Jeremy Paxman explores the history of Scotland's famous salmon beats — part two
VERY FEW FORDS — OR pools — have such epochal tales attached to them as Cumberland’s Ford, as discussed in the last issue. But each has its magic. The favourite pool of a friend who used to fish the River Torridge in Devon was called Monument, just below the junction with the River Okement. Noticing the construction from which the pool took its name on the far bank, he decided to leave his fishing tackle behind and wade across to see what or whom was commemorated. The crossing was much more difficult than he had imagined and he realised that in normal circumstances he would never have attempted it. He finally slithered and stumbled his way across to the far bank to discover the monument celebrated the memory of a man who had died while wading across. Can any of us who enjoy wading honestly say we have never felt that awful ‘oh dear, this is it’ sensation as a strong river whips the gravel from under our feet?
But back to names. The grass on the banks of Ladies’ Pool at Taymouth Castle was kept short enough for females to fish without getting their dress hems damp or mucky. At the other end of the scale I have never been able to look with quite the same excitement upon any fish caught off Dritten point on the Carham beat of the Tweed since discovering that ‘drite’ is an old verb for evacuating the bowels. The Carham laird prefers to think the name might have come from the German for ‘three’ or ‘third’, or possibly have something to do with the fact that it is so hard to fish properly. Let us leave him to his dreams — it’s a beautiful beat.
On the Lower Itchen there’s a pool called The Butts, which sounds to a modern ear as if it might have a similar etymology, but in fact marks an old army firing range. They have a bit of a taste for exaggeration there — an
