Upside Down and Round About

It's been a full 6 months since I last wrote, primarily because I didn't have anything useful to say, and when the time came to think about the annual MCX Christmas Stocking article, I was completely lacking in motivation, and far more concerned with grandparent duties.  Then in the New Year I was fully occupied for 6 weeks with a trip to New Zealand, where our elder son is currently working on a 2 year assignment just outside Wellington.  We visited him and his family last January and February, which included touring the South Island, but no fishing.  This year we toured North Island, courtesy of New Zealand friends who assembled the most amazing programme, including two days' trout fishing at Taupo.  The second day was on the Tongariro River, which provided the most electrifying trout fishing I've ever experienced in 71 seasons.

The Tongariro

Lake Taupo

It may be helpful to explain the background to the trout fishery based on Lake Taupo and its feeder rivers, not least because trout aren't a native species.  About 1,800 years ago - uncomfortably recent in geological time - an enormous volcano exploded and blasted a lump of rock bigger than the island of Singapore into orbit.  That's 800 square kilometres, and for the locally inclined, more than double the Isle of Wight.  It was the largest seismic event of the last 5,000 years, and devastated the North Island, leaving lumps of rock scattered across its length and breadth.  The nuclear energy equivalent would be 32,000 megatons.

Subsequently the crater collapsed and was filled by nutrient-rich water running off the surrounding mountains, which supported an incredible density of small fish, shrimps, crayfish and other species.  In the 1880s a Victorian trout fishing fanatic, who had enjoyed the incredible fishing in the Pacific North West of the USA and Canada, introduced stock of migratory rainbows from Oregon, otherwise known as steelhead.  The population exploded in both numbers and size.  By the 1920s Taupo and its feeder rivers were recognised as world's the foremost trout fishing destination.  The walls of the lodges are decorated with black and white photographs of redoubtable gentlemen in tweeds and ties, armed mostly with two-handed rods, standing behind unbelievable bags of very large trout displayed on the grass before them.  In one photo I saw, three rods had caught about 100 fish up to 20 lbs: strangely, they weren't smiling.

Overpopulation, food pressure and hydro-power exploitation of the rivers led to a relative decline in both the size of fish and the productivity of the fishery.  But today it still remains on of the most extraordinary fishing destinations, equalled only by some of the lakes and rivers in Patagonia.  The best of the fishing  is in April and May (equivalent to October and November in our calendar), when the larger fish migrate up the feeder rivers to spawn.  I was two months early for the optimum fishing, but by any standard it was still fantastic.

Head of the first pool

The Tongariro is regarded as the best of the rivers.  It hurtles off the mountains to the south of Taupo, flowing northwards to join the lake near the town of Turangi.  The best pools are in a gorge 120 feet deep, so you can't drive or walk to the river.  The adventure and excitement begins with white water rafting down the maelstrom to the first pool, and then to each successive pool thereafter.  As a result you're pretty revved up before you even start fishing.

The water is crystal clear and absolutely pristine.  This is not, however, an English chalk stream with manicured banks.  The vegetation comes right down to the water's edge, often making casting the required distance a real challenge.  Certainly I caught a lot of bushes and giant grasses.

Dry Cicada #6

The second casting problem is the fly.  We were using floating Cicadas tied on a #6 single hook that were almost 1 1/2 inches long with the cross section of a farmyard hen.  It has a closer resemblance to salt water patterns and casting style than my usual #16 Olive at short range on the Rye.  The rod was a Sage 9' #5, which worked well enough, but I should have preferred the greater horsepower of a #7.

Working hard!

Although there wasn't a significant hatch, fall and rise going on, if you cast to the lies or visible fish they came readily up to the Cicada.  In the slower water most takes were quite gentle.  The first thing I had to learn was not to strike as quickly as I do with a small dry fly and wild browns: you have to wait until the fish has turned downwards to set the hook.  After missing a couple by striking too soon, I finally connected.  At that point there was an explosion in the water and the world went mad.  The aerobatics were spectacular and the runs long and fast, even with modestly size trout in a fairly quiet pool.  The violence demanded keeping the tip much higher than is customary at home.

