Optimistic Anglers

Q Lake 08/08/26

After spending a bit of time trying our hand at some jungle fishing around the country, we decided it was time to return to the tried and tested surroundings of a trout fishery.

Destination Q Lake.

Obviously no fishing trip could begin without the compulsory breakfast pit stop. Stomachs fuelled and the fishing engines ready to go, we arrived at Q just after 8am.

The lake was flat calm, but immediately something looked different.

We’ve been spoiled in the past with the crystal-clear water at Q, but today it was a completely different animal. The water was heavily coloured, with probably no more than 18 inches of visibility.

Geordie took one look at it and asked the fishery manager when they’d started dyeing the lake. He then talked about a tin of ham to go with it because all that was missing was the ham from the pea and ham soup. 😂

Still, we know Q is well stocked and there were a few fish moving, so we weren’t going to be put off by a bit of coloured water.

Rods set up and away we went.

It actually didn’t take me long to get the first fish into the net on the surface.

Happy days.

I thought I’d cracked it already.

I hadn’t.

It turned into a very strange session. You could see the occasional fish moving, cover it perfectly and get absolutely no response. Whether the trout were looking for something completely different or simply couldn’t see the fly properly in the coloured water was anyone’s guess.

What made it even stranger was that Q has always been a fantastic surface or just under the surface venue for us. Normally, if you find a moving fish and put something sensible in front of it, you’ve got a chance.

Today was different.

As the morning went on the wind started to build and the rising fish gradually disappeared. Whether the stronger wind was churning up the already coloured water and reducing the visibility even further, we don’t know, but one thing was obvious:

The stronger the wind got, the weaker the fishing became.

The rest of the team eventually found a bit of sport and we started picking away at the numbers, but the verdict around the lake was pretty unanimous. The fish just didn’t seem to have their usual enthusiasm.

There were chances, but nothing consistent.

By lunchtime the little action we’d been getting had almost completely ground to a halt.

We’ve fished Q enough times to know that it often seems to have a pattern good morning sport, a quieter afternoon, then another spell of activity towards dinner time.

So we persevered.

And persevered.

And persevered a bit more.

Dries, wets, nymphs, b**g, blobs, different depths, different retrieves if it was in the fly box, there was a fair chance it got a swim.

Nothing really unlocked the place.

Eventually we accepted defeat and called it a day.

Final team tally: 14 fish… and unfortunately, one Mars Bar. 🍫😂

Top rod for the day managed just 6 fish, which probably tells the story better than anything else.

For a lot of fisheries, 14 trout between the team wouldn’t sound like a disaster. But knowing how well Q can fish and the sport we’ve enjoyed there in the past, this was definitely a tough day at the office.

Was it the coloured water?

The wind?

The weather?

Or were the trout simply having one of those days when nothing we offered interested them?

Who knows.

That’s fishing.

If every visit was easy, we’d probably get bored with it.

Although maybe ask a certain man again after the next blank. 😂🎣

Kilgad – 25/07/26

By now you’ll probably know our routine. Every fishing trip starts with the compulsory breakfast stop, usually involving the local Spar, a couple of hash browns, a veg roll and all the essential fry items. It’s become as much a part of the day as tying on the first fly.

The forecast promised cooler temperatures and a bit of rain, so hopes were high that the fish might finally get a break from the relentless sunshine we’d been having.

On arrival at Kilgad it was breezy but pleasantly warm. I was so confident the rain was not coming that I didn’t even bother taking the waterproofs out of the car.

With tickets paid and the three of us spreading ourselves around the lake, it didn’t take long before rods started bending. The method that had been producing over the last few weeks was once again doing the business. Sedges and Crunchers, fished just below the surface, had the trout well and truly interested.

The fish were definitely in the mood.

Whether it was the drop in temperature or simply the promise of rain, they were chasing the flies aggressively and taking confidently. It was one of those mornings where you always felt the next cast was another fish

The lake started off fairly quiet just a few anglers, but the change of weather was bringing everyone out. A few more anglers arrived throughout the morning and, before long, a familiar face appeared.

Geordie had heard the reports from pops and couldn’t resist.

He quickly got himself set up and, with W***y already hooking fish for fun, the pressure was on.

