An August Evening on the West Coast

There are days when Donald and I leave the loch empty-handed, and truth be told, it happens more often than this blog might lead you to believe. This was one of those days.

This year, we’ve struggled to find time to get out, even though the salmon weather has been perfect. So, when the opportunity finally came, we were eager to make the most of it, rushing out as soon as work let us go. With strong westerly gusts and good cloud cover, we set off brimming with anticipation.

The loch was vast, and with only three hours to spare, we headed straight to the hot spot, ready to cover as much ground as possible. My section was quiet, not a nibble in sight, but Donald’s spinner drew the attention of a beautiful 5lb fresh salmon. Though it didn’t take the bait, the fish followed his spinner right up to his feet, splashing aggressively before disappearing back into the depths. Our hearts were racing. In the next few casts, Donald felt a knock followed by a soft take. He had hooked a grilse, a salmon that had spent just one winter at sea. By the time he called me over, the fish had already come loose. Donald, now a more patient man at the ripe age of 21, just smiled and kept on fishing.

The excitement of those 15 minutes left us hopeful, but as is often the case, hope can be a cruel companion. The heavens opened up on us, and for the next hour, we didn’t get a single bite. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that another catch was just around the corner. I moved to a point further down and, after only a few casts, felt the line start to pull. The fish fought hard, shaking the line as it darted towards the centre of the loch. I called for Donald, who came running with the net, but it wasn’t needed. The salmon surfaced, gave one last shake, and threw the spinner from its mouth. A flash of silver and a brief, thrilling fight left me breathless. Unlike Donald, I was not as calm when I lost my fish.

Fighting a salmon with a spinner on a treble hook is tough; they always seem to find a way. But we fished with a single barbless hook to minimize the damage to the salmon’s delicate mouth. It’s more important to us that the fish swims away unscathed than to land a catch that might suffer an injury. Plus, using a single hook adds to the challenge, making us fight the fish more carefully. Another pro is it gives us an excuse for our poor skill.

Our renewed hope was now against the clock. We covered as much of the loch as we could in the remaining hour, but it just wasn’t meant to be. Despite the rain, there is no better place to lose a salmon than on this loch, surrounded by the raw beauty of nature. It was a much-needed break from the fast-paced world, reminding us to slow down and cast a line more often. The scarcity of our fishing trips has only made us appreciate them more. Fishing isn’t just about the catch; it’s about the experience and the reel stories that come with it. We often blank, so it feels right to share the times when the salmon get the best of us, which is more often than not.

Bliss!

Slàinte Mhath and tight lines!

Luke and Donald