‘Mad’ Mike Oliver has just returned from ‘suffering’ for his love of fishing by spending Christmas and New Year over in Ireland bass fishing. His reports of his, and another three BASS members, exploits in the wind and rain of South West Ireland have held the Forum members spellbound for a second year.
The atmosphere was set before he’d even left British shores:
It is been a long and interesting year but I am once again going to the Spiritual Home of all Basser’s at a magical time of the year, and nothing , but nothing can dampen my spirit or darken my mood.
I am going home
The eager readers were further entertained by text covering everything from edge of the seat encounters with big surfs:
It was way above head height and I knew through past experience that there was only going to be one outcome, vainly I swung my rod around and tried to use it like a high wire walker, as the wave struck I tried peddling my short legs in an attempt to run up the side of the breaking wave, but it was a totally futile exercise as it picked me up and threw me down like a dog worrying a Rag Doll. I did a couple of gambols’ and a short body surf before arriving at the edge of the beach amazing dry thanks to a tight welding belt and decent kayak jacket.
to techniques for digging lug (or rather not losing the lug you’d dug):
Winds were a force 4/6 at the time and the plan was to refuel and be on the bait beds at low tide. Long story short we pushed our way out on to the flats and started digging. We had to keep our buckets full of rocks to keep them from blowing away. But not for long as we were forking dog dicks and the buckets were holding their own. We managed to secure enough worm for at least the next three sessions. Worm in hand we repaired to Fitz’s for a few pints of plain. It was hard to leave as the longer we stayed the more comfortable we became but the promise of an AM spring with big lug and 13C temps we pulled our selves away.
to descriptive passages with poetic leanings:
The surf is roaring away just 800 yards away constantly reminding us of its presence and lending a very serious urgency to my thought and actions. Tired as I was, sleep came slowly as the nights events kept replaying over and over in my mind reinforced by the sound of the crashing surf penetrating through my bedroom window.
The combination of all the above and Mike’s ‘unique’ writing style prompted one reader to comment:
Its not Christmas until the reports from the Emerald Isle start to flow. Mike – you really do make this time of year something to look forward to. Keep up the great work.
Oh, and they caught quite a few fish to over 4lbs.