I think this little May mission began with an email from Sport Pursuit. If you are not familiar with them they are an online company that sells outdoor/sports gear at pretty knockdown prices. The offer on the email turned out not to my liking but of course, whilst I was on the site I simply had to have a look at what tents they had in and one immediately caught my eye, the Robens Chaser 3XE. I’m always on the look out for lightweight tents that will accommodate my 6’4 frame and this looked too good to be true. £200 for a 1.8kg tent with 105cm headroom, 220cm internal length with squared ends to hopefully cater for my big feet – I had to pull the trigger, convincing myself I’d sell one of my other tents to soften the blow but of course I never did. Anyway, I now had a new tent which needed breaking in and not just with its inaugural pitch on the lawn.
As you all know by now one of the best parts of going wild camping is the planning. Bruce’s bible by my side, additional books brought down from the bookshelf then put back, maps perused, books got back down again, itineraries scrawled on backs on bank statements until finally a destination is chosen. This time around I had 3 nights to play with which ruled out Gairloch or Assynt which was ok actually because I wasn’t too hot on the idea of an 8 or 9 hour car drive both ways. I focussed on the Glencoe area until a sweep slightly further afield discovered a delightful coire loch nestled under a Munro above Kinlochleven. Did the loch contain fish? Bruce recommended it for a chuck but I could find not a single reference to trout fishing said loch on the Web so there was uncertainty but screw it, I had made my choice
The 6 hour drive up to Kinlochleven went pretty quickly – it’s a great opportunity to quieten the chatter of worries in one’s head as the brain is devoting a good chunk of CPU and RAM to driving. I broke the journey up with a couple of stops and one of these of course had to be Angling Active near Stirling where I bought a new floating line for my loch fishing outfit and some braided loops. The final leg of the journey ticks off the ‘I’m on a mission’ essentials such as Callander, Tyndrum, Rannoch Moor and the magical descent through the pass of Glencoe before swinging round to my base camp at Kinlochleven. My heart sank when I saw the Blackwater Hostel campsite. It consisted of a thin strip of grass rammed with tents with the rest of the confined space taken up with grounded Tent Boxes and a handful of wooden glamping pods. There was barely room to squeeze in my tent and this just wasn’t the vibe I was after. However, I was in the Highlands and the weather was outstanding so no reason to get despondent. I pitched my Wild Country Trisar 2D (for this would be my base camp tent), cooked myself some tea on the stove then set to fettling my new line onto my Snowbee reel whilst drinking some coffee made via my Aeropress. I decided to get an early night.
Thursday
Another beautiful Highland day. I get talking to some of the fellow campers and most are here for the West Highland Way, it’s pretty much the raison d’etre for the campsite basically. The next hour or more is spend fannying round sorting my overnight pack and again it’s my trusty Fjallraven Kajka but fek me it weighs a bit and despite no longer carrying any booze my pack is still a backbreaker! I headed off into the village and hit the sarnie shop for 2nd breakfast and a hearty packed lunch before picking up more provisions in the local Coop and then finally…finally…setting off on my walk.
The walk begins by winding it’s way up through a wooded hillside, some of it pretty steep with a big ol’ pack on your back and I was soon dripping with sweat in the blazing sunshine but as I emerged from the trees I was soon rewarded with a great view back down to the village and Loch Leven from whence its name does come!
Once out of the woods it’s a steady ascent out on open moorland until you reach a vehicle track and then it’s a steeper pull up to and around the shoulder of Sgor Eilde Beag. Again, I was sweating like a pig and plodding my way up with frequent pauses as my stupidly heavy pack wore me down. The walk itself is about 5 miles which is bugger all but when you’re weighed down, trudging up 2700ft of ascent at the age of 50 it’s challenging!
Thankfully, as is almost always the case, the effort is rewarded with a stunning reveal once you get to the top with Coire an Lochain glittering in the Spring sunshine and the protective mass of Sgurr Eilde Mor looming behind it.
I dropped down to the loch at the four way junction, noting as I walked the depressing sound of crunchy sphagnum under my feet. If there’s one thing sphagnum should not be it’s crunchy! There wasn’t a drop of moisture outside of the loch itself, Scotland should not be this dry, particularly in May. 1st thing I did was take on some food and drink before (carefully) firing up the stove and knocking up some coffee. I gave up drinking last year for the hell of it and have now boxed myself into a corner of being unable to drink again without annoying myself so instead focus on my remaining vices of ‘real’ coffee, chocolate and purchasing tents.
I felt like a million dollars after my refuel and decided to tick off the next part of the day which was to climb the Munro behind the loch. I ditched the pack and just carried a few emergency supplies as well as my drone. It felt great to be walking without the beast of burdon upon my back but it was still a good pull up to the top with some sketchy 2 steps forward 1 step back scree to navigate although much of it could be bypassed with care by zig zagging out to more stable rock.
