Well the holiday came to an end, and I departed once more for my little island home. And I don’t think I have ever been so happy to see it. It may never get proper warm here, no pubs worth of mentioning, no decent tackle shops but it does have something that makes a fishingfiend happy…FISH! Unlike the place where I went for my little holiday.
The main reason why I went was to catch some mackerel. Yes I know, most of you think of them as bait, but I actually enjoy targeting these little critters. Pound for pound they fight as hard as any fish. And I did hope to maybe use one of the excess fish as bait and see what else was swimming about.
So on my second day there, the first having been spent in the pub saying hello to old friends, I set off into the hills to a mark that I had fished a couple of years ago with good results. It does involve some yomping across the hills and glens but I was determined to have barbecued mackerel for my tea. As it turns out the midge were determined to have me for their tea, and the fish were determined not to be anywhere near me.
After several hours all I had to show for having trundled around the countryside were severel thousand midge bites and half a ton of weed. And the prospect of once again being a walking dinner buffet for ticks and midge. So as a reward I thought I’d stop off at the pub. Speaking to folk there that I know go mackerel fishing almost religiously, I asked if they had any yet. The reply was heartening, yes they had seen them. Way out , outside the mouth of the loch.
So I had a day off from fishing, partly due to giving the fish time to come into the loch, partly because I had the hangover from hell.
The next day I took a little trip down the pier to see if I could see any movement. But alas nothing stirred. Okay back to base and try to come up with an alternative plan. So the mackerel hadn’t arrived, but I was convinced there were other fish about. And just to prove my point, a nice looking sea trout rose to take a midge ten metres away from me. The words salt, wound, into and rub came to mind. So I decided to go and dig myself some nice lugworm the day after.
At low tide (funnily enough) I set off to aquire some lugworm. Spade in hand I walked the short journey to the beach and dug my bait. With a nice tub full of these black monsters, I returned to the cottage. Next dilemma was where to try them out. Back where I went the first time or try someplace else? I decided to give somewhere else a chance. Yet another expedition into tick and midge country, just to find the shore line I had picked was rather…ehm…inaccessible. Bloody deer fences!
So yomp back to the cottage and think again. Robert the Bruce had nothing on me! It was now fairly late in the day and I hadn’t even gotten my line wet yet. Out of desperation I went to the pier, baited up my worms and chucked one out. No fish seemed to like them, but the crabs were very grateful. On the way back to base I walked past the pub. You can never walk past it without somebody asking how you got on. This time it was the man who dives for scallops for the pub. He kindly told me that he hasn’t seen a fish down there for about a decade.
This fishing holiday turned quickly into a pub holiday. Not what I had in mind. SO the next day was taken off again, to give these blasted mackerel time to arrive.
Then I remembered…I still had those worms. And I didn’t want to have gotten my blisters digging for them for nothing. So once more I strode off into the countryside, to try and catch my dinner and get shot off the remainder of my worms. I found a nice little beach, assembled my rod and let a nice juicy bunch of worms go flying. And….NOTHING! Some good clumps of weed and some happy crabs, but no fish. Quietly sobbing to myself I went home. On the way home I managed to trap a nerve in my back, this truly was turning into the best holiday ever.
Staggering home I realised that I was now unable to cast, since even just breathing in deeply was painful. And with my holiday quickly drawing to an end all I could hope for was that either my back would sort itself out quickly…or that the bloody fish wouldn’t show up. I would not be happy being crippled and the waters teeming with fish.
As it turns out, my back didn’t sort itself out quickly AND the fish never came. So now I am wondering if I might not be better of knitting. But I know that can never be me, until the bitter end I shall be a fisherman.
So I hope you all caught lots of fish in my absence, and I wish you tight lines and happy angling for the future.
