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• 1861 FLIES

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At Daybreak

I was still fishing down Vinsnes at midnight. As the river became wider, the opposite bank was farther away from me. I stepped onto the biggest possible rock on the river bed to cast the line. Standing on the rock means that the water surface is lower at my feet, which makes it easier to extend back cast towards the high sky. Highly extended back cast enables me to throw the line from the high position towards the water surface in front and also to fling down the fly. Then the fly drifts quite naturally as soon as it settles on the water.

After the line settles on the water beyond the heart of the stream, it drags the fly downstream at most 5 seconds later. But those 5 seconds give me a chance to fish beyond the heart of the stream, which no angler has done yet.

It was dark near the opposite bank far away from me. I cast the line towards a noticeably big rock among the stone pile and threw 2 inch Stingray into the darkness below the rock.

Suddenly a huge column of water stood below that rock. It was so huge that darkness seemed to disappear. It was a pure white column like a waterfall. At first I thought the big rock fell down. Astonished I was wondering what really happened. In the next moment the electricity ran down my arm and I had my rod almost snatched by something.

All lasted only for an instance. The water column stood when a fish attacked my fly. Then the fish nearly snatched my rod. Knowing the fact, I just stood there in utter amazement.

Everything was over and I felt as if I had been in a dream or a vision. But it was not a bad dream. On the contrary, I thought it to be a good sign that my long-awaited dream was going to come true. I restarted casting towards the opposite bank.

It was 1 a.m. and getting darker. It was just light enough to put the fly to the leader but the opposite bank was in darkness, which dimmed my sense of distance. I turned around to find a fire shining brightly like torchlight. Mary Anne had built the fire in front of the hut.

I do not know the reason why I have never caught any salmon during these hours in Vinsnes till now. Needless to say, I have never felt a bite, either. I fished down to the end of the pool and decided to go back to the hut to have a little rest. I expected hot coffee to wipe my fatigue and drowsiness.

Looking around the dark river, I was wondering why I could not catch any fish at the small hours. I could catch well at 0 a.m. But the next catch always came 3:30 a.m. I had no catch at all between 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. As I had not had enough experience of fishing there to answer the question, all I thought was just a guess. My guess was that I could not catch mainly and simply because I was not an eager angler during these hours. Actually I was thinking over coffee inside the hut.

It was 3 a.m. It got slightly light. The dawn was coming soon. The temperature suddenly dropped and there was little firewood left. Mary Anne went back to the car to warm herself while I, taking the last sip of coffee, walked to the head of the pool again.

When I arrived at the riverside it got further lighter. The night was coming to an end. I removed Stingray for that night and put Rosemary for day fishing to the leader. Considering that the water was very transparent and flowing calmly, I chose a little smaller one of 1-1/4 inch.

When I finished putting the fly to the leader it got still lighter. I fished down from the side of the head of the pool. After every casting I could see the rocks on the opposite bank more clearly. I flung down my fly at the very edge of the opposite bank.

An Ambush

The fish that made a water column at midnight actually attacked my fly. However, it only touched the fly but could not completely bite it. Why did it fail? I was thinking even while I had a rest in the hut.

My conclusion was that: because it dashed to jump at the fly that suddenly appeared over its head the salmon failed in biting the fly. It is only for several seconds that the fly keeps its attractive figure after it settles down beyond the heart of the stream. If I want the fish to bite the fly firmly during these several seconds, I have got to make the fish ready to jump at the fly in advance. I mean that I have got to make the fish wait in ambush.

If the fly appears where the fish is waiting, 2 seconds will be long enough for the fish to bite it. I followed my conclusion and cast the fly, thinking only one thing: I have got to cast the fly precisely at the edge of the opposite bank so that the fly can drift properly for more than 3 seconds after settling on the water. I have also got to repeat casting rhythmically. Then the fish will notice my fly gradually coming near to it and wait for the fly to come in front of it, watching for the right moment to jump at it.

20 minutes passed and I came near to the noticeably big rock where the water column had stood at midnight. Since I had repeated to cast the fly accurately so far, I was sure that the fish was ready to jump at it as far as it stayed there. Feeling tense with my throat dried up, I cast the fly.

I cast it at intervals of 2m in front of the rock, just below it and behind it. But nothing happened. Does the fish no more stay there? Taking a deep breath and pulling myself together, I continued to cast the fly downstream.

It was 3:30 a.m. The day completely broke. I could clearly see the rock on the opposite bank. I still continued to cast the fly at regular intervals of time and distance. Within how many metres downstream do fish need to stay to notice my fly?

