Tempest

 The lough, aided and abetted by the unpredicted, freakish weather we sometimes encounter nowadays (thank you global warming), had seemed against me for five long days. Today would be my last chance, but when I met Michael at the boat, he looked gloomier than ever. “The forecast is dreadful” he said “if you hadn’t had such a terrible, hard week, I’d have called today off. But … we can give it a bit of a go until it breaks, which is supposed to be after lunch. We’d better go now, so”.

 On about the sixth drift, the overcast sky blackened, the wind strengthened, and began to whip up white horses. Michael looked anxiously about as he rowed. The rain started, heavily, and soon became almost horizontal as the wind blew even harder; we could no longer make out the mountains. Michael said “I don’t like the look of this, make this your last cast”. I did as bidden, starting to work the flies back but halfway through the retrieve there was a two-hundred-decibel roll of thunder accompanied by a dazzling flash of lightning. Michael started pulling hard for the nearest shoreline, in fact the only one we could still see through the deluge. He yelled at me to put down the rod but before I could, there was a savage tug on the line and I instinctively tightened into a fish. The fish felt solid, and shook its head savagely, “It’s a big fish!” I exclaimed, but before he could reply the boat lurched with a crunching sound, Michael shouted “We’ve hit a rock!”. My feet were suddenly cold and wet, as water began to pour in, “You’ll have to bail!” he shouted.

 I just could not let go of the rod, and held it tightly with my left hand high, as the great fish ran left and right through the tempest. I clumsily knelt, scooping water with the bailer in my right hand. Poor Michael, breathing hard now, working the oars, the boat getting heavier as it filled, but at last we neared that shore, then the boat grounded in the shallows, half submerged. We waded to terra firma; miraculously the fish was still on and after three more runs it began to tire. I began to gain line back onto the reel, inch by inch. Before long, we saw the huge, golden shape, darkly spotted like a leopard, and between us managed to beach it, as the net was out there, awash in the stricken boat. I unhooked her with shaking hands, keeping her in the water, between my legs, until I knew she had fully recovered. When I released my grasp, she hung for a moment, the rain stopped, the wildness calmed. With a defiant thrust from that great tail she swam from our sight, the slate skies split and we were bathed in the brightest, golden sunlight, the sudden warmth raising wisps of steam from our sodden clothes.

 “You’ve just had a blessing” Michael spoke quietly, gazing up at the heavens. Words completely failed me. I had remembered my mobile and camera were somewhere in our shipwreck and probably useless now, but it didn’t matter at all; I will never forget.