A number of years ago while fishing in the
North West Highlands My friend Scott and I stopped off at a bothy for the last
night of our weekend fishing expedition. There were two English lads staying
there also and they too were fishing the nearby rivers and lochs.
We arrived about 9 pm, got talking flies and tactics and told them of our exploits with the trout on the nearby lochs then set about cooking our well-earned dinner. They appeared to be very decent and knowledgeable blokes. We offered them some food for Scott as ever had made generous helpings of his special macaroni cheese. They said they would love to but they were keener to get out fishing and that they'd get a bite to eat on their return. So off they went chasing troots into the night. A little later, two Munro baggers arrived, very tired and foot sore. They weren't that chatty - too tired really, and one just sat down whilst the older one made dinner. Afterwards, the younger one was moaning about the blisters on his feet and his mate suggested soaking them in hot water and germoline. They got this mixture going in their pan but then found it too small to put their feet in. Looking around, they saw an old frying pan hanging by the fire and poured the liquid into that and took turns soaking their feet. A short time later, they announced they were turning in for the night. They gave the pan a quick rinse and put it back.
Scott and I just hung around after dinner lit the fire, shared a bottle of fine malt and enjoyed the afterglow of fantastic day fishing among magnificent Highland scenery. It was about 1 am when the hungry English fishermen arrived back at the bothy. They had a very successful night on the loch and had caught countless amounts of hard fighting wild brown trout and had kept a couple for their supper.
We arrived about 9 pm, got talking flies and tactics and told them of our exploits with the trout on the nearby lochs then set about cooking our well-earned dinner. They appeared to be very decent and knowledgeable blokes. We offered them some food for Scott as ever had made generous helpings of his special macaroni cheese. They said they would love to but they were keener to get out fishing and that they'd get a bite to eat on their return. So off they went chasing troots into the night. A little later, two Munro baggers arrived, very tired and foot sore. They weren't that chatty - too tired really, and one just sat down whilst the older one made dinner. Afterwards, the younger one was moaning about the blisters on his feet and his mate suggested soaking them in hot water and germoline. They got this mixture going in their pan but then found it too small to put their feet in. Looking around, they saw an old frying pan hanging by the fire and poured the liquid into that and took turns soaking their feet. A short time later, they announced they were turning in for the night. They gave the pan a quick rinse and put it back.
Scott and I just hung around after dinner lit the fire, shared a bottle of fine malt and enjoyed the afterglow of fantastic day fishing among magnificent Highland scenery. It was about 1 am when the hungry English fishermen arrived back at the bothy. They had a very successful night on the loch and had caught countless amounts of hard fighting wild brown trout and had kept a couple for their supper.
Scott and I gave wry smiles to each other as
we watched the lads gut their trout then
happily cook their freshly caught trout in
the frying pan on the open fire. Faced with the snap decision of whether to say
something or keep quiet, I kept quiet! They kindly offered Scott and I some
fish but we declined on the premise of being full of pasta. I’m not sure whose
meal tasted the most cheesy!
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