senko’s were used from the outset flicked out with barrel leads sawn in half to create nail or cone weights. I know that there are many tackle tarts who want all the details so the rod I used was my Hart Bloody Offshore 265 although I would guess that the actual length of the top section I was using it would be closer to 255. I got a replacement tip section from George at Tronixpro after snapping the original on my last trip before leaving Ireland. I keep the new top section for working hard lures but had around four inches cut off the damaged section and a new top line guide fitted for horsing pollack and wrasse…… I also know that there are those of you who don’t give a fiddlers’ for what gear I use and just want me to get on with the tail.

Bites  and snags were coming thick and fast, mostly the tap,tap tap of small wrasse leaving lures with serrated tails and the snags stealing all Joe’s leadheads. Neither of us seemed to be able to capitalise on the frequent hits. I changed lures to a five inch Umiushi Worm maggot and got nailed first cast!

No tap taps just a smash and dive for its hole. Joe though I was messing and was snagged until the rod tip started banging and I got a chance to bully the monster to the surface. I know it is impossible to accurately weigh a fish with your eyes but this red and gold beauty was on the surface and beaten after putting up a thumping scrap, just waiting for Red Joe to lower down the drop-net that I lovingly entrusted him with on the day I left…… only there was no net…. probably full of hay in a calf rearing shed or in a forgotten corner of a bull pen covered in shite …. so between us we tried to hand line the lump up the side of the chasm, braid biting at the cloths protecting or hand until the line touched the razor like barnacles and my prize was gone….

I would like to think it was seven pounds, it was certainly bigger than six and the largest wrasse I have ever seen… or even nearly caught.

After that moment days became a blur of heat and blisters and blood and sunburn. I have without exaggeration travelled the coast road well over a thousand times, for years it was my commute and no finer journey do lands have to offer but I never realised until this trip just how long the bloody road was until I started walking it.

I have a few observations made from the journey, some relevant and some not so. Firstly cameras for fishing: I wanted for so long a good quality DSLR to improve my shots and undoubtedly the quality of what I can achieve (when I learn to use it) has vastly improved. however for those of us who fish alone or if you are fishing more than clicking to get a good shot or ‘selfie’ is an art I have not mastered yet and wished I had carried my old lumix that I could stand on a pile of rocks, press the self timer and let it do the rest!

Secondly rocks in Clare. If it is green it is slippery, if it is brown it is slippery, if it is black it is slippery, if it is wet it is slippery and just because it doesn’t fit in to any of the former categories doesn’t mean it isn’t slippery.

Thirdly I have had reports from many locals that they have been catching more, bigger wrasse this year. I know that at least one of you isn’t over happy with this situation (Tom, even though I think you will be hard pressed to get one on that gunfish, you had that look in you eye of an addict in the making!) I think this however is not to be laid at the door of more wrasse growing bigger but more firmly attributed to the (current) lack of inshore pollack. These hard fighting fish were sorely missed and I can only hope that they are there in two weeks time.

Fourthly I am now a firm believer in the curse of the first cast fish, that is when you catch a fish as soon as the lure hits the water then fail to connect or even get the offer of another fish , no matter how long you spend looking for them.

A farmer friend confirmed the old adage that there will be pollack when there are potatoes by bemoaning the lateness of his new potatoes. I can only hope that the Icelanders and Faroese do not take up swallow hunting just to see if it is true that the mackerel will arrive at the same time as the swallows.

As I said earlier I was fortunate enough that I could stay in Fishing Joe’s mobile home for which I will be eternally grateful, the only things that woke me were magpies on the roof and rabbits drumming beneath the floor; a far cry from the never ending traffic of the A470 that generally starts to pick up around three-thirty am. My main reason for mentioning this was that one morning (after a surprise session for medicinal purposes in O’Donnahues) I was raided at about the same time as the traffic starts back in Wales, Red Joe was redeeming himself with a pre-sunrise session in which he landed the only three mackerel I saw being landed on an eight foot spinning rod. They were destined for a tope session but ended up as tea that very day.

I do not recall a day when I didn’t catch fish but they were few and far between and had to be worked for, in fact I had been approached to guide an American gentleman for a day and I had phone the arranger to say cancel the trip because I cannot find any fish, they just are not here yet.

I did visit the tope mark, but sans tackle. I took the kids and herself down to the crowded beach that has fished so well and spent the day splashing about, crabbing and then watched my eleven year old catch a flounder of about a pound in a shrimping net.

So in the brief time I caught up with as many fishing and non fishing friends as I could and got to make a new acquaintance in Raymond who I had agreed to guide for the day.

It is a small world in that I often chatted to Rory who had children of similar ages to mine at the same school, our wives were friends and we had many conversations in the rain on the sidelines of hurling pitches while our offspring lashed sliotars at each other but a call out of the blue one Saturday night (not a school night so I might have taken one or two medicinals’ asking if I would guide a client of his  was totally unexpected. I had tried to break into the guiding market  while I lived in Clare but never quite got there due to the collapse of the Irish economy. while I had loads of enquiries I found that only tourists were willing to pay for this service, natives seem to expect information and locations for free.

I was somewhat apprehensive of my ability to find fish, so much so I had contacted Rory to cancel the trip as I could not guarantee fish, I have never failed to find fish for other people even though I have struggled on many occasions and weeks on end to find them for myself.

I need not have worried as Raymond was an accomplished large-mouthed bass fisherman from Texas and the experience and day was more important to him than catching fish. With his knowledge he needed very little help other than pointing in the right direction and teaching how and when to strike.

Rory however was a different kettle of fish, A complete novice who needed teaching from start to finish and it did wonders for my ego that he caught not only the first fish but the most fish!

I am not sure of what people would consider a successful guided day? If it is quantity of fish then to be honest I fell sadly short but Raymond was talking of cancelling a family holiday in the South of France and spending August in Ireland, despite me warning him that the weather was exceptional. Rory has since gone out and acquired a full set-up for fishing soft plastics from the shore and has spent the last three weekends with his son hunting for fish.

I have to thank all those who put themselves out for me and made my trip possible-

To Tom who has become a mentor in so many ways, for the casting lessons, the rod, the beautiful flies(which I have yet to use) and for the company on that day.

To Red Joe who drove me out, for helping me find the big wrasse and anyway who needs sleep. I hope the bull has settled in and you can sleep at night.

And to fishing Joe for putting a roof over my head and driving me out. I still think the tea rooms are crap but I am willing to give them another chance. Catch up with you next time.

Just a few more pictures that I wanted to squeeze in that have very little relevance

and finally this one that I took at the wedding: I just missed the S in sweet