Apprenticeship As An Angler

Apprenticeship As An Angler - By George Mc Ewan

My apprenticeship as an angler from the west of Glasgow began when my dad dragged me off on his factories angling clubs outings as a boy of 10. I can always remember those bus trips. Men drinking beer and smoking. Woolie jumpers. Lots of banter and laughing. Me holding on to my breakfast for as long as possible, usually succumbing as we neared Tyndrum and having to have the bus stop for me.

I have been fortunate to have travelled and fished for trout extensively throughout Scotland. My dream day is wandering the wilds with my trusty fly rod and casting my flies into every new loch I come across. It is never just about catching fish its about my love of Scotland about being alive and about coming directly into harmony with mother nature. After a few days in the Scottish wilderness one can become finely tuned to the weather the wild life and the subtlest changes in the surrounding ambience. I first learned of loch fionn when reading one of Tom Weirs books, it may have been his lochs 1 or 2 book. Anyway this loch has unbelievable records of large catches of huge trout. What’s more the last entries had not been too far in to the distant past.

Having visited the area on a fishing trip a few times before I had only ever fished the usual surrounding hill lochs (another story). However loch fionn truly intrigued me. Not only had it had these wonderful catch records but it was on one of the wildest and best respected areas in Scotland. Reading Osgood McKenzie’s “a hundred years in the highlands” is a must!  The prospect of having to walk 6 miles to get to the loch and perhaps having to cross a river only made the place more appealing. A real life adventure! The day came. I was on my own. I had been waiting for a break in the weather for I wanted a “reasonable” day for this venture. Finally I set off. Parking at the drumchork hotel at some ungodly early hour in the morning I set off feeling rather uncomfortable that I may be challenged or stopped. The huge estate was owned by a dutch magnate and there was signs all over the place suggesting that to fish, camp, light fires etc was not to be done. Off I went anyway.

 Walking past many lovely looking fishing places gave me the urge to stop and fish. Finally I came to a loch right beside the track and just had to set up a team of wets. Three of my best self tied traditional patterns. I started catching small beautiful brownies immediately often two at a time. These trout are very familiar to me weighing in at some 6 ounces a piece; you cannot catch a better fish than these boys! (Believe it or not) I was thoroughly enjoying myself now. After catching and keeping a couple of trout weighing around the 10 ounce mark (the bigger ones) I dragged myself away. I had bigger fish to fry.  Arriving at another small loch just before fionn I had to give this a go too. Another hour or so of bliss passed away catching many of gods lovely creatures.  Better move on! The day is passing and I have a date with destiny.

Arriving at fionn I discovered that to fish the side I wanted to I would have to cross the river. The little Gruinard is a lovely river taking its name from Gruinard bay which is home to the infamous Gruinard (anthrax) island.  Alas though the river did appear to be a bit larger in person than the os map impressed to me.  Whipping off my socks and redoing my boots I waded across the little Gruinard, not too deep thank goodness but with a decent enough tug at ones legs to get the adrenalin flowing.  Once across I began fishing this dream loch. Will it live up to my expectation?

With a six mile walk behind me. a river crossing and some wee beauties in my bag (not to mention that the weather had already changed from summer to winter and back to summer again) I was exhilarated to be fishing here, I was not George the employee, George the family man George this or that I was George the hunter George who was part of the mountains, the hillside, the river and the loch, thrilled to be alive! Fishing along a longish bay I caught for myself some three trout taking note that these fish were different from the small hill lochs trout caught earlier. These fish were larger and were more silvery that the wee dark brownies. So there is better fish in this fionn loch.

 Fishing around the head point of the bay something caught my eye I gave a second look and was taken aback to see a chap standing fly fishing. I cut back out of view and wondered what that was all about. Taking my trusty binoculars out I walked around a hillock and lying on the heather feeling like a crack SAS on a mission I moved up until I could surreptitiously  see who was fishing in my loch. To my dismay there was a boat with two anglers and a ghillie on the oars. I watched this boat for some time as they fished another bay and then to my surprise the boat was landed all three disembarked and they proceeded to hike to a nearby small lochan to try their luck there. A mental note was made. Why leave the famous loch fionn to go and fish a small hill lochan nearby? I found out the reason for this a year or so later!

 An hour passed slowly then these life spoilers returned to their boat and headed off across the loch, my biocs trained on them the whole way. To my relief they moored across the loch and headed for what I just then noticed a land rover. They soon disappeared. It was annoying to think that there was another road into this place but I was so glad to be alone again.  ime was catching up on me and the evening sun was about to give way to a heavy bank of high cloud bringing on dusk earlier than it might have been. A large black moth started coming off the heather and I changed my bob fly to a small black muddler. On the third cast pushing my flies out as far as I could I got what I was looking for. Thump! The fly was grabbed. Obviously no six ouncer here. I was fishing light gear so I had no great desire for an epic fight rather some kidding on was required.  Although he was in the same frame of mind. He cruised around for some time obviously assuming he was running the show but I was hoping differently.

Three times he came close to see who had interrupted his patrol and then meandered off again. I noted with fear that there were numerous large sharp edged boulders in the three feet of water for as far out as I could see. Therefore as the gentleman came in and out again all my time was spent ensuring to the best of my skill that the line did not touch any of these rocks. Eventually the fish came in again towards me. I could see him clearly. On this third occassion I encouraged him to come right up to me lifting his head a tad. He came willingly enough still sure he was the boss. Without a net or low place to land this leviathan (well he did measure over 2 feet long) I paid some extra attention to his mouth wondering if fish bite people, how sore could it be, could I lose a finger? Deciding I didn’t care I enclosed my thumb and forefinger over my 4lb drennan slid them smartly down the line until when reaching the “man” I pushed my thumb right into his mouth as far as it would go and yanked him clear out of the water. He was totally caught out and did not expect this move. He measured 26 inches long and was the most beautiful fish I had ever seen a real specimen with that wonderful trademark golden belly.

 Things could get no better. With dark speedily drawing in, my spirits sky high and a two hour walk plus river crossing in front of me I headed for the car. An hour or so later with hundreds of broken rocks silhouetted in the ever darkening sky like dumb sentinels watching me, giving me the spooks. I trudged home surely the happiest man in the world. I promised to return again one day. I have!