A forkful……… part 2

so where was I, let me see….

Ah yes now I remember?

I was alone in the mobile home waiting for the wind and rain to subside with only the cast of the Waltons for company … which leave much time for much thinking… and contemplation of what is good in life and that which is important rather than ideals that we hold as important like all those who claim that fishing is the singular most important thing? well is it? really? what do you do then when you cant fish? where do you go, what fills your time on the days(the many days) when the wind howls and the rain beats…..please dont tell me you go out whatever the weather because if you claim to do just that you have never fished Clare, fifty foot sprays from waves and swamping swells that rise thirty feet at a time are no episode of an extreme weather program but more the by-product of a Northerly wind and a big tide. Only the suicidal would get out of the car on those days.

To escape the wind and John-boy Walton’s struggle with his sexuality, I took up an offer from Red Joe for a little look for filthy eels, big filthy eels. the mark was out of the path of the wind and easy fishing, but shoulder to shoulder combat close quarter stuff where the fish couldn’t be given any line.

Joe was armed with a boat rod and heavy line and because I….er….. forgot to pack the conoflex I use for heavy stuff I only had my venom and a 525 reel Tactics and gear were as simple as it could be, running lead, wire trace and a big hook holding a big filthy bait just chucked out where the eels live. I also chopped up loads of tiny scraps of mackerel to get the eels nosing around.

Well he wasn’t wrong saying there were plenty of eels there and within five minutes Joe was into a beast but couldn’t drag it from its lair and after a five-minute struggle the line gave way.

The location is an open secret but I had to include this photo just to show the bend on the rod, if you know where it is (and surely you will) please dont contact me just to say you recognise it.

Well after several other similar attempts and a screaming run from something that definitely wasn’t an eel Joe finally managed to land a strap of around six or seven pounds. It needed the hook removing as it was deeply swallowed and we had a bit of an audience. so anxious were we to slide the fish back to it’s home that I forgot to get a snap of it.

Did I get any fish? not a tap and my bait was about two feet from Joe’s. He even remembered the drop net!  More lessons….

Shortly after I was fortunate enough to be fishing with Tom, a guru of all things fishy and technical, and hoping to get a few more casting lessons on the fly rod with a view to taking wrasse on the fly. Unfortunately the weather never improved enough or the wind never swung from in-your -face for long enough for this to happen, it is an adventure for the future. We still managed a few days with lures on the safer spots. I would like to say more sheltered but the  North- Westerly wind left no place for a man to hide. Looking for dry patches of rocks close to the water and then watching the spray for five minutes is always a good indicator of suitability but this can get all too quickly forgotten as the tide rises and your mind wanders to fish.

I was getting more lessons as Tom was into wrasse almost from the off, I was beginning to doubt myself and the methods I was using!

After constantly moving, searching gullies and kelp beds I started getting a few hits on the  baby spotted bass version of the five inch Umiushi worm from AGM products. just on the edge of a gully whos rips and eddies can only be described as resembling a washing machine I got hit three retrieves in a row right under my feet before getting nailed on the forth cast.

Over the next three days we swapped ideas and styles and hoped that we both came away learning something useful and Tom, forget the tournament stuff, turn up and see what the water tells you to do.

Pollack were plentiful for the whole trip but on the whole smaller than the seasonal average. At one Bass mark we failed miserably to entice any silver marauders on surface lures but after changing to a savagear sandeel slug and jighead I spent the evening being hammered by pollack of around a pound, not just one or two but nearly every cast.

It took a few days to find those bigger pollack and I should confess that it wasnt the safest place to fish. I had armed myself with the fourteen gram savagear sandeel that I had seen work for Red Joe but I tried the black and silver. I think the weight suited this mark and conditions rather than the lighter texas rig or the heavier barrel leads I was using on the previous visit.

I started as I always do casting to the features, letting the lure sink and then bouncing it off the rocks of the bottom, yes I lose stuff this way but I also get good results…..usually. I had tried this way for about twenty minutes getting hit by what I believe were small wrasse, teeth marks in the tails of the lures confirmed this. As if to order two hours before tide the pollack switched on and I had an hour of landing good fish before losing all of the jigheads and getting swamped by some rising spray which was enough of a warning for me to climb to a higher safer level.

 We were joined by Pete who makes some excellent go-pro videos of fly and lure fishing in Clare, have a look at some of his work on youtube for a real taste of the West of Ireland

The days came and went and all too soon it was time for me to leave, the final days bass fishing with Tom summed up the trip for me, Clare being an uncertain destination for a fishing holiday but at the right time it is the best fishing of its type anywhere in the world sadly it wasn’t to be the right time this year.

I don’t know when I will be getting back now, next year could be a family holiday, somewhere warm, far from the windswept wilds of North Clare