On 31st August 2008, a lovely sunny day at South Chesthill in Perthshire, aged 26 I managed to shoot a brace of grouse in the morning then whilst dabbling on the river, landed a 14lb salmon at about 2pm. Excitedly returning to the lodge to ask the keeper whether he would take me stalking, permission was emphatically and forcefully denied by my father (a General) when he reminded me of his unwritten rule Charlie, you know we don’t stalk here until 1st September. A Macnab has been eluding me ever since and with each year that passes I kick myself for being such an obedient son.
Since that fateful day 15 years ago, my wife had sympathetically let me set aside one day each August to be absent and uncommunicative, to go for a Macnab. Most years I ended up with grouse but never a salmon so didn’t get around to the stag.
On Friday 18th August 2023 I jumped out of bed early to head out for a pre-breakfast cast on the river, which was mildly encouraging with medium water levels. I had no luck in Ballintyre, nothing showing, but before heading back for breakfast decided on Rock, a small pool that could be fished quickly, the same one that yielded the 2015 Malloch Trophy winning 35lber for Tom Buchanan. Armed with my mother’s 50 year old 11ft grilse rod and an Ally Shrimp, I was about 6 casts in, fishing the neck, when a lovely cock grilse took, maybe 2ft deep in the current. I had lost one the previous day which added to both the adrenalin of the moment and my resolve to net it swiftly, which fortunately I managed. I took a photo at 8.18am and the fish returned to the river, swimming away strongly. It was later measured to be 5lbs. I sat for a few minutes on the bank, laughed out loud and smiled all the way back to the lodge. It had been a 4 year wait since my last salmon. I had a good feeling about today.
After porridge and two poached eggs to fuel the endeavour, three friends plus their children and my sons (11 and 9) headed up the hill along with our keeper Ainster Smith, plus Darrel Elliot and his three outstanding German Shorthaired Pointers. A steady cool breeze assisted both the dogs and puffing guns in equal measure. We had 6 points in the morning with Will Duckworth-Chad and James O’Donnell both successful, but not me. I was feeling a little on edge in the hut at lunch, my knee jigging like it used to when I was 10 and needed a pee. At 2pm Will generously said he thought I could claim a bird when in my view it was at best shared, which wasn’t quite what I was after. Time was running out. Then a textbook point by a wonderful dog called Tilly at 2.15pm luckily resulted in a left and a right for me, phew! Relief, smiles, photos, and the prize was a step closer.
Next for the stag. We have plenty of deer at South Chesthill but are a hind forest and with the rut still some way off, we knew stags would be few and far between. As we had disturbed much of the hill with our guns, Ainster and I agreed to try our luck at the western end of our ground, Inverinain. My father died in 2017, but nevertheless as I headed off I felt like the excited schoolboy on my way to The Boatman in Windsor, but hopefully more stealthy this time.
We immediately saw a large group of about 200 hinds, but much spying only revealed one mature stag and two knobbers. Getting into a group of that size, and being able to get a line of sight at the one respectable target was going to be hugely challenging. Off we set on foot at a good clip, knowing we probably only had enough light for one additional stalk if this one didn’t work out. Ainster’s skill, plenty of crawling and a sprinkling of luck including a perfectly positioned knoll and a well timed look-up from the stag 160 yards away meant success was achieved at 5.30pm. What an exhilarating moment. I nearly hugged Ainster but thank goodness managed to find my British restraint and opted for a firm handshake instead.
And what an old boy the stag turned out to be, with teeth worn almost to the gums, Ainster thought he might have been 11 years old. He was perhaps too tired to migrate with the other stags back to their summer grounds further west, and may well have not survived the winter. A good one to cull, not the finest head, but one for the wall nevertheless.
The greeting from my family on returning to the lodge was the highlight of it all, they clearly shared my excitement. As I lay in my bath I not only reflected on my enjoyment of the day, but also that the environment at South Chesthill is in good health, and happiness that my family are fully subscribed to Scottish holidays. All of which made me feel certain that the responsibility, time (and occasional grey hairs) of running a place in Scotland are well worth it.
I think my father would have approved.
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Factbox: South Chesthill is on the river Lyon in Glen Lyon, Perthshire. It is available for weekly sporting lets throughout the year, with salmon, trout, stags and hinds all available (and grouse but only as the final leg of a Macnab), plus family fun including clay pigeons, kayaking, swimming, camp fires, nature tours, photography stalking and a games room. Chesthill House sleeps up to 16 (with prices from £4,500 plus sport) and Gardener’s Cottage sleeps 4 (with prices from £775 plus sport). Find out more at southchesthill.com / office@southchesthill.com.