Seeing More Salmon

One of the things that really helped me become a salmon fisherman was having a friend who knew the sport. Dennis McKinnon was the embodiment of years of experience and generations of angling lore, all rolled into one awesome package, and he was my next-door neighbor for 15 years. Dennis could see salmon in our peat-stained water, partly because he knew where to look and partly because he knew what to look for. The first time I ever saw a salmon underwater, I was with Dennis.

"Let's take a run upriver," he said, "I've got an idea where you might get a hold o' one." In minutes, my rod, vest, and net were in the back of Dennis' Dodge Ram pickup, and we were bouncing over the dusty road on the east side of the river.

"Where are we headed?" I inquired.

"High Rock," came the reply. "This time o' year, nobody fishes it. You might just get lucky!" Dennis parked and led me through the woods to the river, across stepping stones to the very brink of a 'dump', where the water tumbled down. The morning sun stood well above the pines.

"There they are," he whispered. There's a salmon and three grilse layin' there." I peered into the dark water, adjusting my hat and polarized glasses, but could see nothing that looked like a fish, much less four of them.

"See 'em?" Dennis continued. "The salmon's got a mark on his back." I looked again. Below the surface, I could just make out the shapes of the large rocks that formed the riverbed.

"You've gotta' look hard," he encouraged. "Our river's not clear; it's kinda' brown, from the bogs. Look just behind the rock, here," he pointed.

"Which rock, Dennis?" I asked. "There's nothing but rocks here."

"The one we're standin' on!" he answered.

Then I saw... where the current swept around the rock, an eddy line creased the surface and, beneath that line, but a few feet away, I saw the fish! They were nearly invisible - only a faint, ghostly outline could be seen, so perfectly did they blend with the river bottom. Close enough to touch with a wading staff, yet, seemingly, unperturbed by our presence, occasionally, one would twitch his tail like a cat, or drop his jaw, displaying a milk-white mouth. Gingerly, we backed away and sat down on a rock.

Yes, there's more to the story, but it's too long for this blog. Anyone who's curious can find it in the sidebar item called "The Yarn Bin". Learning to see salmon is something I've worked on for many years since that day. Here's some of what I've learned:

• Assume that there are salmon in the pool - assume that they can see you.
• Be prepared to invest some time in looking for salmon, at least half an hour. You may get lucky and see one in the first minute - usually, and especially for beginners, your eyes need to adjust to the task.
  
• The best time to see into water is on a sunny day from 11AM to 1PM.
  
• Wear a pair of polarized sunglasses and a hat with a wide brim. Try different colored lenses - I like a slight brown tint, but grey or green can also be good.
  
• Approach the pool slowly, stay low - don't make any sudden moves.
• Get to the highest vantage point and slowly stand upright.
  
• Standing with your feet apart and level, if possible, shift your weight slowly from foot to foot.
• Mentally, place a grid on the river and divide the stream bottom into sectors - give each sector careful scrutiny. Look for landmarks - submerged logs, rocks, weed growth.
  
• Look for shadows on the streambed - this can be your best clue - the fish may be almost invisible, but if the sun is out, there will be a telltale shadow underneath.
  
• Watch for movement - salmon change positions slightly, adjust their fins, open their mouths, - sometimes they leave their lies, circle the pool and come right back into formation.
• Learn to look for windows into the streambed. By this, I mean the surface of the water may be braided with current and flecks of foam. If you stare at one spot, you will only get split-seconds of clarity. Instead, look for calm spots in the flow - patches that are relatively free of turbulence and use them as lenses. Lock your gaze on one of these moving windows and you may get a few seconds of clarity as it sweeps past you.

There's more to it than that, obviously, but these tips should get you started on the road to seeing more salmon.

"You should see what I saw!"

- sign in Lawrence Melanson's workshop.

Photo by W. R. MacAskill, "Medway River 1933" Nova Scotia Archives and Records Management.

The Newfie Nickel - a Medway 'Secret Weapon'?

I'd like to take a metal-detector, and a snorkel and mask up to High Rock or Sunken Pool and prospect for Newfie Nickels. Years ago, there was a Cat-and-Mouse game played on the Medway River among anglers and the warden. Although the law said it was illegal to use a spinning device when fishing for Atlantic Salmon, many local anglers carried a little insurance in their pockets.

The Newfie Nickel was reputed to be the deadliest method for taking salmon on a rod and reel. It was a legitimate five-cent coin of the Dominion of Newfoundland, with one slight alteration - a small hole drilled near the rim. An angler could inconspicuously thread his leader through it so the coin acted as a spinner ahead of the fly. If, as often happened, the angler hooked a fish, he didn't worry about being caught by the warden. When the warden stepped out of the woods, a quick tug would break the leader, allowing the nickel to sink to the riverbed.

Here is a story told to me by Irving Hirtle, fish warden on the Medway for thirty years. Irving told me this in his room at Queens Manor when he was 95 years old.

"I had a fireplace up at McGinty's camp. I made the fireplace and I made a table too. Even the doctors would go in and have their lunch. It was at the Gravel Bar on the Flat. And Ezzie Shupe, he would've been Gene's uncle, he was fishin' the Gravel Bar and he hooked a salmon. He said to me,

"If you don't mind, get a boat and help me with the fish."

So, I got a boat and I went out and I gaffed the salmon for him.

"Now, I want to show you" he said, "the spinner I catch my salmon on."

It was a little fly, one of Stillman Shupe's, not more than an inch long. When the deer hair opened up on that fly, it looked as big as an orange. The sun would catch it and make it shine. Anyway, I went up the river and Lester Lockwood was fishin' Little Salmon. He could look right down on the Gravel Bar from where he was settin'. First thing, he told me, "Ezzie Shupe got a salmon on a spinner."

I said, "He didn't."

And Lester said, "By Jeezus, he did!"

"Well," I said "Did he catch more than one?"

"No, " he said "Just the one, but he caught it on a spinner. I could see it shine from here."

I said, " He caught that fish on the same kind of spinner you probably have in your box ... one of Stillman Shupe's flies. I know," I said, "'Cause I gaffed it for him."

Post Script

Luke McGinty had this to add to the story:

"I was there when Ezzie Shupe brought his salmon in to get weighed at Lee Anthony's store. I saw it on the scale - it went 45 lbs. He told everyone he caught it on a small fly at the Flats, but I heard he caught it at Sunken Pool. 'Course you couldn't believe a word he said about fishin' or deer-huntin' either. Anytime you asked if he'd seen any fish - 'No, not a thing, nothin' at all!'"

Good Luck and Good Fishin'!

-Random Phrump