Toughest days fishing in Sutherland

Toughest days fishing in Sutherland

While completing an application form for a BBC fishing programme I was asked about the toughest fishing I had experienced. I did not take it as the toughest days to catch a fish but more on the brutal days we go through to catch a fish or just to travel to a faraway loch in pursuit of those mystery fish. I told of one story but it is actually parts of two adventures in the hills both with my old friend and now departed Vince Kerr.

Both were in the mountains north of the Laxford, Stack & Merkland, all on the Westminster estate waters and of course all with permission from the Factor at the time. This is a longer version and is all fact but covers at least two outings in these mountains and lochans.

It always starts in the south, usually around 3am when the car is packed and an early night has been taken.

Coffee, flasks, sandwiches and 695 miles. Nine hours is my record but those were the days when we all drove at 115 miles an hour and more.

Preparation for the walk ahead


On this trip it was limited with speed cameras so a stop south of Inverness was required, Moy campsite is perfect, small, few campers and great showers. It would be my last for three days.  The campsite also gives you that holiday buzz feeling, out in the open drinking beer, wine and cheap brandy a bit of a calm before the storm/pain.

The South had been in a heatwave for weeks but as soon as I passed Lairg the sky was dark with cloud and the rain started as I neared my parking spot on the banks of Loch Merkland. I stopped immediately and thought bugger it lets get the wet gear and boots on now rather than in the pouring rain five miles further on. Luckily no one is on the road at six in the morning up here so I changed in the middle of the road on the shores of Loch Shin.

The rain poured down as I reached the end of my 700 mile journey, the pack had been filled and checked over the previous weeks I strapped two rods cases on either side and started the ascent. It should have been a two hour stiff uphill walk up Sail Na Glaise with a walk along Creag na h Uidhe ridge before a descent of Carn an Tionail to a campsite location next to Lochan a Bhealaich. But as I climbed the weather got worse the cloud dropped and the wind really whipped up as I reached the first plateau.

At times I could only see a few yards ahead of me and my nerves were shattered when I realised there was a cliff edge to my right which I had not expected to see. I had drifted to the East but looking at the map in the dry that is where the plateau starts. In my concerned state I took compass bearings and headed directly North but with the wind blowing from the East and there being a slope to the West I kept drifting off line. It was crazy I knew the correct direction but the weather and contours just kept pulling me to the North West. Within half an hour I knew I was in trouble I had ended up on the cliff edges on the other side totally disorientated and doubting my location.

For the next hour I walked all over the place trying to relocate my actual position on top of this hill, I must have traveled some of it North as I was still using my compass. You start to wonder why you go on these wild walks on your precious ten days holiday on such occasions. I even bumped into a flock of ptarmigan who were surprised to see me, they jumped up into the air and then tumbled to the ground in distress - very strange stuff.

I got to a point that I needed to act fast before something serious occurred, this may sound dramatic but I had been walking lost for quite some time and the weather wasn’t improving. I decided to head West and descend the slope and hope that I had passed the steepest of the cliff edges.  It was hopeless I could not see anything more than a few yards ahead. Then suddenly I felt the gradient change and the cloud appeared to brighten a bit, I prayed a bit and then in frustration called out to God and asked him for some help.

All I can say is that it was an epiphany and surreal moment for me, suddenly the cloud lifted and then parted ever so briefly to give me a view of the loch below. I had my location and within seconds the cloud covered my view and I was back in dark cloud again. The rest of the hike took another hour but I at least knew where I was going and I dropped towards the valley floor at an angle and reached the campsite with Vince appearing out of the mist which surrounded his tent.


Vince fishing on my arrival at the campsite in the mist.

A two hour walk had taken me nearly five hours I had started at 6.30 am and it was nearly twelve as we boiled the kettle for a brew. We were at the loch we had visited the year before with a recommendation from the Factor and had caught seven trout all over a pound in weight and nothing had been seen smaller that day.


It was very clear water and you could see the trout coming out of the depths to take your dry fly and with a wet fly they would often smash into it on the initial drop. Of course so far Vince had not seen anything the night before or early this morning but the cloud/mist was to blame for that.

Coire Loch is another twenty minute walk from the campsite we had chosen so after a full recovery and some whiskey we set off and fished the west bank of the campsite loch with a few takes abut no real serious fish showing themselves to us. You descend a steep hill and then traverse some barren ground before this amazing loch appears.



It can be just another corrie loch but with the cloud the drizzle and the wind sweeping waves onto the shore it is an impressive sight. It looks very deep at one end with the cliffs above and the other end becomes a beach like affair as the outlet stream heads down the valley to the northern oceans.

Vince chose his bank and direction and the contest began. We all know that there is a contest but it is not spoken off or inferred but just talked about after the day or event, fisherman’s hunter gatherer prowess is still important in this day and age.

It was tough the odd tug on the line but obviously nothing showing. I was on an old favourite combo of wormfly point and black pennell on the first and only dropper with a floating line but letting it drop low in the water before retrieval.


 I had a lovely fish of 2lb after an hour but a bit thin as you will see from the photo, it was returned as far as I can remember as we had hoped it would grow a bit fatter latter on in the summer. 1-0 was the final score that afternoon and port, curry and some whiskey were had to celebrate back at the camp that night.





 We fished it hard the following day and pulled some beauties out in the cloud and rain but it was far from ideal conditions.


I have been back there twice and fished on lovely sunny afternoons but there is nothing quite like fishing in the rain and wind when you are soaked through and only have a tent to go back to that afternoon /night.

I always have some sort of contingency pj’s in the pack so that at least when back in the tent I am dry and cosy when brewing up my next curry. I always have a litre of port sometimes mixed with brandy and usually a 75cl plastic bottle of some blended whiskey. (75cl or a litre but always some!!)

This is a classic curry cooked under canvas as it was tipping it outside and was for two as my fellow camper’s tent was not trustworthy enough to cook in.  

His was delivered with the use of gut and his mettle dish as you will see from this photo.






But this toughest experience did not end there as on the way back to the cars on a slightly different route so as to get back to Vince’s car at Lone we trekked once again in the wind, no rain but a lot colder than before. I was tired from two days walking, fishing and camping but Vince had been up there for three days. I noticed he was slowing his pace and kept stopping for a rest but then he asked to take of his jacket and closing his eyes all the time, he had got totally exhausted and I began to realise that he was suffering from hypothermia and just wanted to take off his waterproofs and go to sleep.

It took me an hour to go 100 yards with him. Luckily I had plenty of gas left and cooked him up some soup and found some chocolate. As we dropped altitude it got warmer and he managed to recover enough to complete the walk back to the car and the safety of the Scourie Hotel.

Here is a great picture of my old buddy and fishing pal above the falls at Kirkaig on the way to fish a mystery loch in the hills- never forgotten always remembered, especially on the loch side.