What is Loch style ?
Last night , after a trip to our local Indian, while having an urgent cold seat in the wee room I spied August’s copy of T&S. On the front cover it says ‘Loch Style Then, now and tomorrow’ . That’s interesting I thought. Turning to the article there’s a very old picture of Loch Ailsh. Looks promising I thought. Reading the article I have to say it’s the biggest pile of nonsense I have read since John Horsey’s website claim to be ‘The UK’s first professional fly fishing guide’.
It’s written by a fellow called Allan Sefton. Never heard of him and no idea who he is. The article it’s self is suppose to be an insight into Loch style fly fishing and the developments over time. It starts of fine, then makes a bizarre statement that when the ‘boat was becalmed….’ loch style fishers had to wait till the next day and goes on ‘They felt no responsibility for a difficult day because their approach never changed.’ REALLY? First I’ve heard of that. He sure as hell never spend a day with my grandfather. Then he rattles on about how he moved back to Engerlund and ‘immersed’ himself in ‘a cauldron of fly fishing innovation’. The whole article is basically claiming that English reservoir fly fishing moved loch style fishing forward by using leaded lines with brightly coloured lures trailed behind a boat. Now being Scottish I’m used to English toffs moving north and looking down their snouts at us scrounging peasant Scots. However I must correct Mr Sefton and all at T&S, using weighted lines to drag large brightly colour lures behind a boat has been around in Scotland for a long time before English reservoir fly fishing, Steve Parton didn’t invent it, up in real Scotland it’s called TROLLING. Used to catch ferrox trout on Loch Awe long before Parton used it for catching pig food at Rutland.
Here’s a true story for Mr Sefton, Andrew Flintcroft and the rest of clowns at T&S, a wee lesson from us daft ignorant Scots…………
Many years ago as a small lad I helped my grandfather ready a boat on Loch Barvas for a days fishing. The client an English toff waddled over from his Range Rover, puffed up his chest and stated ‘It’s a pound per fish today MacIver.’ My grandfather didn’t reply but spent the entire day rowing the toff up and down the wrong side of the loch. Puzzled, when they return fishless I asked why he didn’t come over to the side where the fish were lying, my grandfather smiled, winked and replied ‘It’s two pound a fish today.’
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