While many of us were doing everything we could to avoid the Siberian temperatures that hit Scotland in the early part of the year, The Courier’s Ian Lindsay braved the cold to fish for skate off Oban. Here he recounts an exhausting battle with a monster of the deep.
It was a brave pair of lads who set off from the east of Scotland in early 2010. The angling forums had been quiet, the odd shore cod apart, and boat fishermen up and down the country were stuck in port as much by the doggedly refrigerator-like weather as sea conditions.
Still, I’m never one to turn down an opportunity, and when my mate Doug called suggesting a swift daytrip to Oban to take advantage of relatively light tides and a window in the weather I wasn’t going to say no, was I?
On higher ground, snow was still much in evidence — and when we teamed up on the bonnie if chilly banks of Loch Earn before driving on to Oban together, Doug’s boat well was full of fresh snow that had fallen in Lothian that morning.
Set-off point was the Puffin Dive Centre, and, oh, was it cold! Still, once you’re geared up in plenty of thermal layers it’s only your fingers and face you can feel falling off, so what’s to complain about? Always worth easing your vehicle down the slip with extra care, though, as ice combined with slippery green weed can see more than the boat taking a dip. Not sure if a Freelander floats, though I have my doubts…Meeting an enemyNow Oban, it must be said, is the opposite of a happy hunting ground for me. My first 11 trips (mainly on charter boats) had produced some nice fish such as a 38lb tope and a few double-figure congers, but not so much as a sniff of a skate. Yes, other people had caught them, while I’d had plenty in other places, but see me, see Oban? Sworn enemies!
The cold weather gave us another start on the way out — Doug’s Evinrude eTec outboard grizzling about the zeroish temperature by sounding a buzzer — but the engine worked fine after a quick restart, which is just as well, as a couple of things quickly became evident: the relative calm when setting out (below) was going to give way to livelier seas than the 8mph forecast had suggested, and there were no other boats out. Nice to have our choice of marks, but there was a certain air of being on our own if anything went wrong.
Doug got the anchor down swiftly, and the baits were sitting reasonably well with 2lb of lead, which may seem ridiculous to inshore fisherman but is quite standard issue for this sort of ultra-deep water stuff — though it was clear any notion of pursuing other species with small baits on a second rod would be out of the question. Tangles — especially ones involving those spiky little critters, spurdogs — can prove fatal to lines they come into contact with in the complex vortex of tides at Oban, and we didn’t want to lose 500 feet of expensive braid for the sake of a silly wee fishy! So one skate rod apiece it was, period.The battle beginsAt least the sun was out by now and though the higher peaks of Mull were snow-frosted, I could feel life returning to my fingers. Just as well, as I’d need them: my Oban jinx was about to end.
It all happened with unseemly haste: my Penn Waveblaster 30-50 waggled hysterically before a fish began to strip line off against the ratchet, heading way uptide towards the anchor rope. Good to have one on, not so good that it had swum that way, as it meant — due to the way the seats face in Doug’s boat — that the whole fight would be a stand-up affair. Combined with the lumpy sea alluded to earlier, this was going to be quite a struggle.
No matter how well you try to plan things something always goes wrong, and on this occasion it was that I was too fat for my butt pad…not literally, but as I was wearing six layers of clothing to combat the cold, my waist size had risen somewhat since last time I used it (in summer), and as a result it was way too high up my body. The skate on the end wasn’t helping by shuffling about continually, meaning we couldn’t get a calm moment to readjust the belt, and so the first 20 minutes of the fight put rather more strain on my lower back than they should have.
The fight was going quite well — from the skate’s point of view at any rate — while I was regretting all those layers and finding it IS possible to sweat in freezing conditions if you’re under enough physical stress!
Eventually I began to make some headway — bringing the fish toward me a few metres, though still with no sign of actually raising it from the muddy seabed way down below.Tempted to quitOnce it was under the rodtip, however, the ascent began — though each inch was paid for in blood, sweat and tears — and I have to admit that as the clock ticked on and on, I’ve never felt more like quitting on a fish. However, my crewmate played a psychological master card — pointing out that the fish was showing on the sounder maybe 200 feet off the bottom, and this vignette of unexpectedly good news gave me my second wind.
Once a skate is properly on the move all you have to do is keep winding steadily, dipping the rod to gain a few feet of line and working the tip back up with a combination of shoulder, forearm and leg muscles before repeating the process.
Finally, the beast surfaced, white side up, a few turns of 250lb wind-on leader were safely on the spool, and it was time for the ‘big lift’ — Doug and myself combining our strength to slide the monster over the gunwale. Naturally the wee boat’s lip leaned down to meet the fish, which helped us in our task, though of course the Warrior’s stability was never in danger of being compromised as we drew the prize aboard with a mix of relief and elation.
Working with all due haste to get the fish sized up and back into the drink ASAP, Doug measured her at a little under seven feet long and around five feet wide, which gave a reading from the size chart of 178lb. My third biggest after fish of 205lb and 185lb, though I must say the capture was sweeter than most due to the unseemly number of Oban outings I’d taken to achieve it!
With the big girl safely flipped back overboard to power back to her lair on effortless wing beats, Doug and I stuck the kettle on — but there was little time to rest on our collective laurels as HIS rod keeled over with unseemly haste!
This fight was every bit as testing — made all the more so by the base of Doug’s rod gimbal fitting collapsing under sheer stress. We removed the pin from his butt pad to get a fix between rod and angler, and he was soon experiencing the same sweet pain I’d endured — sweet, as you know you’ve got what could well be the fish of lifetime on your line; pain, well, because parts of your body you take for granted end up aching for days afterwards.
Doug’s battle was similar in script — a while to get the fish moving then a relatively smooth finale, right up to the point when we had the fish at the top. Yet, try as we might, we couldn’t lift it! No doubt the fact we were still puggled by the first fish didn’t help, but this one was undoubtedly bigger. We conducted a rough-and-ready measurement with the fish still in the water and got a conservative figure of 203lb.Heading homeThe next few hours were slow, the key slack period having passed during the second of the two skate battles, and so we settled for a few spotted dogs and spurs from baits lobbed a little way downtide, though as usual 4lb was as big as they got, and no bonus black-mouthed dogfish showed. These are as common at Oban as anywhere, and indeed I caught a nice specimen pushing 2lb there the season before.
With no more big-fish activity in evidence, we retrieved the baits to head for home — at which point I discovered my offering had the tell-tale crush marks from another skate’s jaws on its flanks. Not even a dip had registered on the rodtip, which shows that even fish topping 100lb can be sneaky at times! But I’d had enough of battling sea monsters for one day, and the revelation brought only a shrug born as much of relief as anything else before we hauled the hefty plough anchor, Alderney ring-style, then bounced back to shore against the dramatic backdrop of darkening Highland skies.
I’ve heard tales of anglers connecting with 11 skate in a day, though nothing like that has ever happened to me. Three in a weekend is as good as it’s been, but I have to say this outing had a very satisfactory feeling to it.
We’d beaten the conditions during a narrow window of opportunity, we’d caught a monster fish apiece, and of course I’d finally put my Oban hoodoo to bed. Result!