An Assynt Adventure July 2010

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Why, oh why do I always feel the need to pack my bergan with so many ‘just in case’ items? This might (just) be fine now whilst I retain a vestige of fitness, but I can sense it’s going to take its toll in years to come!

 

 Nevertheless, it was something I regretted when off on yet another wild camping escapade to Assynt this past July – particularly as I was in the company of an ex-Infantry officer

from the KOSB and an ex-Countryside ranger who both seem to spend all their spare time walking and cycling in the hills (and with very light-weight kit). These two companions I put in the bracket of being ‘keen hill-walkers and occasional fly-anglers’ whilst I consider myself the ‘occasional hill-walker and keen fly angler.’ So, as I followed, struggling with an overfull rucksack, in their manly tracks up the contour laden route to Gorm Loch Mor from Inchnadamph, I hoped ‘revenge would be mine’ when we started to cast our lines into the remote and inviting waters some miles further on than other so-called ‘remote’ lochs.

 

Our well-planned weekend saw us heading north on the Thursday afternoon, in order to be at Inchnadamph early enough to allow us our long walk into Gorm loch with enough light to negotiate what I knew from the past to be a demanding descent from Loch nan Cuaran to our planned base camp. The approach walk, with packs full enough for three (in my case a few more) days in the hills was enjoyable but demanding once the contours closed together from Loch Fleodach Coire to Loch nan Cuaran. Perhaps the fact that we had dallied more than we should have at the Inchnadamph hotel (well – we had to stop to pick up the permits to some of the lochs Base Camp2 we would be fishing….) made the walk more demanding than it should have been, but I can think of no better antidote to a tough week in the office than to breathe in the wonderful fresh, bog-myrtle and heather laden air of Assynt on the way to fish a loch at which I had witnessed the capture of a 7lb brown trout the year before.

We made our height and distance in good order, but due to our delayed start (blame the local Ossian Real Ale) we found that we were loosing light too rapidly to make it fully to Gorm loch and so, in a strengthening wind, we pitched camp by Loch Bealach Mhadaidh and fell into the sleep of the angling righteous having toasted our escape into the wilds with a dram or two and dreamt about the angling challenge to come.

Awaking to find the wind rather disappointingly to have died to a whimper, we resolved to have a chuck in Loch Bealach Mhadaidh prior to striking camp and heading the mere kilometre to our main venue for the trip, Gorm Loch Mor. The wind came and went in a rather frustrating fashion, which meant that our wet flies were less effective than we would have liked. However, in the space of two hours, had we been fishing for ‘the pot’ we would have had a hearty breakfast of typical Assynt half-pound brownies. Calm but magnificent scenery Gorm Loch Mor

Gorm Loch Mor beckoned and so we set off the short distance and re-pitched our tents as it began to drizzle. We had permission to fish the north shore of the Loch through the Reay Forest Estate Office and so we set off on our own to explore its many bays and outcrops, confident that this rarely-fished water would yield fine sport.

Despite the rain not slackening off throughout the day, our prediction proved true with my companions and I having great sport to a variety of wet-fly patterns with palmered patterns being the best of my offerings. My view on fly choice for these lochs is not prissy – I am more a believer that it is how the flies are fished rather than the pattern that dictates success. Keep moving and searching the water with good fieldcraft will produce a better return than a badly presented perfect imitation.


The good, if wet, day was followed by a further few drams and a snug night with us happy to enjoy the relatively midge-free and beautiful surroundings whilst planning the next day’s assault on further remote lochs on the Reay Forest Estate.

Full of rib-sticking porridge we struck out the following bright and dry morning for our intended lochs. Such is the terrain in Assynt that despite the short distance, it took us two hours before we reached the first inviting loch, sweat running down our backs. In a welcome turn of events, the hitherto windless day changed and we were soon to be casting out over a wonderfully strong ripple. A good stamp of trout


This first loch wasn’t to give up its residents easily however, but what fish they were! Two hours fishing saw me bank only four - but at ½ lb, 1½lb, 1¾lb and 2lb you will forgive me for not naming it!

Having come together to discuss our respective results I was pleased to see that my greater fly-fishing fanaticism had paid off. Our next loch provided fine sport again, despite the wind becoming slightly more chilled. With my wading I managed to cover far more water than my companions, but after two hours I was decidedly chilled myself and so I tucked myself out of the wind and chucked on my extra top whilst I brewed up a quick drink on my very old and battered ‘globetrotter’ stove. Suitably warmed, I walked back up to the head of the loch were Stewart and Roly had been fishing to enquire as to their progress. They too had had fine sport with a similar stamp of ½-¾lb fish that had kept me lost in angling pleasure. No dark fish these, all bright, well-spotted and feisty. The Author trying the dap2

We returned to base a happy band and whilst the others created our well-earned supper, I took out the dapping rod to tempt the free rising trout by our campsite. To my surprise, the trout seemed less keen to rise than previously and my dapping proved less rewarding than I had hoped. Still, it is transfixing to work a bushy bob-fly on the dap and I passed a happy half hour tempting one solitary trout of unspectacular dimension to a daddy longlegs. 

Our last night was a good one thanks to the quality of both the whisky and company and it was a slightly jaded trio that made their way southwards back to the car parked at Inchnadamph through the heavy rain that arrived on the Sunday morning. Monday morning seemed a long way away.

 

Anthony Glasgow is a lifelong and passionate fisherman, in particular for wild brown trout. Retired from the Royal Engineers as a major in 2004, aged 38 having served in UK, Germany, Canada, Northern Ireland, Bosnia and the Gulf. Now working in Perthshire (where good hillwalking and fishing is but minutes away – coincidence?). Despite his diminutive build, was once considered a good rugby player, but now fishing takes priority whenever he has the time!