‘Only a few hours before this adventure I had to resort to a ‘battlefield repair’ as I managed to trash the tip-ring. Wire from a beach grip lead, some heavy braid and the invaluable help from my trusty Leatherman all came together and helped create a bent wire tip-ring which held up well during its approaching use’
The Isle of Skye conjures up many exciting images, from Flora MacDonald’s grave to pilot whales, to the dark and mysterious Cuilins range and many more. Join us on another small voyage of discovery…
Rubha Hunish (meaning Headland of the Norse Bearcub)
This particular day Ruth had suggested a walk to see Rubha Hunish Ruth found the walk on the ‘computator’, a fiendish machine which the world has made into a necessity However, on the computator the walk is described as a stroll until you reach the access track to Rubha Hunish, which is described as “too Challenging for most people.“ We will let you decide; I think personally they were erring on the side of caution
Rubha Hunish is a small islet off the north-west tip of Skye It is actually just about joined to the mainland, but only just Looking on a map or computator it is similar to many such other islets and why we did not pick one of the others is down to luck, or maybe just Ruth’s intuition However, pick it Ruth did and we were on our way.
As always, if there is water available to cast a line into, I will take a rod and reel with me, whatever the journey. As has been said before, I am something of a pragmatist and where fishing tackle is concerned I fully follow my reasonings. Fine traditional cane and well oiled vintage centrepins are very nice for a genteel days angling on a placid mere or flowing river and what could be better tools for such an enjoyable task I ask myself? I do not think there is a better combination.
But with the rough and tumble of climbing rocky slopes, the fighting your way through thorny undergrowth, the sloshing through knee-deep boggy ground or having salt spray liberally coating yourself and all your gear is concerned, then something a bit more robust is required if it is to stay the course.
I have a rod which has accompanied me worldwide, it is of the ‘black stuff’ persuasion, has been rebuilt several times It has a ‘cameo’ set of rings, some of which don’t match others but it has landed everything from sharks and rays in Australia and the USA, butterfish in Africa, snapper in New Zealand, conger eels, bass and bream in France etc.
It is a travel rod made by a worldwide renowned company and is my go-to rod for such expeditions. It is now old and has been re-rung where clumsiness or accident has caused ring damage. In fact, only a few hours before this adventure I had to resort to a ‘battlefield repair’ as I managed to trash the tip-ring. Wire from a beach grip lead, some heavy braid and the invaluable help from my trusty Leatherman Wave all came together and helped create a bent wire tip-ring which held up well during its approaching use.
The rod carries battle scars but for all that it is still an old warhorse, not attractive in any way but one I would not be without Long ago it lost its brand logo but it matters not I couple the rod to a large, robust, fixed-spool reel, braid line and a selection of lures, all carried in a small rucksack, along with cheese, biscuits, fruit, a bottle of water, small first aid kit and other sundries; just enough for a few hours spent exploring.
Parking the car, we set off following the route. The track coursed off across the moor and we could see the sea off to our left and the headland of Duntulm Castle in the distance. The piping call of the oystercatchers from the cliffs to our left filled the air and everything was good; fresh sea air, sunshine but not too warm to be uncomfortable, a good pair of boots on our feet and a whole day to explore.
Ahead, the track followed the contour of a small hill to the left; we were already a good height above sea level and the track steadily, if slowly, gained in elevation as we made our way forward It was not a difficult walk, the weather pleasant, sun and the occasional cloud in the sky and the sea glittering in the distance.
After about a mile and a half Ruth spotted a small white building on the cliff-top away to the right. We made our way along the rough track to the building, occasionally stumbling over heather roots and large stones that jutted through the rough pathway formed by the feet of hikers, explorers and the tough moor-top sheep that roam here. This white painted sturdy brick-built shed is now a bothy for walkers but was in the past a Coastwatch lookout. I could not but think that the souls who spent hours here watching for passing ships had the pleasure of the long walk there and back in all sorts of weather, storms, rain, sunshine and everything in between. A hardy bunch indeed…
On this day though, a couple with a child were inside. We did not intrude but walked on past leaving them to their picnic.
It was unclear how to access the islet, which was below us, far below. We decided to walk on along the cliff-top and look for a track down; there was no indication as to how to get down on the map Ruth had shown me. The cliffs were sheer and it was difficult to actually see the edges where horizontal gave way to vertical. There were no obvious tracks however and after about another half mile it was apparent that there was no way down in this direction but we did have a good view of where we wanted to go.
We sat and had a sip from the water bottle and decided to retrace our steps and look in the other direction for a way down. Setting off, we again passed the Coastwatch bothy. Further on, we made our way through some rough gorse bushes. Down the hill the original track we had approached on was now off to our left. Suddenly we saw a fence off to the right which marched on ahead with a gate in the distance. We made our way to the gate and suddenly saw the view of Rubha Hunish from another angle; it was breathtaking but we were on the cliff-top and, according to the information, about 350 feet above sea level.
