James Harrold makes his first visit to the Shetland Isles
Visiting the Shetland Isles had been on my radar for a number of years. The rugged, unspoilt landscape of the remote Ronas Hill lochs really drew my attention to the island and it’s only when I ordered the OS Explorer 469 and unfolded it out on the table like a broadsheet in a Mini that I really started to understand what all the fuss was about.
Firstly, there is a lot of fishing in this part of the world. An old island saying is that on Shetland, you don’t change your fly, you change your loch and with over 300 to choose from I can see why! The SAA (Shetland Anglers Association) produces a guide for visiting anglers, a holy grail if you like, detailing all fishable lochs, ranging from something resembling a decent sized puddle, to Eela Water in the North which is akin to a Northamptonshire reservoir. As well as consulting their guide, I thought it would be wise to speak to someone in the know, so I called the SAA secretary/treasurer, a lovely chap called Alec Miller. After describing our plan over the phone and detailing where we wanted to fish, his initial response was “You’re either brave or crazy” in that soft, uniquely Shetland, accent. This was in jest of coarse and he pointed me in the direction of a couple of lochs not to be missed and I put the phone down feeling even more excited than before.
Customer turned close friend Paul Worley was one of the catalysts for the trip and the lack of running water and washing facilities didn't phase him one bit. Paul hadn’t been fishing long, in fact it was a casting lesson on Boxing Day two years ago which sealed the deal and Paul is now an out and out fly fishing junkie, the perfect companion for such a trip.
Being based in the flatlands of Norfolk, it’s a fair old trek up to the ferry at Aberdeen but after a 10 hour drive we eventually arrived for the 5.00pm to Lerwick. We docked at 7.00am the next morning feeling refreshed and ready for the next leg of the trip; little did we know!
An hour north from Lerwick and we were at the track which would see us abandon our trusty Camper van (why..? I hear you ask) and don waders, boots, jackets, rucksacks, chest packs and rods, over 70lbs of gear each. We set off on our hike and three minutes later we were knackered!!
This was obviously not going to be a gentle walk round some pretty lochs, admiring the scenery and making a cast every now and then. No, this was more like a military training exercise without the shouting.
The terrain is a mixture of heather covered peat and large rocks with a bit of wet, soft stuff thrown in for good measure just to make sure your footing is really tested when picking a route to the next landmark. Luckily, I downloaded the OS maps app onto my phone and would strongly recommend anyone else does the same if venturing into this part of the world, as getting lost is very easy to do, especially when the clouds roll in. But after five hours of sweating and swearing, we eventually reached our planned base camp at Birka Water and proceeded to wonder what we had let ourselves in for.
That was until about 10 seconds later when we saw the first trout break the surface in the smaller loch behind us.
We didn’t plan to fish that first evening but couldn’t resist having a couple of casts in the loch behind the tents. There are four lochs named “Moshella Lochs” and the two closest to camp were coincidentally the most productive. They are shallow, fertile lochs which, like most of the smaller lochs up in the hills were quite peaty and heaving with small trout. Small, hungry trout.
That first night we fished an amazing evening rise long into the night and even though our bodies wanted to retire into the tents we couldn’t turn down such a great opportunity. The midges were prolific and the trout were gorging themselves. I longed for my soft 3wt which would’ve been a perfect tool for this close range style of fishing but my 4/5wt Mag even if a little overgunned, was still well tested by these spotted torpedos.
The trout in these lochs were small, 6”-10” average with the odd larger fish and fly choice was varied. The first few fish fell to the trusty Kate Mclaren, well, when in Rome and all that. We soon realised that small dries were to provide much more excitement and spent the evening experimenting with flies more suited to an evening on my beloved River Wensum, a little more sporting than pulling wets. That first evening we must have caught over fifty fish between us and despite their size they were gutsy little fighters, a perfect start to the week.
Because of our location we had over 30 lochs within walking distance of the tents, some were only a cast away while others required a bit of leg work to reach so we came up with a plan which would see us explore the lochs closer to home on the first day. Waking up the next morning and we both knew this was a good idea, the hike the day before had muscles aching that I didn’t even know I had!
