Memories of Fly Fishing in Ireland

When I go on line to various locations to check up on current events, news and happenings my homeland, Ireland, is where I tend to linger for a while. A few days ago I came across an article in a well read paper that announced the official opening of the salmon fishing season and how the first fish was caught about fifteen minutes after the opening.

Growing up in Ireland surrounded by some of the best fishing in the world I was introduced to the hobby at an early age by a gentleman who not only taught me how to fish for trout and salmon, but also hunt pheasant and other game birds. As I got older, not too much older, my fishing took on a whole new dimension and I would literally spends hours and hours fishing by myself. My skills developed as did my overall awareness of my quarry. I began to understand a stream, it path, its depth and what had to be present to maintain a good healthy stock of fish. All of the streams I fished contained only wild fish, mainly brown trout and young salmon. A main river I fished had a good run of sea trout or so called speckled trout but that for me was not a challenge.

My techniques were simple, I understood what fish needed to survive, where they were located, the best time to catch them and how best to present a bait to them. Worms were my favorite method presented on a small hook, four pound test line which allowed for easy delivery and control, and a lead split shot if needed. Most of the streams I fished were off the beaten path and I often rode my bike fourteen miles round trip to spend a day on my own doing what I loved to do. On a couple of occasions I took one or two of my friends with me but they talked too much which I found distracting, and I firmly believed back then the fish could hear them babbling. One guy was terrified of cows and I always had to walk across fields where cows and sheep grazed.

Back then it was pretty much routine for me to leave on a bright sunny summer day shortly after sun up and stay gone until close to sundown which in Ireland came about eleven at night. My lunch consisted of two pieces of bread with jam in the middle and possibly a pint of milk I happened to come across along the way. My supply of worms were ample to get me through the day and I always knew how and where to find more if I needed them. Most of the land the streams flowed through was privately owned by farmers so I always asked permission. That was necessary for as long as I wanted to fish.

I learned a lot in those long summer days. I saw nature at its best up close and personal. I watched life begin and sadly end. There were days I would just walk along the stream bank and observe, other days I would fall asleep for an hour and wake up refreshed. Back then there were no cell phones, no drama and I was a kid supposedly in school, but school meant nothing to me, fishing did. 

With smaller streams there were smaller fish which had to compete for food. There were, of course larger fish who, as any good trout fisherman or woman knows, lurk during the day and only appear at twilight in search of newly hatched flies on the surface of the stream. When a trout hits a fly they, in the majority of cases, breach the surface and the sound of a large trout slapping the water is a sound to behold.

I recall finding a spot where I knew larger trout were located, but I never could catch them. So, I spent an entire evening which turned into night watching and observing their actions and behavior then decided on a game plan.

It was about seven in the evening and I started my adventure to catch a really good size wild brown trout. My casting skills by now were good, very good, as were my presentation skills; in other words, take the bait to where the fish were lurking. Hours went by and the success was zero. The fish were there hitting flies but had no interest in me or my worms. Then it dawned on

 on them for food. What I didn't know how to do was fly fish. If I knew how to fly fish it could open up a whole new realm of fishing and take me to places I had never been.

So, off on yet another adventure. I had seen two brothers, older gentleman in and around where I lived who were reputed to be expert fly fishers and both of them were considered excellent fishing guides. If they could teach me to fly fish, surely I could teach them how to fish my way. Simple as it may have seemed to me, it didn't really work that way. They had grown up fishing my way until someone took the time to teach them to fish their way.

After repeated requests both brothers finally took on a fly fishing outing. I had the basic rudimentary skills but lacked the control needed for long range, accurate casting. I learned about line weight, rod weight, choice of flys, type of water and location to fish and when to fish. Most of all, I learned some more and learned some more after all that. I had fly line caught in trees; I had fish break my line due to my eagerness to land it. I was shouted at and had times when I wanted to give up and go back to my way of fishing.

One day I decided to go to a stream where the width was about fifty or sixty feet and try it again. I assembled my gear, choose what I thought would be a good fly based on water conditions, time of day and started to fish. After about thirty casts I discovered my technique had changed a little, and not only was I getting better distance, I could place the fly about where I wanted it. What a breakthrough. After about two weeks fishing by myself, my fly fishing skills were better than I expected.

As the days started to get a little shorter I went back to where I had spent the day observing but this time I was armed with a fly rod and a man made replica of the fly that was hatching at the time.

I made cast after cast with out success. As I presented the fly on a side ways cast under a tree from the bank, a trout laying in wait hit it and what a rush. After what seemed a long time I landed the fish. It was a perfect specimen, beautiful colors and solid. I had no way to take its weight, length, or any type of measurement but I was using barbless hooks so I was able to release it back into the stream.

When I finally got home someone asked if I had caught any thing to which I replied, nope.

After that and for years to come, I’ve fished some fine Irish waters and was rewarded by some great fish. Which type of fishing do I enjoy? All of them.

I’ve watched folks fly fish, their technique and their catches from a well stocked river. I wish I could take them, not all of them, to a place far away where the fishing is a challenge but the memory's free.