Returning to your roots

Like many fly fishermen I began life as a trout fisherman. It was not until I was ten or so that my family began to dabble with salmon fishing, and not until I started guiding at sixteen did I really find out what I was doing. Through all that time I have always been a trout fisherman whether it be fishing chalkstreams or lakes. Many of the skills I learnt stalking trout on clear flowing waters or hitting rising fish at range on a lake have stood me in good stead and translated easily to saltwater when I started bonefishing 12 years ago.


I recently moved into the Test valley, which has been a life long ambition, so I have moved to the home of fly fishing... to where it all began. These are the rivers that the likes of Halford, Skues, Hills and Barton refined our sport from blowing a live insect on long rods to the modern form of casting a fly and targeting individual fish. For those that have never read their books I would highly recommend it. Not only does it open a window on the history of our sport but also teaches you a huge amount. The advances they made at that time are still current and the amount of scientific detail that they learnt from observation is extraordinary.

Moving down here obviously has its benefits, and during this summer I decided to take my father to fish one of my favourite beats on the river where the Dever meets the Test. I booked this through Howard Taylor at Upstream Dry Fly who has access to a number of fantastic pieces of the Test, Itchen, and other prime chalkstreams in the south.


My father had only ever fished the Test once in his life as most of his chalkstream fishing is confined to Norfolk, so this was a real treat for both of us. We arrived on the beat early so that we could make a day of it, and as we arrived the mist was just clearing off the meadows. The weather over the previous week had been a little tempestuous, but we were relieved to see that the it seemed to be holding. As the two of us tackled up by the car the mist began to evaporate revealing the most stunning clear water of the Dever.

As I used to guide on these rivers a while ago I knew this particular stretch well, and we headed off down the bank eager with anticipation of the day ahead. It seemed like every lie and depression held a good sized brownie, and starting at the bottom we edged our way along hunting.. I small hatch of blue winged olive started, and there, suddenly on the edge of the next bend was the kiss of a rise. My father worked some line off the reel and lengthened his cast before gently dropping the fly on the surface. I watched the fish in the water, the fly was a little wide. The fish twitched as it went past, but did not make the effort to move too far out of its line.

"A little further to the left" I indicated. Again the line sang through the rings and the this time the angle was right. Almost as soon as the imitation CDC olive hit the surface the fish rose to the surface and sucked it down. He struck and the little Thomas & Thomas bucked as the brownie shot down past us. After a few short run he brought it to the net and I quickly released it. A lovely fish of about 2 lbs. We took a few more fish as we moved up the stretch until we came to the confluence of these two rivers.


A fish rose out in the middle of the main Test, quite a long cast up from us. I suggested trying one of Alistair Robjents' daddy long legs patterns that I have always found a killer here. These fish see so many Mayfly patterns they will often hit a terrestrial pattern rapidly. It always amuses me that it works so well, especially as J. Hills describes it as "rather common and not worth imitating". I tied one on and my father had to really punch a long line up into the middle of the stream. As he hauled the line you could almost hear the little 8'6" protesting about the treatment. I have always admired my father's casting as what he lacks in power he makes up for in finesse. I have never been a particularly elegant caster, mostly making up for my bad timing with power, so it is always a pleasure to watch him push his envelope a little. That fly sailed up the river, landing a good twenty to twenty five yards upstream.
A fish of about three pounds came bodily out of the water to try and smack the fly and in his excitement he struck the fly out away from the fish. Cursing. The fish had not been pricked though, so out flew the graceful arc of line again. the fly dropped, drifted for a yard and then disappeared as something large engulfed it. This time dad uttered an expletive as the fish tore line off the reel.... upstream..... The little rod was bent right over in a long curve, the little Hardy reel squealing its protest. I don't think it had ever really been tested like this, and I noticed dad was now palming the rim to prevent over run. there went the backing joint followed by ten yards and then twenty yards of orange backing.
"That is a serious fish dad!" I said as I went for the net. He grimaced as the pressure on that fine tippet began to increase. The line slackened, and I thought the worst had happened... but no, the fish was now heading down stream towards us. We stampeded down the bank trying to stay in touch with it as he reeled frantically. The large trout was now holding in the current above us, almost opposite where we had been standing as he hooked it, and I could clearly see the Robjents' Daddy sitting snug in the scissors. I inched my way down the bank with the net extended, muttering directions to someone who really did not need them. Habit I suppose, but quite annoying, so I quickly shut up. As I sank the net in the water dad began to pump the fish over towards us. To begin with he had very little effect, but slowly the trout began to tire and he moved slowly in my direction. As he moved over the net I raised the edge and he was ours. My father's face split into a huge grin, the pressure now over. I would never have let him forget it if he had lost it! My wife, who had been snapping pictures furiously, caught the moment perfectly. The fish weighed in a 6 1/2 lbs, and is his biggest fish from a chalkstream.

