Yard Sale
Life of the Party
Over the past 15 years or so I've had the pleasure to fish with @albula I've come to realize these are can't miss opportunities. Poling around the flats in the Keys chasing giant silver fish. Getting into gaudy numbers of steelhead on tiny dry flies in northern BC. He even finds way to fish the OP that are special, accessing famous waters most don't get to. So when he called and mention Atlantic Salmon fishing in Norway there was zero hesitation. I had jealously read the "Lemons" report several times, and having fished with he and his brother many times I knew it would be an adventure done in style. Soon enough tickets were bought, plans were made, weird flies were tied on hooks with too many points, rods tubes were built and golf bags bought.
After a night of little sleep I walked into PDX at 5Am full of hopes and dreams. That quickly became stress and dread as I found out that in the hour since I had checked my flight at home it had been canceled due to lightning at JFK, my first of 3 flights. The lovely attendant saw the color drain from my face and called over her grey haired supervisor who quickly took to the task of getting me on my way to Norway. Talk about being sent an angel, within 10 minutes she booked me for the last seat on a direct flight to Amsterdam, where I could connect to Bergen and then up to my final destination of Bodo. All was right again, except I now departed 8 hours later and now had traded my window seats for seat J. Huh, seat J? Whatever, I'm still on track. Several beers and a pizza later at the Deschutes airport pub I got on the biggest airplane I've ever seen for a 10 hour direct flight. Unfortunately seat J turned out to be a middle seat, and somehow they managed to find the only 2 guys bigger than me(6'2") on the flight for my row.
Nearly 30 agonizing hours since I had left home I settled into my room overlooking the harbor in Bodo. Now I remember why I hadn't flown in over 5 years.
The next day after a big shop and a few wrong turns(thanks 2 time Mark!) we dropped from the tundra landscape into a remote farming village not far up from one of the many fjords that formed the region. At first sight of the river valley all the travel suddenly seemed inconsequential and I found myself in heaven.
With inhabitants like this guy
Unlike Albula's earlier makeshift visit, he had arranged a great place to stay and we soon settled in.
Getting to the fishing, the river was up and only supposed to rise. After a cold spring we found ourselves in a major heatwave which had the runoff still kicking. Normally when I think of runoff, it's a distant mountain and miles of river taking on feeders. Not here. The terrain is so steep snow turned to creeks which literally fell off the mountains to the valley in short order to join the big river. Everywhere you looked were cascades of white water.
This one was right next to the house and we could hear it all night. Also fed into the top of one of our favorite runs.
The good news was that this was pumping mostly clear water into the river and actually kept the glacial water from mucking things up too badly. A perfect steelhead green as us PNW types like to say.
The next day we were on the water after getting our gear disinfected and licenses bought. While Norway has a right to roam law, access to the river is controlled by the land owning farmers. This means you buy a fishing license and then each day buy a permit for a beat. A beat consists of several farmers goin in together so it is a stretch of river on one side for various lengths and is limited to a number of anglers appropriate for that amount of river. I have to admit being a bit torn on this issue. While I do love having the entire river open to fish it sure was nice to have limited anglers on the beats, meaning that there was plenty of water for everybody. While we did come cross other anglers on a few occasions it was all quite civil as nobody felt crowded or rushed. It was actually really nice to see and chat with them. Of course our current political situation was always a hot topic, but once our thoughts on that were made clear the mood always changed considerably.
On that topic, the Gapahuk thing is just awesome. I want to build some on my favorite runs here. It literally translates to lean to, but they are so much more than that. A small hut with benches and a table. A fire pit with a grill and all the firewood you could wish for. An outhouse if needed. I swear I could live out of one of these things for a week.
Unfortunately as mentioned, it was way to hot to need a fire. It was around 30c all week, which roughly translated to mid 80s. Being that far north the sun is super intense. Living here in the central Gorge area I'm no stranger to fishing in the heat, but man that sun just wears you down. I'm also a big wet wader in those conditions, but with the snow being so close to the river that water is cold so waders are required. Hiking across a farmers field to the gapahuk in waders is rough. Lets just say I spent a fair amount of time sitting in the river up to my wading belt. I did try wet wading one day and without my neoprene socks I lost feeling in my feet rather quickly and certainly didn't go waist deep. Albula said I'm probably the first to wet wade north of the circle.