The feeling I get up on reaching a mountain summit is hard to describe so I probably won’t bother but suffice to say it is an extremely important part of keeping myself mentally on an even keel. And what a day to be doing it, the weather was outstanding with wall to wall sunshine and a gentle breeze which also meant it was safe to fly my drone. Love them or hate them they are never going away so you may as well embrace them.
The walk back down to the loch was not much faster than coming up due to the scree and I was glad I’d brought a walking pole for extra stability. Back at the loch I decided to pull my finger out and tackle up my rod because, after all, I am supposed to be an angler! I put 2 flies on, probably a Black Pennel on point and Bob’s Bob fly on dropper because that is almost always my opening gambit on a hill loch. I’m not going to spin this out, I may as well come clean and report back to you all that I saw not one fish all afternoon/evening. Not a single offer, not a single rise…
I would love to hear from other anglers who have fished this loch – is it really devoid of fish or did I just hit it at the wrong time, with blazing sun etc?
I didn’t really give 2 hoots that I blanked, I was having a whale of a time chillin in the sun, drinking the occasional tea/coffee and grazing on my provisions whilst chucking flies at nothing in particular. As it got into the middle of the evening I figured it was about time to pitch my new tent so I got to work on the Chaser. It took a goodly amount of time to get it reasonably taught and I can see more practice is needed but it seems like a decent bit of kit.
Tea was a botched pasta in a packet job, I didn’t use enough water, burned my pan and yet didn’t cook the pasta properly so it was like eating one of those calendars you made at primary school but with an added drizzled of plasticized cheese . But the amazing thing was I was cooking and eating in peace – no midges despite an almost total lack of wind! I can only assume the dry hot weather has something to do with their absence. After one last decaf filter coffee I retired to my tent and hunkered down for an early night seeing as I no longer sit in my tent and drink red wine and whisky due to a arbitrary self-imposed period of abstinence.
Friday
It’s another beautiful day but even if there are fish in this loch, I don’t think I’m going to catch any in these conditions! I pack everything away and begin the steady descent back to Kinlochewe, this time taking the more sedate access track.
The final leg takes you back through the woods before spitting you back out into the village.
After a suitable kick back on my new Alpkit Vagabond highback chair at the campsite I packed a daysack into the motor and drove down the A82 to go and get my string pulled on one of the Rannoch Moor lochs, they’ve never failed me! I parked up in the layby and waited patiently for a gap in the motor homes and camper vans blasting up and down the highway before dashing across to the other side and made my way down to the first loch which has always been known to me as nach-a-lacha-ding-dong since our Glencoe 2006 fishing holiday. Forgetting for a moment the inconvenient truth that it’s next to Scotland’s busiest road (slight exaggeration), this is a stunning location!
Nor have I ever blanked on here…until today! However I was also dismayed to see some curious looking algae collecting on the beaches, not sure how toxic this stuff was but it didn’t look good.
It seemed conditions really were against me but I was determined to catch some trout so I made my way over to the next loch along which was a blast from the past as I haven’t wet a line on it since 2006. Crivens, it was so long ago Phil was fishing in black and white….
Finally, here, I got my string pulled and the first fish to the net was a handsome trout with some markings reminiscent of the fish to be found in a favourite loch near Suilven.
The second fish to the net proved to be a surprised looking perch looking back at an equally surprised angler! I didn’t actually know they were in these lochs but there you go and what incredibly vivid markings.
I had a couple more fish and briefly made contact with something that felt pretty significant before calling it a day and heading back to the car via the petrified forest…..
…..Rannoch Moor’s most photogenic tree….
….and the ever present litter that along with the road really knock the edge off this beautiful part of the world. But also…what in the world were they expecting to catch? That fishing line belongs on a fucking trawler out in the North Sea.
Friday night was another smorgasbord of instant snackage and zero alcohol back at the campsite followed by retiring to the tent to continue my efforts to work my way through a slab of a book on Enoch Powell of all people. One of our most pilloried politicians whose words keep getting brought back up as the immigration debate rages on, I became intrigued to find out more about him beyond the 2 dimensional ‘rivers of blood’ characterisation. How did a much respected, incredibly intelligent, high ranking officer end up going down the path that he took. I’m yet to get there, it’s a long book!
Saturday morning, I was sad to be leaving Blackwater campsite even if it had initially horrified me with it’s cramped little row of tents. Kinlochleven itself is a funny little place, it seems like it would benefit from a few more amenities to draw in more tourists but maybe they don’t want anymore of us dickheads pouring in in which case I don’t blame them! What I will say though, Leven Bites next to the Coop does an absolutely banging breakfast sarnie with burger, bacon, egg and cheese and the coffee was nice as well. Absolutely pay them a visit.
