After a full week of guiding for trout I was in need of something different and a spot of coarse fishing seemed to fit the bill. I know I should have been out with the fly rod to round of the trout season, but my heart wasn’t in it, so I looked out the coarse gear and took myself off for rural county Roscommon with only a vague idea of finding somewhere that contained a few silvers.
With the ghillieing over until next spring there is a sense of freedom now, and I am plotting and planning all sorts of trips to fill the next six months or so. Wind and rain will no doubt curtail these plans severely, but like most anglers these days it is the fun of deciding where to go that is half the enjoyment. A large chunk of Sunday had been spent fiddling about with my coarse gear which was in a pretty poor state of neglect. I sifted through boxes of tackle, discarding the bits of worn out line, broken hooks and swivels and cleaned everything as I went along. My floats, of which I have far too many, were in a guddle. I bought all my floats secondhand back when I started coarse fishing. This made sense as I knew nothing at all about what float to use where or when, so a cheap joblot off ebay would cover all the bases. The trouble was I kept seeing another joblot for a few euro and in no time I had amassed a ridiculous number of bobbers of every description. Losses over the years have reduced their number, but I still have far too many. Once I had sorted them out and refilled my boxes, I tidied up the packets and wee boxes of hooks too. It was a nice, relaxing day after the full week out on the loughs and just the simple act of handling the feeders and floats fired my enthusiasm for the days ahead.
Monday. Carrick-on-Shannon first, sorting out both maggots and ground bait. This was where the day started to fall apart. I mentioned that I was thinking of fishing Kilglass, but that idea was pooh-poohed in short order. Roach were running and the weir at Knockvicar should fish well to the stick float, so why didn’t I try there instead of trekking all the way to Kilglass? I mulled this over and decided it sounded like it was worth a try, and I pointed the Ford down the N4 for the short journey there. Having only ever passed over the bridge in Knockvicar once or twice in my life I had never seen the river Boyle there and just presumed the weir was at, or very close to, the bridge. Only when I parked up did I find the weir was further upstream. I did briefly consider fishing at the wharf, but the water looked low and clear. Back in the car I went to find a a closer point of access, but failed and instead wasted valuable time crawling about the backroads and doing three point turns to retrace my steps. Then I remembered about a small lough in the woods called Derreen that I had been meaning to try for ages. That was very close by, so the stick floating plan was scrapped and I drove to the Coillte car park in Bluebell Wood instead.
This 250 acres of old woodland hides three small lakes, Black lough, Laundry lough and Derreen lough. A loop walk of a couple of kilometres skirts them so access is fairly easy. I set up my barrow conversion on the Korum seat, making the load much easier to handle. This contraption rarely gets used, but when I do dust it down and take it to spots like this it is a real godsend. After a cold start the day was turning warm with a steady southerly to cool me. I’d have preferred a warm, soft zephyr for the day but with a storm forecast for the next couple of days I would have to accept this was likely the best fishing day of the week. The track through the trees was pleasant, but the steep slope down to the water took a bit of navigating with the barrow. Anyway I made it in one piece and set up the rods under a broken sky of palest blue, spangled with fluffy white clouds.
I had read somewhere that there were lots of fishing stands on this lake, and I dare say it one time there were. All that remains now were the broken carcasses of timber stands on the far shore and no sign of any stands near where I had pitched up. The open bank peg was fine for me and I soon had the feeder rod out and was setting up the float rod, positioning the chair and mixing a little ground bait. While still in the middle of these tasks the feeder rod went off and I reeled in a bright little roach (the one in the thumbnail). Not a bad start.
Shallow water in front of me extended out about three rod lengths and my initial set up of a 3bb waggler proved to be barely up to the task of casting that distance in the stiff breeze. I stuck with it for a while but in the end I changed to a heavier bodied waggler which needed more shot to cock it, This cast much better but I was aware I had lost a lot of delicacy. I also changed the shotting pattern at the same time. Initially I had used small shot ‘shirt button’ style for a slow drop to search the water column for any rudd or roach in mid water. This sort of worked as I caught some of both species, but I was happier with the bigger float and fished with bulk shot near the hook length so I got the bottom quickly.
A wee dog with a tartan collar came snuffling down the hill to the water beside me, then started barking madly. A woman’s voice from behind me shouted down ‘you don’t mind if he swims here do you?’ What could I say to that? She was obviously local and the dog swam here every day so I wound in and spend ten minutes watching the swim being destroyed by the pooch as he swam after sticks the owner was hurling in. At the end of the day, I was the stranger here and there was time to build the swim back up again. They left and I ate a sandwich, checked the tackle on both rods, then fed the swim with small balls of ground bait and some loose fed maggots. Ten minutes later, the feeder was first back in action with a roach and then a perch.
Bites to the waggler started to come but they were difficult to hit and I missed a good few roach before I got my timing right. I had been striking too fast, but once I allowed the float to go fully under my ratio of hook ups improved. A small skimmer came to hand and I was hoping a shoal had moved into the swim but alas, he was the only one I was going to land. Instead, some hybrids appeared, with me landing a couple and losing three more at the net. Then it was back to roach with the odd rudd for the remainder of the session.
With a promise to be back home for 5pm niggling at me I decided on a few more casts before calling it a day. The float dipped, I struck and a roach was coming in as usual when the rod bucked in my hand and a flash of greenish silver betrayed the sudden appearance or mr. essox. The jack didn’t hang around for long and after a few seconds he cut through the hook length and was gone with my roach. Trimming off the stump of the 3 pound, I tied on another identical hook length, re-baited and cast out again. Down went the float again, I lifted and almost immediately all hell broke loose. Another pike had grabbed the roach on my hook, but this was no jack. My expectations of a sudden breakage proved to be wildly wrong and for the next 10 minutes I battled it out with the big fish. Off to my right he ran, then turning he came right towards me. Keeping contact, I let him run when he wanted but got line back on the reel at every opportunity. The longer the fight went on the more I wanted to land this fish. It generally stayed deep, but twice it came to the top and I had a good look at him. Once more he ran out into the lake but he was tiring now and I readied the net as I eased him towards me. 5 yards out, then 4 yards, now he was only a couple of yards from my meagre net. I extended my arm, had the drag loose in case he made one last dash then PING, and he was gone! I can’t say I was disappointed not to land that pike, the chances of landing a good sized pike on fine float tackle are remote. Instead, I was grateful for the excitement. How big was that pike? I am confident he was around the twelve pound mark, hardly a monster, but a nice sized fish.
Once again I had to tie on a new hook length. Back fishing again, the swim was totally dead now. The pike being there and the commotion of us doing battle had obviously scared off the silvers, so after a few minutes I packed up. The steep hill up to the track had me puffing, but once I regained my breath it was a nice stroll through the trees to the car. It had been a pleasant session with the bit of excitement to ginger it up at the end. 16 roach, generally nice fish or 8 – 10 ounces, made up the bulk of the catch. I had 6 small rudd, 1 skimmer, 1 perch and a couple of good hybrids. Far from a massive total but I’ll remember the afternoon sitting under the beech and alder trees by the edge of that lake for a long time.
