Captain Paddy turned his boat around and pointed it toward the open waters of the North Atlantic. He has fished these waters along the rocky cliffs of County Donegal for so long that he no longer observes their rugged beauty. Sometimes he ventures far out to fish for salmon, today he would look for crabs and lobster and see to his numerous traps.
The mighty gales and the strong sun that he has endured in his 32 years as a fisherman show in Paddy’s face, making him look much older than his forty-six years. His love for the sea
has kept his spirit young, however, and today he is that love with his son Shane, 17, who is following in his footsteps – the third generation of seamen to brave these treacherous waters. “I love the sea, my father is a good man and teacher,” Shane says tossing an empty trap back into the sea.
Paddy has fished out of Teelin since he went to sea at the age of 14. The harbor is quiet and small compared to thriving Killybegs, also on Donegal Bay and Ireland’s largest fishing port; however, this is where he prefers to be.
As his boat moves slowly in the shadow of Slieve League, one of the country’s highest mountains, the view is breathtaking but Paddy is maneuvering his craft and too busy to take notice. On Sundays, he takes tourist fishermen and sightseers, astounded by this magnificent view, along this same route.
Out on the Atlantic they check the endless reserve of pots that line the bottom of the ocean, turning up dogfish and the occasional brilliant starfish. But the lobster, the mother lode, is what brings a smile to the captain’s face and he excitedly turns away from the controls to look over the catch. They are worth big money and he has a family to take care of.
As the sun goes down, Shane throws the last trap back in and the captain turns the boat around and heads home. He is satisfied and in a good mood. “You never mess with the sea or she’ll take you,” he says puffing on his cigarette. “I’ve been out here in winds you wouldn’t believe and you’re mighty glad to get back home, it’s hell on earth,” he adds as his boat cuts through the calmness of the glassy waters. He loves days like this but he can handle the rough ones too.
Golden rays of sunshine come spilling in through the windows of the Rusky Mackerel, Paddy’s local pub. His catch has been secured and the boat washed down, ready for the next day.
“How was it today?” the bartender asks as he hands him a stout. Paddy leans back in his stool and with a smile, says, “Not bad, but tomorrow will be a better one.”
Editor’s Note: This article was originally published in the May/June 1994 issue of Irish America. ♦
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