What a pleasant fatigue succeeds a day's fishing! There is not, or should not be, a feeling of weariness, but just the satisfaction one feels after enjoying a health-giving recreation. Health-giving it certainly is to the body, and we have no hesitation in saying to the mind also. It makes one forget for the time being all the evils to which flesh is heir, and braces up the whole system to meet them when the necessity arises. But we must not go in for more sentiment than is actually needful. The practical duties after a day's fishing are these. If the weather has been damp, change all wet garments at once, and if at all practicable have a hot bath before sitting down to dinner. We say dinner advisedly, for the angler should always have a good sound dinner after a day's fishing, as however pleasant the work may have been, still it is exhausting to the body, and a rough tea, though good in itself, cannot pretend to have the reviving elements in it that a substantial dinner has. A glass of whisky, or even two, in cold water, will be found a very safe accompaniment. A good plan is to order your whisky by the bottle, and put your card in a nick made in the cork: the ordering of whisky in glasses is expensive and unsatisfactory. Your dinner over, turn your attention to your tackle. Unwind your lines, so far as they have been wet, from the reels, and lay them out on your bedroom floor; if any chance of being interfered with, wind them round the backs of chairs instead. They will be dry by the morning. Dry your reels thoroughly, and put in a little oil wherever you think they would be the better of it; and this should be done to any other article—spring-balance, gaff, &c.—that is liable to rust. Your creel or fishing-bag should be washed out and hung up to dry by the servants of the house immediately after the fish have been removed, which latter should be done without delay. Your landing-net should also be suspended in the open air, that it may get dry as speedily as possible. A landing-net will last double the time if attention is given to it in this way. Take out all used casting-lines from your book, and lay them on the mantelpiece till morning: this will insure the feathers being freed from moisture. And in the case of expensive flies, this is a matter of consideration, both on the point of expense as well as your possible inability to replace them where you may happen to be sojourning for the time. If you mean to make up a new cast or casts for the morrow, place the casting-lines in a little water in your basin. They will be in excellent order next morning for manipulation. Also soak in like manner the gut on which the flies which you mean to use are dressed. True, you may not be sure what flies you will put on till you see what sort of a day it may prove to be, but there is no harm done if you soak the gut (but only the gut) of as many flies as will give you a good choice.
We should have said nearer the beginning of this chapter to look well after your waterproofs, that they are not hung up in a hot place. A dry room or outhouse where there is a good draught is best. If your fishing should happen to be over for the time being, put your tackle past (after being thoroughly dried) in the most orderly fashion possible. For our own part, we have the drawer in our bookcase spaced out into compartments suitable for holding all our tackle, barring reels and such like; and this arrangement we find extremely useful, and wonderfully convenient when we wish to find anything. If, on the other hand, you are out on a lengthy holiday, and have time at your disposal, after putting things right for the day, and for next day too, we know of nothing better than a good rubber at whist for filling up the evening. It must be a good rubber, however, for the parlour game is neither relaxation nor pleasure. Hence we would advise all our angling friends to acquire a thorough knowledge of the game, as only to be learned with the aid of a good book on the subject. Remember that when staying at some out-of-the-way fishing hotel, you may be asked to form a table with good players, and not to be able to hold your own on such occasions is a great loss of pleasure to yourself, and usually a source of annoyance to the others. These remarks are somewhat apart from the subject of this book, but by way of an aside, they may be found not quite out of place.
Do not be beguiled into keeping late hours, for no one can fish well next day if he has not had a sufficient amount of sleep. But this is also an aside; for some men need more sleep than others, and each angler knows his own necessities best. We only promulgate the broad rule, that without proper rest no one can be in good trim with hand and eye for a pastime that needs both in a pre-eminent degree. We speak from experience in this too; and have sometimes imagined that our right hand had lost its cunning till we remembered that we had not been properly rested the night before.
CHAPTER XII.
REMINISCENCES.