After a fantastic lunch at the Peat Spade Inn, the three of us hooked and released a good number more, especially when the evening rises really kicked off. I think I can say that it was one of the most perfect days I have had on a chalkstream. It is always a pleasure to fish on these historic waters and for me it is just great to be on the river, watching the world go by. My father and I have been fly fishing together since I was about seven. I remember scampering along the bank after him, learning about the creatures and insects that inhabited this environment, how they made up the trout's diet, or having him tie on my flies or untangle my latest mess. It is great to be able to return the favour.

Post Royal County of Berkshire Show, Newbury

The weather gods were shining on us this weekend and we had perfect conditions throughout. Morning mist would clear away as the moisture evaporated in the blazing sunshine. We only had a small stand for Newbury, but Charlotte and I kept busy through the two days and spoke to a good number of people.

What I found most interesting was that most who came to talk to us wanted to chat about the combination trips that we do to such places as Belize, Africa, Seychelles and South America. The combination of equatorial jungle lodges and fantastic fishing operation on the coast seemed to really strike a cord, so I am loking forward to organising some more of these itineraries for couples and famillies. Before any of you are wondering about the state of play after the various hurricanes have moved through the Carribean all the Belize Lodges were untouched.

We were also lucky enough to be located next to Chris Elliott from Animal Artistry, so I am already planning to cover the walls of the office in reproduction casts! Chris' work is outstanding, and I know of him by reputation from a number of clients who have had replicas done by him, so it was a pleasure to meet him face to face.

Again, thank you to those of you that came along to see us, we do enjoy hearing about your adventures and discussing potential plans for the future.

Royal County of Berkshire Show, Newbury

Having just about fought off the jet lag of Canada and caught up in the office we are off to the Royal County of Berkshire show where we will be exhibiting this weekend (20th & 21st September). For any of you who are in the vicinity we would love to see you! Our stand will be on Avenue K, no. 423 which is in the country Area near the Blue Circle gate. We will be on hand as usual to meet people and chat about any trips of interest.

Henry dissappeared off to Ireland immediately on our return and I know he has been smashing bass, for an update please have a look at his blog. I think that many saltwater fishermen's attention will be on our domestic bass in the future, and with this in mind we will be crafting some tailoured itineraries to Ireland next year to hunt bass with Henry. If anyone is interested then please drop me an email.

Charlotte and I are also finalising our autumn newsletter which is packed with new destinations for next season and we are really excited about it. If you are not already registered on our mailing list then you can easily do so from the website.

Miramichi River, Little Southwest River

Our last full day we were once again to fish from Upper Oxbow Lodge with Brett. Brett wanted to take us quite a long way up the river, so we left Country Haven Lodge with Axel bright and early at 0600. Again, after some coffee and much chuntering about Ford trucks we unloaded into Brett's Chevy and headed off. The light was just beginning to make it over the tops of the trees as we drove up the course of the Little Southwest. We left the main track and began to again crash through trees and undergrowth along a forgotten track than eventually popped us out on the banks of one of the most picturesque pools I have ever fished.

The pool is called Clelands, and is one of the most northerly pools on the river before the tributaries such as the North Pole Stream, and although it is a bit of struggle to reach is therefore not fished too much. To arrive on the fishing side we had to wade across the main river, which is a reasonably tough wade. This was made more so as we had to carry Axel's Dog Jake across the river. We took it slowly, crossing as a group before starting fishing on the upper pool. There are some huge boulders strewn along the river, and like the Little Sevogle it has a mountainous surrounding which make it stunning. They also make the topography of the river bed full of large boulders, swirling water and lovely looking lies. Almost as soon as we arrived a couple of fish jumped near the main lie.

