From Bordeaux to Belturbet, pursuing the pike

This week's Cavanman's Diary

Did you hear the one about the Frenchman whose love of the water brought him to Cavan? Bruno Duboul is from Killeshandra, via the south of France, and is a pike fisherman.

About 10 years ago, he came on a fishing trip to Ireland, searching for pike in the Shannon. He was soon hooked, no pun intended. After a few more trips, he discovered County Cavan and that was the spark which ignited a flame.

In Cavan, we love to brag about our 365 lakes – which are currently being documented for the first time in an eagerly-anticipated book by photographer Hu O’Reilly – but it is remarkable how many of us take this watery wonderland for granted.

Almost every townland seems to have a lake; then there is the network of rivers. We are truly spoiled for choice. Where would a non-native choose to stop?

Bruno ended up in Killeshandra, “a little paradise in the countryside where life is really good” as he describes it. He is a professional angling guide, focusing on pike. His is a fascinating job.

He brings groups of fishermen from France, the UK, Ireland and further afield, searching for the big one. Our region is one of the spiritual homes of this magnificent creature and for Bruno, the river Erne is Mecca.

I spent a day with him on the water and I doubt I have learned so much in one sitting since national school. He knows every lily pad and reed, each jetty and bank. Endless days scouting the Erne, using his innate knowledge and plain old trial and error, have taught him where the big fish hang out.

Pike like to wait in the weeds, the “beds of emerald” that Ted Hughes spoke about in his famous eponymous poem, ready to spring an ambush. Sometimes, they will be under an over-hanging tree, sheltering before pouncing. You’ll find them where there is a sudden drop, a deep hole in the river bed, too. Knowing these locations is half the battle.

There is something intoxicating about the way Bruno speaks about pike. His English is excellent but still infused with that Gallic twist. He talks about this fish like he is reminiscing about old friends.

I asked him where his preferred fishing location is: “The Erne is magnificent, gigantic, it is she that I love the most,” he said.

On the day we went, we caught about a dozen pike, ranging in size from 5lbs up to 12lbs or so. Some days, his groups have landed 20 or more, many over the 20lb mark. When one area would go quiet, we’d move on to another. Bruno set up the rods, provided the baits and lures and, most importantly, the knowledge.

So, you could say it is cheating but I looked on it as education. Whatever little bit of knowledge I had about how to catch fish, I had picked up myself along the way, a combination of old wives’ tales, some stuff I read online and my own, homespun and probably half-baked theories. Now, I was being taught how to actually go about this pursuit.

And regardless of what any angler says, and I’ve said it myself a lot, while it is nice to be out on the water and relaxing in beautiful surroundings, it’s a hell of a lot nicer when you are catching fish.

And that goes in particular for the galliasc, the so-called foreign fish. The pike is the king of the water in these parts and once you catch one, you will never forget it.

The reason pike fishing is so popular is that these dominant predators provide an incredible fight. They are powerful, fast and grow to huge sizes.

I loved pike fishing as a teenager and drifted away for a long time until the last couple of years. Now, I can’t get enough of it. My friends snigger when I tell them I am fishing again – I am still a novice, really, so often come away empty-netted – but the adrenaline buzz when you have a fish ‘on’ and the battle is at its height is hard to top.

Here’s a recent example. August is traditionally not the best time for pike fishing but last week, I went out on the Erne with my friend Adrian. We were, as usual, chasing pike, stalking the stalkers. We positioned ourselves on a little channel, 20 feet wide, connecting the main river with a small lake. The evening was beautiful, warm and dry, and the water was calm, with just a slight flow where we sat.

All was still. The situation was relaxed as we chatted over and back about everything and nothing. I was gazing into the distance, day-dreaming, when Adrian’s voice quickened slightly. “Is there something at your line there?” he wondered.

And then, as Bruno would say, boom!

I grabbed my rod and immediately felt a pull. I reeled in slightly to make sure it wasn’t a snag and suddenly, the drowsy evening exploded into violence. The pike took off under the water, away to my right. I struck (jerking the rod to make sure the fish was hooked) and started to retrieve. And then, I felt the line go slack. She was gone.

About five seconds later, before I had time to register my disappointment and disgust at my own lack of angling skills, this monster leapt from the depths, fully out of the water, and spat out the bait. It was huge (and gets huger with each re-telling). It was another that got away but, God, what a rush.

Ironically, for such a snarling, beastly looking fish who is a relentless and greedy hunter, the pike is quite delicate when landed. The pike, Bruno told me, has 700 razor sharp teeth. Extreme care should be taken in unhooking the barbs and handling the fish before it is released again as soon as possible.

And the true anglers always release their pike. It’s a sport, not savagery, and when the fish is returned to the water unharmed, it is there for another day.

Bruno has a saying, when a pike is landed. “Never one without two!” When you catch one, another will follow. He should know.

After the thunderous excitement of the pursuit and catch, the pike goes back peacefully to the depths. All is calm again. In the boat, we bait up and go again. It’s easy to see how this intoxicating way of life could bring someone from Bordeaux to Belturbet and beyond.

For more on pike fishing with a guide on the Erne, see www.pecherenirlande.com.