There was just one problem…

W***y couldn’t seem to land them.

Fish after fish came adrift, and by the time he’d lost around ten trout we were beginning to wonder if he’d forgotten how to use a landing net. Thankfully, just before Geordie got off the mark, W***y finally managed to slide his first fish into the net.

The relief was obvious.

Not that it lasted long.

About ten minutes after arriving, Geordie was into his first fish and quietly went about proving once again that turning up late doesn’t necessarily mean catching less.

As always, the morning disappeared far quicker than expected. Before we knew it, it was lunchtime. We sat down for a bite to eat, still waiting on the rain that the forecast had confidently promised.

It never arrived.

I had to disappear for a while during the afternoon and fully expected to return to stories about all the fish I’d missed.

Instead, I discovered the complete opposite.

The frenzy had fizzled out.

Whether it was the sun making another unwelcome appearance or the trout simply deciding they’d eaten enough, the lake had become much harder. Fish were still being caught, but every one had to be worked for. The easy takes of the morning had been replaced by follows, swirls and the odd frustrating refusal.

By 6pm the lake had gone very quiet. Stomachs were beginning to rumble, arms had enjoyed a decent workout, and it felt like the perfect time to call it a day.

We packed the gear into the car and headed for home after another thoroughly enjoyable session.

Final tally: 50+ trout between the four of us.

Although the fish came in bursts, like buses, when they switched on the sport was tremendous. More importantly, it was another day spent with good friends, plenty of laughs and enough bent rods to clear the head for a while.

Now if the weather would just return to something resembling a normal summer, the fishing might really start to hit top gear.

Q Lake 04/07/36

The forecast promised warm conditions with a strong wind, and it certainly delivered. We arrived at the lake just before 8 am after the compulsory breakfast stop. After a quick lake inspection there was a healthy ripple and high expectations as we watch fish feeding in the surface.

From the first few casts the lake was alive. Fish were confidently feeding on the surface, smashing olive patterns as they drifted naturally across the wave. Every direction you looked there were trout moving, and the team were soon into fish.

I was having one of those magical starts where every cast felt like it could produce a take. I had managed a fish a cast with plenty of fish inspecting my olive grunter before slurping it down and cartwheeled across the surface.

I was off to a flying start and after letting the team know what was working I was expecting to see rods bend all around the lake. It didn’t take long for the rest of the team to get if the mark and the Mars bar label was off our backs.

Well… for three of us anyway.

Pops was having one of those days every angler dreads. He couldn’t seem to buy a fish. It wasn’t through lack of chances either. Before lunch he’d hooked and lost at least a dozen trout. At one stage he even managed to hook two fish on the same cast… and somehow lost both of them!

It takes a special kind of talent to pull that one off.

As the afternoon arrived, the fishing changed completely. The wind increased and the sun made an appearance and the frantic surface action slowed. Time for a change of tactics.

Out came the b**g and blob.
The switch paid off almost immediately, with fish now coming steadily from 5–6 feet down. It wasn’t quite as spectacular as the morning’s dry fly sport, but it kept the rods bending while others around the lake struggled.

Later in the afternoon the wind freshened again before gradually easing away, and as the lake settled the trout once more began looking towards the surface. A few final fish were tempted on dries, bringing the day almost full circle.

Thankfully, Colin Snr eventually avoided the dreaded blank with a well-earned trout after lunch. It was richly deserved after everything that had happened during the morning.
Mind you, if there had been a prize for long-range catch and release, he’d have won it by a country mile with around twenty fish that somehow managed to escape!

By 5:30pm we decided to call it a day after another thoroughly enjoyable session.

Final tally for the team: 44 trout
🎣 Colin Jnr – 24
🎣 Geordie – 13
🎣 W***y – 6
🎣 Colin Snr – 1 (plus around 20 on the famous long-range catch and release method!)

Another good day on the bank for 3 of us anyway. Movilla Q lake is full of wee nooks to get out of the wind allowing for doing what I love. Walking around looking for wee quiet pockets of feeding fish and tempting them to the net.Plenty of laughs, plenty of fish, changing tactics throughout the day, and another reminder that when the trout decide to look up, there are few better ways to spend a day than watching a dry fly disappear in a swirl.

