Kilmelford August 13th 2008

Kilmelford

August 13th 2008

It had rained; rained some more and rained even more for, what
appeared to be, weeks before I set off for Oban and eventually
Kilmelford. As we drove up through Crianlarich, Tyndrum, Dalmally and
Taynuilt the skies started to clear and for the first time I felt that
it would turn out to be a worthwhile trip.

Down the hill past the King's Knoll, along the Main Street and round
behind the Columba Hotel to park in the car park, I always seem to be
lucky enough to find a space here no matter what time I arrive in
Oban. We strolled round the esplanade to the railway pier where we
had lunch, and then back up checking out the shops on the way, with a
stop at W.H.Smith for the requisite magazines and books that I always
buy when here. Then it was up the main street and into Anglers Corner
to pick up my permit. The young lady tried to sell me one of the
estate tickets but, after explaining it was the club waters I would be
fishing, she gave me the right one. I got the impression that
splitting up the lochs at Kilmelford between the estate and the club
is causing a lot of confusion permit wise. We went back to the car and
made the short drive down the coast to the Loch Melfort Hotel at
Arduaine which would be home for the next two nights.

I should explain the 'we' at this point, my wife was accompanying me
as this would be her treat, sitting in the hotel being run after by
the staff and watching the world go by while I fished. She loves to
sit, either in the room or the lounge, with a book and enjoy the view
down the sound of Jura, past Isle Shuna with Ben More, on Mull, and
the Paps of Jura in the distance. There is always something to watch
on the sea, yachts, fishing boats, small speed boats and sea birds.
Flying round the hotel were Swallows and their young with the odd
glimpse of a Buzzard working the field that runs down to the
shoreline. If you look long enough you may also see an Otter working
the seaweed beds around here and maybe the odd Dolphin and Whale, you
never know. I nearly forgot the rabbits, hundreds of them, from small
ones no bigger than mice to big bruisers that would make a nice stew.

My fishing day dawned, six in the morning, I opened my eyes and drank
in the view from the patio doors that took up the whole of the wall I
was facing, with an upper room we don't close the curtains when we are
here. The light was just strong enough to see the calm sea and the
view was spectacular, the colours just coming on the islands and the
dusky blue mountains penetrating the lightness in the sky on the
horizon. The sky was clearing, it would be a good day, I closed my
eyes and returned to sleep; breakfast wasn't till eight.

We had breakfast at the window in the corner of the dining room with
that same view nourishing our soul as the food nourished the body. The
hotel has that air of yesteryear about it; hushed tones at breakfast;
no blaring music and afternoon tea with the papers in the lounge; you
never feel the need to rush.

It is a short, ten minute drive from the hotel to the end of the
forestry track that was the start of the path to the hill lochs. As I
drove down the road more and more blue sky appeared as the clouds
dispersed, although never disappearing. Getting out of the car I felt
the searing heat of the sun burning into the top of my head and my
bare arms. It and the high humidity would make for an uncomfortable
climb up the hill. I opened the back door of the car and sat on the
seat to put on my boots, that was when the flies appeared; landing on
my arms, crawling on my face, not biting but annoying, then the real
invasion. I was sitting in the shady side of the car and the midges
found me, not a lot, but enough to remind me to put on repellent
before I started off.

Boots on; rucksack on my back; fishing rod in hand, I set off along
the track to where the path turns off to the right leaving the forest
road and going up through a fire break. The only problem is, if you
don't know this there is no path discernable on the ground and
following the forestry road isn't a good idea as it doesn't take you
in the right direction. I jumped the ditch and skirted the boggy
ground by staying near the trees. At this point I decided to put on
the waterproof trousers as the grass and bracken were shoulder high
and dripping with moisture and my trousers were becoming uncomfortably
wet. Going from memory I followed a path of sorts, or perhaps it was
just in my head but it was taking me in the right direction. Every now
and then I would get to a spot where I could see deer tracks, but no
human prints, this path isn't used much any more so the regular
anglers must have a different route in now. The path eventually comes
out of the long grass and trees and climbs sharply through the
bracken. Here and there I could just make out the worn path beneath
the fronds, but it was hard going and by now I was covered in a fine
film of water, the word sweat doesn't do it justice. I was regretting
putting on fly repellent now as anything that landed on bare skin
drowned.

