Another day on Talt

Fish, despite their tiny brains, have the ability to frustrate us humans on a regular basis. Here is how yesterday’s trip to lough Talt exemplifies the unequal struggle of us mere mortals when trying to fool what should be easy prey. To set the scene – my mate Ben and I were going to spend a few hours afloat casting small wets from a boat on a dreadfully low hill lough. August should be a pretty good month on that lake, but the high temperatures and lack of rain have turned everything on its head.

Ben and I go back along way, I used to fish with him long before I moved to Ireland and just came over here on holiday. We have shared many, many days catching salmon and trout on rivers and loughs all over the west of Ireland and further afield. The last few years have seen me walk away from salmon fishing, so I fished less and less with Ben. Then I got caught up in coarse fishing which Ben has no interest in, meaning we met up even less frequently. Monday would be a chance for us to catch up and hopefully net a few trout at the same time.

We didn’t leave Castlebar until 9.30am, deliberately waiting until the madness of the school run had abated. Up through Ballina and Bonniconlon, then up the twisting road into the ox mountains. Once there, I was horrified to find the level of the lough had dropped even more than on my last visit and the boat, which I had only just managed to move the last time, was high and dry again. Much pulling/pushing/dragging/swearing and sweating ensued, but in the end I managed to get the boat afloat and loaded with all the gear. Rocks which are usually well underwater poked through the calm surface and pale, stoney shallows where the trout normally lie were barely covered by tepid water. What little wind there was barely ruffled the surface, so I turned up the lough looking for a breeze. This would be the theme for the day.

There is a shallow just off the northern shore, marked with a tiny orange buoy which usually holds a few trout so I set up a drift on the outside of the now exposed rocks. Ben was first in action, missing a couple of splashy takes before boating a fine three-quarter pounder before I had even got started. I eventually got my shit together and soon converted a firm take to a solid fish of just under the pound which had nailed my Claret and Gold on the tail. More missed offers before I repeated my initial success with a smaller trout on the claret. This was easy!

We drifted close in before I started the engine and took us back out to cover a drift very close to the first one. Nothing. Neither of us stirred a fish on that second drift. OK, lets move a little closer in – again we failed to provoke any sort of response. Then the wind died completely so off I went again, scouring the lough for even the slightest ripple. At the far end of the lough I stopped but it was just as flat calm there. We both munched on our sandwiches while waiting for the wind to come up, taking in the wonderful scenery and discussing our options. I changed flies, putting up a small silver daddy and a hare’s ear but retaining the Claret on the tail. Ben stayed with his cast of black pennel, bibio and fiery brown. A small breeze finally caressed the water, slowly pushing us toward the far shore, enabling us to fish once again. About half way across Ben rose and hooked a fine trout and duly landed it. The fiery brown had worked its magic again. After that it all went quiet. After such a promising start is felt like the lough had died on us. Finishing that long, slow drift, I fired up the Honda and took us right to the opposite end of the lough.

That bold move turned out to be a mistake. A corduroy ripple greeted us at the west end, barely enough to move the boat. Vast swathes of that part of the lough were too shallow to fish and places where I am usually confident of stirring trout were either bone dry or choked with weeds. Even out on open water the fish proved to be stubborn to shift, Ben had a couple that came short but I couldn’t move a fish to my flies. In the end I swapped out all three flies and tied on a katie on the bob, a hatching duckfly in the middle and fiery brown dabbler on tail. I dodged about on different tacks, using the oars to guide us between rocks and shallows but it was a fruitless exercise. Time to make yet another move, so I went back to when we had started as there was a little bit of wind coming up the lake by then.

Once back beside the orange buoy we hit a few fish. Between us we rose half a dozen and land three of them. Moving a little further up we failed to stir a fish on the subsequent drift and only had one offer on the next. The faint wind was swinging all the time but when it shifted to the south east and came up to give a good wave I seized the chance to set up on a long drift down the shoreline. This required me to keep us on track using the oars, rod in one hand and an oar in the other. Finally we hit a few fish and each of us bent into some nice trout. Indeed, at one point we were both playing a fish at the same time. A heavy mist descended, soaking us and everything in the boat, but more importantly it seemed to put the fish down. By 3pm we had had enough and I turned the boat for the harbour, crunching ashore as the rain got heavier.

That rain was welcome but in truth it petered out in less than an hour and the streets in town were dry by the time we landed back in Castlebar. The lesson I took from the day was simply to keep searching for the trout when it goes quiet. Sometimes fish are evenly spread across a wide area, while at other times they can be in tight little groups. Lough Talt is hard to fish when the wind comes out of the south west and the big hill on the shore bends and warps the breeze. Adding to the issues on the day was the low water level. I have never seen this lake so low and it will take some serious rain to begin to refill it. Let’s hope and pray we get some rain soon so we can look forward to some good fishing in September.

We ended up catching seven fish apiece, nothing to write home about usually, but given tough conditions we were happy enough with our efforts. The Fiery Brown dressed on a size 12 hook was the most successful fly, but all of the ones below caught a trout or two.

My claret and gold (at the bottom of the photo above) was tied specifically for sea trout fishing but over the years it has been a good fly at the back end for brownies too when fished on the end of the leader. Here is the dressing:

Hooks: sizes 8 down to 14, heavy wet fly hooks.

Tying silk: either black or claret, 8/0

Tail: GP tippets

Rib: finest gold wire

Body: flat gold tinsel

Hackle: a claret hen hackle, wound at the throat only

Wings: duck wing quill slips, dyed claret