Kilgad 13/06/26
No report the last few weeks few personal things going on but we needed a weekly reset and to the clear the head.

We arrived at the lake just before 8am and were greeted by a scene that could only be described as moody. Dark clouds drifted overhead, the wind was pushing hard across the water, and the surface was covered in a decent chop. It wasn't exactly postcard weather, but nobody seemed too concerned In fact, expectations were high. An early start and a good ripple usually mean one thing fish on the move and willing to feed on the surface. Before a fly had even touched the water, however, disaster struck.

Geordie had forgotten his reel.
Now forgetting a sandwich, your glasses, or even your net can be worked around. Forgetting the reel is a slightly bigger problem. After a few minutes of confusion, disbelief and the inevitable abuse from the rest of the team, we managed to bodge together a solution from spare gear floating around the car from Scotland. One wet line sacrificed by W***y got Geordie a floating line. Geordie now officially back in business, the fishing could begin.

The early signs were encouraging. Fish were moving in the wave and although there wasn't a major hatch to speak of, there was enough activity to keep the trout looking up. The fish seemed willing to investigate almost anything that landed in front of them. W***y playing the first fish on the grunter within a few casts I figured it could be a bumper day. Geordie quickly found success with a small black pattern and before long he was into fish. Meanwhile the rest of the team were picking up fish on a variety of methods. Some came on dries, some on suspended patterns, and others on not so traditional approaches the b**g. There didn't seem to be one magic solution, which kept things interesting all morning.

The fish weren't exactly climbing over one another to get to the flies, but there were plenty of follows, boils, swirls and near misses to keep everyone entertained.

The highlight of the morning, however, had nothing to do with flies. It was Geordie's decision to poach Pops' fishing spot. Pops had found a productive area and was steadily adding fish to his tally. Unfortunately for him, Geordie noticed. Like a seagull spotting an abandoned chip, he moved in. Within minutes he was catching fish from Pops' water. The more fish Geordie caught, the more vocal Pops became. At first it was subtle. Then less subtle.
Then it turned into a running commentary that could probably be heard on the far side of the lake.
The rest of us found the whole thing hilarious. To be fair to Geordie, the tactic worked.

By lunchtime he had built up a healthy lead and looked destined to finish top rod for the day.
The afternoon became much tougher. The wind continued to batter the lake, the fish became harder to pin down, and Geordie's early momentum ground to a halt. Fish after fish investigated the fly without fully committing. Others were hooked briefly before escaping.
It became one of those afternoons where nothing quite goes your way for Geordie Meanwhile Pops quietly continued catching. By late afternoon the scoreboard was starting to tell a different story. Geordie remained stranded on what would eventually become an unlucky 13 fish. Pops, however, kept plugging away and eventually overtook him to finish the day as top rod with 14 trout. W***y ended the session with a very respectable 5 fish despite missing enough opportunities to probably double that tally. As for me, I finished agonisingly one short of double figures.One more fish would have looked much better in the report, but fishing doesn't hand out bonus points for being close.

Looking back, it was one of those days that was perhaps more enjoyable than the numbers suggest. There wasn't a spectacular hatch, there weren't huge numbers of fish being landed, and there certainly weren't any monsters.
What there was, however, was constant opportunity.
Fish were moving. Fish were looking. Fish were investigating. Every cast felt like it had a chance.
Add in Geordie's forgotten reel, the battle for Pops' fishing spot, plenty of missed takes and enough wind to keep everyone honest, and it turned into a thoroughly entertaining day on the bank. Great for the mental health for all of the team

Summary
A windy and moody start gave way to a day packed with opportunities on the surface. Despite the lack of any significant hatch, the trout remained interested in artificial flies throughout the day and provided plenty of action for the team.
Geordie's forgotten reel nearly ended his day before it started, but a successful bit of angling engineering got him back in the game and straight onto fish with a small black pattern.
The battle for Pops' fishing spot provided the comedy highlight of the day, while the fishing itself remained steady enough to keep everyone interested from start to finish.

Final Scores:
Pops – 14 fish (Top Rod)
Geordie – 13 fish
Me – 9 fish
W***y – 5 fish

A day of wind, laughs, missed chances, plenty of fish showing interest, and enough action to keep everybody smiling all the way back to the car.