The first stiff climb over I rested before the next bit, although
there were still clouds about the sun felt intense. Leaving the
bracken behind it was strength sapping long grass and heather up to
the deer fence and the style over it. A few of the spars are missing
so getting over is a bit of a scramble, but once over the walking is
easier on the shorter grass from here to Loch Chaorainn.

The loch stretched out in front of me as I put the rod together and I
made the decision to concentrate on the right, north shore, as I
normally start the other way. I walked down to the outlet burn and
crossed over the stepping stones, disturbing shoals of small fish in
the process. It would seem there is a healthy breeding population in
the loch. This part of the loch is shallow and there are a couple of
reed beds that grow a short distance out from the edge. Going from
past experience I new that there might be fish cruising off them, my
first casts would be out in front of them. I lengthened line and cast
out the three fly cast, it hadn't changed since my last trip. Dry fly
on the top dropper size 14, Invicta size 10 on the middle and a size
12 HillLoch Nymph on the end. I started to retrieve. Nothing happened,
as was expected. I moved slowly along the shore, casting and
retrieving as I went, then the line just went heavy, and I missed my
first fish. Lack of concentration, lost in my surroundings, tuned to
the moon instead of being tuned to the fishing. I fished on.

The wind, such as it was, blew from behind me so the water was calm
before a slight ripple ruffled the surface some ten yards out. I
reached the first point just as I noticed a fish rise in the flat
calm. I covered it as best I could and then noticed more fish rising
here and there. I continued casting and retrieving in the vicinity of
these rising fish until eventually a fish went for the surface fly,
and missed it. I had a look around to see what they might be taking
and it was then I noticed the flying ants on the rocks, on the water
and on me; by now there were fish rising everywhere. I continued to
cast and retrieve and then the water exploded beside my flies and I
lifted into a hard fighting fish on the Invicta of all things. I
brought it in and released a nice fat six ounce brown trout to fight
another day.

I continued to fish from this point missing slashes and plucks until I
finally caught the twin of the first fish on the HillLoch Nymph. Every
now and then the sun would be covered by a big cloud, the light ripple
would increase and the wind would change round to my right, but the
fish continued to rise although the ants would seem to disappear. I
continued round this small shallow bay to the next point missing a
couple more slashes and a few tightening of the line but caught no
more fish. It was time for a move.

Back the way I had come, over the stepping stones and then follow the
path to the left, you can see it here, to Loch Chreachain. Cross the
inlet burn here and go over the fence, the style is broken and
unusable here, and on to Loch Dubhe Bheag. I walked round the loch to
the far side for a change and sat there having lunch and watching the
water. There was a slight ripple interspersed with flat calm but every
now and again a fish would break the surface. One in particular seemed
quite consistent. I finished lunch and scrambled down the bank, they
are quite steep at this point, found a safe(ish) place to stand at the
water and cast in the general direction of where it was rising. There
were a couple of other fish rising in the area which I covered without
success. I covered the original fish again and this time it took the
HillLoch Nymph. I could tell it was a better fish by the fight it was
putting up and I finally brought in a nice half pound brown trout.
This one I dispatched as I had promised to take one back for my wife
as she likes one for the Bar-B-Q.

I continued on for another few hours with fish rising but, although I
rose a few more fish I never caught any. I finally moved back to Loch
Chaorainn and fished off the point at the east end but, although there
were still fish rising, I packed up without contacting with any of
them.

That was it, down the hill, in the car, back to the hotel, find the
wife, have a pint, up to the room for a shower and get changed for
dinner. The end of another enjoyable day on some of my favourite hill
lochs. My wife is even talking about next year, I just hope I'm fit
enough, to climb the hill I mean.

©Alexander Birrell

--


Don`t Worry, Be Happy

Sandy
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In article , Sandy Birrell
wrote:
Kilmelford

Nice one.

I'm off west on an expedition of my own in a few days - unlike you I take a
selection of tackle and wait 'til I see the local conditions before I decide
what to fish for and exactly where but if I do anything on topic for this
group I may report...

....but I may be some time :-)

Cheerio,

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