An Irishman walking along the bank of a slow moving river near Castlebar, Co. Mayo, rod in hand, fishing bag comfortably positioned over his shoulder, wondered if that day would be the day he caught the big one. He often walked that stretch of the river as he felt at ease there. Maybe it was the openness of the fields or the splash of the water as it washed over protruding rocks, which quieted his often-racing mind. Maybe it was the quiet serenity of the lush pasture or the song of a Goldfinch atop a thorny thistle. Maybe it was the melodious warbling of a thrush, calling to his mate. Whatever it was, he knew that place was good for his soul. He could think there, the noise of his usual daily existence faded as he breathed the crisp country air with eager lungs. In that place he felt as one with the other realm, the place where all thoughts emanate.
Placing the bag on the ground he set about readying his fishing rod. From the bag, he removed the reel and attached it to the base of the fishing rod. Pulling the line, he carefully threaded it through the eyelets and methodically tied a hook on the end. After tying a piece of lead and affixing a cork float, he baited the hook with a fat worm he had dug from his garden earlier that morning. Satisfied, he put the rod down and took a small Y-shaped twig from the bag and, after carefully choosing the ideal spot, pushed the long end of the twig into the soft earth at the river’s edge. Picking the rod up, he gave it a few practice swings, and then cast out into the center of the river. Resting the rod in the fork of the twig, he hung a small bell from the tip and then, using his bag as a pillow, he lay down, closed his eyes, and stretched out on the grass to wait.
How long he had lain there he didn’t know, but the unmistakable ring of the bell brought him to his feet in an instant. Grabbing the rod, he pulled back sharply and felt the tug on the other end.
Let him run! Let him run! Not yet! Not yet! After letting the fish run, he snapped the lock on the reel and began reeling in. He repeated this several times until he felt the fish begin to tire. Then slowly he reeled it in. As he reeled, he noticed that if the line was at a certain angle and with the right amount of leverage, the reel had a tendency to pull away from the line. He wasn’t sure then what it meant but knew instinctively that it was a revelation. When he returned home later that night he began to experiment...
Louis Brennan (1852-1932), mechanical engineer, was born on 28 January 1852, at Castlebar, County Mayo, Ireland, the son of Thomas Brennan and his wife Bridget, née McDonnell. In 1861 he went with his parents to Melbourne, Australia, where he later worked as a watchmaker and was apprenticed to the engineer, Alexander Smith, a renowned civil and mechanical engineer of the period.
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Books for Sale:
Don’t Die with Regrets: Ireland and the Lessons my Father Taught Me.
The Journey: A Nomad Reflects.