Until not
too many years ago, when Jems (Jimmy Linton) my bosom buddy from
my boyhood days retired and gave up his salmon fishing concession,
Earlsferry and Elie had quite a valuable salmon fishery. Prior to Jems, who
used a powered boat, the fishery concession was operated by men
who went to sea in a heavy wooden salmon cobble. The cobble was
about eight feet wide and maybe fifteen feet long and required
all the brawn of six men at the oars to propel it. Salmon swim
along the bays such as Largo Bay, Shell Bay, West Bay,
Earlsferry and Elie Bay then
around the headlands between these bays. They swim just outside
of the breaker line. At the ends of the bays, where the
bays meet the headlands, salmon nets are set. Long net leaders
are set to funnel the salmon into the entry way of the bag of
the net. Once in the bag, the salmon are captive until the
salmon fishermen come to unload the net. Many times I got to go
along in the cobble. It was great fun. In these days all of
the salmon fishing nets and gear were stored for the winter in
The Granary at the Elie Harbor.
There are
other salmon fishers who never fail to reap their harvest.
These are the mighty seals that appear to hunt in
organized packs. If you watch closely you'll see them surface
in an even spacing all along the shore line. Once they've
gorged themselves they come ashore on to places like the island
(at high tide) that lies just off the tip of Ruddons Point where they sleep
and rest. Another place they lay up between hunting spells is
on the Wester Voos just off the Sea Hole of the golf course.
Golfers playing on the tenth to the fourteenth fairways can
hear them bellowing and roaring. When you're in a small boat they'll allow you to come
quite close. My favourite place to observe them was from the
tiny bit of land that becomes an island at high tide that lies
just out from the tip of Ruddons Point. There I maintained a
blind that I made from piling up big rocks and boulders that I
found nearby. This was a perpetual job as the tide had other
ideas as to me building on its territory. There was one big old
fellow that over the years I learned to readily recognize. I
named him Charlie. By his battle scars he was quite
distinctive. I had a penny whistle that I played when I spotted
him. He was quite a curious creature and would come quite close
to me. I'm sure he recognized me. He wasn't afraid of me and
would bark when he saw me. He'd allow me to approach very close
to him. I could walk over the rocks right up to him until I
just got too close for his comfort. My blind on the island was
the place where I went to hear the once heard never to be
forgotten lonesome, shrill call of a curlew and
to watch the great variety of sea
birds that stopped by including the swans, geese and ducks that
flew down from Kinneuchar Loch.
When the
tide permitted me to do so, I'd walk out from Ruddons Point by
way of the tombolo. sandy/gravel spit to the rocky place that
lays off shore. As the tide starts its inflow this tiny bit of
land very rapidly becomes completely surrounded by the sea and
remains so for several hours. In all the times that I let
the sea surround me and cut me off from the mainland and I
became as one with the wild creatures that lived there, never
once did I ever see another soul.
Beyond the shore this tiny island in the sea became my special place.
