Lochs Lomond and Awe - 16 June 01
The four of us met up in Essex and drove up in two cars to the Scottish Highlands for a week’s fishing. Taking the trip over two days, we stopped in Amble, Northumberland; a small fishing town, with a decent beach and some good salmon fishing.
Strong winds kept the fishing fleet in harbour and we spent the afternoon and evening touring the town’s pubs, finishing off the night with a Chinese takeaway at 1am.
Three of us shared a room in a local B&B and I had a hell of a job getting to sleep as Alan can snore for England. Next morning I mentioned it at breakfast and got my come-uppance as Ted retorted that he couldn’t sleep at all as I was snoring a duet with Alan most of the night.
Sunday
Leaving behind the grey North sea coast, we drove until we reached Ross Priory on Loch Lomond in glorious weather. Walter had got us special permission to fish this private estate, but when we inspected the shore, it was evident the water level was too low and rocky to fish from. We had to find an alternative quickly, so opted for the jetty at Balmaha, but there were other bivvies there already. The jetty is noted for big pike and perch.
We drove along the shoreline until we ran out of road. Some of the beaches were occupied by private concerns, but we found a splendid location at the Sallochy Forestry Commission reserve and pitched our tents on the beach.
Some friends of Alan’s turned up and we lent a couple of rods and my waders to their kids to try out, then later shared an outdoor curry cooked on a wok on the beach.
There was plenty of firewood and kindling on the beach, so I had plenty of fuel for the Kelly kettle, which takes just a few minutes to boil a pint of water on a handful of twigs.
Later that evening, I wandered off with my fly rod to a rocky bay nearby with deep water and cast to a few rises. It wasn’t long before I realised I was in prime midge territory and I’d forgotten the midge net. I escaped to a rock plateau in the middle of the bay, which was marginally better. Close to my position, I spotted a good trout of about 1½ lb and cast to it, but it saw me too and moved away. I returned to camp shortly after.
A quiet bay, but alive with those Scottish midges.
Walter and Ted were sharing a tent and moved from the dry stream-bed to a grassy knoll on the beach for comfort.
I mentioned the location to Walter and warned him of the midges. He was not impressed and reckoned they didn’t bother him. He didn’t stay long.
Locals will tell you no one gets used to them and they can drive you demented.
Around midsummer, the Highlands stay light most of the night. It never really gets dark and when I got up at 1am, I found the sky tinged with a soft red hue.
Monday
Another sunny morning. As I walked the shoreline, I spotted several trout nymphing along a line parallel to the beach. Later when I took the canoe out to drop our baits, I realised the line coincided with a shelf on the bottom. According to local knowledge the fly nymphs hatch out at different dates depending on the depth they are in.
Alan and Ted cooked up a big breakfast for everyone and then Walter and I took it in turn to place all our baits at distances ranging from 20 metres to 70 metres from the beach. Beyond 30 metres, it shelves quite steeply and salmon anglers often troll this close to the shore.
Breakfast on
the beach
During the day, Walter, Alan and I all had good runs on our lines, but all missed the fish.
As the day grew on, the weather deteriorated and became quite chilly and damp. We gathered plenty of driftwood and peat for a roaring bonfire on the beach and huddled around it drinking Aussie red wine.
The beach bonfire, a good midge repellent.
It became quite noticeable that two cars would enter the car park behind us and one of the drivers would join the other. Must be a favoured spot for some illicit hanky-panky.
A couple of local lads chatted to us about the fishing and remarked they knew we weren’t locals as none of them bothered to fish that bay as it was so unproductive.
That night it rained heavily.
Tuesday
The scene as we emerged from our tents next morning was quite amazing. Where Walter and Ted had originally camped, a large pond materialised, swollen by a torrent pouring into it and overspilling into the loch.
Due to a misunderstanding, Alan and I went off to find a shower and the Highland Way Hotel was willing to let us use a shower later on, but we had no time to wait.
Walter and Ted were waiting to depart having broken their camp. When we pulled in our lines, I found a small dead eel on one of my lines. I kept it to use for bait later on.
A few gruff words were exchanged before we all moved on to another location on Loch Lomond.
We stopped for brunch at the Corrie Café in Arden before viewing our first location by Loch Lomond Golf Club. It was fishable and had a good reputation, but it was barely 20 metres from a busy trunk road and I was not happy to stop there. When an articulated lorry drove past the slip road to the club, Alan decided he didn’t want to risk his car there either. More gruff words exchanged before we moved on to Ardlui.
