Everybody's
name is registered in a book; each pays a considerable, but not
exorbitant, fee for the society--often well worth the money--and the
assistance of boatmen. These gentlemen are also well provided with
luncheon and beer, and, on the whole, there is more pleasure in the life
of a Loch Leven boatman than in most arts, crafts, or professions. He
takes the rod when his patron is lazy; it is said that he often catches
the trout; {1} he sees a good deal of good company, and, if his basket be
heavy, who so content as he? The first thing is to row out to a good
bay, and which will prove a good bay depends on the strength and
direction of the wind. Perhaps the best fishing is farthest off, at the
end of a long row, but the best scenery is not so distant. A good deal
hangs on an early start when there are many boats out.
Loch Leven is a rather shallow loch, seldom much over fifteen feet deep,
save where a long narrow rent or geological flaw runs through the bottom.
The water is of a queer glaucous green, olive-coloured, or rather like
the tint made when you wash out a box of water-colour paints. This is
not so pretty as the black wave of Loch Awe or Loch Shin, but has a
redeeming quality in the richness of the feeding for trout. These are
fabled to average about a pound, but are probably a trifle under that
weight, on the whole.
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