Storm Amy arrived on schedule, it wasn’t the worst we have experienced and I would say it was as much a rain event as a wind event. On Thursday last we had 40mm of rain and on Friday morning the river had rose to 3.06m at Ballylahan bridge. It peaked around lunchtime when the worst of the wind was hitting. I managed to get a few short video clips at Lough Cullin during this time because we had to go and help a guy retrieve his boat. Following the wind we had more heavy rain and between Friday Lunch time and Sat Lunchtime we measured a further 40mm. The river peaked at 3.5m at Ballylahan bridge. I would imagine a lot of fish took the opportunity to head up the tributaries. Hopefully a good spawning season ahead. 
The following is a little recount of two enjoyable days on Lough Conn at the end of the season during which i got a masterclass in trout fishing from a good friend. I also learned not to eat fermented fruit.
Lough Conn Sept 2025
Out of date Tayto, soggy white bread infused with lake water and seasoned with a hint of blue green algae. That was my lunch on September 29th. It was day two of a two-day session and our last outing on Lough Conn for the 2025 season. We ate in the boat while motoring up the Lough into a fresh South Easterly breeze. I was fishing with a good friend and the man I would consider as my boat partner, Billy McGhee. While I do a lot of my fishing with my brother P.J it is not practical for two of us to fish together in the competitions as the shop must be looked after. P.J knows that I enjoy these days out and is kind enough to take the pressure and let me go. Billy is my Partner for most of the local competitions. We get on well in the boat and both have a similar approach and think pretty much the same.
Two weeks previously we had planned two consecutive days on Conn but due to bad weather on the second day we had to cancel. This was our opportunity to get the magical second day. Two days fishing in a row is not uncommon and you might wonder why we were excited to do it. As I said, Billy is my boat partner for our club competitions. He works as a teacher and I work in the tackle shop. The opportunities for us to have two days free together in a row are few and far between.
On the Sunday we took part in the Chris Downey memorial cup competition. The “Downey cup” as it is known, is like others a memorial competition to a fellow angler who is no longer with us. The Late Chris Downey was a top-class Salmon Angler who went on to manage Bakers Private waters, now known as the Foxford fishery. I have many memories of fishing with Chris, early mornings in the 80s. Our club holds this competition annually in his memory and it marks the end of our season on Lough Conn.
The forecast for the day of the competition was for light Northerly variable winds. A difficult forecast to plan with as the Light and Variable can have a major effect. Billy and I planned to set off from Gilaroo bay and head North. We know a few good drifts and would work our way with the wind back towards home. If the wind changed direction there was a few opportunities for alternative drifts and if the wind died and wet fly fishing was not possible, we had a couple of spots along that route where we could sit with a dry fly, always a method that can “Bring up a big Lad”.
We took a relaxed start on day one, meeting at the shop, we transferred Billys gear to my car. The Lough was high and there would be very little space to park at Gilaroo. We set off and our first stop was at the Old Salt coffee shop, two Lattes to go. How times have changed, I remember years ago (30+) myself and two other boatmen heading from Healys hotel in Pontoon to Lough Beltra with a group of English Lawyers. Between the three of us we drank a bottle of whiskey on the way. Now it’s Latte, but of course thirty years ago we didn’t know what a Latte was. Billy and I arrived sober and in good form ready for a hard days fishing. When I say a Hard day, I don’t mean it was going to be physically tough. It was going to be a day of concentration, thinking, searching, making changes and most of all not giving up until the end. Having done the work on day one day two would be different. That is the bonus of a second day, by the time day one is finished, the searching, thinking, and making changes have all been done and one should have a good idea of where the fish are and what’s working for them.
By start time at 10.30 we were ready to pull the cord and start the motor. Two other club members had a similar idea and with a more powerful outboard were slightly ahead of us leaving Gilaroo. The two boats turned left and headed North, the first one stopping at a favoured spot for a quick drift. We kept motoring and made straight for our first chosen drift, at the outflow of a small stream.
Drift one, drift two, drift three and probably drift five passed and not a sign of a fish, we were scratching our heads. Sometimes the plan does not work out as expected, we would at least have expected to have risen a trout at this point. We don’t give up easily and several fly changes were made; Billy went as far as changing his fly line and put on his favoured Cortland clear camo. Nearly lunch time and a couple of boats were already heading to various known meeting places on the shore. We were drifting towards the shore ourselves. Just as we crossed the drop off onto a gravel shallow, Billys rod doubled and he was into a nice trout. A good, nerve-racking fight of which we witnessed every run, twist and turn over the shallow water, the trout was eventually in the boat. Time for lunch, the sandwiches always taste better when there’s a fish in the boat.
