I’m by nature a solitary fisher. Lomond makes you that way eventually whether you like it or not. By this I mean I generally prefer to be out alone when I can please myself about tactics, places, when to arrive and leave and can decide myself what to do on the hundreds of minor decisions Lomond boat anglers make every minute of the day. Fly, troll or dap, what lure, or fly, head up to the “tap” or down the bank, shallow or deep, fast or slow, lunch now or later, etc., etc. Being solitary then is a benefit as there’s no second guessing, no dissent and no fall outs. But when a good fish is hooked is the one time when solitary angling can be a curse. Fine if all goes well, the fish behaves, the weather is not wild and the boat not in danger of grounding on a rocky weather shore. Handling fish, boat and adrenalin pumped panic all at the same time has at one time or another happened to most of us, and as long as things turn out well are days to remember and reinforce the solitary instinct.
The following description of a solitary battle with a big fly caught Lomond salmon is by far the most vivid and accurate I’ve read so far. An open rowing boat, under oar power only, without the option to instantly turn on the outboard power to get out of difficulties, is no place for novices. Or sometimes even for the experienced.
This exhibition and description of dealing with the boat in extremis, while at the same time managing a wild fish shows a familiarity with boat handling few achieve. I’ve myself hooked a salmon in the exact same place described, but mine was on the troll and was immediately taken out to the deeps under power to play out. But I can visualise every yard of the ground and successive problems of the protracted battle as they are reached and surmounted. The series of weathering of shallow points while the wind attempts to ground the boat, the breathless alternate right oar, left oar, reel in a bit, repeat, all the while waiting for the hook to pull or the line to part is all the more exciting for having occasionally been in similar situations.
As a timeless description of taking a loch salmon to me it can’t be beaten,. Not on Lomond, anyway. I can even forgive the gaffing at the end, which was virtually customary practice with salmon in these days, and no one then gave the brutal final treatment of a worthy opponent a second thought.
I challenge anyone to come up with an equal or better description of hooking and landing a loch salmon. Although Lamond himself might be a contender with his own “A Plain Tale” from “A Mixed Basket” which might follow on B&T sometime soon.
ALONE WITH A SALMON
Bitter and Twisted 