Axel and I both fished own the upper pool a couple of times with various patterns, but could not get a touch. Axel took Jake (his dog) and headed down to the lower section to try his luck with a bomber as I fished the upper pool once more with something a little larger. There was a yell from down stream that Axel had rolled a fish on the bomber, and he took up station like a heron in the middle of the river continuing to persevere with various sizes and colours of bomber. Brett took his leave and said he would start lunch up by the truck. He had a real treat for us, a moose fillet which he was going to cook on the BBQ. As the meat sizzled on the open flames the smell wafted down the river and had both Henry and I salivating.

Shaking it off I decided to move down and join Axel on the lower pool with the dry fly. I saw where the large boil ricochet off the boulder and began to surreptitiously plant my green butt bomber along the seam.... The sun split the cloud and as I moved down the seam the sun spilled across it. In that instant the fly disappeared in a boil and I struck. The fish immediately left the water and tail walked across the lie before tearing off down stream. I was fishing with the single hander Miramichi style, so this was interesting! The fish shook its head frantically trying to dislodge the irritation embedded in its jaw. I could see the fly was hooked squarely in the scissors, so for once I had been fast enough on the strike.

Finally after another couple of swirls and a hairy moment by the beach the fish came to hand and I grabbed the wrist and hand tailed it. Not a huge fish, but a very welcome grilse, and a good scrap on a single hander. We got a few photos and then quickly revived the fish in the current before carefully returning him. Nothing gives me more pleasure than watching them swim away, hopefully to go and add to his race. At that moment the car horn sounded and lunch was ready. The smell of moose was too much to take and we all made the wade across the stream.... including Jake.

When we arrived at the truck it was obvious that Brett was a master of the stream side lunch. A table and chairs had been laid out with cutlery, the moose and vegetables were roasting on the BBQ and Brett offered us all cold drinks from the cooler. There is no messing around down here! Now Henry and I have been desperate to taste moose since we were here last year. Moose hunting is strictly controlled, and you can't buy it. You have to either shoot one yourself having had a license in the local lottery, or been given some by someone that has. The meat is much leaner than beef, and we had heard so much about it. Well, we were not disappointed! Utterly delicious.... for those of us who like meat that is.... I was going to need help out of my waders!

After lunch we fished one more pool before heading back to Country Haven for the afternoon session. Jeremy was waiting for us, and after saying goodbye to Axel who was heading home we went off to Brophy's pool on the main river. I know I keep saying this, but this pool was absolutely stunning. The main river splits around an island here, and with the help of a small old style canoe Jeremy punted us across to the island. John and Pat Brophy were brothers who were both guides, and John guided on the Miramichi for over fifty years... yet more history to soak up. As I fished down the pool fish moved here and there betraying their presence, but yet again I failed to tempt a hook up. This was mostly accompanied by comments from Henry about a rubbish fisherman etc... I was kind of used to this by now...

Salmon fishing is salmon fishing, but for me as the sun went down and I threw my last cast hoping to feel that shoulder jarring take I felt like I had really experienced something truly special. The Miramichi has a timeline and history all of its own completely independent of European salmon fishing stigma. Time to head home.....

Miramichi, Cains River and Little Sevogle River

As I have mentioned before the Miramichi system is vast. There are essentially seven primary tributaries, and each one would take you years to learn and understand to the depth that the river guides here do. This is also discounting the Main Southwest Miramichi. On Sunday morning Axel Lerche , one of our partners at Salar Enterprises, arrived early to whisk Henry and I off to the Cains River. The Cains is one of the tributaries that has a reputation for its fall run. The mouth of the Cains is only a 15 minute drive from the lodge and not far from Blackville. A four wheel drive vehicle is absolutely essential as the access us up a logging road that heads of 70 Kilometres into the Bush.

With Axel at the wheel we arrived in short order at Valentine Pool, and understood why everyone in New Brunswick drives around in a huge truck! The Cains is a beautiful little river, much smaller and more intimate than the main river and very much reminded me of many Scottish rivers I have fished in the past. The water is darker and more tea coloured than the main river, and this has made the strain of salmon originating here darker in appearance than those of other tributaries. The weather was not great, and constant rain made fishing a little tough. After the heat we had experienced over the days before though it was a little bit of a relief to be able to wear a wading jacket.

