Easier said than done.
Truth be told, I am not much of a fisherman.
Actually not much of a Stalker either, but let's not go there.
So here we are. It was Monday of our week on Harris - by the Grace of the Hunting Gods, we had somehow made the 700 miles in the most atrocious weather conditions in my memory, but here we were.
Amhuinnsuidhe is one of those places where the 'mythical' Macnab is a possibility.
If you have not already done so, the book by John Buchan explains it all, and is a rather lovely way to spend a day on the hill from the comfort of your own fireside...
The Macnab is a sporting challenge not for the faint of heart, nor come to think of it, those devoid of a sense of humour.
To successfully complete the 'Macnab', you have to catch a Salmon, shoot a brace of Grouse and then a Red Stag - all in one day and all by your own hand. The odds of completing such a feat are as remote as the place you find yourself in, for the bloody attempt.
It is a funny thing (remember what I said about a sense of humour), but you pay for the 'chance' of a Macnab.
The 'chance' of a Macnab involves handing over a pillowcase full of cash, just for the chance. Still got that sense of humour?
If you fail to catch your Salmon, then you do not 'get out of the traps' - and you have handed over a pillowcase full of cash for the privilege of not catching a fish. Just so you know.
Because I didn't...
Anyhoo.
The Estate Manager (who had met me on the Sunday night outside the larder) had asked me what rod and reel I had brought.
"Rod and reel? Honestly, I am not a real fisherman and so did not bring a rod and reel (actually, I do not own a Salmon rod)"
"So, you have driven 700 miles to have a go at the Macnab and you didn't bring a rod?"
His heavy red eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly, as only a Highland Estate Manager's can - which told me all I needed to know about what he thought about a bloke from the "Smoke" who did not bring a rod on a fishing holiday.
"That's no problem at all sir. The Ghillie will sort something out for you in the morning. He will 'chap' your door at 7. Be ready".
FFS.
I had been driving for two days and wanted a bloody drink. 7 my arse!
In the blink of an eye, it was seven in the morning, and the Ghillie was bagging on the door like an early morning drugs bust.
The sun was barely up, but that, apparently, was enough. The runs and lochs are walkable from the Castle and its associated cottages.
Not being of a religious bent, these times are for me, the nearest I get to a God I do not believe in. It was just beautiful.
The young Ghillie set up his own rod and reel (I should have made a note of what it was, I didn't and that was a mistake) and before I was fully awake, I was flogging some of the most beautiful waters in the Country.
With the young lad by my side, I worked the Beats as directed, and I worked them and worked them...
"If you get a take. Do not strike the rod, just gently raise it. It is not the same as Trout fishing".
The Ghilie (they all seem to do this), smoked a succession of roll-ups throughout the day.
I had no idea what he was on about, but mentally logged his advice.
I was fishing with no expectation of catching, but was rather just enjoying the whole experience. I didn't need to catch a fish to enjoy the day.
Now then. Where is that bastard fish!
Suddenly the tip of the rod bent. For someone who was not bothered about catching a fish, my heart was now pounding like a 'wrong un' at the school gates.
Keeping an outwardly calm appearance, I told the Ghillie to get ready with the massive net that he had brought. I played this fish for all it was worth, and after what seemed an age, brought it safely to the bank.
When I looked down at it, glistening in the sunshine on the grass, I could not help but notice that it was only slightly larger than the fly upon which it had impaled itself.
It was a smolt and funny thing, (remember what I said about a sense of humour) does not count at a Salmon to get you 'out of the traps' on the Macnab.
Before I could take a 'trophy' photo, the Ghillie gently placed it back in the water and it was gone in an instant. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes.
I wanted to say, "You bastard! That was my first ever Salmon!"
What I actually said was, "I have brought a couple of cigars (I am not a real smoker), would you like one?"
We paused in our endeavours and smoked a comedy lardie each - beside some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.
When I die, there is not a chance in Hell I am going to Heaven (see what happened then?) - but I am pretty sure I have seen Paradise.
We then spent a couple of hours on the loch with the boat (he forgot the seat cushions and that became a pain in the arse - literally) but we did not have cause to light another cigar...
I ended the day with a strange desire to go out and purchase my own Salmon rod...but without the required Salmon to successfully compete the Macnab.
For what it's worth. This season at this Estate there has only been one 'successful' Macnab - a young lady from the USA.
