Caldwell’s Chronicles

Southern Scotland

On a recent visit towards the end of April I called in at Galloway Guns and Tackle on Arthur Street to find out where the best trout fishing was to be had; tapping in to local knowledge usually guarantees a good day’s fishing. I was advised to try Loch Ochlitree, one of the waters controlled by the Newton Stewart & District Angling Association. From previous experience, I knew that their waters were always well kept with a good balance of brown and rainbow trout.

Loch Ochiltree

Loch Ochiltree is about 8 miles out of town off the Girvan Road (A714). The road climbs steadily after following the River Cree for a couple of miles and eventually the road branches to a minor farm road that is perfectly well navigable in an ordinary car; no need for a 4-wheel drive. The surrounding countryside is moor land rather than mountainous and quite strikingly attractive to the eye. (The day on which I chose to fish was just about the only day it rained in April but perhaps this was better for fishing).

Ochiltree is a large natural loch. The fishing is fly only with a two fish limit and boats are available from Galloway Guns and Tackle. A day ticket costs £ 15.00 and represents very good value in terms of scenery, accessibility and quality fish. There is adequate parking about a hundred yards from the loch and the paths down to the water are signed and easy to manage for older anglers.

I spent four hours on the near or east bank and fished into a moderate breeze. The loch is suitable for wading with care and with a companion. However, I try not to wade, especially on a new water and with the nearest fisherman about six hundred yards away in a boat. The water on this bank is quite shallow with a rocky bottom and a little weed.

Midges

I am told that the loch is a nightmare in July and August due to midges. They breed in their trillions and swarm on anglers who, even with midge nets, find fishing difficult. Once, fishing in similar conditions in County Galway, I marvelled at the local peat cutters who worked surrounded by these swarms of cannibalistic midges and were never bitten but put a lump of English ‘meat’ on display and they attacked en masse within seconds.

I used a nine and a half foot rod that threw a floating WF7 into the breeze with comfort. My tippet was 6lbs Fulling Mill fluorocarbon and, following the shop manager’s advice, I started with a size 14 GRHE. The wind was coming in from my left and this helped get the line out and allowed the fly to swing around with the flow, so to speak. I had four or five sharp, brief tugs in the first ten minutes but did not hook into a fish.

I moved along on to a small headland and cast to slightly calmer water in a sheltered bay. The same pattern repeated itself, several sharp pulls but no solid take. I changed fly and put up a size 16 black and green buzzer and again, let the fly swing gently round with the wind and hardly any retrieve. This ploy was successful; perhaps the fish were suspicious of the GRHE and more readily accepted the smaller fly. I had three smallish rainbows in quick succession, all in the pound and a half range and in excellent condition.

Galloway Lunch

Sport quietened and I broke for lunch – cold haggis on wholemeal bread and a can or two of Stella. I watched the guy in the boat but he did not appear to be taking fish and he soon scooted around a big headland to fish the west bank.

A Good Fish

I only had one fish in the two hours after lunch but, my word, what a beauty it was. It took the small buzzer with a gentle pull and only seemed to realise it was hooked after half a minute. Then it was away and it was one of those rare occasions when the whole fly line disappeared off the reel and the backing ran down the rod rings. I did not see the fish for a good five minutes and when I did, I was convinced it was a salmon by its size and power. It was a very silvery rainbow of about six pounds. I don’t know how long it had been in the loch but was full bodied and had electric movement. It came to the net at last and I unhooked and returned her quickly and away she went.

My hands were shaking and my elbows ached and I just sat there and relived it all, weak but very contented. The rain came again and everywhere disappeared in misty grey cloud. Time to call it a day but what a memorable day on a lovely loch.

I have followed the Forum comments about the River Goyt with interest. I was born and brought up in the Romiley/Marple area and went to school in Marple Bridge (St Mary’s Primary) during the 1940s. The Goyt was in an abominable state in those days. The main culprits were the mills up the valley from Marple Bridge that discharged industrial waste into the river. Some days the river was covered with yellow froth several feet deep and, on other days, it would be coloured bright green or purple depending upon what had been slopped in.

Further down, past the Etherow Junction, the main characteristic was the awful smell left by chemical waste. There was not a living thing in that river for many years and rumour had it that Barry Blackburn’s dog fell in the Goyt under the twin viaduct and aquaduct near the farm and actually died of poisoning.

What an enormous job of cleaning up has been done and credit to those who accomplished this mammoth task. I’m going to have a trip over to Marple Bridge in the next few weeks to see for myself.