While I had a reasonably good session fishing for roach in one of the rivers which flow into one of the big loughs in my area, I had heard big bream swam into the same pools once we were into the month of May. Well, here we are in the merry month so it was time to test that theory out. Nick came along for the ride and we both fished hard to try and tempt these invasive fish.
A little history here before we get into the actual fishing. Even at the end of the last century the western loughs contained trout, salmon, pike, rudd and perch. Charr lived in the deep waters but were rarely caught. Both brown and sea trout were in those loughs directly connected to the sea by rivers, but others like Carra and Mask did not have sea trout. Since then, the charr have died out and coarse fish have invaded the big loughs and these famous game fisheries are now stuffed with roach, hybrids and bream. This started off almost imperceptibly, but gradually the coarse fish gained a foothold and now their numbers have exploded to the point where they are now the most numerous in most loughs if measured by biomass. If anyone had told me 30 years ago I would be coarse fishing on these system I would have told them they were mad, but here we are, with virtually no salmon or sea trout, dwindling brown trout catches and massive populations of bream and roach.
Come April the roach move into the rivers which feed into the loughs, and a few weeks later the bream do the same thing. I believe there is little crossover between the spawning grounds of trout and salmon and the coarse species, the game fish requiring fast flowing shallow water over a gravel bed to cut redds, while the coarse fish want slow moving muddy bottomed stretches to deposit their eggs. Trout and salmon will of course leap fairly big barriers to access spawning grounds but such feats are beyond the portly bream and the big bronze fish tend to nose into the lower sections of the rivers only.
My last visit to this spot was always intended to be in search of roach and as such I travelled light, forgoing a feeder rod, ground bait and all the associated paraphernalia. Not so this time, bream demand ground bait and plenty of it, so I brought my old seatbox as it has the carrying capacity to lug all I would require. I had my doubts the Focus would swallow the seatbox as it is a sedan, but the old Ford did indeed consume my battered black plastic box with ease and with tons of space to spare. Many years ago, when I was using this box for sea fishing, I fitted it with one of those harnesses which double as a backrest when in use. This added considerably to the overall weight of the contraption, but it does make it easier to lug around. That weight is the only downside of the seatbox, but at this venue it was not too far from where I parked the car to the river bank. Even so, this old duffer struggles with the additional mass strapped to his back.
Tackle wise, I brought an 11 foot float rod with a 2500 sized reel and my 12 foot medium feeder rod with a 4000 sized reel, both spooled with 6 pound nylon line. The choice of float rod was poorly thought out but I had just grabbed the 11 footer as it came to hand first. A longer rod was what was required on the river, and let’s just say I learned my lesson the hard way. Early morning sunshine gave way to high clouds and cooler temperatures than we have experienced of late.
Parking up, I hoisted the heavy box on my back and marched off to the high gate where I entered the first of two fields to be crossed to access the river bank. The farmer was coming towards me so I stopped and we chatted for awhile. Boots caked in muck, a ripped jacket, and a green and red Mayo football beanie which had never seen the inside of a washing machine on his head to top it off, he looked every inch you average west of Ireland cattle man. We talked Gaelic football (of which I know little), cows (even less), and fishing. Tom (the famer’s name as it turned out) apologised for putting locks on all his gates, but he had too, as anglers kept leaving the gates open and his stock used to get out. As a fisherman this is a terrible thing to have to listen too. Basic country code tells us to close all gates behind us, yet here was a fella who had to fit padlocks because of us. I muttered something about being sorry but it was only a minority of us who behaved so badly. Quickly changing the conversation back to his herd of black cows, we discussed the difficulties farmers faced now with rising costs and changing weather patterns. Parting on good terms, I negotiated the gate and crossed the fields which were richly decorated with fresh cow pats and gained the river bank.
Dry weather since my last visit here had lowered the river by at least 18 inches, altering the flow considerably. I fancied the look of a back eddy downstream of my last spot and rolling under the electric fence, I set up the rods and mixed the groundbait. 6 good sized balls went in for a start, then some loose maggots for good measure. The feeder was cast to my right where the balls of ground bait had gone while I plumbed up for the float and found 11 feet close in, easing to 4 feet 20 yards down and out of the backwater. By casting to the crease half way across the float would pirouette into the back eddy, so that’s how I started out. Right from the get go I was plagued with perch, very, very small perch. Unless I was in the deep water the float was twitching all the time as the voracious little guys attacked the baited hook. This is where the short float rod struggled and I cursed myself for not bringing my 13 footer which would have given me much better reach.
Nick appeared and he set up 150 yards up river, too far for us to converse but in shouting range if one of us started catching fish. More balls of ground bait went in, but even early on in the session I could sense the bream were absent. Perch after perch came to hand but they were all small fellas. Most fell to the float but the feeder claimed its share too. The only break came in the form of one good roach of 8 ounces or so (see thumbnail at the top of the post), but apart from that is was just the little stripey fellas. We stuck it out for a couple of hours but in the end we gave up and headed home. Apart from the solidary roach I had about twenty small perch for the session, so at least I had not blanked.
From yesterday we can conclude it was not yet the time for the annual bream run. It is never an exact science and this year they are a bit late, perhaps due to the wet winter and spring. The only way to intercept them is to put in days like yesterday and accepting there will be blanks. Opportunities for another session with the coarse rods are now very limited as I am busy ghillieing for the next couple of weeks. Corrib is fishing well, trout are rising on Cullin and my clients are kissing their wives/girlfriends/children goodbye as they head for the ferries to Ireland.
Claretbumbler 