The day started with me Ghillieing for Sir David Wills at Craig Niesh, the pool just above the Long Pool on Knockando. Sir David, one of the most knowledgeable individuals I've ever encountered, was kicking off his week of fishing. Luckily for Sandy, our head Ghillie, or maybe not, as not all the guests had arrived yet, Sir David asked him to fish.
It was 1987and at this time of year, to say the pools in the area were teeming with salmon was an understatement. To apply perspective, I counted 98 fish jumps in just one minute at the Polarder pool at Lower Pitchroy a few days earlier. It was an amazing sight. But I digress.
Sitting in the boat at Craig Neish, Sir David and I had a clear view down the Long Pool where Sandy was fishing. Not even 10 minutes into our first run down the pool, I asked Sir David, "Is Sandy hooked onto a fish?" Looking down the pool at Sandy some 120 yards away, Sir David confirmed that he was indeed playing a fish. "He'll manage just fine," he said confidently, Sandy was very experienced.
As time passed, we watched Sandy's rod stay bent for what seemed like an eternity. After about 30 minutes, Sir David suggested I row the boat ashore to check on Sandy. Rowing the boat to the bank was simple, and I knew Sir David could handle the pool on his own, so off I went running downstream to find Sandy by the Saddle Stone. Sandy was mid-way down the pool with a bent rod and a fish that wouldn't budge. "Do you have a gaff [we still used them at this time]?" I inquired. No, was the answer, but he had a tailor, a snare-like contraption designed to lasso a fish by the tail. We pondered our next move.
After 30 minutes of no movement from the fish, I suggested Sandy get below it and try to turn its head with some side-strain. Sandy agreed and slowly moved downstream. Tightening the line and lowering the rod, suddenly, the water erupted as the fish made a frantic run towards the tail of the pool. It was an incredible sight. "That's a 30-pounder, Sandy," I exclaimed. "Aye, I reckon it's that for sure," he replied.
We engaged in a battle of wills with the fish, but not much headway had been made. After an hour, Sandy suggested we move to the far side to lift the fish out of the deep water. We tried for another ten minutes with no success. Eventually, we returned to the original side, where Sir David joined us with his net.
"It seems like a good fish, Sandy," Sir David commented. Sandy agreed, noting the fish's stubborn resistance. With the river running at 9 inches, we could see the fish in the shallow water at the tail of the Long Pool. “It's a monster,” I said with the enthusiasm of youth, I was 24 at the time. The fish moved closer to the bank, we must get it now I thought. Sir David, now in the river, attempted to net the fish, which due to its size kept slipping out of the net. Then, suddenly the line went slack, and the fish simply disappeared, leaving us in disbelief.
Despite the loss, the memory of that epic battle stayed with us. Reflecting on the fish's size back at Knockando House, we estimated it to be over 50 inches long. The fish's disappearance left all three of us pondering how a fish of this size could simply disappear!?
Thirty years later, the memory of “The Fish” still lingers with me. Though I may never know its true weight, the experience of that day remains etched in my mind. It was a day filled with excitement, adrenaline, and disappointment, but most importantly, it was a day that, on reflection each year, provided me with the beauty and power of nature.
As the years passed, I often reminisced about that fateful day on the Long Pool, wondering what could have been if we had successfully landed the giant salmon. It became a story all three of us shared with fellow anglers and friends, a tale of fun, excitement, disappointment, and the wonderful unpredictable nature of salmon fishing.
Even now, after 37 years, I can still see this fish cartwheeling down the river and feel the excitement of that unforgettable day. The memory of the 40-50 pounder that got away will always be with me a testament to the thrill and challenge of chasing after the elusive giants of the river. Each time I visit the Long Pool at this time of the year, I reflect and am grateful for the memories shared by all three of us on that day so many years ago. Very Happy Memories made more poignant this year with the loss of Sandy.
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