I keep a good look out for any spots that might combine a good campsite with the chance of decent fishing. That usually means somewhere well out of the way and probably a decent hike too.
This one is near enough a five hour drive from home, so it’s taken a good while for me to organise an expedition and check it out. Late October provided my opportunity for a few days off work.
I marched quickly down a couple of miles from the road, but then stopped dead. Horribly effective barriers comprising of windfall trees and tide-limited rocks blocked access. Quite nerve-wracking as well as exhausting! I was pretty glad to finally scrunch across the shingle and reach my target in one piece. Accessible by boat all right, but if this place sees one visitor a decade hiking in then I’ll be surprised.
I didn’t waste any time in getting set up and powering a mackerel bait seawards into something like 70 feet of water. The tide was falling back and it was easy to find a good stance amongst the barnacles.
Looking around, this spot ticked most of my boxes – beautiful, remote and with camping right alongside the shoreline. A ready supply of dry, dead, wood for a campfire was a distinct bonus.
My tent slotted in neatly on the soft ground between rows of conifers a few yards from the shoreline. Then I dug out the spinning rod for a session before dusk.
I managed plenty hits, but sadly only very small pollack engulfed my lures. Quantity, but if any made it over 1lb I’d be fibbing. My bottom rods faired no better, remaining biteless. At least the ground was rough but not terrible and I only lost a couple of sets of gear on the retrieve.
I sorted out a fire for my dinner, as daylight was fading quickly now. At least this was easy enough, given the amount of dead twigs and branches in the wood. It wasn’t long before I’d my first coffee since leaving Edinburgh, many hours before.
My dinner was chilli chicken, chorizo and pasta all cooked together over the fire. Superb, if I say so myself, and just the thing after a long day outdoors and facing an autumn night under canvas.
The sun was long gone by now, and I just spent a while supping a whisky augmented coffee and watching the afterglow fade. I gave the fire a couple of refills, but otherwise just sat and watched a calm sea reflect the first of the moonlight until the comfort of a warm sleeping bag finally became irresistible.
I slept well, only awoken briefly by the noise of a couple of light showers. A few years back I invested in a decent down sleeping bag and proper mat and it’s really transformed my comfort levels in the cooler months. Down needs a bit of tender loving care, but it’s fantastic stuff if you feel the cold!
Anyway, next morning I was feeling sufficiently rested and on top of the world to cast out before getting the coffee and bacon on the go!
Halfway through my first coffee of the day I got a lovely, slow, ray-style bite. Which I managed to fluff badly and thereby miss my best chance so far. Aagh! Fishing was slow, and I couldn’t really afford such silly mistakes!
Breakfast cooked and wolfed down, I hit the spinning for a little while. And with the same result as last night – little pollack. I’ve had 6lb+ fish hammer into lures from not too far from here, so this was disappointing.
By late morning, with nothing else showing up, it was time to move. My next spot was several miles away and I risked getting caught out by nightfall if I wasn’t careful.
After an equally horrible struggle over decaying, fallen, timber to get back to the track and then my car, I headed along the road for another 30 minutes or so.
The End of the Road – Again
Quite literally at the end of the road, I hit the trail again. This time the path was pretty good, being a real testament to the efforts of generations of crofters.
A few miles further, and beyond the “quality” section of path, I headed down the hillside and onto the shoreline. Luckily I managed to find a little flat spot that others had used before me and pitched my tent just as the heavens opened.
Only 20 minutes worth, but everything got pretty wet in the downpour. Fortunately I still managed to locate some tinder and dry wood, otherwise it’d have been a pretty limited dinner tonight.
I managed a couple of casts out into the loch, and it was pretty deep water – perhaps 120-130 feet. Then it was time to get the campfire going and to cook some dinner.
I’d company this time, with a red deer and youngster approaching within 30 yards or so of my camp. The young deer seemed much more nervous of me than his mum, who just munched away regardless.
I left them to it as I popped a steak on for my dinner, alongside the obligatory campfire coffee. It was fully dark by the time the sirloin was ready and I chilled out by watching the stars coming out as the fire crackled away.
My last act of the evening was to lose two more sets of gear. The bottom here seems muddy, but there is a rocky ledge half-way in where I locked solid 🙁
Tonight wasn’t quite as peaceful as my sleep the previous evening either. Over-confident deer kept munching very noisily close to my tent, and didn’t seem too bothered by my loud cursing. At least there aren’t any bears in Scotland… (yet!)
The next day dawned bright and sunny, so I packed up camp and made my way back along the trail for a couple of miles before settling down at a headland for a final couple of hours fishing.
As I’d hoped, this had the hallmarks of a decent mark – deep (60-70 feet +) and a softish bottom. Sadly, all my mackerel baits produced was this nice edible crab (returned, albeit with some reluctance). Coming in with a good collection of weed I harboured the hope that it might be a thornback ray, but that was too much to hope for this weekend!
By lunchtime I’d had enough, with a fair hike back to the car and then a good few hours drive home facing me.
Overall an excellent camp but quite frustrating fishing. I reckon a bit more fishing effort on at least two of these marks should produce something, so it may be question of persistence. Next year though, I think.Share this: