The Tay and the Tummell at Ballinluig. 1955.
- Details
- Published on Wednesday, 20 October 2010 16:41
- Written by Bob Graham
One of the good things about living in the same wee town for a lifetime is memories. Remembering what it was like before the population quadrupled, the only school, being able to cross the back garden fence to the burn, the town reservoir and the local shops and businessmen.
We had our local blacksmith. He didn’t mind laddies standing watching him, in fact he welcomed the company but the only condition was to keep out of the way – especially when he was shoeing horses. The cuddys, as he called them, always behaved except when a spectator came too close and spooked them and he was in danger of being thrown across the shop. His skills were remarkable, he could take a bit of steel and some heating and hammering later it would turn into whatever he wanted; his horseshoes were an art form.
He had one son. Education, education, education were his words long before politicians hijacked it and the son was driven through primary, secondary and on to university where he earned a pharmacy degree. His dad helped him buy a partnership in the local chemists which he eventually took over when the original partner died. Everyone in the town knew the chemist, a well kent and thoroughly pleasant man who is still living in the town.
He had two sons. They were driven as he had been and both graduated with law degrees. They were also given considerable financial help and are now senior partners in a local firm of solicitors. Of course their granddad never saw this but I am sure he would approve the continuation of the local connection although I wonder what his reaction to lawyers in the family would be.
But you’re expecting some fishing so let’s get back to the blacksmith. He owned a van, a Ford I think it was, and it was big enough to take my dad, my brother and me plus camping and fishing equipment all the way to Ballinluig.
Now Ballinluig then was just a few houses and a post office by the side of the old A9. We camped in a field that probably is part of the new A9. Our first problem was that we had forgotten the centre pole for the old bell tent but a simple solution was to cut down and trim a fir tree that had the advantage of jacket and wader hangers. There were another two or three friends of my dad nearby with their older children. Cooking was done on two primus stoves that roared like trains and food was whatever we could buy in the local shop supplemented by supplies from Pitlochry , mushrooms picked in the field and as many trout as we could catch; and, it must be told, an occasional salmon.
At that time the bridge was an old metal pontoon bridge controlled by traffic lights. My favourite spot was upstream from the bridge going towards Pitlochry with my second favourite the Tay just after the confluence. There have been many changes since then in the layout of both rivers mainly due to winter flooding. A lot of fish were caught and consumed. One memory is wading out in the thin water where the Tummell meets the Tay and watching a salmon of about ten pounds chase and take my worm; I won and it was, as I remember, delicious. Another big humphy backed Tummell trout of close to four pounds met its maker and a brammell worm in what was then a big heavy water flat above the bridge that it now almost an island.
There was a girl working during the holidays in the local Post Office come shop. I fancied her strongly but she easily resisted my teenage and very amateurish, attempts to charm her. Still, it was nice to try.
A whole fortnight of fishing and freedom out in, what was then, the wilds of Scotland. I’m not sure my fishing life has ever been happier. And I still remember the blacksmith. By the way, he was another Bob; I can’t recall the name of the girl.
Bob Graham is an occasionally lucky gentleman who claims he does not do very much these days other than try to catch trout five or six days a week. Bob is a regular at Hillend Reservoir and lives in Whitburn West Lothian.