Living on the river: a Highland gillie's story
Andrew Flitcroft discusses life, work and community with Sutherland river manager and gillie David Macleod
FOR MOST anglers, a salmon river is a place of escape. For David Macleod, it's a workplace too — one that demands constant attention, whatever the season, whatever the weather. Guiding and looking after guests is the most visible part of his job, but it's only a fraction of what he does. After a successful day’s fishing with David, I spent a few minutes chewing the fat over a well-earned drink at his truck.
David’s office includes two of Scotland's finest west-coast salmon rivers, the Inver and the Kirkaig, but describing him simply as a gillie on a salmon river doesn’t tell the whole story. He's a river manager, conservationist, host, mechanic, carpenter, guide, teacher, wildlife watcher and, when necessary, protector of the estate and way of life that feels ever more fragile in the modern Highlands.
Like many who end up making a living outdoors, David’s journey wasn't a straightforward one. After a stint as a nightclub bouncer, he worked at Graham's, the famous Inverness gun and tackle shop. “The owner Willie Graham asked if I'd come to the shop because I knew a bit about fishing,” David recalls. “It was only meant to be a stopgap, but 12 years later I was still there.”
Working for Willie proved to be an education that extended far beyond retail. Willie recognised David's passion for being outdoors and often sent him away from the shop to maintain beats and keep an eye on fisheries. “He knew I'd rather be outside than behind a counter.”
After a stint as a nightclub bouncer, he worked at Graham's, the famous Inverness gun and tackle shop
River manager and gillie David Macleod with a face that says only one thing — success on the river.
This introduced David to anglers from across Britain and beyond, creating friendships and contacts that would eventually see him launch a successful guiding business, arranging fishing across some of the Highlands' best-known rivers including the Spey and Findhorn. It was a business gathering momentum until Covid brought everything to a standstill. “Everything was going well, then overnight it just stopped,” he tells me.
He then told me he'd already written to the owners recommending me, so I'd better get on with it.”
Luckily, just at the right time, the estate at Glen Moriston on Scotland’s River Ness system offered David a full-time role, where he spent four years managing the river and looking after anglers. Then came the opportunity that changed everything. When the current position on the Inver became available, several friends encouraged him to apply, although David himself wasn't convinced. “I honestly didn't think I'd get it,” he admits.
At the time he had recently lost his father, and it was one of his father's closest friends — himself a long-time fisherman on these waters — who finally persuaded David to go for it. “He phoned me and asked if I'd applied. I said no. He then told me he'd already written to the owners recommending me, so I'd better get on with it.”
The interview itself wasn't what David expected. “I thought they'd just ask about the fishing. Instead, most of it focussed on managing people, looking after an estate and taking responsibility.” Today, those responsibilities stretch far beyond helping anglers catch salmon.
David’s stunning Highland garden, classroom and playground.
I ask David what his typical day looks like.
“When the fishing is over for the day, or the season, people often think that's us done, but that’s when another side of the job really begins,” David explains. “Winter is spent maintaining almost every aspect of the estate: we've got lodges to look after, firewood to cut and stack, storm damage to clear, tracks to repair and six traditional clinker-built boats that need constant care. Every day you're checking them, making sure they're sound and ready for the season ahead.”
The boats are particularly close to David’s heart. “They're beautiful, handmade boats and they need looking after. Recently, one was vandalised by passing tourists. They’d taken a nail gun to it and put around 30 through the hull. It caused around £1,500 worth of damage. You just wonder why?”
Incidents like that are frustrating, but they underline why a gillie's work doesn't stop when the anglers leave. “If you're not around, these things happen. The estate needs looking after every day.” Each evening, after a full day's work, David heads back out. It's not unusual for him and Gregor, his under-gillie, to spend their evenings moving on campers or checking vulnerable stretches of river. “If you become predictable, people notice. You must vary your routine. If you're not out there, sooner or later, you'll pay the price.”