Having exhausted, so far as we can imagine, the practical part of our little treatise, we proceed—in accordance with an idea which we had in our minds at starting—to give a few personal recollections, and to name one or two lochs where we have enjoyed good sport, and where it is still to be had for the trouble of going. Reminiscences are, as a rule, not specially interesting to the general reader, hence we shall not make them too lengthy; for we wish, above all things, that our readers shall close this volume without experiencing a shadow of weariness. One thing, however, we would like to say to our younger angling friends—Have as many personal adventures to look back to as you possibly can. The adventures themselves can be best sought after when the blood flows fast; for the time will come when the rod and the tackle will perforce have to be laid aside, and memory will then, unaided, afford you many a pleasant retrospect, and you will—even companionless—fight your battles over again. You remember the story of the illustrious Prince Talleyrand: when a young man acknowledged to him that he could not play whist, Talleyrand said to him—"Young man, what a sad old age you are preparing for yourself!" We don't mean to go this length as regards fishing; but we safely say that a man who lives to old age without having been a keen angler, has not only deprived himself of great enjoyments during his active life, but has neglected to lay up a provision for the time when the memory of them would have made life's closing seasons sweeter.
Our first acquaintance with Loch Ard was very pleasant—not, perhaps, so much from any great expectation of sport, because at that time (many years ago now) we were young at the pastime, but more from the feeling of treading the ground made classical by the great Magician of the North, as the scene of the most stirring incidents in 'Rob Roy.' Attached to a big tree in front of the hotel at Aberfoyle there hangs a coulter, which tradition assigns as the veritable article which Bailie Nicol Jarvie made red-hot and used as a weapon of offence and defence when he was in a dilemma in what was, at that time, a very inaccessible part of the Highlands. Since then many a Glasgow magistrate has visited the spot—the inspection of the line of the noble waterworks undertaking which supplies the city being a sufficient excuse for the annual advent of the civic rulers. A railway station (Bucklyvie) is within eight miles of Aberfoyle, and Aberfoyle is within three miles of Loch Ard, and by the time this book is in the hand of the reader there will most likely be a railway station at Aberfoyle itself. Shade of Bailie Nicol Jarvie! what would you say if you were now to be allowed to haunt the old spot? to hear a locomotive screech where formerly you thought yourself so far "frae the Sautmarket o' Glesca"? We don't like the idea ourselves, and doubt very much if it will pay. However, it is the fishing alone which concerns us meantime, and we can at once assure our angling friends that the sport is good—not but what one has to fish hard for a basket; but the same remark applies to all our near-at-hand lochs. On an ordinary good day a dozen to eighteen trout may be captured, and sometimes the baskets are heavier; but eighteen fish, weighing 9 lb. to 12 lb., is a very fair day's work. The trout average fairly a half pound, and pounders are by no means scarce: a two-pounder is come across occasionally, but he is the exception. The fish are very pretty, and for their size give excellent sport. Fine tackle is here absolutely essential to success, and as a matter of sport should always be used in fishing for common yellow trout. The loch, for its size, is much fished; and we fear that when the railway facilities are completed, there will require to be a considerable amount of restocking to keep it up to the old mark. The scenery is unsurpassed—wood, water, and mountain, making a picture of wondrous beauty. To the north of the loch, Ben Lomond rears its mighty summit; and in the spring-time (for Loch Ard is an early loch), before the summer sun has melted the winter's snow, the effect is grand in the extreme. April, May, and June, are supposed to be the best months for angling; but we see no reason why, if the weather be favourable, these months should be singled out. The hotel accommodation at Aberfoyle is excellent. In the early months you must engage a boat beforehand: boatmen first-rate. Many a happy day we have spent on Loch Ard—sometimes successful and sometimes much the reverse; but in any case there is a witchery about the place that makes one enjoy himself in spite of all cares. Mind and body recruit their jaded energies, and get braced up to meet the stern realities of life.
