Fishing and shooting: Catch of the day

THE ONLY problem about learning to cast is that you may find yourself hooked

Just above Dunkeld the rain was falling in Biblical proportions, and even with the windscreen wipers on full it was hard to make out the twisting road ahead.

Despite the torrential downpour, as Butterstone Loch blurred into view, I could see fishermen huddled in little boats, casting out their lines in the hope of landing the big one.

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What were they thinking? Surely there are better ways to spend a wet Friday morning – even the office had a certain attraction in this weather.

Inside the new lochside bistro, fisherman and instructor Stephen Gill was determined to show me just what makes his sport reportedly more popular than playing football. Amid upbeat talk of rain being no problem if you had “the right type of clothing” I was about to receive a lesson in how to cast.

Admittedly the rain had eased enough to see the other side of the loch but this first part of the day was land-based as I attempted to cast a piece of rabbit fur tied on the end of a fishing line towards some outdoor dining chairs.

At first the line wriggled down in a spaghetti-like pile only a few feet away, but occasionally it hit the spot, straight out in front. It was then the attraction of fly-fishing became apparent to me – it is a skill that has to be mastered and the mastering of it, a little like golf, is addictive and nigh on impossible to achieve.

I expected to be bored, because of the static nature of this pursuit but within half an hour I was even interested in discussing which fly to use. The fly is key and at competitions they are sometimes wrapped in tin foil by fishermen eager not to give away their secret until the last minute. The mantra is: “match the hatch”; whatever real flies are above or on the water should be imitated on your hook.

Finally, after more casts than JR Hartley it was in to the boat, out on the water. I cast the line out, while trying to remember what to do if a fish took a fancy to the hopper fly on the hook. Not a lot happened.

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Then it was time to put on a damsel fly; that was obviously haute cuisine for the blue trout which immediately took a bite. In my excitement I failed to pull the line tight and by the time I made amends, a rather indignant fish had jumped out of the water and spat out the hook.

No problem, this new student of fishing was, well ... hooked. As the rain continued to fall my appetite grew for more, and it was satisfied, although not quite as I had expected. Further down the loch I had another pull on the end of the line and this time I kept it tight. Quickly Stephen told me how to gradually pull the fish in and then, in a loch stocked with rainbow, brown and blue trout the end of my line produced a small perch. Nice to look at but not really the point of the exercise.

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As the rain eased I kept casting until finally I had a rainbow trout. Stephen warned me not to try to reel it in straight away, but rather to tire it out before guiding it to a net. Allowing the line to go out before pulling it in again is a bit like walking an underwater dog. Soon – although in reality it felt like a battle of epic proportions – I managed to land the fish, a 2lb trout.

We went back to the bistro to get dry and have some lunch, but I was keen to get back out there for more. On the water once again, I made cast after cast in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying the views of the surrounding mountains. After two hours without a bite I was still enjoying myself.

As we bobbed about in the boat, Stephen, who has used a wheelchair for nearly 20 years after being paralysed in a car accident at the age of 18, patiently showed me how to improve my technique.

Stephen says fishing, which he has done since he was a boy, has helped him overcome his difficulties and as well as working as an instructor, he is a member of the Scottish Disabled Fishing Team.

But despite all his technical knowledge, what struck me most about him was his passion for the sport, particularly demonstrated by his frequent imploring cry of: “Come on fish!”

• For more information about fishing, and instruction (£75 for a half day of tuition) on Butterstone Loch visit www.butterstonelochfishings.co.uk

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