Rod, reels, flies, jacket… and a large pinch of salt. As I packed up my car for the journey north to Loch Damph, I felt that the last ingredient was likely to be required. For the tales I had heard about the angling on this three-and-a-half mile tranche of Torridon would raise the eyebrow of all but the most blindly fervent of fishing fantasists. To be regularly catching wild brown trout up to and over 10lbs on small flies and light tackle – in Patagonia barely possible, even in New Zealand not likely, and in Scotland? It sounded as though someone had been at the drink. Despite my scepticism, however, I needed little persuasion when Duncan Gray asked me, Sofie and Jack to try and catch a leviathan for ourselves. The occasion was the annual fish-off for the trophy that commemorates the late Jim Duncan – each year a group of his friends head Damph-wards in a bid to catch the biggest trout of the week. By the time we passed under the glowering gaze of Liathach and arrived at the estate’s sturdy Quebecois-built log house, the New Lodge, the first day of the competition was drawing to a close. The baleful glare of an extraordinary trout surveyed the fisherfolk below as they warmed themselves by the wood-burning stove.

Caught on the first morning of the inaugural competition, it would have won few prizes in a beauty contest, but it had tipped the scales at a staggering 15lb 6oz. Although it had yet to be beaten, the possibility of a bigger fish was definitely real – the loghouse game book revealed that fish over five pounds were caught on a regular basis and those in double fi gures were far from rare.

Feeding frenzy

Large trout, Duncan explained, had been caught in increasing numbers since smolt-rearing fish farms had been installed at either end of the loch. His theory was that increased nutrients from the farms have caused a population explosion of invertebrates such as snails.

The abundant feeding has allowed the wild fish to grow rapidly. To hear an angler not damning aquaculturalists – this surely was a first! After so much mention of monsters it wasn’t hard to leap from bed to boat the following morning. Although I was aware that such fish tend to have an almost Yetilike aversion to journalists, I was keen to try and track one down. Two hours and one small trout later it appeared my suspicions that the big ones were going to be elusive would be confirmed. Yet with the sun shining on the water and a golden eagle scouring the rocky face of Ben Damph, it was difficult to feel hard done by. As the slightly manic edge left my early casting, I began to take in the scenery and relax. But my reverie was soon disturbed by the fizz of Jack’s reel.

Jack’s giant

It was clear he was into a sizeable fish, but nothing had prepared us for the behemoth that exploded from the peaty water below. Netless and witless with fear of losing it, we slowly rowed shore-wards to a spot where we hoped we could beach the titanic trout. Fifteen arm-aching and nerve-shredding minutes later it was duly brought ashore to a chorus of much whooping – 8lb of wild Wester Ross fish. Jack took the oars, and with visions of lifting the trophy, headed across the loch for one final drift before lunch. Before we’d gone 200 yards another fish had seized his fly, headed off into the depths and was suddenly gone – his reel had jammed and the fish, unperturbed, had snapped through 6lb leader as though it was gossamer thread. Jack, slightly more perturbed, turned the air around us a deep shade of blue.

We were soon sitting in the sunshine with our pieces and a celebratory red can, however, as the others began to appear and admire Jack’s trout. But we’d barely had time to finish our ales when it seemed that the competition had just got decidedly tougher – rumours went round that one of the party had landed a fish of unprecedented proportions. As the man in question rolled up there was a rush to see if the rumours were true. Much to Jack’s chagrin, they were. The first two sets of scales proved inadequate for the fish with a salmon-like stature, the third showed it to weigh an incredible 19lb 14oz. It had taken a size 10 black pennel and 40 nerve-shredding minutes before it was finally brought to the net. Its captor, Robert Cowes, usually the epitome of unflappability, still looked slightly dumbfounded by the turn of events.

World class sport

While the competition was, to all intents and purposes, over, I still had a day and a half in Torridon to enjoy. Although I would have liked to have done more exploration of the rugged estate and the surrounding area – its numerous hill lochs, craggy Munros and dramatic coastline - the spectre of more titans kept me firmly rooted in the boat. Sadly none of Sofie, myself or Jack were to catch another whopper, but we all landed numerous breakfast-sized trout (mere fish fingers compared to The Big Un) as well as seeing a10-pounder lost, and another 8- pounder brought to book.

It had been quite an introduction to the charms of Loch Damph. As we headed back to Edinburgh, we had time to reflect that we’d been lucky enough to experience world class sport in stunningly rugged and unspoiled surrounds. Sofie could now understand how even grown men could become so excited about fish; Jack had landed a trout of a lifetime; and I’d learned that – when it came to Torridon – fishermens’ fables could indeed bear some truth.

field facts

Fishing on Loch Damph is available for guests staying in the New Lodge or the Thràil House on Ben Damph Estate. Tel: 01241 830 258 www.bendamph.com