As for the fishing, it wasn't easy. Atlantic Salmon like the outside bend deep water which was really hard to fish with the river up. 15-16' 9-10wt rods are the norm here, and we ran sinking lines. The 3D scandi I bought prior to the trip didn't load the rod I had(15' 8/9wt Meiser MKS) so I ended up going through a bunch of different options. It was pretty frustrating so I eventually just went with my Burkie 8142 and a delta multi-tip with a type 8 tip. I knew I wasn't really getting to where I needed to be but at least I was fishing.
Another interesting thing about the beats is that you report all catches(or non-catches in my case) online and these are made public each day. You can see what was caught, where it was caught, and even post pics. We were fortunate that as the week went on the river actually dropped even though it actually got hotter. We are thinking it was just the end of the smaller snow patch driven runoff. Anyway, the catches started off pretty slow but built through the week. After 5 days with nary a bump I started questioning my approach. With sun on the water almost the entire day(fishing is closed from 12-6) I wondered if we just needed to attack it after dinner. On my second to last day I set out around 8 and planned to fish until midnight in a run I knew had shade.
What it looks like at midnight north of the arctic circle
Unfortunately, that didn't seem to solve the riddle. With a fairly large number of fish caught over the last couple days I pretty much lost faith and decided just to spend my final day hanging with the boys in the gapahuks and soaking it all in. I'm pretty sure I won't get back to such an amazing place just because thats how life works, and more importantly I just don't know how many more days I'll get to be riverside with my good friend Albula. His meds knock him down pretty hard and he is only able to fish in short streches. But true to the man he is, he just appreciates the value of riverside time and chats. Where better to do that than a gapahuk on a beautiful river in Norway!
On the final day we walked in to a nice run I had hoped he would get in first and fish and I could follow. Life long guide that he is he wasn't having it on my last day there. He graciously handed my a green highlander tube he had tied. I rarely fish other peoples ties, but no way could I turn down this beauty.
I reluctantly busted out the big sinking rig and stepped into the top of the run. Actually, a little above the top of the run. I knew they wouldn't be on the inside in the clearing water so I started basically in the tailout of the straight above and stripped out my 15 pulls before even casting. I was maybe 10 casts in when I felt my first bump of the week. Perhaps due to my mere shock at some sort of feedback I was able to wait until the bump turned to head shakes and I set the hook. A couple of smaller headshakes and then I was basically just reeling in a smaller fish. I called for Albula but then said I thought it was one of the invasive humpys since there was no real fight to it. As soon as I said that I saw a silver flash and got a solid run from the fish. Perhaps one of the sea run brown trouts he asked? I'll take it!
Another run like that, which despite the heavy rod and #20 tippet was as quick as any bright steelhead run I've seen and I managed to get the running line in and was getting the fish close to shore. Then it was the experience of a lifetime. In one long run that fish nearly spooled the 4" farlex, seemingly accelerating as it went. Capped off by a 4' high summersault, we now knew what I had hooked into. My first Atlantic!
Albula had grabbed the net and was coaching me through the process. Time to chase it as I stood there dumfounded by the run and smarting from trying to slow the reel by hand(my fingers are still bruised). Lets take a stand here he said in a little side bay. Soon enough he had it netted and victory was ours!
While it was on the smaller side(78cm, so maybe 12ish pounds) it was as spunky as they get. Only a few miles from the salt it was as bright as could be. With the strength of a salmon and the speed of a steelhead I am completely ruined.
A 24 hour travel home was very smooth and soon enough I was standing in a hot shower with a cold beer trying to comprehend what just happened. I couldn't imagine it having gone any better. These fish deserve having to work hard for so it was only appropriate to find one the last day. The fight was more than I had even considered possible. The beauty of Norway, the kind, friendly people, the simple life that hasn't changed with modern technologies. All of it just awe inspiring.
