CHAR FISHING. 193 



scenery. The dark forest of the Drummond Hill, the swelling 

 uplands above Acharn r the noble expanse of lake — seven or 

 eight miles of it in sight ; on the right hand the towering mass 

 of Ben Lawers ; wherever the eye roved a combination of 

 mountain, wood, and water hardly to be excelled in any part of the 

 world. At first we used the blue phantom minnow, and, pulling 

 slowly along the southern shroe, were fairly successful among 

 the trout. After lunch a good breeze sprang up, there was a 

 strong ripple upon the water, and the flies were got out. 



Presently we crossed to the northern shore, between Lawers 

 and Kenmore, and I began to cast my fly just where the deep 

 water meets the shallow. The trout were, for a time, ravenous, 

 and for something less than an hour the sport could not have been 

 bettered. For the Char, too, the charm was broken. They came 

 at the flies freely and added a wonderful zest to the sport. As 

 a rule I found that they took the fly when well under water; 

 occasionally, however, one caught the flash of a ruddy belly 

 as they rose to the surface ; and what a keen pleasure it was as 

 one drew the living bars of clean, pinkish silver, after a sharp 

 tussle — for they are strong, active fish — into the landing net. 

 They were not particular about the pattern of one's flies, though 

 in point of fact red palmer and coch-y-bonddhu did most of the 

 work. For half-an-hour or so they came, and then their noble 

 ardour suddenly abated. Among the goodly basket of trout, one 

 of the best on Loch Tay that season, I had eleven Char 

 averaging nearly half-a-pound apiece. The biggest fish was a 

 shade under a pound in weight. This is not an extravagant catch ; 

 yet for this shy fish it may be reckoned good, in these islands. 

 The Char, it may be added, seldom, if ever, exceeds (in Britain) 



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