surely there must be at least a few pike around

Few fish caught were less than half a pound and some were of a very good size. Pete actually took two fish which looked to be well over 2lb. We don’t usually weigh grayling, it wastes time to be honest. There is so much fun in catching these delightful little fish on fine tackle that all you want to do is unhook them, put them back and catch another as soon as possible.Our tackle was upgraded a little on this trip. The fine 2lb hooklengths were replaced by stronger stuff in order to cope with the odd sea-trout that we were both encountering. Eleven foot light float rods coupled with centre pin reels are de rigour for the maximum enjoyment and today I was equipped with classic Hardy tackle all the way through.I wondered about the lack of coarse fish – surely there must be at least a few pike around – but the only sign of a predator was when I caught a grayling with a nasty bite-mark on it. Not from a pike though, there were no teeth marks. I suspect a large cannibal trout had seized it at sometime.This day was freezing cold. It slowed me down somewhat as every time I handled a cold, wet fish, I needed to warm my hands up to get the blood flowing again. My fingers just went dead and white every time. Strange how we endure conditions whilst fishing that we would never put up with in other circumstances. Despite it all, it was another great day. Southern chalk streams seem to be calling me these days as after another gruelling weeks work, I was off to a stretch of the Test owned by Dave and Kay Steuart. This time I had Alan Tomkins along as a guest on this beautiful and prolific little fishery. I won’t go on about it because I’m sure that Alan will tell all in his Winter Diary. Suffice to say that it was a magic little break in the middle of a hectic time. Hectic? Yes really. You see, as well as being editor of this great magazine, I also have my own business to run. At the time, we were in the middle of a Christmas rush and, somehow, I had also been roped into playing a role in the local amateur dramatics Christmas pantomime. What? Well can’t you guess – I was the Big Bad Wolf of course! Typecasting I call it, they always make me play the baddie. (No cracks about saving on the makeup either please!) So, as Daddy to four very demanding kids, my long suffering wife Maggi had to take on even more of the load. Oh, at the end of that week all we wanted to do was sleep. Fortunately I had a cunning plan. I had booked a short break to Ireland, courtesy of Celtour. Two tickets, no kids and no work for a whole five days.We flew in to the tiny airport at Knock, picked up our rental car and were smacked straight in the face by culture shock of the most excellent kind. You have all heard people rave on about how great Ireland is – but until you experience the place you really have no idea. It’s over twenty years since I was last there and apart from a few more cars it seemed that nothing had changed. Not even, unfortunately, the weather. What makes up for it, at any time of year, is those fantastic people with their unique lifestyle. It they got any more laid-back they’d be horizontal. Celtour arranged our B&B accommodation and they certainly got that bit right. We stayed with Mary Lynch in the stunning little village of Portumna in Co Galway. Showing us to our room, Mary informed us that ours was the bed the great Bob Nudd slept in every year. Hmm. I thought about phoning a few matchmen to see how much they would offer if I put a curse on the bed. Instead we went down the pub. Then a kind of void. Somehow, the next time I woke up, I had missed a day. Strange that. Of course I had some rods with me but, let’s face it. There are times to go to Ireland for the fishing and there are times to do other things. Like go to the pub. December is not really a good time for fishing there. Only the pike anglers seem to visit in winter, and all the ones I know are probably bonkers anyway! Mags and I had flown in the day after one of Eire’s biggest storms for years. The evening news programs were full of stories about people being flooded out of their homes etc so it was with a little trepidation that I went down and checked out the river Shannon where it flows into the mighty Lough Derg. Oh dear. Still, never mindů We were on holiday. Out in the little boat we went and six hours later we returned, windswept and soaked. Fishless of course. The next day Maggi had come to her senses and refused point blank to accompany me. Instead I had for company an old pal, Peter, who lived just a short distance away. If anything, the weather this day was even worse but we did finally find the fish. Right where the Shannon meets the lough, enormous pressure waves were created from rushing flood waters hitting the static stillwater. In those weather conditions it seemed to be that this was the roughest place on earth. Peter was having to hold on with both hands to avoid being thrown overboard. And it was here that we had two fish take our trolled deadbaits within ten seconds of each other. Neither fish was boated though and to be honest, that suited me. That place was dangerous. We returned to harbour and, yep, went down the pub.I’m already thinking about a return trip, perhaps next August. I have been away from Eire too long and won’t wait another 20 years for a return trip. It’s just magic there.

For more info about fishing in Eire contact “Laurence Cockle” celtour@iol.ie or check out the listings in our Holiday section.