At Ardlui a gale was blowing and the weather was appalling. There was no prospect of pitching tents there, so we abandoned Loch Lomond and sped on to Loch Awe.
The weather there was almost dry, so starting at the Dalmally end, we prospected for places to bivvy up, but could not agree on any. We continued like this on past Portsonachan until the weather deteriorated again. It was getting late so we elected to try bed and breakfast for the night.
Our first enquiry was unsuccessful, but the owner offered us a derelict caravan if we were unable to find anywhere else. We managed to get rooms at the Old Inn at Ford, a real anglers pub and a good base if you want to fish the Loch and the smaller hill lochans near Kilmaha.
We settled in nicely in the bar and ordered venison medallions for dinner. Excellent beers on tap including the Prague pilsner Staropramen, Red Cuillin from Skye and Tennents 80/-. The malt whiskies are very good here too and if you are quick and wealthy, you may get a sniff of the Manager’s Dram at £16.20 a shot.
The barman was a keen pike angler and several of the regulars were involved in the angling economy one way or another. The very pleasant owner of the Loch Achilty boat hire company is a frequent customer.
Alan suddenly announced he was having early night around 8.30pm. I was mildly surprised and asked Walter if he was alright. Back came the sardonic reply, "He always goes to bed at this time." "What, at 8.30pm?" I replied. "No, when it’s his round to buy the drinks."
By 11.30pm I hit the sack, but Walter and Ted soldiered on until 4am. These Highland pubs often stay open until the last customer gives up.
A wild night in the Old Inn bar, approx 4am. 
A
stuffed ferox trout, or perhaps Ted's breakfast.
Wednesday
Alan and I had a splendid breakfast. Walter ordered trout for Ted and himself while he was in the bar the evening before. He enjoyed his trout, but Ted just turned green at the sight of it.
By 9.30am, the rain started to ease, so we made a dash for the site and bivvied up before it could get worse again.
The
Loch Awe camp
We set up our gear and I went for our permits. On my return, Walter was playing a fish on one of my rods. It was a jack pike of about 3lbs, but got off just as he got it to the net.
A couple of minutes later, another of my bite alarms went off and I was able to set the hook into a very big fish. Despite a 2 3/4lb test curve rod and Shimano GT 6010 reel with the drag turned right up, this fish took line off in short unstoppable runs.
After running for about 100 yards, the line veered right into the bay past some moored boats. It was a matter of seconds before an anchor chain severed the line. The sense of disappointment was palpable and I was left shaking and speculating on what I had hooked. I was using sections of the eel I caught in Loch Lomond. Seems like a very good bait.
Just another few minutes later Alan was into a fish and was more fortunate than me. He landed a nice 8lb pike, which he returned swiftly.
Later that afternoon, Richard, the landowner came over and offered us the use of a rowing boat. We were grateful to accept and I took it to visit the island nearby to scout for fishing stations and somewhere we could bivvy. He also warned us the water would continue to rise as Loch Awe’s catchment area is some 60 miles squared, so Walter moved his tent further away from the waters edge.
The first thing I noticed was a graveyard and a ruin in the middle of the island. I later discovered the it is known as Innisherrich Burial Island. There was a jetty too, which had the only unrestricted access to fish from. It was possible for a couple of people to bivvy up near the waters edge.
I next rowed out into the middle of the loch and trolled for an hour. During that time, I visited three other islands on the loch. One had a castle with remarkably straight walls. Richard reckoned the castle was 13th Century and probably built by masons of the Knights Templar.
Castle Innischonnel
The row back was against the wind and waves and hard work for a desk jockey.
When I got back, Ted wanted a tour of the first island, so we did a circumnavigation of the shoreline, confirming my earlier findings.
Later that evening Walter decided to stay on the island until midnight to fish after Richard informed us there was a deep channel in front of the island, which the pike frequently travelled down. He wasn’t there long, before returning with a 21lb pike, which was duly photographed and released.
The first pike 21lb 
The second pike, 17lb.
Two hours later, he had another pike of 17lbs and a little later Richard came down for a chat at 11pm. It was still bright and we had no sense of it being night. I did go to bed at 12.30am, just as it began raining again.
Thursday
I woke to the sound of ducks diving in front of my tent. I didn’t bother to zip up my tent all week apart from the insect screen, so was able to watch the group of four adults and several half grown ducklings from my bed. I thought they might have been goosanders or mergansers, but the plumage was much like the female mallard and they were smaller than mallards and spent much time diving and swimming under water.
