Another Salmon Guide Story from Newfoundland

Seems there was a sport, who was a little bit more than difficult to work with. No matter what the guide suggested this city businessman knew better (well, thought he did) and didn’t hesitate to say so.

By the last day of the trip everyone in the salmon camp had filled their tags, saving just one so that they could continue to fish catch and release, everyone that is except our know-it-all friend.

He had not so much as raised a fish.

As the dawn broke over the river the guides drew straws to see who would be his guide for the last and likely fishless day of a fishless trip.

Miracles do happen on Newfoundland salmon rivers as proven by the fact that our sport managed to hook-up despite ignoring a weeks worth of the good advice offered by his guide.

The fight was on and the dime-bright grilse cart wheeled across the pool in the early morning light. All hands stopped to watch as the drama played out.

The guide tried to offer counsel on playing the fish and generally to assist the sport to land his prize.

All of his efforts fell upon deaf ears. The sport simply started to reel in his line until while everyone watched in amazement the last few inches of leader were pulled through his rod tip. The grilse spun and thrashed until the top half of his rod broke and the current swept the whole sorry mess down stream, reel screaming and fish still thrashing.

The guide made a desperate grab at tailing the fish as it went by leaving him with one hip boot full of the icy river water and the other sagging down below his knee, slowly filling to match.

By now, everyone watching is in stitches except for the guide, who is furious at the sport and the sport himself who is simply oblivious.

“What do I do now?” screamed the sport, a death grip on his rod, reel still spitting line.

The guide looked him up and down and said, “ You haven’t done anything I’ve said yet but try this: Reel him up again just as tight as you can, then run out to the end of the rod and stab the fooker to death”

He sloshed back to shore and grabbing a landing net managed to scoop the grilse the next time the sport dragged it within reach.

All agreed it was a great day on the river.