Corrib Pilgrimage

Day 1

Well, where to start? The same question you ask yourself at the start of each day looking out onto this vast lake, one of the largest brown trout wildernesses in Europe. Padraig, one of the best ghillies in the world, (but it's best that he does not know this), meets us at Colnamuck and we stash the gear on the boat, few words uttered, as we have been through the routine over fifty times over the last 7 years.

The wind is moderate, from the north-west and the met gives showers building for the afternoon, winds picking up to force 6/7, gusting 8 at times. The big long drifts between Inchagill and Micatreer would be suicidal today, May 17th, so we steam down to Lees Island opposite Burnt House, where we know we can drift sensibly and escape if the met proves optimistic.

Padraig knows these waters intimately. Knowing that he was a skipper on a trawler for many years, my fishing partner, Rob and I can relax, confident in his judgement. Corrib, being a very shallow limestone lough, has hundreds of rocks just under the water-line ready to rip open the hull of the boat. Padraig seems to know where each one is. The weather is more like what you would expect out in open sea - quickly changing from calm to squall.

We decide to dap mayflies- the traditional approach for these waters. The first drift nets us 7 trout up to 2 lbs in size. There is a nice ripple on the water and a good breeze means that we do not need to use a blow-line. Some mayfly are in evidence, but the main hatch is olives. The swallows, always good indicators of fly-life, swoop down by the boat to take flies.

The next few drifts are not quite as productive, but by lunchtime we have caught 16 trout. Lunch is had on Lees Island in pouring rain, but we find enough wood to make sure the Kelly kettle sings its tune. We are joined for lunch by two other boats, local fishermen friends from previous years and the craic gets going.

In the afternoon the wind freshens, gusting force 8 or 9 and it's all we can do to keep the flies on the water, rods held out parallel to the water. The weather out at Inchagill would have been suicidal, force 10, and reminded me of the time in a previous year when we rescued two fishermen whose motor had stalled and they had drifted onto rocks in a force 9.

But we still catch trout. "Another day in paradise" as John Gierach once said.

Day 2

Still, no wind, lifeless, bright sunshine. The lake is a flat calm. Dapping is off, the dry fly will be difficult in the bright conditions, the wet fly will be difficult with no wave. So it's either buzzers on sinking lines or trolling. We plump for trolling. When I first went to Corrib quite a few years ago, I had a rather puritanical "dry-fly ethic" approach to fly-fishing which made it difficult for me to enjoy trolling. I have learnt however that there is a real craft and skill to trolling well and that every method has its time and place.

On Corrib, the trolling fishermen are a breed apart. Out in all weathers, dawn to dusk, single fishermen at the stern, hoods up, squinting eyes that come from hours of searching for hidden dangers, taciturn,  private, searching favourite and secretly held waters for large ferox trout. Padraig is an expert, always devising new rigs, improvising at new depths, improving every facet of his home-made kit. And the details and locations are jealously guarded.

Padraig's expertise was up to the mark on this day. We caught three ferox trout, one just under 20 lbs, one at 13 lbs and one at 9 lbs, beautiful stunning fish, un-catchable on a fly. With the two smaller fish returned, we rushed back to the shore to get the larger trout officially weighed as it looked close to Corrib's record, but it missed out by a couple of pounds. (The record stands at 22 lbs). Padraig swears that he once saw a trout substantially bigger than this one in shallow water. Who knows, perhaps there is a 25 or 30 lb ferox trout out there?

Day 3

Force 9 or 10. Not even we were that stupid, so it was off to a small lake and stream in the Connemara hills. And then, cold and wet, back to the peat fire at the "pub with no name", for Guinness or an Irish Whiskey or two.

Final thoughts

This is a wonderful place but under huge ecological pressure. I really hope the local politicians can take control, but the evidence of the past years is that they are not good at this.