July

When does dedication slip into lunacy? This evening appears to be when I slid over the divide as I went fishing in what can only be described as a monsoon.

It had been building all week you see, that urge to get out with a rod and relax on the bank. Work was not terrible but it was busy and tiring so that was probably the catalyst for my deep desire for a few casts. That I had bought a pint of maggots during a quick trip into Tullamore on Tuesday added a certain spice to my plan for a session on the canal. My normal excuse for putting off my angling is a lack of bait, but with that out of the way my mind could focus on the delights ahead.

All week we had been seeing heavy showers form up over the middle of Ireland and the resultant localised deluges have caused disruption as streets became rivers and water found its way into homes and businesses. More was forecast for this evening but I was prepared to risk getting a bit damp. If you want to avoid getting wet then fishing in Ireland is not for you! Leaving work at a reasonable hour, the drive to my digs required splashing through deep puddles as the wipers swished and slapped to keep a certain low level of forward vision. Sure, it will dry up a bit soon, won’t it?

I drank coffee and ate a small bit as I watched the teeming rain fall outside the house. Convinced it had eased off a little, I ran out to the car with my gear, noting near ankle deep water on the road as I did so. Then it was off down the barely visible minor road as it snaked through the sodden landscape of Westmeath first then a soggy looking part of Longford. I pressed on, by now gritting my teeth and thinking to myself I was on a fool’s errand. I have, over a long lifetime of fishing, never experienced good catches during heavy rain. I’ve caught many before the downpour started and positively slaughtered fish immediately after the rain ceases, but never done much during the rain. By Ballymahon though there was a discernible reduction in the falling drops and I pulled into the roadside gravel carpark in the relative dry at 6pm on the dot.

The float had hardly settled when it dipped and I wound in a nice roach. Another followed, this time a respectable 8 ounces or so. A rudd of fairly modest proportions accepted my maggots next closely followed by a perch. Thank God for barbless hooks as this lad had swallowed the whole lot far down it’s gullet. A flick with the disgorger and he was back in the water and I was casting again in the warm, moist air. More roach came my way, the first time I have seen some many on this particular part of the canal. The wind was making life difficult but otherwise I was having a lovely time. That was about to come to an abrupt end though.

The wind changed, going from a steady southerly to a fitful, ever moving gust. Sometimes it blew in my face and I had to push to cast the little lime green balsa waggler out a few yards, then it would die for a few seconds before sneaking up from behind me. It did this once as I was in mid-cast, the gust catching the float and depositing it in the reeds on the far bank. Luckily, I got everything back in one piece and kept on fishing. All of a sudden the heavens opened and down came the warm rain. Within seconds I was soaked, my badly worn waterproof trousers leaking like a sieve. This is not my first rodeo, so a drop of water was not going to put me off. Unfortunately it DID put the fish off. Bites ceased when the rain came and with the exception of one good roach which snaffled my maggots, the session would be fishless from then on.

I stuck it out, assuring myself that I was sane and that the fish would come back on. I’m still not sure about the first but I was completely wrong about the second point. Waves, pushed by the crazy wind, marched past me as I tried to concentrate on the tip of the float. Sheets of rain fell, drenching everything. I looked in horror as the bag beside me which I had deposited my phone in to keep it safe and dry filled up. Miraculously the mobile was damp but not sodden. Any slight calming of conditions only raised false hopes in me and the next watery barrage was always close at hand. Cold rivulets coursed down my back and by now water was pooling in my wellingtons, having run down my legs inside the waterproofs. My storm-tossed float was barely visible by now so even if a fish did bite the chances of me seeing it were slim to non-existent.

Incredible as it may seem, I fished on through all of this. Loose fed maggots were fired in, hook re-baited every cast and the swim systematically searched. I adjusted the float to lift the hook up a little as fishing over depth was not working any more. That manoeuvre tempted the one solitary roach all right but my glory was short lived. A towel draped over the bait box went some way toward keeping my precious maggots from drowning.

Toying with the idea of changing the float, the realisation finally dawned that this rain was not going to cease anytime soon. A handful of desultory casts followed but the heart had gone out of me. Why bother to change the float? The fish in the canal were probably drier than I was at the point so the inevitable decision had to be made and I wound in one last time. The slow tramp back to the car was unpleasant as the cold wet clothes on me stuck to my skin. As quickly as possible I took the tackle down and stowed it in the car then, peering through steamed up windows, I turned and drove slowly home.

By the hamlet of Ballymore the rain had eased and a little bit of me cursed for giving up so easily. As I turned off at that odd staggered crossroads by the white house though the storm had returned. Both verges of the bog road melded with the fields on either side as I puttered along. Back at the digs I sat, steaming, in the car waiting for the rain to ease off but it didn’t and I received one more soaking as I unloaded the sopping gear. A cuppa revived me sufficiently to write these few words and feeling crept back into my chilled bones once inside. Is this really the month of July?

A break from coarse fishing might be in order for me next week. I need a change from silvers so I might investigate some trout fishing in the area instead. It will give the canal tackle some time to dry out if nothing else.