Silver Anniversary
Fly-fishing in the Great White North
STEADY BROOK, NEWFOUNDLAND -- It was raining again when John Wight picked me up at the Marble Inn for another day of salmon fishing.
"Are we stopping at Jimmy's?" I asked.
"Oh yeah," John said as he drove us in his van to Corner Brook and our first stop -- caffeine and breakfast at the town's obligatory Tim Horton's.
Soon we were back in the tiny village of Gallants -- population about 100 -- and up the dirt road that skirts Harry's River to the same pool where I hooked two fish yesterday morning.
"The water level is dropping," said John, a fishing guide who's been working these waters in Newfoundland all his life. "It should be good. Salmon move upstream when the water level drops."
He was right but the water level was still higher than yesterday. Rocks visible then were no longer in sight. And man oh man, the water was cold!
Wading even a few feet out was treacherous -- with water moving upstream and down -- the rain was still steady, and we decided after a half hour to move downstream to another spot.
Alexalnder's Pool -- about a mile away and named after Mr. Alexander, who lived in front of the pool for decades -- was our next stop, close to Gallants.
John and I waded into the shallow pool -- in Newfoundland it's illegal for a non-resident to fish for salmon without a guide and also illegal for a guide to fish while with a client. I was casting in the pool when we both saw a fish jump, very close to the end of my drift.
"There must be another one right there," John said. "Salmon are like women going to the bathroom. They never travel alone."
One hundred more casts and no luck. I could barely feel my toes. It was July but still unbearably cold in the water. John said it was about as cold as it gets. I needed to warm up so we retreated to his van, clicked on the heat and thawed out. The rain didn't let up and I thought about packing it in for the day. But I had a few casts left in me. OK let's do this.
We stepped back into the cold rain, into the river and assumed our position at the top of a shallow pool. Another half hour passed, uneventful except we saw the old fishermen we'd met earlier on the road; they were heading home, driven away by the nasty conditions.
Every 15 casts, I took a step down and a step toward the bank, so that my fly drifted to a slightly different spot in the pool. My feet were numb. My sunglasses were speckled with raindrops. I was miserable and wondering what in the hell I was doing out here, freezing my ass off in the wilds of Canada.
A few more casts and I'm done. I physically could not take this much longer. OK if we call it a day soon. Course, John said. "The most important thing is for you to be comfortable." He was smoking a cigarette.
Five more casts, I thought to myself. This is ridiculous. That's when I felt a slight tug at the end of my line. I lifted my rod tip, set the hook and the fish was on. The rod bent and the salmon took off downstream.
"Great job!!!" John said, as he scurried to shore in search of his net. I didn't say a word but focused on keeping the rod bent, reeling when the fish allowed and letting the fish run when it wanted to run. I played this fish perfectly -- after losing two fish yesterday there was no way I blowing this one. It took about 15 minutes to reel her in.
"Yes!!!!" John screamed. The fish was gorgeous, about 8 pounds, bright silver with a smidge of sea lice on her tail. "It was probably in the ocean 2 days ago."
We snapped a few pics and I clumsily released the catch. Back in the van, where John and I tried to return feeling to our toes, I drank a victory beer. Molson, of course.
If you go: The Marble Inn is ideally located near some of the best salmon rivers in all of Newfoundland. John Wight is the main fishing guide at the inn.