The backwaters of Fermanagh

 Trusting in the Lord makes you aware of his plan for your life, when one door closes he opens an even better one.

Stephen kindly invited us down to his smallholding a few days ago, the work he has put into it is testament to his vision and dedication of self sufficiency.

He took us to a gorgeous little river, with gravel beds and meandering swirls. Dappled light and soft rises kissed the waters surface as we stood and surveyed the pools before us. I opted for a lure, the others for a worm trotted with the flow of the stream. I made a light cast under the near bank beneath an overhanging willow and I could feel the mepps start to rotate, barely 2 seconds later and I had a strike, fish on!, it was one of those pesky brown trout that plague you when you're fishing for real fish! Unhooked and back in the river where it belongs I then heard an exclamation as Stephen hooked a fantastic perch, it fought like a monster 10 times its actual size, shaking and twisting while it's gills flared it's dorsal caught the flow of the river. It was fine and bristling with arrogance as he released it, I can admit I was a little envious.

A few other small ones followed as we ambled our way upstream to other beckoning pools to search for the denizens of their murky depths.

The rain had been falling softly all day but it was enough to increase the flow and darken the colour of the water making angling just that little bit more challenging. The creases and eddies were more noticable than an hour before as the foam started to pepper the surface of the stream. The clouds continued to darken as I got distracted by the water pepper growing at my feet along the bank and it burnt my tongue as I nibbled it.

 

More perch and roach followed as well as a few more trout all put back with childlike glee. The perch stole my heart, transporting me back to youthful days when a 5 inch perch was the biggest fish in the world with its crimson fins and emerald flanks and that magnificent sail like dorsal erect in defiance at having been removed from its watery home. These recalled my memories of long past escapades where days were spent on the river bank in exciting anticipation of the next bite to come along. 

Many of these little firebrand fish were taken throughout the course of the day while the wildlife all around regailed us with their joyful presence. The swallows like little feathery spitfires feeding on the wing while the long tailed tits called from the Ash tree behind us, and the greatest spectacle of all, a kingfisher, resplendent in its turquoise and orange apparel flitted along the bank looking for a suitable place to land and ply its trade, a far more capable angler than I.

These past few days have lifted my burdens and restored my soul, memories made while others were recalled, but this trip especially will live long in the storybook of my mind.