Day 7 29/05/26– New Hailey & Skelmorlie Double Header

Like any good thing in life, the best things come in twos.

After several days fishing around Scotland, there were two fisheries that had really stood out from the crowd — New Hailey and Skelmorlie. Both had delivered fantastic sport, both had fish willing to feed on the surface, and both had left us wanting more.

So rather than trying to choose between them, we did the sensible thing.

We fished both.
New Hailey – The Morning Session
We arrived at New Hailey just before 8am and were greeted by the caretaker, Alistair. After a bit of banter and Alistair giving W***y some abuse about local lingo and wind directions, we got ourselves organised and headed for the water.
The conditions couldn't have been more different from the previous five days. Gone was the relentless sunshine. Instead, we had cloud cover and a brisk south-westerly breeze pushing across the lake.

What a difference.
The first thing that caught the eye was the concentration of fish feeding along the calmer water near the dam wall. There were trout everywhere, packed into the area and actively feeding on insects being pushed along by the wind. The water looked alive. Olives were hatching steadily and the trout were chasing them down as they emerged through the surface film. Some fish were slashing at them, others were sipping them delicately, while the occasional trout launched itself clear of the water in pursuit of an unlucky insect. It was fantastic to watch. Even better when you managed to cover a fish properly and were rewarded with a confident take.

Well... mostly.
It wasn't exactly "wham, bam, thank you ma'am."

More often it was:
Cover a fish. Rejected. Cover it again. Tiny twitch. Small movement. Then a reaction take from the trout. Whatever the reason, it was working.
Geordie was first off the mark using one of his latest prototype flies. As usual, that became a source of amusement amongst the rest of us. Prototype flies are always a contentious subject when somebody starts catching on them, but seeing as I'm guilty of exactly the same behaviour myself, I simply smiled and kept my opinions to myself. Within ten minutes Geordie had landed the first fish of the session. It didn't take long before the rest of the team joined the action. Soon there were fish being hooked all around the lake, with double and even triple hook-ups happening at various points around the bank. It genuinely looked like it might become one of those ridiculous fish bonanza days.
Unfortunately, my own fishing was interrupted when my brother needed a hand with a job back home. With no laptop available, I made a quick retreat to the digs, helped him out and eventually returned to the fishery. I expected to find everyone miles ahead and well into double figures. To my surprise, the fishing had remained consistent but so had the refusals. The fish were feeding hard but were still proving selective. Back at my original spot, I spent a while simply watching the water. Olives danced across the surface while trout slurped them down and occasionally launched clear of the water trying to drown them before returning to mop up the casualties. It looked like something out of the movie Jaws. The challenge wasn't finding fish. The challenge was convincing them that your artificial offering was worth taking instead of the thousands of naturals around them. I initially enjoyed some success with a dry olive pattern, but things improved dramatically when I switched to an emerging olive pattern and a small copper buzzer. Rather than fishing static, I found sharp little jerks and pulls worked best, almost like fishing a tiny lure. For whatever reason, it triggered an aggressive response and I was getting follows, takes or hook-ups almost every cast. At one point a young local angler informed me the insects were mayflies. I wasn't about to argue. He had his name for them, I had mine, and either way the trout seemed more interested in eating them than discussing entomology.

By 1:30pm Pops had already begun gravitating towards the hut, convinced rain was coming and determined not to get his gear wet before our next destination. I wasn't interested in leaving. The agreed departure time was 3pm and I intended to fish every last minute. Eventually the clock won the argument, and at 3pm we packed up and said farewell to Senga and the fishery.

One thing was certain.

New Hailey had earned its place firmly on the return list.

Skelmorlie – The Evening Session
We arrived at Skelmorlie, grabbed a few sandwiches, and headed down to the lake.

When John saw us bouncing out of the car and heading towards the hut like eager beavers, I'm not sure whether he was shocked, surprised, or both in equal measure.

The best part? The fishery was practically deserted. Whether the weather forecast had put people off or not, we weren't complaining. The conditions looked fishy, and after a bit of banter with John we picked up our evening tickets and got started.
My plan was simple. Big and bushy.
It had worked previously and with the stronger wind it seemed sensible to simply go even bigger and bushier.

