Quite Taken by St. John’s Loch
- Details
- Published on Sunday, 17 January 2010 17:23
- Written by Joe Whoriskey
I got out of the car and surveyed St. Johns loch for the first time. I have to say I wasn’t immediately taken by it. To me at least it seemed flat featureless and dare I say it almost artificial looking. Still I’d paid for the pleasure. I went down to the boats, quickly scanned the numbers and found my craft for the day. Although the boat was sturdy, looked well maintained and was generally in good condition, I was as I usually am when away from home disappointed. Certainly this boat was safe; I’ve before now simply refused to put afloat in some of the craft presented as supposed Loch boats. But it didn’t have the lines of an Anglers Fancy (Burke Boats), or similar Irish boats to which I’m used.
As I unloaded the car a local angler arrived, took one look at the white horses galloping across the surface and announced in my general direction “think I’ll leave it for another day”. I immediately took my chance to glean as much information as possible, and was greeted with that universal of all fishing statements; “it fished well last week but seems to have gone off this week.” On further questioning it would appear that the Mayfly hatch had been at its height the previous week with lots of trout caught on the surface, but although Mayfly were still coming off in reasonable numbers the trout seemed to have become sated and were now ignoring all that was thrown at them.
My initial disappointment was growing by the minute, and discovering I’d left home without a drogue was close to the final straw. Still as I said I’d paid, about the only thing that went without a problem was my trusty though not always immediately obliging outboard which on this occasion fired up first pull. I motored across the loch and positioned the boat parallel with the opposite shore, and started to fish. Now without a drogue and in the ever strengthening wind I found myself racing across the surface in a boat that new only one drifting angle, which was nose first. I managed about six casts before needing to fire up the outboard again, and so the pattern for my day was set. Every six casts reposition the boat and set off on another breakneck race across the Loch.
There were a few other boats out, all I might say with drogues, but though their fishing was more leisurely they were having exactly the same results as me, that is rising nothing. After about four hours I pulled the boat up and sat wrapped in my coat hood up to protect me from the cold wind and drank hot coffee. I noted that apart from myself there was now just one other boat still fishing, and as I poured my second cup this boat too motored towards the harbour leaving me the only one fool enough to continue. Strange thing is this in some way strengthened my resolve to carry on, after all what would I do if I packed up now, go to the pub, get pissed, sleep in tomorrow, and get to Watten (a story for another day) only to be told it fished well this morning but they seem to have gone off now.
Refreshed by warm coffee and a cast of new flies I pushed off, at first I couldn’t be sure but by the third drift across it was becoming increasingly obvious that the wind was dropping and I was definitely drifting slower. Although this made fishing a great deal more comfortable and allowed my flies more time on the water it had no effect on results.
As the afternoon wore on the wind dropped to a gentle breeze, and being on the water was if not productive at least a very pleasant place to view the late afternoon sunshine. I drifted slowly into the shore for the umpteenth time, and just as I was about to row back for another drift, because by now the wind was such that rowing was no great hardship and in the peace of the late afternoon the noise of the outboard seemed harsh, I saw a splashy rise a few yards to my left. A quick flick of the line and my flies landed in approximately the right place, I was rewarded with an immediate rise. I didn’t connect but all of a sudden my muscles tightened, I stopped day dreaming, I started to concentrate; I rowed out and positioned the boat to drift over the area where the trout had risen. Almost immediately I had a rise to the bob fly and was firmly into a hard fighting trout. A beautifully marked ½ lb’r slid alongside the boat and I reached over and unhooked it. Now I started to see trout rise, although they proved easily spooked, almost every well placed cast brought an offer. As I drifted along the shore I boated six trout to about 1½ lb and rose and jagged as many more. Then as quickly as it started the rise stopped. I pulled the boat ashore and sat with the last of my now luke warm coffee and watched the setting sun set fire to the evening sky.
As I rowed back to the harbour the loch seemed to have changed, it looked natural, interesting, even beautiful, and the boat I’ll swear was bigger, and on those final drifts had drifted slow and square to the light breeze. Yes I was quite taken by St. Johns, and will be back to continue the courtship next season.
Joe Whoriskey ,a keen Irish fly fisher, is fifty years of age and has been fishing for more than forty of those. His main passion is wild trout in river or Lough, although he also fishes for salmon occasionally. Joe firmly believes that any day spent fishing is a good day, trout caught are an added bonus and should never be used to measure success or failure.
When not fishing he works as an electrical engineer to pay for licences, permits, and to fund occasional overseas fishing trips.