One handicap was that the rods were all rigged for right hand wind, to which I am wholly unaccustomed and heartily dislike.

Modestly sized
but utterly crazy fish

I was blessed with two amazing guides, Mark and Garth, both former international competitive anglers, with unbelievable casting skills and total knowledge of the water.  Garth runs the local white water rafting business in Turangi, and was reassuringly expert in his handling of the boat.  Watching Garth execute a single handed Perry Poke to deliver a Cicada 20 yards to lies under the low-hanging branches on the far bank with pinpoint accuracy was very humbling.

After a career in fishing Mark is now one of New Zealand's most successful fund managers, but still gets out whenever possible, especially to his lodge beside the Tongariro.  He is also an inspirational character: despite suffering from MS for many years, he confronts and overcomes every challenge presented by this type of fishing, whilst also being charming company and an assiduously kind host.  Whatever his success in business he has never lost his passion for fishing or his remarkable modesty.

Good fish getting away downstream
in fast water

After allowing me to get my hand in we dropped down to a tougher pool, with faster water and plenty of big rocks in the stream, casting straight upstream to fish lying in the runnels.  

The takes were lightning fast and you had to be 100% focused on presentation and line management, as well as keeping your footing while moving continuously upstream.  It had some similarities to early season upstream fishing at home - until a fish took and things went wild.

My best fish first went airborne; then looped round and under a rock before freeing itself (when the line went slack I thought I'd lost it); and then shot off downstream with the full weight of water behind it.  There was no way I could chase over the rocks, so fighting it back upstream was lengthy and hard.  Also, given the fish's propensity for violence, you get quite wary about bringing the loop into the top ring in the final stages.

Finally!
4lbs Tongariro trout

Here it is, safe and sound after 8-10 minutes of nerve-wracking excitement.  The Tongariro trout are very pretty in prime condition and well-muscled by the demands of their habitat.  You will note its unusually large fins, presumably a genetic trait brought with the first introduction in the 1880s.

I'm not at all sure how I would have coped with anything much bigger in the fast water.

Down the gorge in a quiet stretch, with Garth on the oars and his black Labrador on full alert.

Beautiful, but there's a goodly drop around the corner!

It was an absolutely wonderful electrifying day's fishing: I loved every minute and should love to do it again if I ever find an excuse to return to New Zealand.  After 6 weeks of deep immersion in the NZ atmosphere and Kiwi culture I'm now totally laid back and relaxed.  The national aphorism of "she'll be roit", meaning don't worry, any problem will sort itself out, can usefully and healthily be applied to much of our more pressured lives back home in the UK.

A Real Tackle Shop

In the UK, where the tackle business is dominated by the online giants, real tackle shops are increasingly hard to find.  Even Farlows in London is but a pale shadow of its former self, and in Yorkshire my nearest is John Norris in Penrith, 100 miles distant.  However, happiness still exists in Turangi.

Sporting Life has got everything it should have, and essentially, real expertise and experience behind the counter.  It's a delight, the sort of place you'd like to spend happy hours just browsing: sadly, for all three of my visits I was in an uncharacteristic rush.

Peter has guided and fished the Tongariro for 50 years and more.  Nigel used to own and operate the shop at Draycote before emigrating to New Zealand in pursuit of finer fishing and better quality of life.  They also have a team of guides and rent out gear at affordable rates.  Despite their best efforts my Reddington waders leaked, but that didn't detract from my enjoyment in the least.

To get an idea of the local fishing, have a look at some of the photos on their website, including those from the current season.

Salmon Fishing 2025

As this is a salmon fishing blog I need to say something about the season ahead.  My plans include:

• If April and May are wet, trying to catch a Yorkshire springer on the Ure
• Week 26 on the Orkla at Grindal Lodge with John and Patrick, hoping desperately that the run will be good enough to stop the Norwegian government from pulling the plug at the last moment.  If the water's cold it will be the first outing for the new sinking Rio Game Changer line system, which has superseded the sinking Scandi heads.
• The first week of July on the Tweed at Boathouse with my oldest Army friends, more a holiday with some fishing than a pure fishing holiday (yes, honestly)
• Sadly my planned return to the Inver and Kirkaig fell through owing to problems securing the lodge, a major disappointment.
• The first week of September on the Helmsdale courtesy of TTMN's generosity, which is really exciting as I love fishing the water.
• Autumn on the Ure, including the annual father and son bonding with HMCX.
• Getting my hands on one or more of the following rods for testing:
• Sage R8 14' #9 6 piece.  I had this rod to take to Norway last year but didn't get to use it apart from a brief try on the Ure.
• Vision XO Graphene 14' 2" #9
• Gaelforce 13' 6" #8 or 14' #9