They’d taken a nail gun to it and put around 30 through the hull. It caused around £1,500 worth of damage
The issue isn't responsible visitors. “Scotland has responsible access, and that's something I completely understand. People have every right to enjoy the countryside. The problems arise when that responsibility disappears. Some people think the right to roam means you can camp wherever you like, park wherever you like or light fires wherever you like. That's not what the Outdoor Access Code says.”
Education on and off the river is David’s mantra.
“Many visitors simply don't understand the rules,” explains David. “We get a lot of overseas tourists who arrive thinking Scotland is completely unrestricted because that's how it's sometimes marketed. They're not trying to cause problems — they just haven't been given the right information. If people understand why certain places are sensitive, most are fine. It's usually just a case of explaining things properly.”
Working on a Highland estate also means becoming part of a small rural community, something David understands better than most.
“I was born and brought up here. My father was from here, and we've still got the family croft. My roots are in this area. Even so, being a gillie comes with assumptions. Some people see you working for a private estate and immediately make their minds up about you.”
He pauses before choosing his words carefully. “There's still a perception that if you're a keeper or work on an estate, all you do is kill things. That's simply not the reality of modern estate management, but people can judge you before they've even spoken to you. It's something I’ve learnt to accept. You can't spend your life trying to change everyone's opinion, so you just get on with your job.”
Some people see you working for a private estate and immediately make their minds up about you
That doesn't mean distancing himself from local people. Far from it. “We've got a really good relationship with most of the community,” he says. “The estate supports the local angling club, granting access to the river for dedicated weekends each year. We work closely together. There's also a local gun club that uses part of the estate. The family has always tried to support the community wherever it can.”
David springing into action, as excited as the angler attached to the fish.
Even so, living where you work brings responsibilities. “You become aware that people know who you are,” David laughs. “I'm probably not going to be the one in the village pub causing trouble on a Friday night. You represent the estate all the time, whether you're working or not.” It's said with humour, but there's truth behind it.
Fishing has shaped David's life for as long as he can remember, with his dad being his biggest influence. His first salmon remains as vivid today as it was decades ago. “I was ten years old, fishing the River Shin. I had two that day, from Rocky Cast.” He still remembers the fly: “A simple black-and-orange tube. Nothing fancy.”
That day changed everything for David — he was completely hooked and family fishing holidays became a tradition. “We’d fish the Shin in spring, summer and the autumn, and we also spent time on the Conon and Ness.”
I was ten years old, fishing the River Shin. I had two that day, from Rocky Cast
Later, when David worked at Graham's, the roles gradually reversed. “Dad had worked in the police and later the courts, while Mum worked in drug and alcohol rehabilitation. They both had demanding careers, so fishing time became more limited.”
Working in the tackle shop gave David opportunities to fish rivers across the Highlands. “The best part was being able to take Dad with me,” he adds. “We'd spend time together on rivers we probably wouldn't otherwise have fished.”
Those memories have become even more valuable since his father's passing. “Losing him was hard.” There's a brief silence before he smiles again. “But every time I'm on a river, there are things that remind me of him.”
David, into a Kirkaig salmon...
...and with a River Inver 14-pounder.
Despite spending every day on the river, David has never lost the enthusiasm that first gripped him as a ten-year-old on the Shin. Some assume that when your hobby becomes your profession, the enjoyment inevitably fades. For David, the opposite has proved true.
“When I was guiding independently there were times when it felt a bit different because you're constantly thinking about clients, bookings and making a living. It can take something away from your own enjoyment. But living and working on the estate has changed that. I'm on the river every day, but I'll still get home, have my dinner, and then think, ‘I fancy a cast.’”
His wife understands. “She's very good about it,” he laughs. “She knows what I'm like.”
In fact, fishing has become something the whole family shares. “My wife caught her first salmon last year, which was brilliant, and I'm sure she'll do more. Those are the moments you remember.”
