On the Aghleam Road heading south of Belmullet in North Mayo, Ireland you come across a little concrete bridge spanning a small tidal stream. The stream, which has cut through the peat to the bed rock below, fills and empties a saltwater lagoon with the tide.

The stream flows easily to the bridge, but is then funnelled underneath the road through a narrow outlet pipe. The rushing water, held up against the walls of the bridge, has dug out a deep pool. It's called the "Gaisce" in Gaelic.

I was with Norman Dunlop, Sea Angling Advisor to the Central Fisheries Board and an old mate. He'd tried this little spot before and caught quite a few fish including spotting a couple of oddities that he couldn't get to take a bait including a bright yellow fish. We were due on a boat out of Blacksod shortly, but had an hour or so to spare and Norman, knowing that I was a sucker for the chance of a rare species, suggested we give it a go.

It seemed strange standing on a tarmac road tackling up. As cars passed by, the drivers gave us a mix of curious glances and a friendly wave. The proverbial "penny for their thoughts" would have made interesting conversation.

Leaning against the wall of the bridge and looking in to the crystal clear water of the pool I could see the bottom, a mix of shingly like gravel, rocks and kelp. The overall depth probably between 3 and 8 feet, deepest in the middle shallowing slightly approaching the bridge. There's a drainage ditch coming in to the pool on the right-hand side, but the flow of water through this was minimal and had little effect.

I rigged up a very light spinning rod and fixed-spool loaded with 6lb line. The end rig was a simple single hook paternoster type rig made from 6lb line with a 4lb clear hook length about 18ins long. and a size 10 hook. The outgoing water wasn't flowing too strongly yet with the tide somewhere just after high water so I went for half ounce bomb for weight. Norman had brought some fresh king rag with him and assured me it was the killer bait.

There was no need to cast. Simultaneously, we both used a gentle underarm swing of the lead to drop it at the back of the pool. With a tightened line, I felt the lead rattle across the bottom pushed along by the tide. It came to rest alongside a patch of weed and instantly the tip shuddered and rattled. Strike! A beautifully marked 7in coalfish and Norman had the same.

We had lots more coalies of the same size, plus I had a small pollack about 4ins long, but then I realised that the coalies and pollack were shoaled at the back of the pool, so next cast I pulled the lead backwards to the deeper middle of the pool. Straight away a rattly type bite and I swung in a ballan wrasse maybe 5ins long, followed by another.

Norman was pulling in fish at the same rate and I picked up the camera as he landed a multi-coloured corkwing wrasse maybe 6ins long. I needed a corkwing for my annual species list, so on with a fresh segment of rag all of 4mms square and this time I dropped the bait right in amongst a heavy clump of kelp tight to a big boulder. Two bites, two corkwings!

We'd had maybe a dozen fish each now from the pool and we decided to give it a rest and fish the main channel above the pool. This was hands and knees, crawl to the edge and drop the bait in type fishing. Norman had a ballan and a coalfish in quick succession and me a small ballan.

Through the water we could see a small bank of shingle with a little weed growth on it. The fish were just behind the bank. But there was another species amongst the ballans, corkwings and coalies, but what was it? It was like an aquarium fish, bright red and maybe 4ins long. It was hard to define its identity through the water, and even though we got it nibbling the baits it would not take.

The variety in this little feeder stream is remarkable. Apart from the wrasse, coalies and pollack, there are eels, shannies, gobies, blennies and sea scorpions. I've a feeling a few flounder must also run the channel at times. Mullet are seen here, and then there's a chance of a sea trout, as well. Not bad for a stream 8 feet wide and averaging 5 feet deep!

Back at the bridge, the tide had started to pick up and was now racing through the pool. We crossed over the road to the downtide side of the bridge. This was shallower, but with more rocks and weed growth. Dropping a bait tight to the bridge structure next to a concrete slab I plucked out a 7in ballan perfectly camouflaged against the concrete. Allowing the bait to trot down past the stones with the tide until it came to rest got us more corkwings.

There was a patch of weed growing right by the bridge structure in only 3 feet of water. This waved like a flag as the tidal current passed it by. I dropped a piece of ragworm right at the edge of the current and held it.

This bite was different. Not a rattle, but a series of three sharp pulls. I missed it first time. A fresh bait and back down again. Nothing! Raising the rod tip to lift the bait off the bottom and give it some natural movement paid off with a repeat bite and successful strike.

I could see this fish was one of the unknown yellow ones Norman had mentioned earlier. Swinging it in to my hands it was not one I easily recognised, either! Browny green on the back, a thin pale stripe down the flanks, a phase of blue at the base of the cheeks and a bright yellow belly. Then it dawned. This was a rare rock-cook wrasse and a species I'd never caught before.

It was time to make our boat rendezvous. Reluctantly, I tackled down. I could have stayed and fished here all day. It was captivating and I figured that the low water period would have fished even better and produced more species.

I spend most of my fishing time chasing big fish and hunting for species, it's where I get my kicks. Okay, there was the bonus of getting my first ever rock-cook wrasse, but fishing the bridge with Norman was back to basics fishing, and I mean "basics". I was a kid again, crawling along the mountain streams after tiny trout, fishing the narrow estuary channels for small flounders, and dinking out bootlace eels from the salt-marsh drains. For a brief few minutes I recaptured my youth.

Is there a moral to this story? If there is, it's to try everything and not to get lured in to a world where big cod, bass, tope and conger rule the way you fish. Fishing, all fishing, is fun. If you're a true angler interested in fishing for fishing's sake, then it comes out in boyhood laughter from middle aged men as it did with us as we fished the "Gaisce".