But really, it was the company. Albula and his brother. Inviting me on their grand adventure once again. And while it seems weird to say, I know in my heart that that fish meant as much to Albula as it did to me. I am truly thankful.
I hope we fish together again soon my friends.
After a night of little sleep I walked into PDX at 5Am full of hopes and dreams. That quickly became stress and dread as I found out that in the hour since I had checked my flight at home it had been canceled due to lightning at JFK, my first of 3 flights. The lovely attendant saw the color drain from my face and called over her grey haired supervisor who quickly took to the task of getting me on my way to Norway. Talk about being sent an angel, within 10 minutes she booked me for the last seat on a direct flight to Amsterdam, where I could connect to Bergen and then up to my final destination of Bodo. All was right again, except I now departed 8 hours later and now had traded my window seats for seat J. Huh, seat J? Whatever, I'm still on track. Several beers and a pizza later at the Deschutes airport pub I got on the biggest airplane I've ever seen for a 10 hour direct flight. Unfortunately seat J turned out to be a middle seat, and somehow they managed to find the only 2 guys bigger than me(6'2") on the flight for my row.
Nearly 30 agonizing hours since I had left home I settled into my room overlooking the harbor in Bodo. Now I remember why I hadn't flown in over 5 years.
The next day after a big shop and a few wrong turns(thanks 2 time Mark!) we dropped from the tundra landscape into a remote farming village not far up from one of the many fjords that formed the region. At first sight of the river valley all the travel suddenly seemed inconsequential and I found myself in heaven.
With inhabitants like this guy
Unlike Albula's earlier makeshift visit, he had arranged a great place to stay and we soon settled in.
Getting to the fishing, the river was up and only supposed to rise. After a cold spring we found ourselves in a major heatwave which had the runoff still kicking. Normally when I think of runoff, it's a distant mountain and miles of river taking on feeders. Not here. The terrain is so steep snow turned to creeks which literally fell off the mountains to the valley in short order to join the big river. Everywhere you looked were cascades of white water.
This one was right next to the house and we could hear it all night. Also fed into the top of one of our favorite runs.
The good news was that this was pumping mostly clear water into the river and actually kept the glacial water from mucking things up too badly. A perfect steelhead green as us PNW types like to say.
The next day we were on the water after getting our gear disinfected and licenses bought. While Norway has a right to roam law, access to the river is controlled by the land owning farmers. This means you buy a fishing license and then each day buy a permit for a beat. A beat consists of several farmers goin in together so it is a stretch of river on one side for various lengths and is limited to a number of anglers appropriate for that amount of river. I have to admit being a bit torn on this issue. While I do love having the entire river open to fish it sure was nice to have limited anglers on the beats, meaning that there was plenty of water for everybody. While we did come cross other anglers on a few occasions it was all quite civil as nobody felt crowded or rushed. It was actually really nice to see and chat with them. Of course our current political situation was always a hot topic, but once our thoughts on that were made clear the mood always changed considerably.
On that topic, the Gapahuk thing is just awesome. I want to build some on my favorite runs here. It literally translates to lean to, but they are so much more than that. A small hut with benches and a table. A fire pit with a grill and all the firewood you could wish for. An outhouse if needed. I swear I could live out of one of these things for a week.
Unfortunately as mentioned, it was way to hot to need a fire. It was around 30c all week, which roughly translated to mid 80s. Being that far north the sun is super intense. Living here in the central Gorge area I'm no stranger to fishing in the heat, but man that sun just wears you down. I'm also a big wet wader in those conditions, but with the snow being so close to the river that water is cold so waders are required. Hiking across a farmers field to the gapahuk in waders is rough. Lets just say I spent a fair amount of time sitting in the river up to my wading belt. I did try wet wading one day and without my neoprene socks I lost feeling in my feet rather quickly and certainly didn't go waist deep. Albula said I'm probably the first to wet wade north of the circle.
