Learning a New Salmon River-The La Have in Nova Scotia

I am hoping to rendezvous with a fellow to do some salmon fishing on the La Have River in the next few days.
I have to run down to the South Shore anyway this weekend so if we have not managed to hook-up I will head out for a few flicks alone.

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It is always interesting to prospect a new river for salmon. A pool that looks identical to one you have fished on other waters will rarely fish the same way. On some rivers, the fish will lay in front of the rocks or behind them or way the heck down at the end near the fast water below. You just never know until you have put your fly over every inch of likely and unlikely water. Having done that you will sit and scratch your head until a local fellow comes along and happens to mention that the fish in this river will only take a Rusty Rat anyway, not whatever that thing is, you are using.

I am doubtless heading for some embarrassment but I can always use the casting practice.

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Oh yeah, I had better check my box and make sure I have at least one Rusty Rat.

The serious business of salmon fishing

fishin'

Here is one more story from this year’s salmon season.

My fishing partner had just hooked and lost a big, big salmon. Out of courtesy, I had reeled in my line and cleared the water to give him room to play the fish before his line had gone slack.

Standing on the shore, I was well positioned to offer an observation on his technique, the size of the fish and more, even a bit of sympathy. He just shrugged, stepped back into the pool and after checking his fly and leader proceeded to hook another fish.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. He didn’t do much more than grunt to let me know he was hooked up again. With a very deliberate motion he made sure of the hook set. The first run was blistering. The salmon had him into his backing within seconds. Not too many seconds after that Brad was running down the shore trying to recover some line.

After four great jumps and as many runs the salmon was nearly into the next pool down stream, still putting up a good struggle. Brad was making his stand on the last gravel bar before deep water. I was a couple of hundred yards away and ambling in a slow walk towards him.

My pace was timed to put me there when he was ready to land the fish. A salmon has to be on my own line to make me run nowadays.

I was pretty close when the fish made a run directly towards Brad from about fifty feet out in the pool. He raised his rod smartly to pick up the slack and started reeling as fast as he could. I guess he somehow hit the spool release because the next thing I saw was his reel exploding. It just flew apart!

exploding reel

 His rod arm extended out far to left. His right hand flashed and grabbed the spool in mid-air. When I think of it now it was like watching a big league shortstop picking off a line drive. He somehow slammed it all back in place only to realize he had jammed the line between the spool and the frame when the fish, which had turned by this time, started to arc his rod again.

By now this was getting pretty exciting and I expressed my support and concern by laughing until the tears came.


As the fish tightened his tackle to the breaking point Brad grabbed the jammed line and by brute force alone managed to free it. The reel screamed as it released the tension. The salmon took off on another impressive run. But one more jump and some sulking were all that remained of the brawl.

Late Fall Nova Scotian Salmon

 I managed to tail the fish without too much trouble even though I was weak with laughter.

You know, my impression of Atlantic Salmon fishing when I was young was that it is a serious thing, one of the mysteries of grown men, practiced only by elite specialists who solemnly played out their dramas in the hallowed, pristine wilderness.

There may be places where this is true. This place on this day was certainly not one of them.

Silver's Pool, on the St. Mary's River

I got an interesting email today from Mitchell, a guy I've been corresponding with recently.

 He met my father by chance and dropped me an email about this blog. Turns out we know a lot of people and places in common. He caught a wonderful fish this year on the LaHave.

A big, buck salmon around eighteen pounds. I asked if had any pictures thinking it would be great to post them here and tell the story.

Well, no luck on the pictures. He was fishing alone. It did make me think about my big fish, also caught when I was alone and so big that I underplay it when telling the story. It's the story that is really the interesting part of "fish stories" anyway, the fish- not so much.

The first salmon I ever caught in Nova Scotia was in Silver's Pool, on the St. Mary's River. After returning from my introduction to Salmon fishing in Newfoundland I still had some vacation left.

 I spent a few days trying for Salmon on the Medway River with mixed results. I saw a couple. One came for my Orange Bomber as I accidentally dragged it like a miniature speedboat across the pool after a wind-collapsed cast. I didn't have a clue what to do, the fish literally charged across the pool and slashed at my fly.

 If I hadn't pulled it away from him he'd have been hooked for sure. I ended up dragging that bug across the pool until I just couldn't stand the sloppiness of it any longer. Never saw that fish again but I'd like to get a crack at him now that I've had a bit of seasoning.