After Lunch we head back along the shore where Billy had caught his trout. Our choice of flies was very similar and Billy had even offered me one of his own Dabblers which the trout took. At this point I’m going to cut day one short. I got a lesson in catching trout which I could only describe as a masterclass. Billy ended up with four trout over the 33cm limit and a few undersized while I, apart from losing a good trout and rising a couple, Blanked. All the gear was hurriedly thrown into my car where it could remain ready for action on day two and we headed to Guirys bar for the weigh inn and prize giving.
Billy comfortably won the competition and after a late night of celebration day two arrived and as forecast it was a different day. The wind was now a fresh to strong South Easterly and conditions would be ideal for wet flies. We arrived at Gillaroo bay excited by the prospects and both delighted to have this bonus day. I was feeling confident and suggested a little twenty euro bet, Billy smiled and agreed. It was at this point that I discovered I had forgotten my lunch. I was not going to drive home for it and anyway, I drive the sort of car that with a bit of searching there’s always something edible to be found. In this case it was two slices of bread left over from the previous day, a packet of crisps and a mandarin left behind by my granddaughter, a dodgy looking chocolate bar that had been stood on for a while (still wrapped) and a can of luke warm red bull from under the passengers seat, enough to keep a man going.
We set off for our first drift on a close by shallow where a few friends told us they had spotted trout showing the previous day. Within minutes we were in action, or rather Billy was in action. A beautiful golden brownie followed very shortly after by another. We done five drifts on the shallow and caught five trout, Billy four and I had one. At this point I already knew my twenty was in danger. Having finished fishing the shallow we motored up the Lough for a couple of miles to another point and shore line where we expected to meet some trout. It was the wrong move and after an hour or so of fishing there with just a couple of half-hearted rises from small trout we both agreed that the fish were not playing ball. It was well past lunch time but there was fish to be caught a quick plan was hatched. We would Lunch in the boat as we made our way south to the stream we had fished the day before. I pulled on my waterproof coat, grabbed my lunch, started the engine and faced the boat into a fresh south east wind coming at us with a good rolling wave.
Billy skillfully ate his sandwich with one had holding the seat and his back to the spray. As I was about to take a bite of the first sandwich a wave hit the port bow of the boat sending fifty liters of water in my direction and yes it got me and my sandwich. I don’t know if you have had the pleasure of an out-of-date crisp sandwich washed down with Lough Conns finest water. It’s not something I could recommend but that’s the joys of boating and the price one pays for choosing fishing time over comfort. We battered on for twenty minutes and arrived on our chosen drift. A good move, the wave was ideal and we were drifting straight onto the mouth of the stream. As Billy took his first cast I remembered that I still had a mandarin to eat. I grabbed it out of my bag and quickly pulled the peel off. Now, I don’t know what they do to make fruit look good; it looked perfect on the outside. I was in a hurry to start fishing and was multitasking (not something i’m good at) so, split the mandarin into two halves, the first of which I had thrown into my mouth without looking. The other half was still in my hand as I pulled line from my reel to cast. Just then, I got the taste or rather the experience. If Billy had been looking at me I am sure he would have thought I had been taken over by some evil spirit. My tongue dried up and my jaw took an involuntary contraction that started in my neck as my eyes shot open. It was a cross between biting a sloe and drinking a glass of wine that’s been lying around for a week.
Spit or swallow
A sensible person would have spat, nope, Mike swallowed. I had it done before I knew what had hit me. It tumbled its way down and I am quite sure that what ever evil acid it had created while fermenting in the car burned a track to my stomach which instantly said No, I was heaving. I took a couple of deep breaths and things settled a little, then I looked at the other half of the poison fruit. It was swollen to bursting point and obviously fermented, full of the vile juice I had just swallowed. I tossed it back in my plastic bag and continued with my cast, Billy had said something to me and was now looking in my direction waiting for a reply, he did not know what had just happened. I dare not open my mouth yet and just shook my head, we continued fishing.
It was not long before we started moving fish again. I am not going to give you a blow-by-blow account. When we finished fishing Billy had returned six trout and I had returned three all of a decent size. We rose fish, caught smaller fish, lost fish, some of which seemed decent but as we all know the biggest ones always get away . All in all, a great days sport and the end to a season in which I can say I learned and that’s something good, even if I was gone down twenty euro. Well to be honest Billy refused to take it, a true Gentleman.
Comments
I have been asked by a few people to open up comments on the Blog. The last time I opened comments, the Russians took a particular interest and I was offered everything from pretty girls to nasty machine guns and each week had to delete hundreds of spam messages which took ages. This, along with the website getting hacked led us to decide to shut off the comments. If you do wish to leave a comment, make a suggestion or just chat, send me an email. My email address is mtiern@gmail.com The video clip bellow is from Lough Cullin during the storm, I have a few better clips but they are too large for the website.