I'm on the river every day, but I'll still get home, have my dinner, and then think, ‘I fancy a cast’
David can now pass on his experience to his under-gillie, Gregor, who is in his mid-twenties. Like any apprenticeship, some things can be taught, while others can only be learned through time on the river.
“What makes a good gillie isn't just being able to fish; it's about understanding people just as much as understanding salmon,” David adds. “The biggest skill in salmon fishing is reading the river. You can spend weeks learning to cast and become technically excellent, but when you arrive at a river, everything changes. Water height, temperature, pace of flow, light conditions — every day is different. The cast is only part of it. Knowing where the fish will lie, how they'll react and how the river changes through the season — that's the real skill. It's the distinction between casting and fishing. There are plenty of people who love casting. That's fine. But fishing is about understanding what's happening beneath the surface.”
David, looking for fish in a spot others might ignore.
Just as important is learning how to look after anglers. “We see every type of person you can imagine: experienced salmon fishers, complete beginners, families with young children, overseas visitors, seasoned regulars — they all arrive with different expectations, and you've got to understand what each person wants from their day,” David explains.
“Sometimes, that means offering advice. Sometimes, it means standing back. If someone has a favourite fly they've caught fish on for years and they want to fish it all day, that's absolutely fine. It's their day, not mine.”
David lights up when talking about families discovering salmon fishing together. “Increasingly, those newcomers include women and children — I think that's one of the best things we're seeing now. There's no better feeling than taking a youngster out and watching them catch their first salmon. You know they'll remember that day for the rest of their lives.”
Ask David what makes the perfect client and the answer comes quickly. “Someone who doesn't want to stop fishing.” He grins. “The sort of person who's happy to fish from first light until dark. Those anglers often become lifelong friends — you get to know them over the years. They'll send you a message before they arrive, asking if we can start early because they're desperate to make the most of every minute.”
They'll send you a message before they arrive, asking if we can start early because they're desperate to make the most of every minute
“What do you do with an awkward rod?” I ask. He shrugs. “You smile; that's it. It's only a day. You treat everybody exactly the same.”
His calm approach reflects years of experience.
The river itself also demands respect. Parts of the beats run through steep, remote gorges where help is some distance away. “It's not somewhere you can afford to become complacent,” he says. When anglers arrive each morning, David is assessing far more than their casting ability. “You're quietly trying to work people out. Not to judge them — but to keep them safe. You need to know how confident they are on rough ground, how mobile they are and whether they understand the risks. It's all done discreetly. If something happens in some of those places, nobody is going to hear you shouting. Keeping people safe is simply another part of my job.”
Keeping guests safe in often extreme terrain is constantly on David’s mind.
No conversation with a Highland gillie would be complete without mentioning Scotland's other famous residents — the midges. David doesn't hesitate when asked how he deals with them. “Wear a proper midge jacket (Link here to Loop’s Mygg jacket). I’ve tried the sprays and creams. They work — for a while. Then you're putting more on every half hour.”
After a lifetime of Highland summers, it's advice that's hard to argue with. Spending time with David, it quickly becomes clear that being a Highland gillie is about far more than helping people catch salmon.
No conversation with a Highland gillie would be complete without mentioning Scotland's other famous residents — the midges
Yet beneath all those responsibilities remains the same boy who caught two salmon from Rocky Cast on the River Shin. The excitement hasn't faded. If anything, it's grown, and as our conversation drew to a close, one thing became abundantly clear: for David, success isn't measured simply by the number of salmon landed. It's seeing a child catch their first fish, watching a returning guest enjoy another memorable day on the river, passing on hard-earned knowledge and protecting a landscape that has shaped his life.
In an age when so much seems to move at breakneck speed, there is something reassuring about that quiet continuity. The river changes every day. The seasons come and go. New anglers arrive, old friends return and another generation learns to read the water.
For David, being a part of that is not simply a career. It's a way of life.
PHOTOGRAPHS: FREDDIE SANDFORD/MICHAEL BOYD/ANDREW FLITCROFT
