Triple shot

An unremarkable trio of short outings over the past few days least got me out in the fresh air if nothing else. I seem to be stuck in some sort of glitch in the fishing matrix these days, my only solace being the all my fishing acquaintances are similarly struggling to make decent catches.

1. Lough Conn has fished very poorly this season but hope springs eternal. Ben and I decided that we had not fished together for a while and that an afternoon’s trolling on Conn would be a great way to catch up on each others news. If I am honest neither of us really expected to catch anything but regardless, we pushed out into a strong south wind and white capped waves just after 1pm on the longest day of the year. Thirty yards astern Toby spoons and a jauntily spotted Tasmanian Devil flickered in the slightly coloured water as we settled down to chat about what had been happening since the last time met up a few weeks ago. Both of us had lots of news, unfortunately some of it not good, but we fished and talked all the way from Seagull Island to the pin outside of Pike bay with barely an interruption. Certainly no fish interfered with our discussions.

Turning in a wide arc at the throat of Castlehill we saw a good trout take a mayfly off the top, then I spotted a small trout jump clear of the water off the sandbank. Otherwise it was deathly quiet in spite of the excellent conditions. Only two other boats were fishing, both casting wet flies but neither catching anything. The lack of angling effort is a clear indication of how bad the fishing has been this season; when there is little hope of action visitors tend to stay away. I steered the heavy grey boat into the wind and we covered the usual salmon lies but nobody was at home. Usually I prefer to fish rather than talk but Ben and I have drifted apart of late and our previously common joint fishing trips have become rare. A loner by nature, close friends are not a commodity I have much of, so Ben’s friendship means a lot to me. The convivial banter more than made up for the dire angling.

The wind waned, then picked up again, send spray across the bow as we pitched and tossed through the waves. By the month of June we should be seeing grilse jumping but none showed today. The river Moy, which lough Conn feeds into has never really got going this year with even the prime beats struggling to produce salmon. I see Norway has closed 33 rivers to give the few remaining salmon a chance and perhaps we need to do the same here.

It’s easy to be critical of an afternoon like that, no signs of salmon or trout and a wet end to the days as heavy mist rolled in over The Windy Gap. While it would certainly have been nice to contact a fish I enjoyed the few hours afloat. For me, fishing is a sum of many parts and the session on Conn was a lovely way to spend an afternoon. That I am so familiar with this lake no doubt contributes to the feeling of ‘belonging’ there. I guess Conn is my spiritual home, more so than the other loughs I fish.

2. Sunday saw me busy around the house all morning but after lunchtime the fog of chores dissipated and with that, the chance to head off for a few casts. Not wanting to travel too far, I decided to go and look at the Cloone river where it enters the northern end of lough Mask. With the population of coarse fish exploding in Mask I thought I’d check out the bank at the bridge which I had heard was a popular place for coarse anglers. It is funny, I know large tracks of this huge lake intimately yet have never fished the Cloone river, one of the main tributaries.

This was going to be another of my scouting sessions, just trying different places with no real idea what, if anything, was swimming around there. Inefficient, often disappointing in terms of catches, I never-the-less love exploring new venues. Expectations are always low when setting out on trips like these any any meagre success makes me happy. I am blessed to live in a part of Ireland where there are so many possible fishing spots and such a wide range of techniques to employ. Visitors will, quite understandably, concentrate on the trout and salmon fishing but I’ve grown interested in other species too and so I’m just as fond of trying to tempt a roach or perch from a new stretch of bank.

Retrieving a half full bait box from the fridge, I packed the car and set off under a dazzling blue sky. Once there, I slithered down the steep path to an open area on the bank and surveyed my chosen spot. Obviously well fished, the remains of a camp fire, a burnt out chair and various items of litter hinted at less than careful anglers had preceded me. I gathered up a few items of rubbish which I could carry home but the bigger stuff had to remain there. Why do some anglers leave litter behind them?

I set up and cast the feeder rod and made up some ground bait, throwing 4 balls in where the feeder was now sitting on the bottom. Next, I set up the float rod, but when I plumbed the swim I found around 18 feet of water two rod lengths out, too much for me to handle with an eleven foot rod. Close in the depth decreased to 12 feet, awkward but manageable as I would be fishing right under the rod tip. More balls of ground bait and then loose feeding maggots around the yellow tipped float and I was fishing.

The feeder soon gave a positive rattle and out came a small perch, always the most likely candidate in a spot like this. Back it went and a while later the float shot under and a skimmer came to hand, again no need for the net. All went quiet for a while then a a very small perch took the float fished maggots followed by another perch, or should I say a perch fry. It was comfortably the smallest perch I have ever caught. More undisturbed contemplation under the hot sun until finally another skimmer fell to the float before I packed up a little over an hour after I had started.

