A Day to Remember on Lough Owel

Some days on the water test your resolve; others reward it in ways you never forget. Yesterday on Lough Owel gave us both.

I set out in the company of my good friend John Doyle under a sky that promised little kindness. A biting wind swept across the lake, whipping up cold, restless waves that made every drift a challenge. Not far away, Kieran Garvey and Martin Kearney battled the same conditions in another boat. By lunchtime, between us all, not a single fish had come to hand. The fishing was dour, the elements relentless.

Seeking some refuge, we tucked into what shelter we could find along the shoreline. There, in the lee of the storm, spirits were revived with Martin’s famous rib-eye steaks and a shared bottle of red wine—a moment of warmth and good company in an otherwise unforgiving day.

Refreshed, we pushed back out into the elements. The wind still howled, and the lake showed little sign of easing, but we persisted, searching for any pocket of calmer water. Eventually, we found a degree of shelter along the lee side of the lake and resumed casting—more in hope than expectation.

As the afternoon wore on, conversation turned toward calling it a day. Then, in an instant, everything changed.

John’s line tightened sharply, the surface of the water erupting in a powerful swirl. I knew immediately—this was no ordinary fish. Quickly retrieving my own line and securing my rod, I prepared to assist. John, still unsure of what he had hooked, played the fish steadily as it surged away, then dived deep, using its weight and the conditions to its advantage.

“Take your time,” I urged. “Don’t rush this one.”

The fish kited across the surface, and as the sunlight caught its flank, the truth revealed itself—a truly exceptional trout. Any doubt vanished. This was something special.

Again, it bored deep, even passing under the boat, forcing John to plunge his rod tip beneath the surface to avoid the line catching the engine. Inch by inch, he gained control, patiently working the fish closer. Finally, with one last effort, the great trout slid into the net—just barely contained.

We called over to Kieran and Martin to share the moment. The scales told the story: 13.19lb in the net. With the net later weighing 0.73lb, the fish itself came in at an incredible 12.46lb.