Hopefully, if all that happens I should have something to write about.  Until then I wish everyone tight lines and all the joy of fishing, wherever you may be.

Highland Heaven - Inver and Kirkaig

Lower Inver morning view upstream from the Scrambles

 

Over the years I have been privileged to fish in many beautiful places, but nowhere else moved me as much as these two small Highland rivers.  As I walked up the Lower Inver on the Monday morning of our week, I found myself humming the song "Dancing Cheek to Cheek" from the 1930s musical Top Hat, produced and directed to showcase the magical dancing of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers:

"Heaven, I'm in heaven,

and my heart beats that I can hardly speak,

and I seem to find the happiness I seek.............."

(with due apologies to the great Irving Berlin, who, as far as I know, wasn't a fisherman)

and those words kept coming back to me every day.

Consequently this post may be as much a photo essay as an article on fishing.  Either way, I very much hope that I succeed in conveying the joys I experienced during our week.

Having not enjoyed the Tay very much last year, my team encouraged me to look elsewhere (a polite euphemism indeed).  I contacted Mungo Ingleby of Sporting Lets, who offered me an array of opportunities.  The offer on the Inver and Kirkaig, both completely unknown territory for me, was very attractive, although in view of the age and reduced mobility of some members of the team, I was concerned by the athletic demands the rivers might present.  Mungo reassured me that he could manage that challenge and come up with a beat allocation tailored to our needs, and so it proved.  By December we had an agreed plan for a 4-rod party in the last week of August, which had something for everyone.  If we couldn't fish for salmon there was the vast array of famed trout fishing in the Assynt, stunning mountains and coastline, and the enormous selection of walks and hikes (especially for the much more athletic non-fishing wives).

The Week, its Joys and Challenges

After a string of disappointments and a dismal summer trout season (the coldest in my memory), my luck finally turned.  Against the odds and the worst efforts of Murphy, we had perfect water.  The wettest early August on the north west coast had left the lochs at the head of the Inver and Kirkaig fully topped up, guaranteeing good fishing levels for the whole of our week.  This amounted to +24" on the Inver and +12" on the Kirkaig.  My prayers and dreams had been answered: it does happen once in a while.  With no grounds for complaint and even fewer excuses, it was up to us to perform.  We did, however, duck fishing on the Tuesday, when the wind speed reached 50 mph, as a moderate concession to our age.  Apparently 2 young rods had a field day in our absence - good luck to them.

 

Perfect Inver silver - Day 1

The beautiful water levels presented both bonus and challenge.  The bonus was the quality of the fish.  The peak time on these rivers is usually in the first half of July: by late August the majority of salmon are resident and starting to colour.  However, the perfect water prompted a significant run of fresh fish throughout our week.  It was glorious: every fish we landed or hooked had been in the river for less than 48 hours, a wholly unexpected bonus.

 

 

 

Middle Kirkaig - Wednesday

The challenge arose from the combination of fast water and fresh fish.  Both rivers have sections with steep gradients and very fast flows: on the Middle Kirkaig those flows can be classified as Fast, Very Fast and Crazy.  We hooked a lot of fish in the tails of pools, where it was essential to stop them getting away downstream into the maelstrom below, while fighting them amidst very sharp edged rocks.  It was a big demand on angler and tackled alike.  The fish weren't large, generally in the range 5-10 lbs, but they were fresh and energetic, and had very soft mouths.  Two of my losses arose from failure of the hooking.  Two more were owed to breakage: I was using 23 lbs Seaguar (hardly normal in summer on Highland rivers), but in each case the polyleader was the point of failure, cut straight through on rocks.

