‘The rod is set in the wooden tripod, bell attached and I once again take my seat. I am suddenly disturbed by a voice “Caught anything“ I turn and see my long suffering wife Ruth stumbling across the rocks, bringing cake, tea, and good cheer’
May 13th, and it is the date for the Redditch tackle fair. I am all prepared, table contents boxed up, priced, new items polished up and hopefully will attract some attention, the problem for me is that early last year we booked a two week stay in one of the northernmost cottages on the Isle of Skye,so this year Redditch will have to wait until November.
0550am on the 13th saw us packed, and on our way, the roads were quiet and for the most part the 12 hour journey north was trouble free. Once across the Skye bridge things became less rushed, we had noticed on out last visit that the obvious hustle and bustle of mainland life was left behind on Skye, this visit was no different.
Here things are slower, much less noise and more green. The Cuilins greeted us with their familiar frown, we had been here before and they are old friends. Looking down upon the tourists with disdain, they know they will still be here when we are just so much dust, and memories of us will be all but vanished to the whims of time.
The cottage is on the shore of Kilmalaug Bay, with stunning views of the Northern Trotternish Ridge, and especially the impressive Sron Vourlinn which looks like a giant nose pointing at the sky, in fact Sron is Gaelic for “Nose” so the resemblance must have been noticed many years ago. The sun is shining, but only minutes ago a rain shower passed over, leaving in its wake a reminder that colour is everywhere if you just look for it.
Today we are sat on the veranda looking across the bay, the sun is warm, all is silent, except for the occasional piping call of a pair of Oystercatchers, the occasional bleat of one of the many new born lambs,and the sea gently lapping the shoreline . We have been here for 3 days now and we have noticed something which seems to be limited to this norther part of the island.
On our last visit to Orkney much further north, we were amazed at the quantity and variety of bird life, Buzzards Curlews, Owls, Falcons, Harriers, to name but a few whilst ignoring the seabird colonies. When we stayed further south on our last visit here ,we included in our catalogue, Golden and White tailed sea eagles, Whimbrel and Sandpipers.
In no way are we “twitchers” but the absence of bird life here on the Northern shores of Skye is obvious, yes we have heard and seen the Oystercatchers on our coastal walks, we have also seen Shags, Common and Herring Gulls the odd Fulmar, a pair of Gannets which seem to have taken the bay as their own fishing grounds, there are also few smaller species, but they are few and far between and only spotted as a fleeting glimps as they speed past. The Cucoo though, whilst remaining shy, does make its presence known by its cheery call from the wood just over the hill from the cottage. Still it is peaceful, when it rains, and it does rain, it is wise to remember the saying “If you do not like the weather , just wait for 5 mins” the showers do appear, even on a sunny day, but they quickly vanish.
It would be remiss of me to have left my rods at home. I have been a sea angler for perhaps 50 years and whilst I do like to use vintage tackles when fishing rivers and ponds, in my view cane has very little application when shore fishing the rugged rock marks that abound here. Having said that I do have a collection of vintage fibreglass beach rods, and a few vintage beach reels, a couple have been pressed into service. I cannot date either rod or reel accurately but can say that they both are pre 1970, so that makes them at least 50 years old, probably much more and well into the vintage stable.
The rod I have with me here is a reverse taper 12 feet long beach rod, it has a solid glass butt section that is spiggoted into hollow fibreglass under the steel reel seating, then the hollow glass continues up to a brass ferrule and the tip section is also hollow glass. The rings are hard pink lined “Sintox,“ and very bulky but work very well .Compared to modern rods it is a bendy clothes prop but actually does the job admirably for its age. It is a Dunwich “Surflex” from the East Anglian Rod Company, still in remarkably good condition and I do believe it has seen little if any use. The rod Logo is clean, clear, and undamaged. A thing rarely seen on a rod that suffers the bumps and grinds of beach angling.
The reel is a solid and dependable Mitchell 396, as a reel from the Mitchell stable it needs no introduction as the quality is guaranteed, again the reel is in very good condition.
Fast forward a couple of hours and the temptation to whet a line has proved too much. I have prepared my gear, the rod and reel are ready, I have also made a wooden tripod to add to the vintage aesthetic of my chosen angling equipment ,the tripod is almost a carbon copy of one I used in the early 70’s when fishing for red rock cod off Filey Brigg in East Yorkshire.