The cliffs looked vertical but, looking down onto the islet, I could see a couple of people walking around the far side; they looked like tiny ants but they must have got down somehow, unless they arrived by kayak. Leaving Ruth by the gate I made my way to the cliff edge and after a bit of searching around, discovered a steep track coursing away down, nothing like as bad as described, but quite steep and rocky. Look carefully at the below photo; there are two anglers descending the path.
After the steep descent we explored, starting at the eastern end of the islet. We walked, stumbled and scrambled along the island’s sea-cliff, much lower than the mainland cliff behind us but still high enough to give you a sudden attack of vertigo should you suffer from such stuff. Again, there was no discernible pathway and it took great care; we had to tread carefully. I was looking for an access to the sea but it appeared that the cliff edge was steep and inaccessible.
As we made our way along, suddenly I came upon a small inlet with the sea lapping the bottom. Looking down I saw one of the ‘ants’ I had seen earlier. This was an adventurous chap; he was climbing the cliff using a fixed top rope and an ascender. He was self life-lining, a good idea considering his somewhat isolated position. I had seen two ‘ants’ earlier but now there was only the one, no doubt his companion was similarly engaged, but exactly where I had no idea.
Walking on, eventually, after some time spent stumbling over rocks and jumping or splashing through small streams I discovered a ledge, about forty feet above sea level. This looked ‘do-able’ to me, so after putting my rod together I made my way onto the ledge. Looking down, the water looked quite deep and slate gray in colour, ideal for vertical jigging for pollack. Vertical jigging is simple way of presenting a lure; the lure is cast out, allowed to sink and as soon as it hits bottom the lure is swiftly jerked upward, line retrieved and then jerked again. If the lure is not hit then the lure is allowed to sink and the same procedure follows until the lure reaches the cliff base when it is would in and cast out again.
I had some home-made jigs with me weighing about four ounces. These jigs had accounted for fish from the rock marks of Corfu and Spain but now they had a chance to attract a pollack from Skye’s rocky shores.
Clipping one on, I cast out and started the retrieve. Almost before the first jig had been completed the rod tip was wrenched downward and I had the first fish of the day hooked. Pollack put up a fight when hooked and this one was no exception; the rod-tip was jerked downward repeatedly but I had full confidence in the rod and soon the fish was brought up the cliff and to hand.
I had to take care as there was probably no more than fifteen UK inches between me and an ungainly and possibly terminal fall into the ocean below. I had no idea how Ruth would explain my demise to the family should I slip but they all know I have never been one to shy away from silly pursuits and this was just another one to add to the ever lengthening list.
I make no apology for the fact that I was fishing ‘for the pot’; I have always been one to enjoy seafood and it came no fresher than this. Ruth is very good cook and would no doubt make a fine meal for us from this fish. The fish was quickly and humanely despatched, and placed safely away from the heat from the sun. I cast in again and had the same result; two fish in two casts, then a third. I had plenty enough fish for our needs and at that point decided to take a break. Ruth had been busy taking photos but now joined me and we sat, sharing a lunch of biscuits, apples and cheese, followed by Adam’s ale.
I did consider; should I fish on?
Ruth did point out that we had the rest of the islet to explore and also a steep cliff to climb, plus the walk at the top. We had more than enough fish for a meal so although the sea and fish were calling me I decided to call it enough. After just the three casts I had satisfied my need to wet a line for today. I consoled myself that at least no fish would be caught and thrown back from the cliff-top. I dislike that thought although I have devised a way or returning fish caught from cliffs alive and unharmed.
Packing my tackles away, the three pollack were kept fresh in a plastic bag with an ice block and cool bag in the rucksack. We made our way slowly around the rest of the islet, squelching through boggy areas, scrambling over rocks and pausing occasionally to take photos. Our time on Rubha Hunish was soon spent and all too soon we made our way back to the cliff base for the steep ascent.
Do you remember the bothy on the cliff-top that I mentioned earlier? Look carefully at the above photograph. The bothy can just be made out, two-thirds centre left. Photograph taken from near to my fishing spot.
Climbing back up the steep cliff, we passed another couple of anglers on their way down (earlier photo). We exchanged a few words and they were buoyed up at hearing of my, er, well good luck. Wishing them tight lines we left them to their own adventure and we continued following the track back up the cliff and onward to the car. A final look back from the top and taking in the fine views saw us make our way back to the car.
The oystercatchers were still dashing about and piping their warning call, lending music to the ear. The occasional sheep could be heard bleating in the distance, no doubt calling for their lambs. We were graced with the flight of curlews whistling as the passed us. It had been a very enjoyable few hours, with fresh fish for tea and a camera full of snaps for Ruth; what more could we have needed?
Once back at the car we agreed it had been a really nice walk; nowhere near as challenging as the written guides would have you believe, so long as you have a bit of a head for heights of course! We made our way back to the cottage where I cleaned and filleted the fish, then Ruth prepared a tasty meal of freshly caught, oven-baked pollack wrapped in Parma ham, with a roasted Mediterranean vegetable platter topped with a lemon and dill dressing.
Provender fit for a king!
Skye has the habit of surprising its visitors. It may be two weeks from anywhere but it is well worth the journey with so much to see and so much to do.
Writing & Images David Craine – October 2023
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