 

 

 

 

 

Middle Kirkaig - Hazel Pool - Wednesday

 

This photo illustrates the challenge.  I was fishing from beyond the last little rock point on the right.  The large rock in the centre marks the lip of the pool.  The fish took about 5 yards upstream from there in shallow water.  There was no choice but to lower the rod tip and hang tough.  I managed to keep the salmon in the pool for 2-3 minutes of energetic thrashing until the polyleader was severed by one of the many rocks in the tail.  Rex, fishing with me, suffered exactly the same fate 15 minutes later, albeit his hook came out.  We moved down to the Heather pool, where we repeated the experience exactly but reversed, albeit this time I actually managed to fight my fish up out of the tail into the main body of the pool and get it under control before, suprisingly, the hook came out.  By this point David the head ghillie was begining to think he was fated with us as clients: hooked 4, lost 4 in a great morning's fishing.

 

Middle Kirkaig - Shady

Another challenge observable above and here is the need for rock scrambling/climbing skills, in this case a 40 foot near vertical descent.

The other thing you can see is the extraordinary clarity of the water.  From up here we could see the flash of salmon turning towards Rex's fly as it passed over the lies.  There are two reasons for this clarity: first, the lochs at the head of the rivers act as filters by causing sediment and fibrous materials to drop out; and second, in this area of the Highlands, the volcanic granite is overlaid with limestone.  The colour you see here is that of the bottom of the river, not the water, which is unexpectedly clear.  It's another part of the wonder of the place.

Lower Inver - Red Run

 If you look down the left side of this photo looking down Red, you can see the ledge you follow.  Some head for heights is essential.  I didn't hook a fish in here, but Rex did, right down by the tail, fighting it from 15 feet above.

If I was a skier I might rename this run Black, as a better representation of its demands.  But whatever those demands, it was certainly fun to fish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 It wasn't all cliffs and cascades: both the Inver and Kirkaig have some gentler pools, and in the case of the Upper Inver, up on the moor to the east, there were lots of easily approached and fished pools that were delightful.  Fishing them against the backdrop of the Highlands was magical.

 Lower Inver

 A 25minute walk (hike?) up a very stony track from the hut leads you to the top of Beat 4, where you start fishing the Whirlpool (L) and below that, Dyke (R).

Whirlpool was full of resident fish that showed little interest in a fly, bar one grilse that tried a take as I was lifting  into a cast and thinking of other things.  The photo of Dyke was taken in the slightly lower water conditions on the Saturday.  On the Monday the left side was an interesting wade, with the water correspondingly faster.  I was in an awkward spot half way down beside the rocks when I hooked a fish (shown in the net at the top of this post), just upstream from the small point.  Moving from there was not an easy option, so I had an interesting time fighting a fresh and feisty salmon back up to me for netting.  Fortunately my luck held and I'd succeeded with a beautifully fresh, almost white fish on Day 1, oh what joy!  However, it didn't on the Thursday, when I hooked a substantially larger very fresh fish - probably 8-10 lbs - in exactly the same place.  After performing some spectacular aerobatics - cartwheeling across the run - to show its dislike of coming upstream, it eventually conformed.  After 3-4 minutes, having done the hard high-risk stuff, just when I thought I had everything under control, was getting confident and even thinking where best to net, the hook came out: exciting but sad.  It's always worse when it happens in the confident phase of the fight.  The lesson is simple: you can't win them all, but don't let up on the pressure, especially if the first part was violent.

 

Laird's, New & Cow from the hut

After Dyke you make your way down through a series of lovely runs: Island, where I missed a very forceful take on a most appropriate MCX Sunray on the brilliantly sunny Saturday morning; Red, as described above; and Scramble, where I missed good take in the fast water each time I fished it.  They lead on into the wide open spaces shown here, looking upstream from the hut.  The engineering work applied to the river in the 1930s is very evident, and although unnatural, it does create a stunning vista on a sunny day.  There were plenty of residents in here, but none were impressed by our flies.

I fished Pollan below the hut after lunch on the Saturday to close the week.  The loss of 3-4" made a big difference.  Rex had caught a nice fish here on Monday, but at the lower level I wasn't confident of imitating his success.