I started in at the head of the pool with a large orange bomber, and within four casts a sprightly cock fish rolled up and took it like a trout in a chalkstream.... I am really getting into this dry fly fishing for salmon, it is just awesome! He scrapped about a bit, but I subdued him with the 8 weight fairly quickly. He did make it into the backing though with his first run, and pulled hard. We fished another couple of pools on the Cains, rolled a few fish and saw more, but neither Axel and I managed to hook another. The problem with dry fly fishing is you have to be very quick on the strike, and as the line moves across the current sometimes this is not possible.

After lunch at the lodge the rain eased off and we drove the 30 minutes from Country Haven Lodge to the Upper Oxbow Lodge on the Little Southwest River. We stopped briefly at George's Tackle shop, which is a little bit of Miramichi history. George used to tie flies for Ted Williams, and he still runs his shop out of a shed. As he is now over 80 it was great to chat to him. What a character, and boy did he have some stories!

On arrival at Upper Oxbow we met Debbie and Dale Norton the owners, and Brett Silliker the head guide. Upper Oxbow is another fabulous lodge over looking the Little Southwest River. It has some wonderful rustic log cabins, but also a fabulous modern lodge complete with hotel style rooms, downstairs pool room and bar and a beautiful pool right in front of the lodge. From the lodge they access mostly the Little South West River and also the Sevogle Rivers. It was here that Brett planned to take us.

After a few derogatory comments about Axel's Ford truck we piled into Brett's Chevy Suburban and headed off into the woods along the logging trails. After beating our way through some thick undergrowth and on roads that only a truck like Brett's could get to (and obviously not Axel's Ford!) we arrived on the banks of the Little Sevogle. This river could not be further in character from the Main Southwest Miramichi. It is much smaller, easily fished with a single hander and runs through some staggering scenery and gorges. The first thing we did was peer off the edge of the cliff into the water and spot the salmon lying below. Always encouraging to see the fish before you start!

I clambered down the rocks and fished my way through the canyon, but could not make one of these fish move on Bomber, Green Machine and eventually a riffled hitch tube fly. Some time I hate salmon... Axel did roll another on a bomber a little above, but also failed to connect... tough day in the office. What an incredible place to fish though!

Miramichi River, Main Southwest River

While staying at Country Haven Lodge Henry and I were joined by James and Jonathan Paterson who drove up from New York to fish with us. James and Jonathan have fished all over the world with me, and I was looking forward to spending some time with them on the river bank,along with the harsh banter and ribbing that would take place as well! Jonathan had caught a lovely fish on arrival of about 22 lbs on a bomber, and risen another on the dry fly as well. James and Jonathan also chose to fish with their 14' 9# rods and actually found it remarkable easy to cast the bombers on them, so it just goes to show.

We left the lodge that morning by boat from directly in front of the lodge with Jeremy and Ken Vickers who would be our guides for the day. Jeremy and Ken are third generation guides on the river and have spent their whole lives fishing it, guiding on it, hunting on it and leading the life of a riverman. After a short run of maybe 15 minutes or so we arrived at Crawford pool, a lovely run that we would fish from both sides. On arrival fish were moving everywhere, and at one point I counted four jumping within 30 seconds. Needless to say that does not mean you are going to catch one, but it does mean there are fish in the pool in greater numbers meaning your chances of hooking a taking fish are very much increased. Today I followed the Patersons' example and fished with a two handed 14' 9# rod.

On the second run down James hooked a lively grilse of about 5 lbs that was particularly acrobatic on the dry fly, so honour was restored and Jonathan could not give him quite as much grief as before. Some fish had been jumping just above the rapids that we had been fishing below, and being the adventurous sort of character that I am.... ahem.... I decided to put a wet fly on and wade above and see what I could tempt. On the third cast I hooked a good fish that attacked the small green butt Black Bear as it came careering across the V of the pool above... but needless to say I failed to hang onto it. After the deep disappointment and the obvious vocal sympathies and abuse of those I were fishing with it was time to head back to the lodge for some fantastic home cooking.