Birka Water was first on the list as it was only over the next hill so we wandered north and a few minutes later found ourselves looking down on one of the most picturesque and impressive pieces of water I’ve ever seen. A gentle breeze and surprisingly warm temperatures meant that we soon encountered a few rising fish at the north end of the loch, just before the wind kissed the water. We both caught fish; pretty, but nothing more than half a pound. Kate Mclaren patterns, small Loch Ordies and Pennell variants all worked with most fish taking the larger fly regardless of their size… Bold little trout!
As with most of the fishing during the week, we found ourselves moving quite quickly and covering a lot of water. I’ve never fished this way before as generally you’re in one place for a day, particularly on lakes or reservoirs but with so many options I found myself unable to stand still for too long and eager to explore other lochs.
Next, we decided to walk back towards the tents and fish another of the Moshella Lochs, the biggest of the four and the one directly above Birka water, in fact a short walk up beside the waterfall and you're standing a good height above our previous loch.
A few fish were tempted between us, the same spec as in the smaller loch nearer the tents so we walked back towards camp, fishing along the way and covering the smaller Moshella lochs before calling it a day and retiring to the joys of freeze-dried noodles and much needed beer in the sun.
The weather over the next couple of days was decidedly more typical of the Shetland climate. The clear skies and beating sun were replaced with a bitterly cold Northerly, overcast skies and temperatures back into the mid singles. Maybe better for fishing though!
The idea today was to tackle the five lochs to the east of camp but fishing would be dictated by the strong winds. Loch of the Grey Ewe is renowned for producing big fish and having read a few snippets about it, this was the one I was most looking forward to fishing. We gave it plenty of time but due to the wind we only able to fish a small corner of the loch and after several fly changes, everything from big buoyant muddlers to tungsten nymphs and dare I say it, woolly buggers (sorry!) we moved on to Clubbi Shuns.
Clubbi Shuns are a collection of lochs comprising of two large and various small, interconnected ribbons of water with islands, bays and secluded backwaters which seemed much more likely to hold fish and given the conditions, a much more enticing prospect for the rest of the day. We dropped down onto the water's edge and fished with the wind on our backs with the high, heathery banks acting as a windbreak. I had a fish first cast, in fact as soon as the fly hit the water, a good feisty fish of ¾ of a pound nailed my Pennell. We waded round the bank and fished, catching every few casts and always right on the crease before the wind picked up. With the terrestrials and bank side midges using the heather for sanctuary, a quick kick of a clump on the way past and the ensuing cloud of insect life was quickly dumped onto the water the equivalent to opening the fridge door after a night on the tiles. The fish seemed to be waiting intently and knew exactly where to be. Most flies worked, including Zulus, Pennells, Kate Mclarens and Invictas, as well as all the variations on a theme I experimented with at the vice before heading out here. Location and presentation seemed to be much more of a deciding factor than fly choice, although the smaller sizes were certainly preferred when fishing like this, probably due to the calmer water.
Although it was blowing a gale, we walked round to the two bays on the south east corner of the top loch and found a little sheltered spot out of the wind which looked pretty fishy. A small, rocky peninsula leading round to a secluded bay looked a likely spot for a fish to seek refuge from the elements, and for us too.
We both positioned ourselves to enable a cast and immediately caught a fish each, just the usual ½ pounder or so. After sorting out the usual dropper spinning issues caused by irritated trout and re- casting I was immediately assaulted by a much larger than normal trout. Leaping clear out of the water and crashing down on my point fly, this monster from the depths was a good 4lbs and just testing my patience. It took me totally by surprise with a splash like a house brick had been hurled in over my head.
I lifted the rod quickly although I already knew that this wily old trout was long gone. Eager to re-cast in the hope that it was still in the vicinity and not phased by my presence I regained my composure and with my heart going like a racehorse on Grand National day I made a cast in the same spot and awaited a monumental heave on the line. Alas, nothing came of the next few casts and even after trying larger flies and different depths I quickly knew that fish like that were no fools so we headed for home, hoping the tents would still be standing on our return.
After a broken night’s sleep we woke to the same blustery winds and freezing cold temperatures which would again dictate how much we could fish and after a quick discussion over the usual instant porridge and coffee, we decided to head south towards Loch of Many Crooks and Sandy Water. These two lochs were similar to the previous day's excursion but on much higher ground. I suspect the wind speed was similar to the previous day but it felt significantly stronger on the higher, open ground and even walking to the water was a task in itself. Nevertheless, the topography of the landscape and features of the lochs meant that getting out of the wind we could find fishable water.