W***y immediately tied on a Grunter. It didn't take long before his rod was bent into the first fish of the evening. Pops got the message and quickly followed suit. Moments later he was into a fish as well. Meanwhile I was getting plenty of interest on the Mustachio, with a few fish missing the fly before I eventually connected with my first proper customer.
That only left Geordie. Unfortunately, with a few things going on at home, George was physically present but mentally somewhere else entirely. To his credit, once he managed to switch off for a while he still picked up a few fish before deciding to call it a night early. The irony of the day arrived around 7:30pm. After spending most of the day under clouds, wind and occasional rain, the sun suddenly reappeared with a vengeance. The wind disappeared and the lake went flat calm. The calmer weather not only affected the fishing but the midges arrived in biblical numbers. Pops battled on until around 9pm, moving around the lake and missing fish almost everywhere he stopped. He was onto a winner with the w**d fly pattern and the trout certainly seemed interested. John was fascinated by the w**d fly pattern and before heading home for the evening he spent quite a while watching Pops miss fish every cast.

Meanwhile W***y was enjoying what can only be described as a red-letter evening. The only problem was he seemed determined to miss as many fish as possible. Fish after fish came short, missed the fly, or somehow escaped. Thankfully enough stayed connected to give him the honour of top rod with 12 fish to the net. We fished right through until 10pm.W***y was still catching. I continued picking away on the big dries and just before heading for the car, I managed to lose a cracking tiger trout that would have been a fitting end to the day.Some fish are simply destined to win.

Summary

If there was one takeaway from our Scottish trip, it was that New Hailey and Skelmorlie were the standout venues. Both fisheries consistently produced fish willing to feed on the surface, even under conditions that are normally considered terrible for dry fly fishing. The sport was exciting, the fish were plentiful, and both venues offered tremendous value at a time when costs seem to be rising everywhere.

Perhaps even more impressive than the fishing were the people. Senga, George and John couldn't do enough for visitors. Whether it was local advice, recommendations on where to eat, suggestions on other fisheries, or simply making anglers feel welcome, they all went above and beyond In fact, they were often recommending competing fisheries simply because they wanted visitors to enjoy the best possible fishing during their stay.

That's a rare thing these days. Some traditional lough anglers might argue the fisheries are too small, there are no boats, or that they don't present enough challenge. Everyone is entitled to their opinion. For us, however, both fisheries were so enjoyable that we felt compelled to fish them twice during the same trip. And that probably tells you everything you need to know.

Sometimes the best recommendation is simply wanting to go back before you've even left.

Leaburn – Day 6

The original plan for Day 6 was simple enough have a lie-in, take it easy, and aim for an afternoon and evening session. Of course, like most fishing plans, that lasted about five minutes. Like kids in a sweet shop, none of us could sit still for long, and before we knew it, we were on the road shortly after 9:30am. A message from a fellow angler had pointed us towards Leaburn, so the gear was loaded into the car and the sat nav was given its instructions.

We arrived just before 11am and immediately faced the biggest decision of the day.

Two-hour ticket? Six-hour ticket? All-day ticket?

After some discussion, the decision was made. We were staying until dark. At least that was the plan.
Leaburn is an interesting setup with a dedicated fly lake, an all-methods lake that fly anglers can fish catch-and-release, and a coarse lake. After a quick look around, we decided to start on the main fly lake.

The first thing that caught the eye was fish feeding on the wind. There were trout moving and showing interest, which immediately raised hopes. The problem was getting them to commit. We tried a variety of patterns and presentations and were getting plenty of what can only be described as "looky looky, no likey."

The fish were coming for a look, inspecting the fly, then turning away at the last second.

As for the weather? Take a guess.
Sun. Sun. And a bit more sun.
By this stage of the trip, the weather forecast might as well have just been a picture of a giant yellow ball.

Thankfully, the peat-stained water at Leaburn seemed to help. The slight colour in the lake gave the fish a bit more confidence, and unlike some of the crystal-clear venues we'd fished, they remained willing to investigate flies on the surface. For a while anyway. As the sun climbed higher and began shining directly onto the water, the fish seemed to disappear. By lunchtime the lake looked lifeless, and it was obvious a change was needed.

