Fly Fishing Report From An Irish Angler

Co. Wexford, Ireland.


Salmon Tails and Trouty Evenings.

The power of that salmon and the vision of its tail are burned into my memory for life. Working my way down a run last evening on the Slaney, a nibbling sensation coupled with an increase in weight similar to when your hook becomes weeded transferred up the line. Lifting my rod, to free as I envisaged the hook from underwater weed, in unison I was hit by an arm wrenching tug and the vision of a silver scaled, black spotted wrist and large forked tail of a very angry salmon, who proceeded to swim at a rate of knots across the river. My reel screamed and I instinctively palmed the reel to control the run.

On reaching the far bank salmo salar now doubled back and positively fizzed back to its lie while I winded like billyo in tandem with walking backwards against the current. The fish then decided to swim up the channel to my right and sulk a rod length from me. A slight rest then like greased lightening the salmon tore downstream, rounded the gravel bar that I was fishing off before proceeding to run the shallower channel to my left where again it sulked. Gathering my wits I scanned for a slack out of the main current to guide the fish towards, fully aware that my six pound sea trout cast would have to play this fish very carefully.

Without warning my now fishy companion turned and swam purposefully towards Enniscorthy before turning and swimming upstream to again sulk a rod length to my right. I could feel the tail working in the current manifesting as a throb throb in my heavily curved 9' 6" weight six rod. Applying pressure on what was a serious fish, that as yet other than the tail I had not seen, even though attached by six pound gut I was confident that there could be a positive out come. Then in a second, four minutes after our interaction commenced, it was over. A slight nod, a millisecond of slack line, and the fly, a size 10 butcher fell out.

Gutted, no. Disappointed, yes. Due to catch and release rules the salmon was going to be returned, however to have graced the bank, calculated its approximate weight, and taken a photo for posterity would have been great. The half pound brownies tempted during a spectacular rise of sedges being no compensation for the loss of that great fish. A special moment none the less, one for the long evenings over a wee drop....


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