Lost in Leitrim

It has been a tough season so far for me. Oh, I have caught a few fish alright but with the exception of a good afternoon with the brownies on lough Cullen there has not been much to write home about. With salmon scarce and the trout not much better, I decided to try for a tench today by fishing a lough hidden away down a forgotten boreen in deepest county Leitrim. Calm weather was forecast but I had little faith that would actually be the case, but I set off anyway in hope if not confidence.

Maggots were bought in Carrick-on-Shannon then I set off along ever narrowing roads under a sky dense with low cloud and mist. The end of the track is easy to miss (that’s my excuse), but once I was on it I began to recall my way to the water. Twice before I have fished this remote lough, both times saw me hooking good tench but little else. How would I fare out today?

The herd of cows in the field I had to cross were off in the far corner as I started to clamber over a stile, but but the time I was over and down into the gras each and every one of the bullocks was within a few feet of me. Just curious, they meant me no harm and were quickly shooed away as I picked my path to the reeds. A bit of searching was required, but I found the dilapidated timber stand and gingerly picked my way along it, stepping over the gaps left by missing slats. I think it is two years since I visited this lough and the atrocious condition of the stand had deteriorated even further since then. A distinct and somewhat disconcerting wobble could be felt as I moved around setting up my tackle, this spot is not for the faint of heart!

In front of me lay a gap in the thick reeds, just wide enough to let me fish. Firstly I fired in a couple of shots of maggots, then some balls of groundbait. A feeder rod was next, replete with a 20 gram maggot feeder and three inch helicopter rig with a size 12 hook. I sent that lot 20 yards out into the open water, tightened up then set up the float rod with a small waggler to bulk shot at the connection to the hook length which was 6 pound and finally another size 12 hook. Finding the right depth for the float is not easy on this lake due to the presence of ‘cabbages’ on the bottom. I have no idea what the right name is for these large bright green aquatic plants but we know them as cabbages in this neck of the woods. The issue with them is you get a false depth if your rig lands on top of these sturdy plants. I chopped and changed my depth until I was reasonably happy I was fishing slightly over depth then settled back to relax. Although I knew this venue held big tench I have not seen a lot of smaller fish here, so I figured a quiet session lay ahead of me.

I missed the bite on my first cast but hooked a roach on the second. Not a bad start I thought, but from then on things only got better. A second, slightly bigger roach was next to inhale my maggots. A shower blew in on a north westerly wind, causing me to turn my back to the weather, but it had no effect on the fish down below. A good, hard rattle on the feeder was missed by a country mile (typical of me) and while re-baiting that rod I missed a bite on the float. Next up was a rudd which barely put a bend in the feeder rod. What happened to my lazy day waiting for a bite? The waggler gave a sort of shimmy then slowly sank out of view. My strike met firm resistance followed by a rapid run into the lily pads to my right and I heard myself shout ‘tench’ out loud. More line was pulled off the reel as the fish burrowed into the roots and I piled on the pressure as best I could with the light eleven footer. Gradually I gained some line but just as I got the fish out into open water it sneakily turned through 180 degrees and shot right into the reeds close in. More side stain and steady pressure brought it out once again and this time I managed to hold it in clear water as it tired. Into the meshes it slid at the second attempt and I had a lovely fish of about three pounds at my feet on the rickety stand. Popping out the hook, I took a quick snap and eased the fish back into the warm lough water.

I know it was just your average sized tench but I really enjoyed that fish. They are so strong and really test your abilities when hooked. My hooklength looked decidedly frayed so a new one was required. I thought I had picked one with a size 12 tied on, but only when I came to baiting it did it become obvious I had selected a size 14. No matter, I doubted it would make much of a difference. That shower had petered out and the day was now summery warm under the thick blanket of grey clouds. I fished for a few casts without any action then decided to check my depth. Yes, you have guessed it, all that crashing through reeds had pushed the float out of position and I had not noticed it. A bit of fiddling with the stops soon got me back fishing correctly and the swim really came alive. At this point I have to say that I had been feeding quite aggressively with 14 or 15 cricket ball sized clumps of groundbait hurled in and numerous pinches of maggots deposited curtesy of an old and not very good catapult which I had found yesterday in a box of coarse gear.

