Wild Trout in Wild Places

I have an appetite for fishing in places where the fish have rarely seen a fly. There is something exhilarating about going off the beaten track which makes a fishing trip so much more exciting. Catching wild trout in wild places is truly special.

The location

The Isle of Rum is situated approximately fifteen miles off the West coast of mainland Scotland. It’s the biggest amongst a collection of islands called the ‘Small Isles’. It is rugged, remote and known for being one of the wettest places in the UK. It’s any adventure-loving fly fishers dream…!

My friend Alison and I set off from Mallaig on the ferry and across the Inner Seas. We were soon greeted by the volcanic looking, cloud-capped hills of Rum.

Sensibly, we decided to take electric, full suspension mountain bikes with us. There are no public roads on Rum. There are only rough and bumpy tracks suitable for 4X4 and ATV’s. They’re only for use by those who live and work on the island. Having the e-bikes meant that we could explore more of the island by covering a much further distance in a considerably shorter period of time.

We stayed in the Rum Bunkhouse, which was perfect for us. It had everything we needed for a comfortable and convenient stay; even a drying room for our wet kit and a good Bluetooth speaker for playing music. They really had thought of everything.For a couple of girls who are very familiar and comfortable with ‘roughing it’, this was a real treat. We got settled in, made delicious homemade pizzas, and then headed along to the only shop on the island. After hours, it doubles as a pub! We had a couple of ciders with the locals, which was a great opportunity to find out if any of them fly fished, and if so, where, when, and what for!

Exploring the fishery

We all have our favourite types of fishing that we can’t get enough of. For me, it’s wild hill loch and small technical river fishing.

The fly fishing on the island, from what I could gather, is relatively undiscovered. This, I came to learn was for no fault of its own. I think the fact that the island is so remote is likely to put many anglers off.

On the first morning, we set off towards the west coast of the island on our bikes. The landscape that surrounded us was vast and it instantly gave me a sense of glorious freedom. The realization that we were now officially on an adventure sank in. Following a quick dip in the turquoise coloured sea during a torrential downpour, it was time to get dry, rig up a rod, and set off in pursuit of our first fishing spot. I wanted to try and catch my first Isle of Rum fish!

Fishing a small stream

We stumbled upon a small river which wound its way down a picturesque glen. It looked ‘fishy’, and exactly like my favourite sort of fishing. If you’re into fishing small spate rivers for trout and salmon, you could have only created this stretch of water in a dream.

It had been left alone to be totally natural, so there weren’t any large pools. It had shallow runs coming out of deeper narrow channels which then tumbled into small pots. These small pots were what excited me most. They had a superb flow of bubbly, oxygenated water and represented the perfect place for fish to hang out.

This was the sort of water where you had to be stealthy. I was crouching down, taking light footsteps, and trying to stay as far away from the water’s edge as possible. I had to really calculate each cast to ensure I didn’t spook fish with my line or accidental heavy fly presentation.

Sea trout or salmon?

One pool in particular, the first one up from the sea, held a few fish that were definitely over 2lbs. For this size of river, they would be a real prize. I guessed that they were sea trout, but I didn’t write off the chance of them being small grilse.  

I cast into an area of the pool which looked especially ‘fishy.’ Moments after the fly landed, I got an aggressive pull. However, the fish didn’t break the surface, so I wasn’t sure what it was. It didn’t feel tiny. I made a few more casts, and annoyingly, I didn’t get another reaction. With it being such a small body of water, I wanted to ensure I didn’t disturb it too much. We headed upstream to fish some other water and let that pot rest. I knew there was at least one good fish in there, and I wanted it!

Continuing upstream

Further upstream, I didn’t see signs of any larger fish. However, I caught a few little trout, which in such a narrow stream was still fun. In the back of my mind though, I couldn’t stop thinking about that first fish from earlier. Around an hour had passed, so it was time to try again. I knew I only had one shot at it, and I was either going to get a fish in the first few casts or not at all.

My fly landed perfectly, and almost instantly the fish boiled and took it. I lifted the rod into it but almost as quickly as it was on, it was off; I let out a frustrated shriek and accepted defeat.

It continued to heavily rain, and the wind got up making casting accurately tricky. The thought of getting warm, dry and having some lunch was quite tempting. So, we decided to cycle back to the bunkhouse and relax for the afternoon. Whilst in cosy pyjamas, we drank some locally brewed beer, ate lots of good food, and played Scrabble whilst the wind and rain battered on the windows. It was only the middle of August, but it really felt like a late autumn afternoon.

Day two

The next day we had a slow morning, and decided what to do over breakfast and coffee. We hadn’t yet explored the southeast end of the island where there is an ancient settlement called Harris. We got kitted up and headed out. The weather was fairer than the previous day, but we didn’t doubt that the rain was lingering somewhere. We were ever grateful for our electric bikes as the cycle over to Harris had a long, and in parts, steep incline. As we came to the top of the hill before dropping down into the bay at Harris, the views were incredibly breathtaking.

We really were the only ones around apart from some free-ranging, happy Highland ponies and a content herd of Highland cattle. We admired the impressive, but very out-of-place, mausoleum that sits overlooking the bay. The bay itself was expansive, and the shoreline appeared rugged and unforgiving. This side of the island was far more exposed than the other areas we had seen so far, it clearly had little shelter from the elements and the force of the sea. After spending some time watching gannets diving for their lunch whilst we ate ours, we set off for a fishing spot which had been recommended to me by one of the locals.

