I had fished Lochan nan Cnaimh 30 years ago give or take a year or two. Back then the climb up and down was a mere day trip. This time out I had planned on utilising the ex military bivvy bag I had acquired with remote hill lochs in mind. My logic was that the trek into the hills would be more efficient in terms of walking versus fishing time if I bedded down in the hills. A night under the stars would give two fishing days for the physical efforts involved- simple – eh no actually as it happens (more on this later!)
Loch nan Cnaimh had kept me wondering all these years. Let me explain. The arrogance of youth on my first visit led me to convince myself that the Loch did not in fact hold trout. This rash deduction was built on the fact that I (a self proclaimed expert on catching trout in hill lochs) had spent an hour or so working my magic without even seeing a fish. This first trip had been a spring one and when I eventually added to my ‘expertise’ the fact that hill lochs at higher altitudes ( Lochan nan Cnaimh lies at 400 metres) often came on later than lower lying lochs, a niggling doubt began to gradually emerge.
Lochan of the Bones , the English translation from Gaelic, suggested death , a graveyard of previous life and this played into my initial conclusion about the water. The Gael’s tendency to use descriptive names for places, mountain features , events and peaks had me researching for clues. Nothing was forthcoming from my sources at least. As I remembered back it was a deep dark Loch of reasonable size as hill lochs go. It had several small feeder burns coming off the surrounding mountains, although this is not essential for wild brown trout to thrive. It was dour and a little foreboding , without rises as I recalled but again this is in common with many other hill lochs I had caught in. The mystery of the Loch had played on my mind for years. It was time to try again to solve the puzzles of Lochan nan Cnaimh!
These days due to the demands of family life I require to grab fishing opportunities when and where I can. This trip though planned in my head for months was a little haphazard in the final organisation. When the stars aligned to make the trip a possibility I had to go for it. Not quite jumping out of an airplane when the green light suddenly flashes but you get the idea. The fishing tackle that was making the trip was not an issue having been considered and decided weeks ago however the catering arrangements were poor (desperate even). Two supermarket packed lunches, two drinks in refillable plastic bottles, a packet of chocolate bars, porridge oats, sugar, powdered milk and teabags. My camping kettle would allow me to brew up hot tea as required, provided I could find some dry wood. Waterproofs, bivvy bag , sleeping bag, extra socks and a jumper and I was good to go. The Lochan was close(ish) to another more accessible one I had previously fished and the plan was to walk in( well up ) easterly to Lochan nan Cnaimh , a mere canter of approximately 2.5 miles , fish it that evening , rest up , fish an early morning session, make my way on a ‘well defined’ track to the second Lochan , give it a go then walk out on a forestry road to a meeting place about four miles to the north where I would be picked up by my wife and son in the early evening. Simple, clear and responsible was how I would describe the plan. I even left a screenshot of the area in the rare chance of encountering any difficulties. The weaknesses in the plan were my current fitness levels, being a little more rotund these days, the current nature of the terrain and the maintenance of paths and of course weather conditions. The latter seemed passable for my intentions- warm and settled the first day then becoming less settled by morning and showery the next day. A reasonable breeze throughout would sort out the midgies.
My good wife dropped me off around midday at the side of Loch Eck in the neighbouring Glen , some 400 meters below my main target. The first mile would involve a steep , lung bursting climb up very rough ground . Thereafter it was a long , energy sapping boggy moorland slog to around 600 meters altitude before a steep descent to the Lochan. My rucksack weighed around 20 kilos and in the afternoon heat I discovered how much my fitness had declined. I had expected the first section to be hell and it was! I took it very slowly and carefully and at times the gradient was ridiculous but eventually I won out onto the open hillside and picked up the remnants of rotten wooden posts that had been way makers on a longer route. The ground was awful – boggy with tussocks and holes and the watershed on the horizon seemed forever far away. My legs felt like jelly as I willed myself on. It had taken me over 2 hours to gain the watershed but eventually the ground fell away in front of me and a craggy vista unfolded and there was Lochan nan Cnaimh 200 meters below. A steep slippy decline later I reached it’s northwest edge and slowly took in my surroundings. The afternoon sunshine made the Lochan more inviting than I recalled and I immediately began assessing the banks for likely spots for trout to lie. I observed that it seemed almost uniformly deep from the edges outward. There was little weed growth visible. Indeed the only features to be observed looking down into the water were large craggy rocks. It was at this point I may have solved the mystery of this remote Lochan’s name. Through the murky water within the dark outline of rocks I noticed streaks of white marble layered in the stone. As I looked wider I noticed more and more of these submerged shinning seams and suddenly felt these were perhaps the bones of the place name. One mystery solved (possibly) and I was keen to tackle the next one – did this hill Lochan hold trout? After a quick brew up of tea and a sandwich (whose prepackaging helped me get a small camp fire lit !) my tiredness from the walk in began to ease. Setting up the fly rod I searched the surface for activity and observed absolutely nothing! I am very much a vintage tackle enthusiast these days although I allowed myself the concession of a carbon four piece 9 footer. Despite the lack of activity I plumped for a floating line (size 5 Peter Anderson Classic) that lives on a more than perfectly adequate Leeda rimfly light weight. I started with a cast of three classic wets – a pennel on point with a blue Zulu and black spider on the bobs. I kept back from the water’s edge as it seemed likely to me that fish may lie there and cast carefully. The flies hit the water and after two steady retrieves, a sharp subsurface take and a lively half pounder had taken the pennel! Pound for pound wild brown trout must be one of the hardest fighting fish.