As for the fishing, it wasn't easy. Atlantic Salmon like the outside bend deep water which was really hard to fish with the river up. 15-16' 9-10wt rods are the norm here, and we ran sinking lines. The 3D scandi I bought prior to the trip didn't load the rod I had(15' 8/9wt Meiser MKS) so I ended up going through a bunch of different options. It was pretty frustrating so I eventually just went with my Burkie 8142 and a delta multi-tip with a type 8 tip. I knew I wasn't really getting to where I needed to be but at least I was fishing.
Another interesting thing about the beats is that you report all catches(or non-catches in my case) online and these are made public each day. You can see what was caught, where it was caught, and even post pics. We were fortunate that as the week went on the river actually dropped even though it actually got hotter. We are thinking it was just the end of the smaller snow patch driven runoff. Anyway, the catches started off pretty slow but built through the week. After 5 days with nary a bump I started questioning my approach. With sun on the water almost the entire day(fishing is closed from 12-6) I wondered if we just needed to attack it after dinner. On my second to last day I set out around 8 and planned to fish until midnight in a run I knew had shade.
What it looks like at midnight north of the arctic circle
Unfortunately, that didn't seem to solve the riddle. With a fairly large number of fish caught over the last couple days I pretty much lost faith and decided just to spend my final day hanging with the boys in the gapahuks and soaking it all in. I'm pretty sure I won't get back to such an amazing place just because thats how life works, and more importantly I just don't know how many more days I'll get to be riverside with my good friend Albula. His meds knock him down pretty hard and he is only able to fish in short streches. But true to the man he is, he just appreciates the value of riverside time and chats. Where better to do that than a gapahuk on a beautiful river in Norway!
On the final day we walked in to a nice run I had hoped he would get in first and fish and I could follow. Life long guide that he is he wasn't having it on my last day there. He graciously handed my a green highlander tube he had tied. I rarely fish other peoples ties, but no way could I turn down this beauty.
I reluctantly busted out the big sinking rig and stepped into the top of the run. Actually, a little above the top of the run. I knew they wouldn't be on the inside in the clearing water so I started basically in the tailout of the straight above and stripped out my 15 pulls before even casting. I was maybe 10 casts in when I felt my first bump of the week. Perhaps due to my mere shock at some sort of feedback I was able to wait until the bump turned to head shakes and I set the hook. A couple of smaller headshakes and then I was basically just reeling in a smaller fish. I called for Albula but then said I thought it was one of the invasive humpys since there was no real fight to it. As soon as I said that I saw a silver flash and got a solid run from the fish. Perhaps one of the sea run brown trouts he asked? I'll take it!
Another run like that, which despite the heavy rod and #20 tippet was as quick as any bright steelhead run I've seen and I managed to get the running line in and was getting the fish close to shore. Then it was the experience of a lifetime. In one long run that fish nearly spooled the 4" farlex, seemingly accelerating as it went. Capped off by a 4' high summersault, we now knew what I had hooked into. My first Atlantic!
Albula had grabbed the net and was coaching me through the process. Time to chase it as I stood there dumfounded by the run and smarting from trying to slow the reel by hand(my fingers are still bruised). Lets take a stand here he said in a little side bay. Soon enough he had it netted and victory was ours!
While it was on the smaller side(78cm, so maybe 12ish pounds) it was as spunky as they get. Only a few miles from the salt it was as bright as could be. With the strength of a salmon and the speed of a steelhead I am completely ruined.
A 24 hour travel home was very smooth and soon enough I was standing in a hot shower with a cold beer trying to comprehend what just happened. I couldn't imagine it having gone any better. These fish deserve having to work hard for so it was only appropriate to find one the last day. The fight was more than I had even considered possible. The beauty of Norway, the kind, friendly people, the simple life that hasn't changed with modern technologies. All of it just awe inspiring.
But really, it was the company. Albula and his brother. Inviting me on their grand adventure once again. And while it seems weird to say, I know in my heart that that fish meant as much to Albula as it did to me. I am truly thankful.
I hope we fish together again soon my friends.