Out came the b**g. My go-to setup was simple enough: a blob on the point with a buzzer around three feet above it, fishing roughly five to six feet deep. It didn't take long. The b**g dipped. Bang. Fish on. After a lovely scrap, I slipped a fully-finned rainbow of around 2lb into the net. Quick photo, quick recovery, and off it went. The next cast wasn't much different. The b**g disappeared again. Another fish. Before long I had managed five fish in little more than a dozen casts, and it didn't take W***y long to decide that maybe this b**g fishing wasn't such a bad idea after all. Interestingly, while I was catching most of my fish on the blob, W***y was getting nearly all of his on the buzzer. Same setup. Different results. That's fishing.

Pops was also fishing under the b**g and was getting opportunities, but for whatever reason he just couldn't seem to make the fish stick.
Meanwhile, Geordie had decided he was staying loyal to the dry fly. Even with everybody else catching under the b**g, he wasn't for changing. His patience was eventually rewarded. Around 1:30pm some cloud finally started to build, providing brief moments of relief from the relentless heat. Every time the sun disappeared behind a cloud, the lake seemed to come alive.

Fish began moving on the surface again. Geordie didn't need asking twice. He quickly covered a rising fish. Bang. Fish on. A couple of casts later, another rise and another fish. Two fish in two casts. Unfortunately, a few others managed to throw the hook shortly afterwards, but the point had been proven. The fish were still there. They just preferred clouds to sunshine. Sadly, the cloud cover never lasted long. The sun soon reappeared, and by 3pm the heat had become almost unbearable.

I eventually surrendered followed by the rest of the team. Retreating to the hut for refreshments seemed like the sensible option. When I stepped back outside, it honestly felt like a vampire walking into daylight. The heat was intense, and I felt like my skin was melting. The shade became my friend for a while as I recovered and waited for what we hoped would be an evening rise.

The rest of the team soldiered on through the heat. By 6pm, however, even enthusiasm was beginning to wilt. We decided to move down to the all-methods lake for a change of scenery and finished the evening there. Despite our intentions of fishing until dark, the heat had finally defeated us. By 7:30pm we called it a day, thanked the team at Leaburn, and pointed the car towards the digs.

Summary

Leaburn turned out to be a pleasant surprise and although the forecast was tough. The peat-stained water helped keep the fish interested despite the blazing sunshine, and when the dry fly sport slowed, the b**g and buzzer combination proved extremely effective.

The fish were in excellent condition, with some lovely rainbows and blues providing steady sport throughout the day. Perhaps the most impressive thing was the enthusiasm of the new management team. Having only taken over the fishery within the last six months, they clearly have ambitious plans for the future. With the new café coming along nicely, improvements around the lakes, and ongoing development of the water management of the fishery itself, there is a genuine sense of optimism about the venue. As the banks mature, additional planting develops, and the facilities continue to improve, Leaburn looks well positioned to become a destination fishery that offers a full day's experience for anglers and families alike.

The foundations are certainly there. And despite the heat eventually getting the better of us, Leaburn provided some great fish, good company, and even know it was tough at times it was a good day but maybe factor 1000 next time for me lol.

Harelaw – Day 5

After three excellent days of fishing, Day 5 saw us make the trip to Harelaw with high hopes. The morning actually started quite promising. There was a bit of cloud cover around, and for a brief moment it looked like we might avoid another day of relentless sunshine.

That optimism lasted about as long as it took us to assemble the rods and launch the boats.

By the time the gear was loaded and we pushed away from the shore, the clouds had completely disappeared and the sun had gone from being a spectator to centre stage. Full beam. Not a breath of wind. Not a scrap of shade.

Still, we’d made the journey, paid our tickets, and there was no point worrying about things we couldn’t change.

The lake itself looked fantastic. Flat calm water stretched out in every direction, fish were rising, and there were insects everywhere. On closer inspection there was a noticeable algae bloom colouring the water and reducing clarity, but with buzzers, beetles, olives and the occasional sedge all present on the surface, hopes remained high.

We headed out and found a quiet area away from the crowds. There were fish rising nearby and excitement levels immediately increased when W***y managed to miss a fish while still setting up his rod.

Surely it was going to be one of those days.

Unfortunately, the fish had other ideas.