Normally in the afternoon everyone takes a break, has a sleep or relaxes before going out again at about 4 pm. However all of us had developed a serious taste for the Canadian Coffee know as Tim Horton's. Henry had been mentally drinking their French Vanilla Cappuchino all morning, so as we were intending to visit the Miramichi Salmon Museum and Doak's Fishing Tackle in Doaktown we made a little expedition to appease the craving. I know it sounds daft, but it really is that good!

For the evening session we split up again, and Henry and I headed off to Shelley's pool with Jeremy. This time I insisted that Jeremy fish as well to increase our chances, and as anyone knows the best way to learn is to watch the guide fish his home water as they invariably catch something. This was to be no exception. Shelley's is a little further up river than Ted William's pool, but below the Orr pool. Having walked down the bank we were again greeted with a simply stunning piece of fly water. A lovely glassy stretch punctuated by some delicious looking riffles created by nicely space boulders producing some lovely lies. There was hardly a breath of wind and the evening was warm and calm. As I fished down Jeremy came in behind me and began fishing. He was throwing a long line at 45 degrees, but fishing with a small brown Bomber. The fly would fish for a couple of feet on the dead drift before he would pick it up, move down and recast all in the same movement. After no more than 10 casts there was a bulge out in the current, the rod shot up in the air as he struck, and the fish launched itself into the air. A lovely grilse of again about 5 lbs. He was quite dark and beginning to develop a kype, or "Hook Bill" as they call it over there.

I started fishing again, and fish were showing across the pool including a fish of 25 - 30lbs that tried to jump but could not lift its vast bulk out of the water and end up waking like a submarine. I persisted with the Bomber as I REALLY wanted to catch a fish on dry. It may not be as successful as wetfly, but it is incredibly exciting. Jeremy hooked another fish, a little large this time so I went down and played net man for him. At least Henry had something to take some piccies off as I was failing to produce the goods! Another fascinating day on this huge watershed, and time to head home for dinner. Barbecued steak tonight...

The Miramichi, New Brunswick, Canada

The Miramichi is one of the largest Atlantic Salmon fishing systems in the world with huge numbers running the river. Henry and I left very early from Salmon Lodge on the Grand Cascepedia and drove the four hours south from Gaspe back down to Country Haven Lodge in New Brunswick. Country Haven is operated by Byron Coughlan and is located in Gray Rapids near Blackville on the South West Miramichi. From here his clients have access to huge areas of the Miramichi system. Much of the Miramichi is privately owned, and Byron owns 11 private pools, leases a few more and has access to some 25 in total throughout the system and on the tributaries. The main river itself although large is not daunting, and many of the tributaries such as the Cains, Renous, Little Southwest and Sevogle are a lovely size to fish. The Cains especially reminded me of some rivers I have fished in Scotland.

Although you can fish a standard 14' two handed rod and traditional methods the Miramichi is also world renown for dry fly fishing. It has the highest temperature of any Atlantic salmon river in the world and fish will regularly take in much higher water temperatures. This makes the fish very aggressive in hitting surface flies, and on the Miramichi the Bomber is king. Many of the locals fish with nothing else. They also tend to use a single handed rod, and this is certainly easier when dry fly fishing as it allows better line management and delicate presentation for fishing drys. The idea is to work down stream scatter casting as you go, and the key is to have no drag on the fly. This requires a lot of casting and at different lengths of line. Effectively the further you can cast the more water you can cover.

On arrival we were met by Byron Coughlan, the owner, and Axel Lerche. Axel emigrated from Germany and is one of the most enthusiastic fishermen I have had the privilege to work with. He is one of the directors of Salar enterprises, but more of that later. First, there was fishing to be done! We headed out immediately to a private pool called the Orr pool. Axel and I both fished for a few hours before lunch, and during this time Axel filled me in on some of the history of the surrounding area and the river itself. He also tutored me further on fishing the bomber on a larger river, and various tried and tested techniques that have proved successful here. The weather was bright, and even though we saw a number of fish nothing decided to latch on.

After lunch Axel had to head back to Bathurst for some meetings, so Henry and I fished with Pete Randall in the afternoon. Although Pete is semi retired now, it was a joy to fish with someone who has spent so much time on the river. Our destination, the fabled Ted William's Pool on the Main Southwest Miramichi. Ted William was a famous baseball player back in the day for the Boston Red Sox. Having fished the Miramichi he fell in love with it, bought a camp and spent many months fishing here. Pete Randall lives on the other side of the pool, so every morning he has his breakfast reading the water and watching the salmon as they moved on their journey up the system. To say he knew this pool well was an understatement...