We reached Many Crooks first and looking at it on the map it’s a perfect amalgamation of rocky outcrops, bays, islands and interconnecting channels.
The north side of the lochs are pretty shallow and we struggled to find any fish until we waded round to the west and quickly had a fish each on the usual wets dropped on the ripple. After a good trek around the north side fishing quickly where we could, we hopped across to Sandy Water next door and I caught a couple of really spirited fish of around ¾ lb on a Kate Mclaren muddler fished at range in the waves. Hoping this was the answer and assuming we’d found some fish held up in this little corner of this relatively large loch we fished on for half an hour before covering all the water with various patterns to no avail and decided the wind had beaten us and an evening on the ever faithful Moshella lochs nearer camp was needed to brighten our spirits and provide some much needed dry fly action before the dreaded Super Noodles beckoned.
While walking back to the tents we fished previously uncharted territory of the bigger two lochs due to approaching them from the south and found a peaceful little bay nearly completely out of the wind in a secluded corner with LOADS of rising trout.
This was just what we needed after being blown around on the hills as we crouched in between the waterside boulders so we made ourselves comfortable and prepared for an action packed hour or so of dry fly perfection.
The trout, although relatively small, were really punching above their weight and once again I was dreaming of my 3wt Vision Cult, which on a calm day would’ve been the perfect tool for the job. We both had over a dozen fish each and using various small March Brown dries and CDC emergers had a fantastic evening with one or two fish really giving a good account of themselves.
Tea and an early night felt like the sensible thing to do due to the wind and I ended up in my tent scribbling down some notes and marking maps of our day’s activities in the dim light of a Shetland May.
We woke early with the wind still howling and made an executive decision to leave the Ronas Hill lochs a day early. Having felt we had pretty much done as much as we could over the last few days, we were ready for a new challenge (as well as some fresh water and something a little more sustaining then Cup a Soup!). We quickly packed up and headed for the relative luxury of VW’s finest mobile bedroom.
First stop, Frankie's fish & chips in the village of Brae. After four days of living off flavoured rubber bands, the locally caught haddock and chips were truly worthy of the awards on the wall! Feeling re-energised we drove to Shetland's westerly point of Esha Ness and the roadside lochs of Framgord and Breckon where we decided to stay the night, parking up on the grassy bank overlooking the loch.
We fished Breckon the next morning and although warm and breezy, we didn’t see a sign of any fish and got in the van to head to pastures new.
This would be the last full day and I really wanted to make the most of my time on the island so we decided to cover as much water as possible now we had both transport and comfort. We headed to Punds Water and Eela Water but fishing these vast lochs, two of the biggest on Shetland was difficult in the windy conditions without the use of a boat so a few casts on each and feeling like we were looking for a needle in a haystack we quickly decided the smaller, more secluded waters would be a better option. We drove up a single track road to Trolladale Water and parked right next to the loch. It was nestled behind a hill and out of the wind so hopes were high as we hopped the small burn and walked round the heathery bank to start fishing.
Trolladale is a relatively small loch with a narrow bay to the north west. We quickly discovered the fish were holding up in the bay and close to the shore. All along the north side of the loch were numerous small, silvery, almost smolt-like, trout up to about ¾ lb happy to oblige to CDC emergers and small Pennells fished just in the surface.
A couple of hours later and we had covered most of the accessible water and it was time to head to Loch of Haggrister. The SAA describes this loch as very clear and in the past has produced fish up to 4lb. With this is mind, and given the fact that it was our last full day’s fishing on the island I went for a slightly different approach.
The sun was shining and it was baking hot, the water was gin clear and quite shallow so I tied a weighted nymph on the point and a large Kate Mclaren on the dropper with a view to fishing slightly deeper.
There was a real feeling that this place could be home to some monsters and due to there being an old disused “quarry” at the entrance, most of the west shore was strewn with pale red rock, kind of like fishing on Mars!
The wind was blowing pretty hard so with it to our backs, we fished blind into open water hoping that if we had a pull it would be something pretty sizeable.
I did have a pull, a good take almost instantly and a second later it was gone. I made a mental note of where it occurred and kept fishing that same spot for a few minutes but to no avail and continued round the loch.
