In 1995, on our way back to Japan after spending the latter half of July in Norway, we dropped in at Ireland and stayed there for several days. As you know, Ireland is the birthplace of salmon fly. I was more interested in the environment in which salmon fly had been brought up than salmon fishing which was said to decline there recently.

In the beginning of August in Dublin, it is very hot and humid until late at night. The climate is more similar to Japan than Norway is. I felt somehow close to Ireland, although I was a bit surprised to see many people drinking and making merry in the town until dawn. To my disappointment, our tight schedule did not allow us to travel around the south side of the country, where the River Shannon flowed. Instead we travelled around the north side and looked for what it used to be.

Our first destination was Ballyshannon. There is a famous Rogan's tackle shop. Needless to say, Rogan's name was chiseled in the history due to Michael Rogan. He was born in 1833 and played a leading role for many years as one of the most famous fly dressers in Ireland, after Pat Mckay and William Blacker tied Butterfly of Shannon style for the River Shannon and got the time of the gorgeous salmon fly started. Michael Rogan tied flies§Athe wing of which was made of free fibres treated with special dyestuff. It was a special fly whose colour never faded away in the acid water of the River Erne. Hoping to see the River Erne as well as that fly, I drove along the lake Lough Erne, which was laid at the upper reach of the River Erne. I was full of happy expectations.

In spite of some disappointment, I was interested in the scenery of my first Ireland. I felt as if I were travelling around the ancient ruins rather than the famous places.

The next morning, making our mind fresh, we got started salmon fishing at the River Foil in Northern Ireland. The mouth of river was large but there was no fish in midsummer. Then our ghillie took us to the beat near the source of the river. I was very surprised to find the coffee coloured water trickled through the valley among the quite dry pastures. The water temperature rose to over 20 degrees C even in the morning. Are there really any salmon? What a dramatic change it is from my old river in Norway a few days ago! I had been ready for the worst river condition. The first glance of the river still made me feel exhausted. As you imagine, it was not exclusively due to heat.

We followed our ghillie, walked for a while from the car park through the pasture towards the upper reach and went through the forest and down the valley. A shallow river flowed there, which formed a gentle current. Strong sunbeam, scent of cow, strong smell of grass, uncomfortably warm water, none of them gave me real feeling that I was going to fish salmon. I remembered I had fished sweet fish in my childhood.

Mary Anne and I were standing at the narrow edge of the bank and fished down. We made Spey cast repeatedly. It took us less than 10 minutes to drift the fly from the head of the fast current throughout the area. There was no sign of fish or response at all. I knew it was useless to fish down again but walked back to the head of the fast current to kill time.

In the afternoon we were to fish the large pool down the car park. The water did not flow. It was like a tiny pond. When I fished at the head of the pool where the water flowed quite a little, the water surface at the opposite bank slightly moved. It looked to me a tiny splash made by Japanese dace or crucian carp. But our ghillie said it was a salmon. I could not believe but cast size 12 Shrimp fly to the edge of the opposite bank. The water barely moved around the spot where the fly settled. In spite of its lightness the fly sank into the water. When I lifted the rod tip little by little, our ghillie suggested that I should retrieve the line. Following his advice, I retrieved the line by my left hand little by little. I felt as if I had cast a wet fly in a lake. After several castings I felt a faint bite from the line I retrieved. I lifted the rod carefully and the salmon took my hook. Then I could easily retrieve the line with a slim brown fish of 60cm underfoot. I needed a little while to recognize it as a salmon because it was far from a typical salmon. In the evening salmon suddenly began to jump. The number was quite a lot for the river size but the size was 9 pounds at most, as ghillie said.

There is no high mountain in Ireland. Probably summer is not the suitable season for salmon fishing here. We will come back in spring or autumn, if we have next chance. Then we left Ireland.