Within a few casts the rising fish simply vanished. The area that had looked alive moments earlier suddenly felt barren and empty. It was like fishing in the middle of a desert.

A quick relocation put us back amongst fish again.

Then exactly the same thing happened.

A few casts, a couple of rises, then the fish drifted out of range as if somebody had sounded an alarm beneath the surface. It quickly became clear that Harelaw was going to be a giant game of cat and mouse.

Find the fish.

Make a few casts.

Watch them move.

Repeat.

The lake was busy too, with at least twenty boats spread across the water. Looking around, it wasn’t hard to see that everyone was having a similar experience. Plenty of fish showing, very few fish being landed.

As the hours passed, the loch started to resemble fly stew. Buzzers, beetles, olives and sedges were everywhere. The trout had a buffet in front of them and convincing them to take an artificial fly wasn’t proving easy.

Eventually I decided enough was enough.

I picked two flies and made a promise to myself that I wasn’t changing again.

Not long afterwards I spotted a fish rise just ahead of the boat. One cast landed perfectly over the rise.

Wham.

What a take.

The fish tore off immediately, taking line at an alarming rate and backing wasn’t long appearing through the rings. Then it started leaping clear of the water.

This wasn’t just a fish.

This was a proper Harelaw fish.

For three or four minutes it simply did what it wanted. Every time I thought I’d gained control it took off again. Then, just when I finally started gaining line, it turned and charged directly at the boat.

I reeled like a madman.

When I eventually caught up with it, the fish shot underneath the boat. Suddenly I was trying to control the fish, manage the rod and turn the boat at the same time. It felt like trying to tap your head and rub your stomach.

Thankfully everything held together.

After a tremendous scrap, a beautiful fully-finned silver torpedo of around 4lb slid into the net. Not the biggest fish in the lake by any means, but a perfect rainbow trout in immaculate condition.

The problem was everyone else saw it too.

What had started as a quiet corner of the loch suddenly resembled Nuts Corner Market. Boats appeared from every direction and before long it felt like everyone had set up shop around us.

W***y meanwhile was putting on a masterclass in near misses, managing to lose or miss another three fish while we tried to stay ahead of the crowds.

As the pressure increased, we headed further up the lake and started another drift.

It didn’t take long before another fish rose.

One cast.

Bang.

Fish on.

Another explosive take and another tremendous battle followed before a second quality rainbow found its way to the boat.

Over in the other boat, Geordie and Colin Snr were experiencing much the same day. Plenty moving, plenty searching and the occasional reward when everything came together.

By midday the conditions had become brutal.

Temperatures had to be pushing towards 30 degrees. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, there wasn’t a breath of wind, and there was absolutely nowhere to hide from the relentless heat.

Both boats had managed fish by this stage, and lunch at the café was becoming the main focus of conversation.

Unfortunately, when we got back to shore and started looking at the menu, we were informed that the café was closed.

Needless to say, that wasn’t the news we wanted.

With no hot food available, we raided the chocolate and drinks section of the shop instead. It wasn’t quite the feast we’d been imagining, but it did the job.

After a short rest, we headed back out.

The thought of being trapped in the boats under the afternoon sun wasn’t especially appealing, so much of the team opted to spend time on the bank instead. The fishing remained difficult, the heat remained relentless, and by around 3pm we collectively decided enough was enough.

Sometimes discretion is the better part of valour.

Summary

Harelaw proved to be one of the toughest days of the trip. The combination of blazing sunshine, flat calm conditions, an algae bloom and an abundance of natural food made consistent fishing extremely difficult.

The trout were there, and when hooked they were exceptional. Hard-fighting, fully-finned rainbows that tested both tackle and angler. My two fish were outstanding examples of the quality Harelaw can produce and certainly left an impression.

Unfortunately, the weather simply wasn’t playing ball and turned what could have been a memorable day’s sport into a long game of cat and mouse.

Still, not every day can be a red-letter day.

Sometimes fishing is about adapting, persevering and appreciating the good moments when they come. And despite the difficult conditions, Harelaw still managed to show flashes of why it has such a strong reputation.

The fish were quality, the scenery was beautiful, and although the heat eventually beat us, the memories of those silver torpedoes tearing off across the loch will last far longer than the sunburn.