Paul had wandered right round the back of the island and found a bay out of the wind, being a lefty it was a little more awkward for him. I stopped short of a little corner of the loch which was being hammered by the wind, waded out as far as I dare and made a long cast towards the bank, knowing a soon as the fly landed it would produce a fish, which it did. It was one of those areas on a loch, reservoir, river or garden pond where you just knew a fish would be holding up, particularly in certain weather or wind direction. The fish swam straight towards me so I assumed it was nothing more than a typical little loch trout and as soon as it got within a few feet, it surged back to where it came from taking me completely by surprise and also a few feet of line from the reel with it. I stupidly shouted for Paul, but in the wind there would be no way he would hear me. I played the fish and after a minute or so it was in the net. After a quick glance I soon knew why it felt like a much bigger fish and at just over a pound it had one of the biggest and most disproportionate tails I’ve seen on a fish, a real paddle.
I fished on and had a couple of fish, very different to the first and much more stained with colour and spots, but not as big.
We left Haggrister with a good few fish under our belt and decided to drive south towards Lerwick as we knew we had to be in that neck of the woods the following day to catch the ferry home.
Loch of Tingwall is only a few minutes drive from Lerwick and one of the island's most popular lochs. Being closer to civilisation and easily accessible by road it was here that we saw the only other angler all week.
We parked up overlooking the loch no more than 10 yards away from the water and although it was late in the day and starting to get cold there was the odd fish rising not more than a few feet from the shore.
It wasn’t my intention to fish, but sitting in the van watching trout rising is like watching a cookery show when your hungry and resistance was futile. By 9.00pm I was back in my waders and creeping out into Loch of Tingwall. I carried on until gone 11.00pm and could’ve stayed longer but by this time it was getting seriously cold and the fish were a little sporadic in their activity. Nevertheless a few fish were caught and we both felt really enthusiastic about the following morning.
We awoke to a perfect weather for fishing dries. A gentle breeze, although cold, was providing a lovely ripple on the water and overcast skies meant that even as early as 7.00am there were fish up everywhere in our corner of the loch and gorging themselves on something we would work out later.
As the morning progressed the fishing got better and better and after the usual half an hour of trying different flies and tactics, we were soon down to size 18s.
There were buzzers hatching as well as tiny terrestrials being blown off the grassy banks behind us, so size was more important than colour or pattern and most flies we tried in that size bracket worked. Griffiths gnats, black gnats, knotted midge and tiny crunchers greased up in the surface were all successful, with the simplest of dressings proving the most successful. It was times like this that I wish I had my vice in the van to go and experiment. We moved around the bay and caught fish all morning, some were pretty big, up to about a pound and a half and real fighters, something which really stood out for both of us on the trip.
We headed back to the van at lunchtime to have a sort out and get changed ready for the ferry later that afternoon, content by the fact that our morning session on Tingwall was a perfect end to a great few days in real, unspoilt fly fishing heaven.
Shetland certainly lived up to and exceeded my expectations on many levels. Things were learnt (like don’t ever attempt a seven mile hike with half your body weight on your back) and a love affair with those feisty little fighters started. After spending often more than 14 hours in my waders and boots, I can’t emphasise enough how worthwhile an investment a good pair are. My duo of Vision Hopper waders and boots were faultless, despite the rigorous testing and we lost count of how many times we sang their praises throughout the trip. The RIO single handed spey line was a dream too and unrivalled in such varied conditions with usually very little room for a backcast. The many nights spent at the vice (often with a sleepy four year old on my lap) were well worth it. I took more flies than I care to let on but still found myself wanting something different. I am one of those anglers who gets true satisfaction from seeing a trout rise to my own hand-tied offering and we were both surprised at the amount of dry fly action we encountered, particularly on the cold and windy days. Shetland is not the place to head if you're looking for company, and Paul and I didn’t see a soul for four days other than a handful of weather beaten ewes and their offspring.
Be prepared to walk too. I have never covered so much water and possibly miles. Getting off the beaten track saw not only breathtaking scenery but exquisitely coloured wild fish and over the five days I was privileged to bank 167 of these beauties, all of which were safely returned. And the common denominator of them all? Startling grit and determination. Modest sized trout smashing your size 12 Kate McLaren muddler and tearing of with half your fly line, you can imagine what their older siblings were like!
As for the monster I couldn’t quite tempt from Clubbi Shuns, I’ll see you next year.