The pool is idyllic, with lovely glassy water rolling over various large boulders creating obvious lies. I should clarify what these pools are like on the Miramichi, as many of them are sometimes 200 - 400 yards long, so there is plenty of fishing. To fish down it once takes at least an hour, so fishing down with a couple of patterns can take a big chunk of time, and a fish could hit at any time. The pool was positively boiling with salmon, and many were rolling and showing while I fished, constantly keeping me on edge. A fisherman on the other side hooked a lovely fish on a bomber, and I could see the take from where I had been sitting. Memorable.

I fished down with a bomber first, and had one roll on the fly but I was too late with the strike to set the hook properly. I then went down with a Green Machine (a very popular wet fly here) and lastly I fished down with a single wet fly called a Red Butt Black Bear on a size 8. As I drew down the last rock and was loosing the light completely the line stopped and slowly tightened. I lifted the rod and felt the thump, thump of a large salmon attached to me. My heart was in my mouth that finally I had hooked one, but before I had a chance to wind in the slack we parted company from one another. Arrrrgggggh! In retrospect I found out what I should have done was to strike the fish.... hard. In the slow water the take had been very light and I should have set the hook. Ah well, that's fishing! Time to head for home....

Fishing the Hitch

Again the morning greeted us with clear blue sky's and warmth of sun. A beautiful day, but perhaps not the best for salmon fishing. Our guide today was Bruno Lepage and he quickly took us off to our beat for the day, ASPB. After 15 minutes of bumping down the old logging roads the pool we would be starting with opened up below us. If someone had an opportunity to make a perfect salmon pool then this would have been it. From the neck to the tail the pool was about 300 yards in length, and again due to the crystal clear water many fish could be seen.

I fished down the pool and then up a number of times with the bomber, but failed to raise a fish. The blessing of fishing a river that is crystal clear is that you can see the fish you are covering. I have not discovered yet is if that is a blessing or a curse! As nothing had moved I switched to the two handed rod, a 13' 8# Hardy Angel and a Rio Power Spey line. Fly choice, time to use the hitched tube again....

The fly began to skate nicely across the ledges and almost immediately a fish moved up and hit it, but cam slightly short. I backed up a few yards, gave it a couple of minutes, and then put another relatively long cast. The fly popped up on the surface and came across like a little motor boat. There was a bulge and the line went tight, and as the salmon thrashed in the clear water it almost looked like it was floating in air.... and promptly came out of the water. The silver bar of maybe 10 pounds or so slewed across the pool before erupting into the air again... the line went slack, and fish and I parted company.... Henry gesticulated wildly at me and called me a muppet, being his usual supportive self.

As it was lunch time the trio moved up to another pool little higher up the beat. There was a covered picnic table on the bank, and Bruno began to lay out lunch. I have to say that lunch on the river at Camp Bonaventure is one of the best I have had. The guides lay out an incredible spread, and this plus a glass of wine has one feeling a little sleepy. However, there was work to be done. Unfortunately the wind got up in the afternoon making casting tricky, and the air temperature began to fall. The fish hugged the bottom, and very little action was seen in the afternoon. I raised one more fish on the bomber, but I failed to hook it and we headed home feeling a little battered and sore.

On arrival back at the lodge and having thanked Bruno we threw all the gear in the back of the truck and headed down the road as we were staying that night at Salmon Lodge on the Grand Cascapedia. Salmon Lodge is very different to Camp bonaventure as it is a one hundred year old lodge that overlooks the Grand Cascepedia River. The river itself is bigger than the Bonaventure, but not quite as clear. It has a slightly tea coloured tinge, but tends to have larger fish but maybe not quite as many. On arrival Henry and I were blown away with the view up the valley, and also the wonderful feel. It was somehow more intimate and full of old fishing memorabilia. Dinner was outstanding, and the staff could not have been kinder. Guest staying here fish both the Bonaventure and the Grand Cascepedia, and the beats are moved around. It is perfect for a smaller intact party or those who are looking for a lodge with tradition and character.

Atlantic salmon on the dry fly.

