This great report was sent to John Paul Baska of Northwest Charters by Mark Dunlevey in Canada, who joined him for a trip recently:
The sun was hanging just right in the Donegal sky this Sunday, the 19th of April, when the lines were tossed and the journey began. Leaving the familiar shores of Arranmore behind, where our luck was not just there, the boat cut through the Atlantic swell, trading the quiet of Aranmore for the raw beauty of the deep blue.
The destination? The Stags of Owey. It wasn’t a day for small fry or “fishtails”; the mission was clear. For twenty-five minutes, the engine hummed a steady rhythm as the coast shrivelled into the distance, finally giving way to the jagged, ancient silhouettes of the Stags.
Then, the world went quiet—save for the sound of the reel screaming.
The jackpot had been hit. Down in the kelp forests beneath the Stags, the big ones were waiting. It was a flurry of silver and gold as Pollock and Coalfish came over the gunnels, one after another—thick, powerful, and beautiful. The kind of haul that makes your shoulders ache and your heart race.
With our catch taken and the adrenaline still pumping, the boat turned for home. There’s no better seasoning for a meal than salt air and success. By the time the sun started to dip, that “jackpot” catch was already in the steamer, filling the house with the scent of the freshest dinner in Ireland.
From the wild Atlantic to the dinner plate in record time—now that’s a Sunday well spent.