A shoal of hybrids had turned up, nibbling at my baited hook each cast. None were massive, with most of them being around the half-pound, but they are such game wee fish. I was thoroughly enjoying myself when there was another of those slow sinking float bites and I was fast to another tench. Right from the off this one was a handful. Out towards the middle of the lough it ran, then it moved off towards those damn lilies. The rod bent alarmingly as I tried to stop it. I succeeded in turning the fish but it now ran off to my left, making the reel sing once again. Back out to the open water it went, only to about turn and rush straight towards me. Reeling in like a lunatic, I managed to keep in touch but the fish now bolted under the stand I was on. Rod tip in the water, I bullied the tench out again and thankfully it showed signs of tiring. Another couple of minutes were needed though before I netted out a fine fish which must have been all of four pounds in weight. Hook out, pics taken and one last admiring look before it was safely back in the lake. I was cock-a-hoop!

You would think that all these shenanigans would have disturbed the swim but miraculously the hybrids were still biting when I resumed operations with the float rod. Lovely little fish, they kept me busy for about 30 minutes, each one fin perfect and glinting like burnished copper in the light. One more hybrid sucked in the maggots and dragged the float under, but hang on, that is not a hybrid!!! Yep, tench number three pulled the rod over as it charged like a bull through the lily pads, out the other side and kept going. I slowed it and finally made it turn but by then it was maybe 30 yards away on the wrong side of the vegetation. Mentally I gave up on this fish. It was clearly a big one and its first run had taken me by surprise. Dragging it back seemed to be a tall order and I had my doubts the 6 pound mono was man enough for the task. Giving the drag knob on the front of the reel half a turn I bent into the beast.

It took a while and many heart-stopping moments but somehow I managed to coax the tench back through the lilies and into open water. Off to the left now it ran, fouling the swimfeeder line as it careered around. Short runs, thrashing on the top of the water then a dart into yet more weeds at my feet – it was an exhausting fight for both of us. Everything went absolutely solid with the fish a couple of yards from me. I could see it and also my line which was wrapped around a thick stalk under the water. The bend in my rod suggested there was little more I could do to prize the fish out, so instead I lowered my landing net under the tethered fish and, hallelooya, it was safely in the blue meshes.

What a fish! Fin-perfect, the biggest one of the day. The hook was hanging on by a thread and it slipped out as soon as I touched it. I could have just stared at that fish for ages but no, it had to go back quickly. Photos (none of which do it justice) were hurriedly taken then I carefully lowered it back. A swipe of its tail and it vanished from sight.

Once again, I checked the tackle, reset the float and bagan fishing again. More Hybrids came along, would this ever end? Another tiny rudd had taken the maggots on the feeder rod so once I had returned that fish I decided to try something different on the feeder. As regular readers will know, I have no faith in sweetcorn as a bait, but given the day I was having I thought I’d give it a try. Two ears on the hook and, out of pure laziness, I just kept the maggot feeder on and filled it with some reds. Firing the feeder about 40 yards out, I tightened up then cast out the float rod. I swear that barely a minute had passed before the feeder rod arched over. Sure enough, there was a bit of weight on this one but not the fight of a tench. No, it was a bream, a fish of a couple of pounds. Now I know that you are all saying ‘so what?’ but let me tell you that bream was an important fish for someone who cannot catch a cold on corn.

Some nice roach appeared, then the hybrids came back on the feed but by about 3 pm things had started to slacken off. It was hard to drag myself away but with over an hour needed to drive home I figured that I’d caught enough for one day. Maybe for top anglers a day like this is commonplace, but for me this had been one hell of a session. The tench were the highlight of course but just about every aspect of the day had been a joy. I was happy with the way I fished and the usual doubts about groundbait/loose feed quantities, hooks sizes or shotting patterns didn’t worry me for a change.

I sometimes watch fishing videos and see tench being caught in UK fisheries but they don’t appear to fight like these wild Irish tench. All three of the ones I had today fought like tigers, strong, fast and cunning. Even as a very experienced angler I had to work hard to get them into the net and could have easily lost each one of them. The temptation is to head back to the forgotten lough as fast as possible but life is not going to let me do that. The next few days are fully booked so It’s not clear when I’ll get back down that narrow wee borren to the lost lake. I’ll be there in my dreams though!