OUTDOORS: Summer fishing has a wintery feel

A slippery eel of a summer


Outdoor Living
John Shelley

When we went to the sea it was in keen anticipation of meeting up with the mackerel hordes that have been converging into the shallows in pursuit of sandeel and sprat. The weatherman had given us reason for hope. The day would be less windy, with just the chance of an occasional shower. He had even intimated that we might see the sun.
We had set off in the usual high spirits that a trip to the coast engenders. We would drag our small net over the shallows for small flatfish, and fill our freezer with mackerel to boot. We would fill our lungs with sea air and ask those timeworn questions; why had we not, when the opportunity had presented itself, gone to live beside the sea? Could we not do so now?
We took no notice of the gulls that were congregating in farmers fields miles inland. They hunched low with their backs to the wind, tired of the thin rain that washed over the grey landscape. Trees shook their branches woefully as we passed beneath. The Black Oak river lapped at its own grassy flanks, full of summer spate and shredded leaves, keeping the estuary flooded in Newport town despite the tide having retreated almost as far as it would go.
We should have known then that the day was lost. But we were eager, our tongues lolling as spaniels with the scent of game. Our first view of the sea came at Rosturk, where white horse charged with the wind in their tails, making even that wide, shallow bay distinctly inhospitable. Mulranny would be different. The pier would offer shelter from the elements and easy access to fishable water.
When we arrived we were greeted with the sight of a lone fisherman casting into the teeth of the gale amid clouds of spume thrown up by the waves. He gave us a sorry glance as we pulled up, then turned and walked slowly homewards, leaving a dribbling trail behind him.
Another hour and the tide would be low enough to drag the net for bait. In the meantime we would have a few casts with a lure and see if there was anything about. Almost immediately the first mackerel came to my own rod, a fine specimen of almost a pound. Where there is one mackerel there are always more…
Within half an hour we had disproved that statement quite satisfactorily.
On a kinder day we might have found plenty of fish. Rough water tends to break the shoals up and spread them over a wide area.
There was something else. It was cold. Now, we know the weather in this part of the world can be arbitrary, even capricious, but November at the end of July? This was ridiculous. But who would have it otherwise? We fished with sea spray in our faces and bouts of rain driven in from the north behind, and for no reward other than the pleasure of being out in our native climate.
The night session we had been looking forward to was unquestionably off, but at low tide we went out to gather bait anyway. Our first sweep with the net produced a multitude of sandeel between four and eight inches in length – so many in fact that we had to work hard to let the majority go again while they were still alive. We kept two dozen of the better ones for hook bait, and an equal amount for the frying pan.
There was a time I would never have entertained the notion of eating these slender little fish (they are not eels at all, although they do bear a superficial resemblance to them), but I have learned that rolled in flour and fried in a hot pan they are quite delicious, so that I wonder why they are not more sought after.
My friend tells me the Irish sandeel is scadΡn gainimh (sand herring), which suggests they once had a reputation as a food item. The sandeel has the useful habit of burying itself in the sand at low water, where it can be easily caught. Perhaps ‘easily’ isn’t the right word; these are slippery creatures.
Sometimes we joke about our fishing, that we would be better off just eating the bait. Well that is what we did. Wet enough and cold enough, we retired for the day. As we left, the wind eased and a farewell banner appeared in the sky. We will be back, this week, with a fair wind behind us