Bracadale Spurdogging

For decades I avoided Skye after experiencing poor weather on several visits to the island, away back in the pre-bridge days. My loss of course, and I’ve been back several times in recent years and had far better luck. It’s a fickle place but very rewarding if you catch it right – and steel yourself for the 5 hour drive.

I did just that in early August,staggering out of bed in the pre-dawn darkness at 4 in the morning. Even the dog didn’t bother to say goodbye as I shut the door. Many hours later I successfully navigated the maze of small roads around Bracadale to reach my destination at Orbost.

Fine looking fishing stance

Tramping along the track through the forest I could see glimpses of my target through the trees. A very inviting looking rocky ledge far below me and about a mile away as the local eagles fly. However, I’m far from an eagle and faced an obstacle course of forest, burns, cliffs and dense undergrowth to reach my chosen spot.

Unforgiving territory!

I’ve been here once before, so knew the way and avoided the worst of the bogs and deadfall, but it’s still pretty hard going. I wasn’t exactly travelling light, but it really pays to minimise weight if you can. By the time I reached the rocks I was soaked with sweat and seriously out of breath.

Recovery

The sun was out and the midges were down, so I took stock. There were two crab pots set in front of me, but I could see the lines in the clear water and they weren’t a big problem. The big seal looking at me curiously was perhaps more of an issue.

It was around half-way down the ebb and the big kelp beds that fringe much of Bracadale were clearly visible in the clear water. I set up my stall and rigged the rods with pulley rigs and a modest mackerel bait. Targets were ray and spurdog from the clean ground further out in perhaps 20-30 feet depth.

The first hour was quiet and I scouted around looking for space for my tent. Eventually I decided to stick with my choice from last time and pitch up in the conifer plantation. Hardly spacious, but there’s enough room for my little Helium 2 and it was a fairly comfortable arrangement.

Finally, a fish

Eventually my patience was rewarded with a decent run on my old Zziplex 2500 and I hooked what was clearly a reasonable spurdog. Scrabbling down the rocks whilst trying to keep the fish from slicing through the line on the barnacles wasn’t easy but I eventually got her alongside. Then blew it by applying a little too much strain on the hook length as I lifted the fish onto a ledge just at the waterline – ping! – as sharp teeth cut straight through 100lb nylon under tension. Dumb error, although the fish should lose the hook fairly quickly as it was just sitting around the jaw line.

I made amends a little later when my first spurdog was properly landed and returned. A decent fish from the shore at around 6lbs.

My spinning rod had tagged along with a view to pollack bashing as the tide rose again. I tried a mix of shads, jellyworms and metals for a while but had very little interest and only a couple of small pollack attacked. Last time I was at Bracadale there were more fish and a bit better sized, so perhaps the seal was keeping them occupied.

I had my hands full with more spurdogs, plus the need to collect some small twigs for my stove and replenish water supplies, so I didn’t persist with the spinning rod for too long.

Dinner

I’d taken along my little honey stove to boil water and cook on. It’s reasonably lightweight and packs very small, and just needs a modest supply of small twigs to keep burning. Coffee was the first priority, then a “chuck it all in the pan” mix of chicken, chorizo, peppers, pasta, etc. got fired up for dinner. It tasted fine I have to say, and probably better than I deserved given that cooking like this is a little random.

Suitably refilled, I fished on for a while, to bring the total for the day to 5 spurdogs. No doubles, but some respectable fish.

By this time I was flagging and the weather was turning a bit on the grey side, so I decided to call it a day. Hitting the sack I was out for the count pretty quickly, probably helped a little by the contents of my hip flask. I think I deserved that though, after quite a long day!

A New Day

I awoke to sunlight streaming in through the tent. It was just after six, and there wasn’t much wind either. No wind, damp ground and trees means midges gathering for breakfast on the other side of the flysheet… A very hasty exit was called for!

A fine early morning light over Loch Bracadale, Skye
A fine morning

Stumbling onto the rocks without breaking anything in the process I quickly baited up and cast out before sorting my gear into more organised piles of fishing gear, food and jackets.

I didn’t have to wait too long before spurdogs started on my baits, and the fish were a similar stamp to yesterday. I managed a couple before hunger pangs demanded I fire up my stove with more twigs and get some food on the go!

Breakfast was pancakes, bacon and maple syrup, recognising my very Canadian looking surroundings. The stove did a pretty good job on the bacon and I happily wolfed down the result in between spurdog runs.

This morning the weather was distinctly patchy, with some squally showers powering in between sunny spells.

I fished on during the rest of the morning, picking up 6 spurdogs to a shade under the 10lb mark. There was no sign of rays though, which I had rather been hoping to see.

Finally, with both time and weather running out, I called it quits and made my way back in a mini-deluge. Which promptly stopped as soon as I’d got past the difficult bits en-route to the track. I was almost dry again by the time I reached my car!

I fished to the right of this bay.
Way in/out at Bracadale
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