 

 

 

The Lower Inver is marvellous fishing, with lots of interesting pools and runs, all of which require thought, imagination and adaptation, which make it such fun to fish. It was also ideal for our two mobility-limited novice rods.

 

Upper and Upper-Middle Inver

 

The upper beats of the Inver offer a huge expanse of fishing set in moorland, with the mountains as a dramatic backdrop.  At the very top of the Upper beat is Loch Garbh, which plays an essential role as stabiliser and clarifier.  The entries to Garbh and the smaller Lasgaich provide excellent fishing in July as the early runners arrive.  

 

 

 

 

Lower Bridge Pool

Our main attention was focused on the Upper and Lower Middle beats, especially the latter, which have a succession of lovely pools.  Unfortunately, the light on the Thursday, while potentially good for fishing, was very poor for photography. 

The Lower Bridge offered almost 200 yards of lovely water that was well populated with uninterested residents who periodically showed to jeer at my efforts.  Below it the equally extensive and attractive Deer pool similarly failed to deliver.

 

Washing Pool

Despite the disappointments I fished with my customary enthusiasm, always hopeful for a take.  The Washing pool reeked of fish, but to no avail.  My theory is that heavy rain the day before had three effects: a small rise moderated by the lochs; the appearance of fibrous material in the water, making it look matte and flat, rather than the normal clarity; and increased acidity evidenced by foam.  Generally I found these features unhelpful on other rivers and can only assume that they may adversely impact the Inver.  Certainly, I only touched one fish all day, a great disappointment, but I loved fishing the beats.

Lower Middle Inver - Upper bridge Pool, leading down into Minister's

The Kirkaig

 

We only fished the Lower and Middle beats of the Kirkaig.  The upper limit is defined by the falls,barely 3 miles above the tide.  Although it is smaller and much shorter than the Inver, it has an established history of much larger fish.  I can offer no explanation although hypotheses abound: perhaps its violent waters produce stronger, later-emigrating smolts.  On the other hand, the one Kirkaig fish I caught was the same size as those on the Inver!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking upstream towards the gorge

Most of the Middle Kirkaig is enclosed in a wooded gorge of varying depth and breadth.  I showed some of the deeper sections earlier in this post, all of which present challenging fishing (and some demanding rock-hopping and scrambling).  Indeed, it was great fun to fish.

Despite the pace of the water, its extreme clarity led us to use smaller flies than would be normal at that speed, in my case MCX Dark #8 double and 1/2" Conehead tube, both of which hooked fish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In circumstances like this you are on tenterhooks, expecting a take any moment (I had two here), knowing that you have to stop any salmon from getting away from you over the lip (by the tip of my right ear) into the maelstrom below.  This was really exciting stuff, and in this weight of flow, if you hooked a fish you had a fight on your hands, even if it might only be 5-6 lbs.  With the 12' 6" #7 XO the best answer was to drop the tip to 30 degrees to bring the full force of the butt into play and apply both drag and palm.  If something large - anything over 10-12 lbs here - I would not have rated my chances of stopping it.

After a day of this I knew I had been fishing!

 

The Lower Kirkaig beat has one lively pool - Heather at the mouth of the gorge - while the others are comparatively sedate, notably Bridge and Elder's.

This is the charming Bridge pool, another extremely fishy stretch, where most of the party caught salmon on Wednesday or Thursday.  Mine came from the tail on the Thursday afternoon, providing my first stress-free fight of the week, and David Macleod an opportunity to demonstrate his skills with my net.  It wasn't big, perhaps 5-6 lbs, judged a salmon, but it was certainly nice and fresh.

Summary

Although we didn't catch a lot of salmon, just 6, it felt like many more on account of the number we lost in the fight (7), and the vigour of those fights.  We also missed loads of takes as fish snatched at fast-moving flies in heavy water without getting hooked.  The fishing was challenging, sometimes physically demanding and always huge fun.  Although I'm fit for my age, I've never gone to bed so early in a fishing week.  Our party was relaxed, convivial and most enjoyable.  We were blessed with two lovely rivers, perfect water and utterly stunning scenery.  And the dreaded midges stayed away apart from one short period in a sheltered spot on the Lower Kirkaig: I never needed the head net.

