• Becoming a member is completely free!

    • Join the community and start contributing to a large source of sea angling information.
    • Become an active member and you can enter member exclusive competitions.

    REGISTER FOR FREE HERE

Troot Bashing in Sutherland

Mike

Administrator
Staff member
Joined
Feb 14, 2019
Messages
485
Reaction score
1,940
Points
98
Location
North Wales
Favourite Fishing
Boat
Well, I took a week off last week and went back up to Sutherland for some trout fishing. I say trout fishing, but in reality, I spent more time in the pub or at the bottom of a single malt than I did trout fishing - the intention was there though, honest. I went to Kinbrace, to a little cottage I've stayed at twice before with Mrs T and our faithful, mad, three year old labrador (more on him later).

The first day was shopping day, so we headed up to John O Groats - Mrs T likes the little cafe there and I quite like a beer from the John O Groats brewery. Turns out the little cafe we went to last year, which was really very good is shut on a Monday, so we popped round to the other cafe for a sneaky bite to eat. Thankfully, the brewery was open so I sat myself down in the bar and consumed five pints of the landlord's finest (a beer called The Boars, which was very moorish). Afterwards, we got in the car (I wasn't driving) and headed down to Wick to get some shopping and bits for the rest of the week - fully intending to stay at the cottage and fish the loch/river the rest of the week. Popped into Le Mirage for fish and chips on the way back - possibly the best haddock I've had. Highly recommended.

Tuesday arrived and I went fishing for the day. For the first time, there were other people fishing the loch, I'd had it to myself the previous two trips. All fishing from the boat, I have no idea how they got on, but the puffing and panting of rowing the boat back through the biting and strong Sutherland winds did make me thankful for choosing the bank that day! If you've ever been to that part of Scotland, then you'll know that 60mph winds are a gentle breeze and anything other than a full-on hurricane is "fine fishing weather". The trout love a strong ripple top and a palmered fly dragged through the waves is almost impossible to resist for them. I probably fished three hours in total and ended up with 11 fine, hard-fighting trout to the bank. I admit that for much of the day I was either walking around, brewing coffee or swigging from my extensive hip flask collection. The day was fine though until it hammered down and I was thankful for packing the Overboard 20lt rucksack I recently acquired.

Wednesday and we woke to rain, more rain and even more rain. Decided it was a good day for the high stool using the excuse of "You know that wee cafe you like at John o Groats, it's open on a Wednesday you know". Four pints of The Boars (the barrel was empty) and a pint of their finest Mild and it was back to Helmsdale for fish and chips.

Thursday, a day to forget. Walking to the river my idiotic labrador decided he would chase something, that nobody else could see and jumped fully on into a cattle grid that nobody had seen or was aware of. Thankfully luck was on our side and apart from a cut to his leg, he was OK (I feared the worse) - a trip to a local vet and a general anaesthetic and a few stitches later I got him back. He sempt blissfully unaware of what he'd done, how he'd done it and then proceeded to look confused when he was told his running days are over for the next 14 days. Even more confused that instead of leaping into the back of the car, he now had to be man handled into it instead.

Friday, ended up having to go and get supplies for the hound, found some nice whisky, drank a bit of it, day ended a blur.

Saturday, woke up full of vigour for the last day, ready to take on the world. Walked up the pony track to the lake and fished for a bit. Saw some rather menacing cows trundle across the barren tundra, followed by a whole herd of deer, which is always a cool sight. The sheep didn't seem that impressed and all wandered to the opposite side of the lake. I probably fished an hour and a half in total, caught three fish, had a brew, drunk some more whisky, then went back to the cottage. Here I decided that sitting on the bench in the garden with a beer and a stick of pepperami was a sound idea. Four beers and three whiskies later, I was informed we should pack at some point. We packed.

So, in conclusion, I fished for less than a day, travelled the best part of 1,200 miles to do so, came back with a faulty dog and a pickled liver.

Better luck next year I think!
 
Last edited:
Aye that's a fair old trek for some broonies. Glad your furry friend is ok.
 
Great write up Mike, sounds like my kind of trip! The Boars sounds very interesting!
Glad your Labrador is OK, could have been nasty. ??????
 
Back
Top