I got up at 7.30am. We had no takes during the night, so Alan and I had breakfast and then headed to Lochgilphead to pick up 7lb of fresh herring Walter had ordered the day before.
The shop in Lochgilphead is called Cockles and is a delicatessen with a fresh fish counter. Unfortunately, the suppliers had sent herring fillets, which were no use to us. The owner phoned home and her husband confirmed he had a few bags of bait in the freezer, which he was happy to let us have.
Just as we returned, Walter landed a fine tagged pike of 20lb. We weighed and measured it at 38 ¼ inches and passed the details to Richard for the fisheries biologist.
Walter's third pike 
The 20lb tagged pike.
After that, the fishing went completely dead. The water continued to rise and where Walter had originally pitched his tent was now in a few inches of water and threatening to flood my tent too.
We were treated to an unexpected distraction when two local lads tried to launch a boat from a trailer. It took them ages, many oaths and a fine line in comic opera before they launched the boat and nearly the car. It was all "Right side down, right side, right side, I said, that’s your ******* left side, the clutch, the clutch!!!"
After that impromptu performance, I must have got bored, because I got into the canoe and sneaked over to the island to set off one of Walter’s bite alarms. He came thundering through the undergrowth and didn’t spot me until he was just a few metres away. It’s the kind of thing he likes to do, so I thought I’d try it to see if it was satisfying in any way. It was disappointing really.
I did enjoy visiting the graveyard and church while I was there. It is a tranquil setting fringed with purple rhododendron. There is one fascinating grave particularly worth visiting. It was noted that the deceased died 10 years before he was buried. Symbols on the grave include the skull and crossbones, a heart, powder or incense flask and an axe, which indicate the incumbent was either a free mason or a pirate.
The island graveyard. 
Pirate or Freemason?
Friday.
Woke up at 4am and photographed the still loch against a lowering sky. Then went back to bed.
Loch Awe
4am.
Walter got up a bit later and took the rowboat for a spin in School Bay. He caught a small jack pike around 2lb and then returned. He soon became aware of a distant roaring and was puzzled. It wasn't the rutting season and there was no sign of anything else moving about. Over a quarter of a mile from the camp he recognised Alan's snoring, then as he got closer, realised all three of us were in concert together.
If the sound travels as easily over water, perhaps it travels under water too. It might suggest why the pike had cleared off.
After breakfast, Alan and I took the boat over to Innischonnel island, with it's beautiful 13th century castle. We explored the castle, admiring the workmanship. Reputed to have been built by masons of the Knights Templar, the walls are absolutely dead straight and there are many fine architectural features. The castle is made up of several compartments and is remarkably well preserved, despite the lack of a roof. It appears to stand on a pinnacle of rock, with a depth of 300ft between the island and the shore.
Views from the castle ramparts
After exploring, we decided to move off the island and fish from the opposite shore, where there are several good fishing stations.
It was a good move, as a couple of boats came later to visit the island and the only real place to fish from is it's jetty.
We cast out our baits and then got a portable barbecue out and cooked pork chops with tinned vegetable curry and sauté potatoes.
As we ate, a boat with three anglers passed by trolling in the deep water. No one ever seemed to catch anything trolling, but they must get lucky occasionally and if you want to catch the huge ferox trout, this is the way to do it.
After lunch the call of nature became overwhelming, so I did what all happy wild campers have to do and found a secluded spot to drop my shorts. As I squatted in bliss, I noticed the roar of a large engine coming from the slope above me. Looking up, I caught the astonished gaze of a row of passengers peering down from the local bus as it passed by. You can tell I was never a Boy Scout; I just wasn't prepared for that.
We fished for about 4 hours without a touch, so packed up and went trolling ourselves for an hour or so. I think it was a hopeless quest, as we did not have deep trolling gear or a depth sounder. All we got were twisted lines.
Back at the camp, we packed up and left for the Old Inn at Ford. It was better to pack the tents while they were dry than risk breaking camp on a wet morning.
The Inn has a family suite with what they reckon is Scotland's biggest bath. It is a colossal Victorian antique and felt like the height of luxury to this angler with three unwashed days behind him.
Back in the bar, we ordered our food and settled down to a night's steady drinking and swapping tall tales with the locals. It was 2am before we finally tumbled into bed.
The Old Inn at Ford.