I close this post with some photos of the surrounding area for your pleasure.

Sunrise behind Suilven from the lodge

 

Lochinver Bay

 

And from the opposite direction with Suilven behind

 

Autumn is coming

 

Top of Lower Inver beat

 

 

Upper Inver - Upper Bridge run

 

Pretty salmon - rubbish photographer

 

 

 

Not much to write home about

 In my last post 'Rain, Beautiful Rain' I was buoyed by optimism, with great hopes for the season to come.  As always I added a caveat of 'Murphy's Laws permitting'.  Subsequent events have underlined the prescience of that warning, because it's been an incredibly dull summer in which nothing much has gone right.  Even enjoying the garden has been a challenge amidst the cold, wind and rain, and the trout fishing has been correspondingly poor.  Today it's so dark and gloomy outside that in mid-afternoon in early August I've had to turn on the lights to be able to write this post.

Tweed

Rutherford - Long Stream in spring sunshine

In late April I was privileged to fish a day at Rutherford, courtesy of the ever-generous TTMN.  Without doubt Rutherford is one of the most beautiful beats on the Tweed, an absolute gem, and fishing there is real soul food, irrespective of the outcome.  However, having hooked 3 fish in as many casts from a single lie on my last visit, and caught two the visit before,I was feeling quite optimistic.

In the event I blanked, which was as surprising as it was painful, because the water was at a perfect height and felt strongly 'fishy'.  Here is the Island run, looking as good as it ever has, and significantly better than when I took a very lively fish here in 2019.  Lovers was in similar ply and most encouraging of optimism, but in contrast both Mill Stream and Between the Caulds looked and felt flat in the dull grey light.  It's funny how atmosphere affects your fishing morale and confidence.  But as I was to re-learn in July, perfect water guarantees nothing.

Norway

My excited anticipation of our trip to the Orkla was plainly evident in my last post.  As the day of departure approached I noted with trepidation the dismal results from the research bagnets in the Trondheim fjord, especially of the biggest 3 & 4 SW salmon.  Nevertheless, our host's sister in law had caught a 45 pound fish on opening day, which helps to suppress at least some of our concerns.  On the Thursday we got the first warning that the Norwegian government was considering drastic action to protect salmon stocks.  And on the Friday afternoon, when we were fully packed and ready to go to Leeds Airport, they announced the closure of all salmon fishing south of Trondheim.  It was a bitter disappointment, but we were better off than many, including one friend who arrived at Trondheim Airport with a party of 6 rods, just after the announcement.

The standard Norwegian fishing contract T&Cs are that there are no refunds from the operator in such circumstances.  I was fortunate in that one of my credit card policies covered this eventuality and the insurer settled in full for fishing, accommodation, flights and extra luggage.  However, my main travel policy did not: NFU Mutual, normally the most flexible and understanding insurers, went into fine detail to explain that this specific circumstance wasn't covered in the policy wording.  John and Patrick's insurers have held a similar line, although they are challenging this decision.  The lessons here are:

• Ensure you have a comprehensive cancellation cover policy
• Consider paying more to get flexible air tickets that offer refunds on cancellation

Despite this bitter disappointment we are planning on returning next year.  People may think us daft, but when you reach our age you have a certain determination to do things while you still can.

Findhorn

Findhorn - Altyre Beat, Palamore pool

The 3 days on the Findhorn were a complete and unexpected bonus through the generosity of an old friend of 55 years' standing: we joined the Army together as teenagers.  He had booked a week's fishing across the slew of beats, Logie & Relugas, Darnaway and Altyre, which coincided with a substantial run of grilse.  The party did well in the first 3 days, but on the Wednesday afternoon, for no easily discernible reason, the fish went on strike, and they caught only one more from the Thursday when I was there: just my luck!  The water was at an excellent height and although it felt fishy, it clearly wasn't.  Two factors stood out: there was quite a lot of very fine particulate peat suspended in the water; and it had an inky tone and surface foam indicating increased acidity.  The conventional wisdom and my experience elsewhere on the river suggested that such conditions tend to put fish off the take.  For their part the abundant grilse - I saw hundreds running through off each tide on the Thursday - seemed hell-bent on putting in the miles.  Indeed, Drynachan 25 miles upstream was enjoying one of its best July weeks on record, which underlines how fast the grilse were moving.