Highland loch fishing

We left our bikes behind, and headed up into the hills on foot. We walked alongside a stream which we guessed must have been flowing down from the loch we were headed for. As we gained altitude, this stream turned into a series of aesthetic waterfalls that cascaded into small pools, and ran freely over smooth, sloping rock. We reached the top of the first skyline and were met with a new view which looked like something out of a film. I was instantly blown away by the sheer scale and uniqueness of the landscape’s topography. As people who are very lucky to have spent lots of time in beautiful and wild places in Scotland, and around the globe, we agreed that this must have been one of the most magical places we have witnessed.

The loch sat proudly in the Coire bowl surrounded by rough cloud-hugged tops and tumbling cliff faces. I felt minuscule, like an ant in a cathedral. Even though Alison was with me, I experienced a strong sense of isolation, not negatively, but in a refreshing and calming way.

The loch was surprisingly large for a Coire ‘lochan’. I set up my 5wt rod and made my way around to the opposite shore, which definitely looked the ‘fishiest’. As I was taking off my hiking boots in preparation to wet wade, I saw a fish of at least 2 lbs jump fully out of the water. I was shocked that wild trout that big would exist in what seemed like a relatively shallow loch, and at a higher altitude, though I wasn’t complaining! I slowly waded out into the loch and discovered that around 40 feet from the shore the loch looked to become a lot deeper, almost as if there was a steep drop-off. It made me realize that my theory about it being shallow was very wrong, which was a humbling start.

But what to tie on?

There wasn’t an obvious insect hatch happening, the water and air temperatures were quite cool and there was a stiff breeze blowing which created a nice wave on the surface. I opted for an invicta, a favourite wet trout pattern of mine, which regularly proves itself to me. I began fishing it by slowly figure-eighting it. It unusually had no interest initially, so I started to strip it, and things suddenly picked up. With the fly now fishing almost on the surface, and fish becoming increasingly interested with splashy takes and big boils. This was a sign to me that I could try my windy hill loch favourite, a mini Kate McLaren muddler.

Shortly after changing, it began to work, and then worked again, and again! They couldn’t resist the little muddler ‘muddling’ its way through the waves. The fish I had were a beautiful light gold colour with silvery borders around their spots, and all took the fly like tigers. The fish were so aggressive and confident, which was a sure sign that they had never seen a fly before.

Teaching a friend

The night before, I gave Alison a fly-casting lesson on the pier near our accommodation. Whenever any of my friends show an interest in learning how to fish, I always jump at the opportunity to teach them. She picked it up impressively quickly and after only a few minutes was throwing a well-presented long line. I really wanted her to catch her first fish on the fly on this trip. I got her casting on the loch, but the ever-increasing wind speed didn’t make it easy. The trout had also gone quiet, which added to the challenge.

Flowing into the loch was an alluring small burn. It was narrow and shallow, yet we could see fish moving in it. We carefully crept up towards it and I told Alison to fish her way down the burn by just lightly casting a short length of line, slowly dragging the fly back across the water and then re-casting it across again. Quite quickly she had a trout come at the fly, but it unfortunately came short of it. This made me very hopeful that we would hook one soon.

Around 5 minutes later, another crazy little brown trout snapped at her fly. Alison lifted into it like a pro and we successfully landed it. It was tiny, but it was a fish, and her first on the fly! We were both totally overjoyed and hugged and high fived. I was super proud of her and secretly hoped that when she caught that fish, the fishing bug had caught her.

Returning back to camp

We had been given our fair-weather window and our time was up. It began to downpour. Thick cloud was moving in with the rain so we decided to head back down off the hill to our bikes.

Luckily, the rain didn’t follow us off the hill, and our cycle home was mostly in the sunshine. The track from the top of the hill from Harris all the way back to Kinloch is downhill. There is a section of around two miles where you can totally free wheel at whichever speed you dare. You can even get air over culvert bumps, which is too tempting not to.

We almost made it back dry, but then not even a mile from base the heavens opened, soaking us and our kit through yet again. Up until that point, we had been blessed with the perfect day. I guess something had to give. We arrived back at the bunkhouse and decanted our gear and most of our clothing into the drying room. After we got warm and dry, we ate some dinner and sat outside in some sheltered seating which overlooked the sea. We watched the wildlife, listened to some good country music, drank gin & tonics, and smoked a cigar each to keep the midges away. It was the perfect final evening.

The final day

Before we needed to catch the ferry back over to the mainland, we had time for one last adventure. I left my fishing rod behind this time, and we went for a hill walk on the far west of the island. The views across to the Isle of Canna were unbelievable. I lived to regret not taking my fishing rod as we came across a system of lochs hidden up in the hills which looked as if they would be teaming with trout. Before long it was time to get ready to leave so we headed back to get packed. We were only there for a few days, but Rum has something about it that gets under your skin. It is maybe a mixture of the rich history, bewitching remoteness, impressive scenery, and how wildly raw and untouched it is.

I can’t wait to return. I have plans to scope out further trout spots and even try some saltwater fishing. 

Til’ the next time, Rum!

Lana Richardson

Growing up next to a north highland spate river, learning how to fly fish was as natural as learning how to ride a bike for Lana. From age 4 she was independently catching trout in small streams and hill lochs and from around 5, fishing for Atlantic salmon began. After catching her first salmon at age 6 on a stoats tail, her love of fly fishing was truly ignited. Lana primarily fishes in the highlands of Scotland for Atlantic salmon, brown trout and sea trout, although if it can be caught with a fly she will give any species and technique a go. Lana lives in the Scottish highlands and works in the habitat conservation & land management sector, she is fortunate to have fisheries conservation and management as part of her day-to-day job. Alongside her main career, she also enjoys guiding and teaching beginners how to fish. Any time she isn't at work she is almost always found casting a line somewhere.

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