I remembered the mysterious fish that I had seen 3 years before, in our first fishing year of the River Gaula. The fish found my Size 10 fly from nearly 10m away and waited for it to drift in front of it. If it is common among the fish, the fish saw my fly nearly 5 times before jumping at it.

An Explosion

A further bigger rock appeared on the surface 30m downstream from the water column spot. I did not know how was the inside of the water but a lot of fish tended to stay there. When I came near to the rock I found a flat big stone underfoot. The top of the stone was nearly 30cm high from the river bed. Stepping onto the ideal platform, I cast the fly and without delay lifted the rod and tightened the line.

In the next moment there was an explosion at the line end. Since I could see clearly unlike midnight, I never had a false idea that rocks fell down the bank. The water column stood from the surface, making a big sound as if a man had plunged into the water.

Then the reel started reversing violently with a rattle. 5m of the line were drawn out and the rattle stopped. But the reel still kept reversing slowly. As the drawn-out line was crossing the heart of the stream, water resistance on the line drew out the line automatically.

I turned the rod downstream, held the reversing reel gently and tightened the line as strong as possible. When the line turned from downstream to the opposite bank, I felt a big good pull, thud, thud, in my both hands. Although I had been feeling somewhat uneasy about whether it was really a fish, now it was sure that a fish bit my fly.

I turned the rod upwards and wound the reel slowly. The line end moved upstream, splitting the surface. Then it turned to the rock at the water column spot on the opposite bank and stopped.

I shortened the line quietly and pulled it strongly. The line that looked stuck into the water did not move at all. I doubted that the line was caught between the rocks. Before long, however, the line began to move upstream calmly.

Judging from the angle of the line the fish was swimming along the opposite bank. Making the reel reversing slowly, the fish moved upstream to the big rock at the midnight water column spot. Then suddenly it turned around and ran downstream.

The fish had a powerful and strong fight for a long time. I went up to the bank when it became calm and called Mary Anne in the car. Fortunately we could take films of the latter half of fighting.

The salmon appeared from the transparent water. It was a female one of 24lb. At the right corner of its large mouth Rosemary of 1-1/4 inch was attached firmly. I did not know whether this fish was the same one that had attacked my Stingray and made the water column at midnight. Anyway I gained confidence to catch a fish which was staying beyond the heart of the stream, and what was more, at the edge of the opposite bank as far as fishing condition permitted.

I also realized that further improvement of the fly line was indispensable to get a stronger probability of catch. To fish beyond the heart of the stream we have got to settle the fly, not the line, first, even when the opposite bank is far away.

Intermediate fly line I just used had no problem with long casting. But my little improvement so far did not resolve the problem of its poor turn performance.

Now I got a rough idea of how to improve the fly line. It was a remarkable achievement. Well, I am sure every angler that catches a nice salmon after seeing such a huge water column will intend to device a perfect fly line at any cost.

Foresight

Fishing all night made us exhausted. We came back to the hotel for breakfast and slept like a log. We had had the same fishing pattern for those several days.

Heat and glare awaken us past noon. The sky was the same pure blue sky and the dry hot wind was blowing. An enormous amount of the mountain snow finally disappeared. The water level became lower little by little every day. When will it rain? If it does not rain for another several days what will happen with the river?

Now the river condition was not so bad. It was low water but not terrible one. But there were still scarce fish in the whole Gaula. We had not had satisfactory catches for those days.

Somehow I had an uneasy feeling. Through my experience of seeking after steelhead and cherry salmon I was often amazed at the foresight power of the fish coming up from the sea.

Cherry salmon, steelhead, Atlantic salmon and sea trout, the latter two of which I was waiting for now, were at the top on the list of salmon and trout all over the world. I just mean from the viewpoint of fly fishing. They come up to the river more than half a year before the spawning season.

If they fall into the worst condition after coming up from the sea into the river, they cannot survive the spawning season. That is why they have got the foresight power and never come up the river in the impeding danger.

The worst condition for them is both terrible flood and terrible low water. This spring salmon extremely hesitated to come upstream. Then historical flood was caused. Now it died down and the beautiful river revived. But only a few salmon came upstream. Does that mean that salmon know something wrong will happen if they come up into the river?

What kind of misfortune is waiting for them? Flood again? Low water will go from bad to worse? The latter is more probable. If salmon foresee the terrible low water, it is quite natural that they do not come upstream now.

-- To be continued --

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