Fly fishing: Purple majesty on annual road trip

Roger Beck's Reeve's Revenge fly, dressed by Stephen Cheetham.

It is often said that with age comes discretion and that one learns by experience. So, on that basis I should no longer be making an annual expedition to the far north west of this archipelago that we call Britain.

After last year’s buffeting by wind and rain, any sensible person would not purposely seek to repeat the experience. There’s the rub; it’s that sensible bit that precipitates the problem. The heart rules the head, so once again, in early July we began the journey north towards the Outer Hebrides, or the Western Isles as they are more properly known.

It is a long journey, so we now take two days to complete it. We love the drive, which passes through some of the most evocative of Scottish landscapes.

I hope that I will be forgiven for suggesting that the use of an interpreter would be an asset in some areas around the Clyde.

Perhaps that is a bit rich coming from a person once described as unintelligible by someone from a southern county.

I have lost count of the number of times that I have traversed Glen Coe; the atmosphere of the place never fails to move me and I can distinctly remember the occasion when the sun shone.

This year, the head and shoulders of Aonach Eagach and Buachaille Etive Mor were enfolded in the gentle arms of purple cloud and a grey mist that constantly moved along the flanks of these massive igneous monsters.

I have to say that the majesty of the Glen was, on this occasion somewhat marred; it was not easy to negotiate a group of young people taking selfies in the middle of the road.

Half-mile traffic queues behind lumbering caravans also served to remind me of my heart felt belief that these tin tents should only be allowed to travel in the hours of darkness… but that’s another story.

There is no secret about the reasons why we return to the Western Isles. For one of us, the unique character of the fishing enthrals; for the other half of the partnership, the archaeology is fascinating and compelling.

I like to try out new fly designs on the wild brown trout of the Western Isles. The old faithfuls never fail to appeal, the Dunkeld dabbler and the Clan Chief are frequent co-conspirators on my cast.