Once upon a time in the west

Having returned to the fabled Grimersta lochs and streams of Lewis for the first time in 40 years, our correspondent finds himself reliving the glory

- David Profumo

BY the time I reached the sea pool, I'd turned over three grilse without touching them. However, at last, as my little Dee Shrimp double was dawdling in the far current, a fish took hold, my Bogdan reel growled its approval and, soon, estate manager Chris Langhorne had lifted his net we were off the mark. It was my first afternoon on the Grimersta river in more than 40 years and it was good to be back.

Set in a moorland estate of more than 20,000 acres on the west coast of the Isle of Lewis, the Grimersta system comprises a series of four largely shallow lochs connected by delicious streams that reach the sea in front of the Victorian lodge via the narrow river, which is about a mile and a half long. Owned and controlled by a syndicate of 25 members, it's almost like a Highland counterpoint to Hampshire's fabled Houghton Club-bar that, up here, nonmembers can occasionally take some fishing. This July, I was invited by its congenial chairman Victor Beamish for several days to celebrate the syndicate's centenary year.

Disappointed by the failure of his various Hebridean schemes, in 1924, Lord Leverhulme sold off Harris and Lewis, with a group of 13 sportsmen acquiring Grimersta. The sales particulars announced that 'The Fishing is generally agreed to be unrivalled in the British Isles' and, indeed, in their first season (1925), they accounted for a staggering 2,276 fish. Back then, the gillies were crofters who rowed all day, often against ferocious winds, and received an 'allowance' of whisky; the year ended with a fishing competition between them, followed by a ball with bagpipes. That might be a tradition worth reviving.