Lichen covered granite boulders deflect pristine peat stained water creating slack pockets, fast runs and glides. Coloured reddish brown yet still crystal clear, beneath the surface gravel banks merge into dark seemingly bottomless holes. Moorland trout love these places, a source of shelter and of food, tasty morsels channeled towards ambush points between rocks where sheltered slow water butts against fast. Placing ones fly to work down that line gives a trout no time to think before it zips by and if the angler is lucky BANG, a sharp tug followed by aerial fireworks will ensue.
Slipping carefully into the run, gingerly treading on gravel (it has non slip qualities) while also placing my left hand on nearby boulders for support I reach my casting position. Quickly looking around for bank side obstacles, a short steeple cast will have to suffice. Working a longish line towards a seam flowing left to right winkles out a small butter yellow bellied trout, deftly removed and returned. A left facing glance reveals a deep pocket at 90 degrees, false casting downstream to achieve the right length of line then a snap across. Instantaneously as the flies touch down a jarring shudder transmits through the four weight line and a good fish reveals itself jumping skywards in a twisting blur of yellow tinged with white, red and olive green.
Played across the stream the trout chooses to dive deep within the fast water and jump out of the slow. Dip left hand into water then grab, a perfect half pound trout which couldn’t resist a dropper presented size 14 coachman, all peacock herl and white wing. On Wednesday 21st June 1939 Professor of Moral Philosophy at Trinity College and keen fly fisher Arthur Aston Luce employed a coachman while fishing this very same stream to achieve a catch of three and a half dozen “good” trout with as many more returned.
Seventy six years later, almost to the month, a coachman inside four minutes tempts a brace of trout, distant progeny from a bygone era where so much has changed and yet a constant remains. A. A. Luce in his book “Fishing and Thinking” describes this stream and one is transported not backwards in time but into the present. For as one casts a line here it is apparent, any differences between Luce’s stream and this are cosmetic, water gurgles and flows, boulders stand impervious and trout float in their sheltered lairs before snapping into action, attracted by a flash of white…………
See also: Fly Fishing in Wicklow: In the Footsteps of A. A. Luce.
See also: Wild Trout Fishing in Co. Wicklow.
