Streamside will have a bit of a different flair this week - having just returned after 8 days in Ireland it is heartening to see our rivers and streams in such great shape for these last two days of August, with higher-than-average flows and temperatures that remained down in the 60s. The outlook for trout fishing this week bodes well.

The weather for our trip to the Emerald Isle couldn’t have been nicer! Most days brought a perfect mix of sun, clouds, and light breezes. And the single day of light rain wasn’t enough to dampen spirits or keep us off a woodland trail. We hiked past a beautiful redwood grove alongside an ancient castle, explored a hermit’s cave, and enjoyed being outdoors.

For me, this was no ordinary vacation, but an ancestral pilgrimage which began in Dublin, tracing north to Kingscourt, County Cavan, to attend Mass at the same church our family did in the 1800s.  St. Mary’s is an incredibly beautiful structure of world-class artistry that houses a globally renowned collection of historic stained-glass windows from iconic Irish artist Evie Hone and the Harry Clarke Studios. Its history dates back over two centuries; when the main building opened in 1872, the original 1812 church apse and belfry was preserved and still stands today as the ornate, fortified stone gateway into the old cemetery and church grounds. After meeting Fr. Gerry MacCormack, his secretary Maria and Choir Director Anne, we were able to visit and stand on the very soil of my great-great-grandfather Patrick Hand’s farm in nearby Drumiller. We picked the abundant blackberries that have grown there for centuries, and enjoyed seeing the friendly cattle that may have descended from his original stock in the mid-1800s.

We then traveled southwest and on to Killaloe, where we walked to the birthplace of Ireland’s High King Brian Boru, (born 941) from whom the O’Briens are descended, and explored the remnants of his ancient Ring Fort. We continued onward to Killadysart, tracking down the manor house at Ross Hill, where my other great-great-grandfather Michael O’Brien was born back in 1813, which overlooks the streaming River Shannon, the longest river in Ireland.        

After staying two nights in nearby Ennis, where we enjoyed delicious food and traditional music in the pubs, we visited the stunning Cliffs of Moher and spent the remainder of our trip immersed in the magic of Galway. 

Strolling the historic streets, we ended up on O’Brien’s Bridge, where we joined local spectators watching a couple of fly-fishermen cast into the fast-moving waters and spotted a sizable rise in the pool of salmon below.    

The original crossing on this site dates back to medieval times, the ancient “Old West Bridge” in 1342; it was replaced in 1852 during river drainage and canal operations on the River Corrib. Today’s beautiful two-arch limestone bridge was officially named in 1889 to honor William Smith O’Brien, a legendary nationalist leader of the Young Irelanders revolutionary group. O’Brien’s Bridge serves as a gateway between Galway’s bustling Latin Quarter and its wild West End—and for me, it also bridges two vastly different philosophies of the sport. In the Catskill Mountains of upstate New York, we are blessed with a bounty of public water, and can enjoy fishing miles of rivers and streams, with little more than a New York State fishing license and the freedom to cast wherever the waters look promising. But here on the lower River Corrib (as with many rivers in Europe), the rules are very different. In order to fish for the Atlantic salmon that swim through these city currents, you need a State Salmon Licence, a tightly restricted daily beat permit, and a reservation booked months in advance. It is a premium, pay-by-the-hour forum where angling privileges are obtained strictly by purchase only, and fishermen rotate through designated casting beats. And yet, just a few miles upstream, where the river widens into the massive expanse of Lough Corrib, fishing for Ireland’s legendary wild brown trout is completely free. No state licenses, no private tollways—just open water, heavy mayfly hatches (including Blue-Winged Olives and Green Drakes) and a public right to fish.

 Standing on that namesake bridge, watching these flyfishers match their skills with the river, it made me appreciate the unique balance of the Irish system—and left me deeply grateful for the endless miles of public water we have here back home.                                                                                       

 The trip also served as a reminder that while waters change from one country to the next, the pull of the river remains the same. Whether seeking silver salmon by permit under the arches of an ancient Irish bridge or trying for trout in our own beautiful public waters, we are making our history through the call of the currents. We didn’t cast to a single fish on this journey across the Emerald Isle, but standing on O’Brien’s Bridge, mesmerized by that river rushing beneath our feet, I returned home with a creel full of happy memories.