In strong contradistinction, in this respect, to Loch Ard, is Loch Leven. In the latter, if the angler is not catching fish, there is little of the beautiful to commend itself to the senses. The island on which the castle stands is pretty, and as a historic ruin is well worthy of a visit, but otherwise the scenery is very tame, and the surroundings not entrancing. But since we have drifted into speaking of Loch Leven, we may as well tell of the sport which is to be had there,—and this, as is well known, is exceptionally good. The quality of the fish is wonderful; and after reading the statistics of a year's fishing—last season something like 18,000 fish, weighing as many pounds, were killed—one is puzzled to know how it is kept up. The loch itself is a great natural feeding-pond, miles and miles of it being of an almost uniform depth, and a boat may drift almost anywhere, the angler feeling at the same time certain that fish are in his immediate vicinity. Trout of two and three pounds are quite common; and it is a rare occasion that a day's average does not come up to the pound for each fish. They are very fine eating, and cut red as a grilse. The company which rents the loch pay £800 to £1000 for the fishing, and they in turn keep a fleet of large boats—twenty we think—and let them out to anglers at the rate of 2s. 6d. an hour. Any number may fish from one boat. There are two boatmen in each boat,—one of whom is paid by the company, the other by the angler; and we are sorry to say that these men, with a few exceptions, are very much spoiled. There is a class of anglers(?) who frequent Loch Leven, whose whole aim seems to be, not sport so far as their own personal efforts are concerned, but the killing of as many fish as possible. If such a one has engaged a boat, he arms each boatman with a rod, and, of course, fishes himself, thus having three rods going at once. As we said before, the loch can be drifted without any attention from the men, after they have pulled up to the wind, and this enables them to get casting all the time that their employer is doing likewise. Not content with this, a couple of minnows are generally trolled astern when changing ground. We don't say that a man has not a right to do as he likes if he pays for his boat; but we do ask, Is this sport? And why should boatmen be spoiled in this way to such an extent that we have known them sulk a whole day because a spare rod was not allowed to be put up for their special benefit? But, of course, the men are just as they have been made, and true anglers, who fish for a day's sport, and not for the mere sake of slaughter, have the remedy in their own hands. Don't let anything deter you from fishing Loch Leven. It may be expensive; but if you get a good, or even a fair day, you will not regret the expense. Get a friend to join you, and the expense is not so heavy after all; and if your friend and yourself fish perseveringly all day, you will usually be rewarded with a very fine show of fish. There is no harm in letting your men fish when you are taking your lunch, but don't allow a third rod to be put up. The boatmen are, as a rule, only fifth-rate fishers, though, of course, a few of them handle a rod well. Our recollections of Loch Leven are pleasant in some ways, in others they are not; but don't fail to give it a trial, if only for the pleasure of handling a big fish on fine gut. The manager of the Loch Leven fishings, Captain Hall, fills a very difficult post with much acceptance to all concerned.
But to leave the Lowlands and go into the far North, we take you to Loch Assynt, in Sutherlandshire, and to a little loch near it,—Loch Awe by name. The journey to Assynt is long and weary: train to Lairg, and then between thirty and forty miles driving, is a good long scamper for fishing, but it is worth it. The inn at Inchnadamph is good, but when we were there in 1877 the boat accommodation was poor enough: perhaps they have improved upon that since. The first day after our arrival we had to go to Loch Awe, as the boats on the large loch (Assynt) were taken up. Such a morning of rain and wind! We were wet through our waterproofs during the four-mile drive, but luckily the weather moderated, and we had an excellent day's fishing. With two in the boat, we took 57 lb. weight of beautiful fish,—not large, but very game, and spotted intensely red. It must have been a good day, for many an angler tried his luck after our success, but never came near that mark, at least when we were there. Loch Assynt is more attractive, however, inasmuch as the chances of big fish are not remote. Trout of a pound weight, and over, are not uncommon, while the chance of a grilse adds excitement to the sport. Then ferox, as we have said in a previous chapter, are, comparatively speaking, not scarce, if one cares to go in for trolling for them. But, in any case, the angler is always sure of a basket of lovely yellow trout. On the hills behind the inn there is a small loch, called the Mulach-Corrie, in which it is said that the gillaroo trout are to be found. Whether they are the real trout of that species or not, we cannot say, but certainly they are beautiful fish,—pink in the scales, and running to large sizes. We saw a basket taken by a friend, and it was a treat to look at. The fish were all taken with the fly, but we were told afterwards that worm is even deadlier than fly, and that one should never go there without a supply of "wrigglers." The hill between the inn and the Mulach-Corrie is a perfect paradise for fern-gatherers. It is said that about two dozen different kinds can be gathered; and we believe it, for even our untutored eyes discerned sixteen varieties! Our visit to Inchnadamph must be placed among the red-letter periods of our fishing life, and to be looked back to with much enjoyment.