This one knew how to utilise it’s surroundings diving again and again for the rocky depths and under the bank itself. Soon after I lifted this beautiful, wild fish onto the soft grassy edge. I carefully unhooked the fish and gently slipped it back into the Lochan. These wild trout rarely require recovery time before darting back into the depths and this one was no exception! While I had solved the second mystery of Lochan nan Cnaimh I was to find out that it’s trout are far from predictable. Hopeful of a good evening’s fishing I continued down the bank with high expectations of more action. Alas the next half hour produced only one minuscule trout and one missed pull. As the evening went on I did get another two reasonably sized fish on a blue Zulu and a Kate McLaren but Lochan nan Cnaimh does not give up it’s trout easily. It’s canny trout are easily spooked. One final observation from the evening was that despite a plentiful supply of fly life and moths in particular not one rise did I see. Having fished into the dark I had not prepared my ‘bed’ and I struggled and stumbled around finding a spot that would retain some wind (to keep the midgies at bay)and that was not a bog!
I awoke to light rain and low cloud. I never slept that well but have had worse nights. I was dry and warm although I could feel a stiffness in my legs from yesterday’s physical effort. It took me a bit of time to get up and moving but once I did I had to keep going . The rain worsened and having put away my bivvy I moved up to a large rock that provided shelter from the elements. Here I made a breakfast of porridge oats , milk powder, sugar and water mixed together. There was little chance of making a fire given the rain and besides I was keen to fish again. Given the conditions I decided to set up a vintage spinning outfit. This consisted of a refurbished 7ft Milbro 4 piece rod called ‘the tourist’ and I had been keen to have a go with it. I teamed it with a Mitchell 314 loaded with 4lb line and an 8 gr. copper Abu Droppen. Despite the strengthening wind ‘ the tourist’ flicked the lure a decent 30 feet plus and was a joy to use. I gave it an hour and had two lovely half pounders , carefully returned, and one better sized fish that threw the hook after a decent tussle. The outfit was great to use and will be still functional for years to come with some basic care and attention.
The weather improved with the rain easing and the cloud lifting a little at least. I put the spinning outfit away and returned to the fly rod. This time using a very well preserved Hardy Gem reel and a size 6 intermediate line. I started off with a team of two wets – a larger blue Zulu (an 8) and a Kate McLaren tied on a size 10 hook. I left my rucksack at the north end of the Loch , filled my pockets with essentials ( fly boxes, leader line, forceps ) and headed off to explore the western shore line.
The bank was high and rocky interspersed with lower, grassy sections that were more sensible to fish at least. Initially the higher banks were more productive. I saw a fish only feet from a rocky outcrop. I think I spooked it rather than it rising. I crouched lower and flicked the flies over it and held my breath. The lively rattle followed almost immediately before the fish let loose my Kate McLaren! Encouraged by the early activity I continued- nothing happened. Like the previous evening it seems that after a disturbance of the water from a fish it goes very quiet as all the trout in the immediate environment seek cover. This in turn means the game is up for the angler , temporarily at least. I fished on moving steadily away from where I had hit the fish. Nothing. Then I saw the swirl of a fish following the Kate McLaren without contacting. I changed the Zulu for another variation of a Kate McLaren with a flashy green tag. The Lochan trout seemed to approve and over the next hour I had three more beautiful fish , two around the half pound average and one much smaller.
The weather remained unsettled with swirling rain clouds coming and going. Checking the time I decided to go on for another 15 mins till midday and fish to a low section of grassy bank. At this point I noticed the battery in my phone was getting very low and put it off to preserve it. When I reached the lower bank I was able to cast further without the high bank and on my third retrieve all hell broke loose as a bigger trout hammered the top fly and proceeded to leap a foot clear of the water. This was repeated 3 or 4 times in succession as this trout angrily resisted. The next phase involved a different tactic as the fish dived for the weeds tangling the trailing fly. When it came to the surface it was an attractively marked brown trout of just under the pound mark. I banked it on the grass, unhooked it and realised I had switched the phone off – so no pic . Again this healthy specimen shot off when released appearing as strong as ever.
Satisfied with my morning I made my way back to pick up the rucksack and head off. I turned for one last look at this wonderful wilderness as the next rain clouds swirled in transforming the Lochan back into the brooding and mysterious place I had long felt it to be.
Postscript.
Alas the track I had hoped for taking me down then north to the nearby hill Loch never materialised. The track was lost to growing trees and bog. I spent a tough and futile hour looking for a route before taking stock of the terrain, conditions, estimated time (as my phone had died ) and my dwindling energy levels. To press on was to invite trouble that could lead to injury, harm and anxiety for my family. Decision made I required to climb 100 meters back up the valley over more difficult ground that would take me to a forestry road and eventually to a village north east and 20 miles from the agreed pick up. At the village a Good Samaritan let me use her phone and after some explaining my wife and son came out to collect me.
Everyday is a school day as the saying goes. Meticulous planning and up to date information is the key with this type of adventure but overall it was a successful , enjoyable and worthwhile trip!
A.T.F.
Argyll Trout Fisher 