Would likely be the same result but at least I'd bugger it up confidently this time.

Anyway, I decided to go to the St. Mary's River the next day, as much to have a look at it as to do some fishing.

 It was late in the season, water levels were low and warm, not salmon fishing weather at all. In fact, I was the only one fishing the Medway that I'd seen. When I got to the St. Mary's it was the same thing- no one on the river.

 I drove across a small, white bridge spanning the river. There was a Fisheries Officer on the bridge, casually leaning on the rail. I parked at the far end and walked back to speak with him.

What an amazing spot. The river is fairly narrow above the bridge, below it widens out into a slow, deep stream overlooked by a picture perfect cottage.

 My fear was that the Department of Fisheries had closed the river to salmon fishing because of the water temperature. I had a chat with the Game Warden.

The river was still open but anybody who knew anything about salmon fishing knew better than to waste their time fishing on a bluebird day like this.

I explained that I was new to the game and wondered if he had any tips, like where I should try. Turns out the bridge we were standing on over looks a pool called Silver's Pool.

 I showed him my fly box and he picked out a fly for me to try. It was a tiny black fly of no particular name. I tie it for trout fishing. It just happened to be the smallest thing in my fly box.

This time of year there is a lot of grassy weed growth in the St. Mary's. To the uninitiated not only is it difficult to pick out where the fish might lay. It is difficult to imagine that there could be a fish there at all.

The Game Warden pointed out to me a spot where there was a small gap in the weeds about the size of a shoebox. "If there was a fish in the pool", he said, "That's where he'd be".

I was using a Canadian Tire, all-in-one Fly-Fishing kit and looked the part of a tender foot from ball cap to boot tips.

The Game Warden leaned on the bridge railing and watched me begin my fishing. I admire him still for his unfailing courtesy when I know how hard it must have been not laugh out loud as I took a position above the pool and made my cast.

I think back now and realize I wasn't even in the right place to fish the pool properly. I don't know how many casts I made - not many - before a silver flash deep in the pool heralded the strike and a wrenching pull arced my rod.

 "Jeezuz boy, let'r run" hollered the Game Warden from up on the bridge.

The first jump is still as clear in my memory as if it were a photograph. The rest is a bit of blur. I got the fish in, a lovely dime-bright grilse. As I tagged it, the impact of the moment hit. I'd done it.

Oh yeah, I still tie that little black fly but now it's got a name.

The picture of salmon in Silver's Pool comes from : http://www.sawmilllanding.com/waterfront_lifestyle/fly_fishing.htm

Fishing dry flies for salmon in Newfoundland.

 Just got home from Newfoundland. What a great trip! It is not all about the fishing, although that was pretty good; it is more about the camaraderie, meeting new people and renewing old friendships.

 I love hearing the old stories retold with all of the same enthusiasm as if the events had happened that afternoon instead of many years ago. Its great to rehash the theories of why a salmon even takes a fly or how best to play them.

My brother offered a thought on why salmon don't feed when they come into a river to spawn. He thinks its nature's way of preventing cannibalism. There are lots of parr in the rivers when the salmon are running. If it were actively feeding, a grilse or salmon would do considerable damage to the next generation. An interesting thought. Now, as to why they take a fly....



The flies that were hottest for me were a brown bug during the day cast upstream and fished dead drift. In the evening, a small black bear-green butt fished by the patent method. By small I mean a number 12 or 10. It always amazed me as the light was fading to get a strike on that small a fly. What incredible eyesight or other senses those fish have.

Fishing dry flies for salmon is about as much fun as I've ever had fishing. The rises are spectacular and the take when it comes is stunning. Its like it all happens in slow motion. Most people are so amazed the first few times they see a big salmon rising under their fly that they end up pulling it away from the fish in anticipation of the strike.

Having raised a fish but not hooked it, a kind of buck fever sets in. It takes the conscious exercise of self discipline to make a good cast to the same spot and wait for what seems like an eternity as you see the fish coming slowly up, mouth agape, to engulf your fly. What a wonderful experience.

I released most of the fish, some intentionally, but kept a couple to use for a traditional planked salmon dinner later this summer. Hopefully the same people who were with me in Newfoundland will be able to attend so I can relive once more a great fishing trip.

"This planet is covered with sordid men who demand that he who spends time fishing shall show returns in fish."~Leonidas Hubbard, Jr.