Senan Stanley's Irish fly-fishing channel rarely drifts far from Lough Corrib, the long limestone lake in the west of Ireland that fly anglers treat as one of Europe's great wild-brown-trout fisheries. His latest video is a window into a technique that has more or less died out in most countries that fly fish — dapping — and the man teaching it is Johnny, a Corrib regular Stanley has fished with for years.
Dapping is closer in spirit to floating a live insect than to casting a fly. A long, light rod and a blow line let the wind carry a buoyant fly or — in this case — natural mayflies skating across the surface. On a windy day on a big lake, dapping fishes water no cast fly can reach.
"Hi everyone, Stuart here again on Lough Corrib. It's a rainy, windy day. But we're heading out with John again to do a bit of dapping and a bit of spinning," Stanley says as the boat noses out. "It's a moody day here in Ireland, but we're going to go out and have the crack. We were out here two days ago. We had a few fish, so we're back up again for a bit of punishment."
The punishment turns into a productive drift. Johnny, fishing three mayflies at a time, starts catching almost immediately. One trout comes up cleanly to the dap and is reached for the leader before release. "Did you see the lovely white?" Stanley says of one fish, all of it played out with the catch-and-release ethos the channel runs through every video.
A bigger fish comes to Johnny's flies later in the session, drawing the kind of reaction reserved for the standout drift of a long day. "Look at the size of it. That's good now, Johnny. Well done. Unreal," Stanley says into the camera as the trout shows itself in the wave. "You can see the pro. You have a good one now. Keep it going."
"Johnny's just gone over there picking up a few mayflies for the box to do a bit more dapping," Stanley says, panning to Johnny on the bank refilling. "You go through a fair few of the flies when you're dapping. I think he's putting on three flies at a time, so you'd want to have a good selection of flies that you can keep putting on fresh flies — because you have to change them after every drift, they start to sink."
Mid-afternoon, with a few fish on the boards and a lunch break behind them, Johnny goes back to the dap and the fish keep responding. Stanley's running commentary captures both the technique and the social side of the day. "Johnny's putting on new flies. Johnny's on fire here. He's catching trout left, right, and centre. The dapping king of Caragh they call him. We're having a great day here. We're just drifting along. We're seeing fish on most drifts."
For visitors planning a Corrib trip during the mayfly hatch in May and early June, the takeaway is practical. A boat man who actually knows the drifts will out-fish a wading angler ten to one, and the willingness to swap natural flies every single drift is the real difference between a couple of fish and the kind of day that becomes a video.
Stanley ends in the wind, two fish from the last drift, a bag of fresh mayfly in the box, and Johnny grinning. "Beautiful trout. Well done."