Visually it is a stunning collection of beats, with some of the most beautiful fishing I have ever enjoyed.

Daranaway - looking upstream from the hut

Darnaway in the gorge is real mountain goat terrain, fishing in narrow defiles and tiny pools.  Despite its visual beauty I must confess that at my age a 130 foot descent to a pool using steps, ladders and ropes, let alone the climb back up, is seriously challenging and not much fun.

At one point, while traversing a rock face 15 feet above the water, I contemplated the near impossibility of landing any fish I might hook beneath me.  The ghillie suggested descending to the flat rock at the foot of the face using the rope provided, but his instructions on how to get back up were less explicit.  I therefore decided to give up fishing the pool at that point, and clamber back up to the hut.

Darnaway - Poolie, looking downstream

This is a classic example of a Darnaway defile, which reminded me of the Dog's Nose on the Helmsdale, but a lot narrower.  The lip and falls out of this mini-pool is in the centre of the photo.  There are only two places from which you can fish Poolie, and no scope for movement.  So I spent much of an afternoon bouncing my tube fly off the rock face opposite to get at the stream of grilse running hard up against the side, to no effect whatsoever, which was very frustrating.  It's one thing if you can't see the fish you're failing to catch, but when they're in full view it's far worse.

Logie - Garden pool

I only fished two pools on Logie, with the picturesque Garden shown here, so I don't have a good view of the entire beat.  It's shorter than it looks in this photo and so didn't take long to fish.  The main interest was in the tail, which is nicely shaped to hold salmon at the short halt after the fast water in the exit, but sadly none were hanging about in the bright sunshine.

Logie - Red Rock

Red Rock is an interesting wading challenge, heavily dependent on detailed local knowledge.  It's very pretty, but sadly remained unwilling to provide a fish.

One of the added pleasures of Logie is the ability to cover the water with a nice small rod that makes grilse much more fun: my 12' 6" XO was a joy and fully capable of reaching the extra yards when needed.

Altyre - Palamore

The Altyre beat is where visual beauty and fishing pleasure come together in optimal delight.  I loved every minute of fishing it.  One of its great attractions is that every few yards poses a different question requiring a new solution of changed presentation, angle, speed and depth.  There's no mechanical cast - step - cast on Altyre.  It keeps you on your mental toes and really adds to the enjoyment.

This is a prime fishing beat in April for the chunky Findhorn 2SW springers, and so one for my wish list.

Altyre - Soldier's Hole

Soldier's Hole is another pool where Ian Neale's local knowledge was invaluable.  Fishing the head involves wading out onto a sandstone ledge that isn't visible from the right bank approach.  From there you can cover the full width to get a good swing through the running line visible in the centre of the photo.  It was there that I had my one decent grilse take of my stay, but as is so often the case with their soft mouths and head-on approach, it didn't stick.

Altyre - William's Run

Soldier's leads down into William's run, which provides delightful fast water fishing to cover a mass of potential short-halt lies, and the possibility of a really exciting fight should you hook a salmon here.  Moreover, running after the fish isn't an option, so you would have to rely on the combined power of prayer and a good drag.

While I was disappointed not to hook a grilse in William's, it was such fun to fish that by the time I reached the bottom I felt extremely happy.

At the end of the 3 days I'd certainly fallen for Altyre and should very much like to return, ideally in the spring.  If you are to really enjoy Altyre and Logie, which are both right bank beats, you have to be confident and competent casting left handed.  On several pools you need to be able to get out to 30 yards to cover the running lines. However, elsewhere in July a 12' 6" rod was ample for the most common requirement of around 25 yards.  One word of caution: if you're considering the privilege of fishing this water, it isn't cheap.

