Llyn Peninsula: Wild Waters, Starry Nights, and the Perfect Escape 

There’s a special kind of magic to fishing the Llyn Peninsula. It’s not just about the fish, though the thrill of a bass slamming your lure is hard to beat, but about the whole experience: the wild landscapes, the peace of the sea, the crackle of a campfire, and the quiet joy of sharing it all with good friends.  

I love a campfire, small is good, something to look into:

A Landscape of Raw Beauty :

The Llyn Peninsula is a place where nature still feels untamed. The coastline is a mix of golden beaches, jagged cliffs, and secret coves, while the mountains loom in the distance, watching over the Irish Sea. Whether you’re wading into the surf at Porth Ceiriad, scrambling over the rocks at Porth Ysgo, or casting into the glassy shallows of Aberdaron Bay, the scenery never fails to humble you. Fishing marks so remote that even the Terns use GPS. 

Steve Jones is perfecting his Dolive technique:

But it’s the little moments that stay with you—the way the setting sun turns the sea to liquid gold, the sound of waves whispering over pebbles as dusk falls, and the sheer stillness of being the only soul on a stretch of beach.  

Wildlife Wonders:

One of the greatest joys of fishing here is the wildlife. The Llyn feels alive, as if the land and sea constantly share their secrets.  

Seals – They’ll watch you with dark, curious eyes, sometimes bobbing just beyond your casting range, as if waiting to see what you’ll hook next.  

Dolphins– Nothing compares to the heart-leaping sight of a pod arcing through the waves at sunset.  

Otters– A rare treat, but if you’re still and patient, you might spot one slipping through the shallows like a shadow.  I saw one once, it wasn’t too bothered, just slipped into the sea and continued to feast on a Plaice holding it with its paws whilst swimming backwards, almost saying “this is how you fish buddy.” By the time I got my phone out, it was gone.

Pheasants: – Their sudden explosion from the undergrowth never fails to make me jump, no matter how many times I’ve heard it.  

These encounters remind you that fishing isn’t just about the catch—it’s about being part of something bigger.  

Night Fishing Under the Stars:  

Some of my most unforgettable moments on the Llyn have been under the cloak of darkness. Night fishing here is something else.

Caught using The Hunthouse 155 in Mullet hooks, barbs crushed

The endorphin rush of a bass taking your lure in the black water. The steam rising from a hot coffee as you scan the waves. The way shooting stars streak across the sky, so bright you can almost hear them sizzle.  

There’s a quiet intensity to fishing at night—every sense is heightened. The sound of a fish breaking the surface carries further, the chill of the wind feels sharper, and when that rod tip finally jerks down, the fight is electrifying.  

Campfires: Red Wine, and the Best of Company 

After a long session, whether under the midday sun or the midnight stars, nothing beats winding down with friends. My fishing mates—Steve, Joe, and Smiga—are as much a part of the adventure as the fishing itself.  

We trade stories by the campfire, laughing at the ones that got away (always bigger in the retelling). A glass of red wine or one of Smigas Slovakian liquors warms the hands, the flames flicker against the dark, and momentarily, the world feels perfect and simple.  

The Deep, Satisfying Fatigue of a Day Well Spent :

Fishing the Llyn isn’t always easy. Some days, the wind cuts like a knife, the rain soaks through your layers, and the waves make wading feel like an endurance test. But that’s part of the charm.  

When you finally call it a day—muscles aching, fingers numb—there’s a deep contentment in the walk back. The steep climb up the cliffs, soaking wet, feels like a pilgrimage.

Peeling off wet gear, towelling down, before diving into my Hemiplanet Cave Tent and slipping into pre-laid out, warm, dry Long Johns is pure bliss. And then, the best reward of all – collapsing into Exped airbed, body exhausted but soul full, sinking into a sleep so deep it feels like the sea has carried you under.  

Sleep is deep after a long day/night walking and fishing

Why I’ll Always Return:  

The Llyn Peninsula isn’t just a fishing spot—it’s a reset button for the soul. It’s where the noise of everyday life fades, replaced by the rhythm of the tides and the call of gulls.  

Whether it’s the heart-thump of a bass in the darkness, the glow of a campfire among friends, or the simple pleasure of a sunrise over the water.

This place has the unique ability of staying with you long after you have gone home. And that’s why I’ll keep coming back.  

Cheers all. 

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