Not sure what to make of the Cloone. Great depth of water. Only a few yards from the open waters of the mighty Mask. Maybe on a cloudy day the fish might have been more responsive or if I pre-bait it could attract in some better bream? I suspect it could be a great spot for pike fishing, but it also looks like it is hard fished if the rubbish and burnt out chair are anything to go by. At this stage I am not going to rush back there but who knows, it might come alive this Autumn.

3. Finally, today I set off to see if there were any fish in a small lake called Cloonagh, close to Castlebar. I have never heard of anyone fishing it so this was going to be a real shot in the dark. Small lakes dot the area around Manulla/Belcarra, most of them home to jacks and perch with rudd in some others. None of them have ever been developed in any way so access is universally abysmal. I had picked Cloonagh because a boreen runs close to one side of the lake, thus giving me a fighting chance of making it to the water. I watch videos of English anglers fishing commercial fisheries and marvel at the easy way they rock up to neat, well tended pegs, gravel paths encircling the whole lake and clear spaces all around. I hack and slash my way through head high undergrowth to reach a dozen or more yards of reeds which require cutting just to make a spot to cast into. Don’t start me on the trees and bushes which hamper my every cast! Cloonagh was going to be a slightly diluted example of this genre of piscatorial masochism.

I had been down in the midlands on Tuesday and visited the tackle shop in Tullamore to buy some maggots. They were purchased with no clear plan at that stage when or where they would be used but I invested in a pint of mixed anyway. Why I continue to buy mixed colours instead of just red is a mystery. I pick out the red ones as hook bait as I have less faith in the white or yellow ones (which I loose feed and mix into my groundbait.

Arriving at the parking spot close to where I planned to fish, I found a path down to the edge of the wind ruffled water. A nice gap in the reeds was a bonus but lilly pads stretched out for a few yards. My rake made short work of clearing an avenue of relatively clear water which I could fish through. While raking I pulled in a freshwater mussel, something of a rarity these days. It seemed to be in excellent condition and I carefully returned it to the water. Almost inevitably a strong wind was blowing in and across me. While the bank was firm and sloped very gently to the water, the bottom of the lough looked treacherous. Marl, mashed up limestone mud, could be seen under fallen leaves and other detritus. Deadly stuff which is never to be trusted, I made a mental note not to set foot in to the water. With the float rod set up I plumbed the depth and to my amazement found 12 feet of water only three rod lengths out. That would do nicely! That wind made me forgo my usual waggler and instead I rigged a chubber float rated to carry 3 grams. Now I know this sounds like foolishness but honestly, the wind was very, very strong and I needed to get out beyond the edge of the lilies. Three maggots on a size 16 were launched into the teeth of the gale while I set up the feeder rod. That too was quickly fishing and the rod propped up to keep the line from catching on the lilies.

Nothing much happened for a long time. The wind blew, a hare bounded out of the reeds and stopped dead in its tracks only a few feet from me. Such beautiful creatures, I can’t for the life of me understand why coursing is still allowed in Ireland. Loose feeding maggots by catapult kept me busy until at last there was a tiny bite on the feeder. The tiny bite was caused by a tiny fish, in this case a very small perch. At least I now knew there was something swimming around in the lough. From then on I succeeded in missing a sting of bite to both rods. The float would shoot under but I’d lift into thin air of the feeder would give a rattle but no customers were impaled on the hook. This was all getting a bit frustrating when I finally connected with a bite and brought a roach to hand. Two more missed bites then it all went quiet again. My plan to change the float an shot pattern were abandoned when a dirty shower came down on me, drenching everything. The fight went out of me at that point and so I packed up and headed home and a bit of late lunch.

So there you have it, three outings to three different venues and slim pickings from them all. That is Ok though, I didn’t expect too much from any of them. The float set up today was a compromise to allow me to cast into the teeth of the wind but it was almost certainly part of the reason I was missing bites. I will be a bit more focussed the next time I am out and try somewhere which should give up a good fish or two. I had been meaning to fish both the Cloone river and Cloonagh lough for a while so I’m happy to have made the effort and fish them, even if results were less than spectacular.

Life, as always with me, has taken another twist. My retirement became ‘semi-retirement’ and after a series of meetings it has been agreed I will work Mondays and Tuesdays down in Clara. On the back of that decision, I found accomodation for Monday nights to save me driving all the way to Mayo and back again the next morning. Why am I telling you all this? Well, with nothing better for doing on Monday evenings after work I will go fishing if not too tired or the weather is overly wet. A couple of the lads at work want me to teach them to fly fish, so look out for more posts as I try to impart my knowledge to these beginners.