Gruinard

This was a surprise invitation from an old Yorkshire friend that didn't arrive until after I'd written my last post, to fish the water his family have fished for 3 generations across 70 years.  The north west coast of Scotland is stark, beautiful and incredibly sparsely populated.  Indeed, it makes rural North Yorkshire seem positively suburban.  It is also one of the wettest parts of our very damp isles, receiving an average of 6 feet/2 metres of rain annually.  I was therefore amazed on arrival to find the area as dry as a bone and the river as low as it could be.  Amazed yes, but not surprised owing to my respect for Murphy's Laws: my fervent desire for good fishing conditions almost guaranteed the absence of rain.  The complete lack of water made fishing almost pointless, although I did make an effort to gratify my generous host and appease the fishing gods, who clearly unappeased not only failed to deliver a fish but also inflicted serious injury upon me.

Griunard - Bridge Pool, The Labrador's Head

This photo of the aptly named Labrador's Head shows how low the water had fallen.  In normal conditions the water is around its nostrils.  The adjacent channel, which would usually hold fish was too shallow to hold anything.

Griunard - Bridge Pool

This was less a pool than a large slow moving puddle, shallow, warm and gin clear.  To my amazement two grilse came to my tiny #14 double during the first morning, one coming up 4-6" behind, and the other actually getting its mouth onto the fly.  That comprised the entirety of the excitement during my stay.

With the water so low and clear, fieldcraft was essential: avoid sky lining, stay well back from the water, and move very slowly and quietly.  I took this photo after I'd finished fishing the centre section of the pool, before moving round to cover the tail.  The two interested fish were downstream of the small rock showing in the centre left of the shot.

The compensation in these circumstances is the stunning scenery, wild, raw and ancient.

There were plenty of fish hunkered down in this pool, mostly grilse with a few bigger 2SWs that showed periodically.  None of them showed the least interest in any of the variety of flies I tried, even amidst the flurry of activity triggered by an impending break in the weather, which needless to say, failed to deliver any water.

Even in the larger pools like this a single handed rod sufficed, using a mixture of overhead, roll and single Spey casts.  It makes for easy fishing.  I'll be writing a review on the rod, reel and line combination that I used, which proved an excellent choice for the task.

On the Saturday morning the Fishing Gods took their revenge.  Just after I took this photo I hooked and lost a small sea trout of about 1 1/2 lbs.  I was fishing from the rocks rather than the path to get a better presentation, wearing walking shoes as waders would have been superfluous.  But I failed to heed the simple fact that Vibram soles are useless on rock.  I slipped and fell into the water, hitting several rocks along the way  Cursing volubly I picked myself up, checked the rod was intact and prepared to restart fishing.  It was then that I noticed a copious amount of blood dripping into the water.

In falling my right hand had made heavy contact with a very sharp rock, making a cut about 3cm long and inwards to the thumb joint, which was clearly visible.  This brought fishing to an abrupt end.  I rinsed the wound in the river, bound it with a handkerchief and made my way back to my host in his pickup.

As there were no surgeries open in the north west on a Saturday, the nearest treatment was at the A&E unit in Inverness, almost 2 hours' drive away.  Eric the head ghillie, the kindest of men, volunteered to drive me there and to wait for me to be fixed up.  In the event the delay was only about an hour before a nurse applied 2 internal and 3 external stitches, enhanced with liberal quantities of medical superglue, and sent me on my way.

Bad as this was it could have been far worse.  I'd had a near miss on a broken wrist, which would have stuffed the rest of the fishing season and probably a fair amount of the shooting as well.  If the hand and wrist had stuck behind the offending rock, that might have become a broken arm.  The lesson is simple: a small slip can turn pleasurable fishing into significant injury, so always keep a first aid kit in your car and know how to use it, because you never know when your friend's life may depend on your ability to respond effectively.

Gratitude

While I may be disappointed not to have caught a salmon in any of the three wonderful places I have fished so far, I also reflect on the privilege of fishing them and the exceptional generosity of my friends.  When you are in receipt of such kindness it's wholly unseemly to complain about anything.  After all, it's just nature and we don't set the rules: to turn a quote, "man proposes, but the salmon disposes".

Looking Ahead

After such gloom - and it's not in my nature to be gloomy - it's nice to have a week on the Inver and Kirkaig at the end of August to which I can look forward.  Meanwhile my hand is healing nicely, although it will be another week before I can get back to proper gardening.  If you have been more fortunate enjoy the memories and tight lines.