I have recced the shoreline and cliffs not 300 yards from the cottage , it is a perilous shoreline for some, deep fissures between the rock, ankle breaking stone which will trip and injure the unwary. Slippery weed strewn cobbles it needs no further description. I have found a nice rock ledge only a matter of a few feet above the water, I have to cross the fields, negotiate the ankle breakers , cross a rock ravine and hop down several large rock steps to access the platform, this done it is only a matter of assembling the tackles and proceeding.
I am full of anticipation as always. I have not attempted to cast the rod previously, but I have no illusions that it will perform like my “carbon” sea gear, instead I will take it for what it is, a step in the evolution of rod design. I am using a two hook rig, perhaps frowned upon by freshwater anglers, but commonly used by saltwater piscators.
I carefully bait the hooks with a cocktail of mackerel sliver and squid. That done a gripper sinker made by my own hands it attached to the end of the rig the rig is attached to the main line and gripping the rod I flex its full length, the reel is attached firmly in its screw winch fitting , line gripped by forefinger clad in a leather “hodkin “ to protect the monofilament line from cutting into human flesh . I bring the rod firmly and swiftly forward in an overhead arc, there is no room for anything more sophisticated here. The old rod comes alive in my hands , I feel the reverse taper wake after its many years uninterupted slumber.
A perfect cast follows, no great distance, perhaps 70 yards at most, and with the wind behind it but I am very pleased. I allow the sinker to make its way through the depths to its resting place ,set the rod in the wooden tripod and gently, slowly tighten the line until the rod tip flexes against the sinker which has gripped the seabed , the trap is set. As a final nod to vintage sea angling I attach a small silver bell to the rod tip. Hopefully any interested fish will pull hard enough to make the bell tinkle its presence.
I close my eyes and thank the innovator Leslie Moncrieff for his foresight in creating the reverse taper , or more correctly named by Moncreiff the ‘Springheel “ rod. For me it has worked as it should, designed in the 1960’s but still performing as intended some 60 years later.
Taking a more or less comfortable seat on a handy rock I look round, enjoying the day, the sun is shining , a cool southerly breeze is blowing up the bay ,a nosey seal keeps on popping his head out of the water to my left . I try several times to take a snap, but he is Neptunes own “Willo the wisp” and vanishes as soon as seen. I give up the fruitless attempt at photography,instead watch the rod tip intently, it is not a thing of sophisticated balance and I do not expect to see a slight tremor to the ceramic tip ring when a small fish nibbles the bait, this rod is one that would need a good pull to make the tip bend in response , and activate the tinkling bell.
After some 20 minutes there has been no interest in my carefully prepared baits. I decide to cast to a different area, so wind in and after replacing the now washed out baits with fresh once again cast, this time more to the left.
The rod is set in the wooden tripod, bell attached and I once again take my seat. I am suddenly disturbed by a voice “Caught anything“ I turn and see my long suffering wife Ruth stumbling across the rocks, bringing cake, tea, and good cheer. As I stand and turn to assist, suddenly the little silver bell on the rod tip tinkles a warning to me something has taken an interest in my bait. I let the bite develop but tell Ruth to prepare herself to take a photo of me with the catch of the day. I remove the little bell from the rod tip as I do not want to lose it, the rod tip rattles a couple more times. Suddenly a voice from over my shoulder says, “Let it develop“ and who am I to ignore such advice from my better half.
Eventually the Springheel rod convinces me that I should take some part in its antics so I wind in, and I feel a weight on the end, a small one I will admit, but a weight nevertheless.
I am pleased to see that a denizen of the deep has been tricked by my cunningly constructed rigs and tackles. Ruth takes a vintage shot of the story, worthy of “The Fishing Gazette”
It is a Pollack, a small one, but neverthless a Pollack. I quickly unhook it, it is returned to sulk, and grow bigger Quite what a Pollack is doing taking a static bait when it is designed to be a hunter of live prey I do not know, but I am just pleased that my efforts have not been in vain.
I can now rest, and also fish as I please because my vintage tackles have proved themselves (with a little bit of help from me) to be as capable as anything that is currently available.
So that is a few lines describing our first few days on wonderful Skye. We have walked many miles, stumbling over tussocky grass, avoiding cattle, and stepping in sheep droppings to view ancient fortresses, castles and Brochs. We have dodged swift and heavy downpours, we have visited Flora MacDonalds monument and done lots of other touristy things in our first three days here.
Meanwhile back at home, the boxes and bags of anglings history await November and the Redditch tackle fair.
Writing & Images David Craine – May 2023
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