C'est la vie.
Truth be told, I am not much of a fisherman.
Actually not much of a Stalker either, but let's not go there.
So here we are. It was Monday of our week on Harris - by the Grace of the Hunting Gods, we had somehow made the 700 miles in the most atrocious weather conditions in my memory, but here we were.
Amhuinnsuidhe is one of those places where the 'mythical' Macnab is a possibility.
If you have not already done so, the book by John Buchan explains it all, and is a rather lovely way to spend a day on the hill from the comfort of your own fireside...
The Macnab is a sporting challenge not for the faint of heart, nor come to think of it, those devoid of a sense of humour.
To successfully complete the 'Macnab', you have to catch a Salmon, shoot a brace of Grouse and then a Red Stag - all in one day and all by your own hand. The odds of completing such a feat are as remote as the place you find yourself in, for the bloody attempt.
It is a funny thing (remember what I said about a sense of humour), but you pay for the 'chance' of a Macnab.
The 'chance' of a Macnab involves handing over a pillowcase full of cash, just for the chance. Still got that sense of humour?
If you fail to catch your Salmon, then you do not 'get out of the traps' - and you have handed over a pillowcase full of cash for the privilege of not catching a fish. Just so you know.
Because I didn't...
Anyhoo.
The Estate Manager (who had met me on the Sunday night outside the larder) had asked me what rod and reel I had brought.
"Rod and reel? Honestly, I am not a real fisherman and so did not bring a rod and reel (actually, I do not own a Salmon rod)"
"So, you have driven 700 miles to have a go at the Macnab and you didn't bring a rod?"
His heavy red eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly, as only a Highland Estate Manager's can - which told me all I needed to know about what he thought about a bloke from the "Smoke" who did not bring a rod on a fishing holiday.
"That's no problem at all sir. The Ghillie will sort something out for you in the morning. He will 'chap' your door at 7. Be ready".
FFS.
I had been driving for two days and wanted a bloody drink. 7 my arse!
In the blink of an eye, it was seven in the morning, and the Ghillie was bagging on the door like an early morning drugs bust.
The sun was barely up, but that, apparently, was enough. The runs and lochs are walkable from the Castle and its associated cottages.
Not being of a religious bent, these times are for me, the nearest I get to a God I do not believe in. It was just beautiful.
The young Ghillie set up his own rod and reel (I should have made a note of what it was, I didn't and that was a mistake) and before I was fully awake, I was flogging some of the most beautiful waters in the Country.
With the young lad by my side, I worked the Beats as directed, and I worked them and worked them...
"If you get a take. Do not strike the rod, just gently raise it. It is not the same as Trout fishing".
The Ghilie (they all seem to do this), smoked a succession of roll-ups throughout the day.
I had no idea what he was on about, but mentally logged his advice.
I was fishing with no expectation of catching, but was rather just enjoying the whole experience. I didn't need to catch a fish to enjoy the day.
Now then. Where is that bastard fish!
Suddenly the tip of the rod bent. For someone who was not bothered about catching a fish, my heart was now pounding like a 'wrong un' at the school gates.
Keeping an outwardly calm appearance, I told the Ghillie to get ready with the massive net that he had brought. I played this fish for all it was worth, and after what seemed an age, brought it safely to the bank.
When I looked down at it, glistening in the sunshine on the grass, I could not help but notice that it was only slightly larger than the fly upon which it had impaled itself.
It was a smolt and funny thing, (remember what I said about a sense of humour) does not count at a Salmon to get you 'out of the traps' on the Macnab.
Before I could take a 'trophy' photo, the Ghillie gently placed it back in the water and it was gone in an instant. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes.
I wanted to say, "You bastard! That was my first ever Salmon!"
What I actually said was, "I have brought a couple of cigars (I am not a real smoker), would you like one?"
We paused in our endeavours and smoked a comedy lardie each - beside some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.
When I die, there is not a chance in Hell I am going to Heaven (see what happened then?) - but I am pretty sure I have seen Paradise.
We then spent a couple of hours on the loch with the boat (he forgot the seat cushions and that became a pain in the arse - literally) but we did not have cause to light another cigar...
I ended the day with a strange desire to go out and purchase my own Salmon rod...but without the required Salmon to successfully compete the Macnab.
For what it's worth. This season at this Estate there has only been one 'successful' Macnab - a young lady from the USA.
C'est la vie.
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