Atlantic Salmon - Nova Scotia's Fall Run

Next weekend I am going to do some salmon fishing in Cape Breton. Nova Scotia's fall run of Atlantic Salmon tends to favor big fish on many of the North Shore and Cape Breton rivers. You are more likely to catch a 10 - 12 lb Multi-Sea-Winter (MSW) salmon than a 5 lb grilse.

Whether or not it sparks an aggressive reaction from the fish, the Cardinelle definitely gets their attention. Salmon seem to be more inclined to take a marabou fly when it is "pumped" with the rod tip, causing the fly to pulsate as if it were alive. Sometimes the take can be very subtle, so set the hook if you feel any hitch in the fly's swim. At other times, they hammer the fly. You will have no doubt that you are into a good fish, but set the hook anyway. Tight Lines!

Banting Lake Lodge

One of the dumbest things I've ever done was to videotape over a great piece of angling footage. It happened at Banting Lake Lodge in Newfoundland. I had borrowed a video camera and tripod for the week-long trip and this was my first experience using one. The beginning of the week was rough - hot as hell, water low and tepid. We fished like demons, nonetheless, from dawn till dusk, and one morning, towards the end of the week, I woke to hear Rocky, the guide say, "Harold's got one!" It was about 6 AM and, sure enough, there was my dad at the Top Pool well into a feisty grilse with the whole camp still snoozing. Seeing him land the first fish of the trip really got my Mojo going, and I couldn't wait to start fishing.

I tried the Middle Pool and soon raised a salmon. In fact, I raised him five times before I put down the rod, trudged back to the lodge and got the video equipment. With the camera all set up, I continued fishing. Ten times I raised the fish before he took the fly, and I got the whole thing on tape. It was a five lb grilse - pretty much as big as they get, for a 63 cm fish. Later at the lodge, we watched the footage and everyone said it was the first time they had ever seen a salmon take a fly on tape. I was pretty proud of myself, as I rewound the tape, cueing it up to watch once more.

About that time we heard a plane approaching. I put the camera down and we all hurried outside to see who was flying in. Then, I it occurred to me that I should get a few shots of the plane landing, so I went back for the camera and, without giving it a thought, recorded over most of my precious footage. Afterwards my brother, Steve, who works in the television industry, pointed out that there is a small switch on the cassette that locks it to prevent accidental erasure. Damn! I was wishing my leg was long enough to kick my own ass! Anyway, here is some of the footage just before the salmon grabbed the fly.

"Habits are at first cobwebs; at last chains." Old English saying.

A habit is like a harness - it is a thing unto itself and has no particular relation to any behavior. It can be a willing servant or a terrible master. It takes about 3 weeks of mindful repetition to form a habit that will function automatically, that is, without any conscious effort. You cannot destroy a habit, but you can replace it with a new one. To quit smoking, for example, you must spend three weeks cultivating the habit of not smoking. How does this relate to fishing? Well, if you can develop a set of good habits, you are likely to become more successful and will probably enjoy your fishing more. Here's a story that illustrates what I mean.

One day, I invited my brother, Dave, to join me for some Atlantic Salmon fishing on the Medway River. It was early July and with the water low, I could hopscotch from rock to rock and get out to a place where I could clearly see salmon lying in the pool. Dave took up his position and began casting, while I observed the reactions of the fish. His fly landed gracefully, upstream and to the left of their lie, then swam with the current to pass just in front of their noses. The salmon ignored the fly for the most part, but on one particular cast, a fish surged up and, at the last moment, turned away. There followed many more casts with no reaction, when finally, I remembered that the salmon had risen to an errant cast that had fallen almost on top of the fish. I mentioned this to Dave and he promptly dropped a cast right on the money.

"You mean like this?" he asked.

Before I could reply, the salmon answered with a resounding smack at the fly, tasted the hook, and streaked across the pool. He leapt clear of the water, came down with a huge splash and, suddenly, the line went slack. Dave reeled in to find that all of his leader and a piece of the fly line itself was gone. When we examined the line, it was brittle, probably from exposure to insect repellent and sunlight. We could easily break pieces off with a sharp tug.

"When was the last time you checked your line?" I inquired.

"I haven't used this rod and reel since Grandy's River in Newfoundland," he replied, "two summers ago."

Right then and there, I vowed to make two habits that have increased my effectiveness as a guide: one - to always check the terminal tackle and test the knot and leader strength before a guest begins to cast, and two - to always pay close attention to exactly where each cast falls.

Postscript:

We replaced the leader and moved on to the next pool. Dave hooked a grilse at Little Salmon that gave his tackle a real workout as it cartwheeled high in the air, landed on a flat rock, flopped back into the water, swam under a sunken log, then back out again. After landing the fish, we both agreed that if we had only gotten video footage of that fish, we'd probably never have to work again. It was the most amazing piece of angling skill and shit luck either of us had ever seen.

Photo by W. R. MacAskill, "Medway River 1928" Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management.