As usual the best laid plans always go aside, and a combination of jet lag and excitement found us both bouncing around at four in the morning thinking of the day ahead.... and then we found out that we had actually driven across a timeline last night and it was in fact three in the morning.. oh joy! Luckily we discovered how the coffee machine worked.

After a solid breakfast we headed out with our guide Jean-Marc Poirier. B3 beat was to be ours for the day. After a half an hour ride and a quick wander through the woods the sight that met us was stunning. The river winds its way through the trees and is absolutely crystal clear. What makes this river truly unique is the ability to catch Atlantic Salmon on dry fly. On inspection the first pool was holding somewhere in the region of 200 fish. How do I know? Because I could see each and every one of them... Jean-Marc explained the technique to me, and essentially we would be fishing dry flies, or giant Bombers to be exact, on the dead drift. My weapon of choice, an new Hardy Demon 9' 6# rod with matching demon reel and a floating line.. against fishing in the pool that were in excess of 30 lbs. This was going to be fun!

The early morning was a little grey and chilly, so the fish were hugging the bottom closely. I began at the bottom of the pool under Jean-Marc's tutelage, covering the area from in a small window in front of me directly across the stream. When Bomber fishing it is best not to cast directly upstream as you line too many fish, so the fly should land a foot in front of the fish. If there is no reaction after a couple of casts, then move up the pool slowly to the next. It took me a little while to master this as my immediate reaction was to start casting too far upstream.

I made one cast that alighted over the a pod of fish, and as usual I was thinking they would not react when suddenly a large fish of maybe mid twenties turned around and chased the bomber downstream trying to inhale the fly. A big swirl, a splash and no tightening as the fish had missed the fly.... or was that because I squealed like a girl and pulled the fly out of its mouth? Not sure, but it was incredibly exciting and the adrenalin was overcoming the sleep deprivation nicely!

I switched down a size from the small chicken on the end, and immediately a small grilse came and hit it like a rising trout on a chalkstream, and my first fishing on the Bonaventure river came to hand. Not a monster, but nevertheless a fish! I moved a few more fish but did not manage to hook any others, but by now the sun was breaking through the clouds and the air temperature was rising. I did try a down stream wet fly, but this was met with no reaction from the fish at all, and having seen the whole thing take place with a surface fly I really wanted to persist as it is breathtakingly exciting.

Jean-Marc produced the lunch cooler and as we sat eating hot chili cooked on the back while sipping a little red wine he explained further the theory behind their winning technique here. The pool must be fished systematically to find a fish that will rise. The size of fly is also important as the larger flies will often get them going to make them hit a smaller fly immediately afterwards. I fished the next pool down after lunch, and although again I had several fish come and look at the fly, one actually trying to eat it which I again with precise precision managed to extract the fly from its jaws at the right moment. Time flew by, and before I knew it tea time was approaching.

Our little group them moved down to a pool called Eleanor that due to it being a little way down the bank did not receive much pressure. Jean-Marc had been down earlier,and using his periscope had actually seen 20 or so fish in the pool. Very cool. The visual aspect of this fishing is staggering. First cast was met with a big swirl. Second cast saw a fish rise of the bottom and bulge under the fly. Third cast, a little further out, and I watched the fish move up in the water column, open its mouth, engulf the fly and descend as I set the hook. Trout fishing... for salmon!.... with a 6 weight. I nice little grilse of 5lbs or so. I immediately lost another at the hand.

As the sun came off the pool I switched to a hitched tube the skated nicely across the water. It was attacked immediately by a nice little salmon that gave me quite a battle on the 6 weight. The pool came alive, and nearly every cast was being met by some kind of reaction. The finale to the session was a large 20 - 30lb cock salmon that proceeded to attack the fly four times accompanied by ooohhss and aaahs from the bank. At this point I reeled up and we headed for home. I had experienced surface fishing for salmon like never before, and quite a baptism of fire. Can't wait for tomorrow!

Atlantic Salmon Fishing on Gaspé in Canada

Well, Henry Gilbey and I are once again on our autumn travels in an effort to find some new and exciting Atlantic salmon fishing for our clients. This seems to be becoming a regular event. After our trip to the Gaspé peninsular on the East Coast of Canada last year we had to return to experience more of this unique fishery. The allure of crystal clear rivers and large salmon has kept us going.

This year rather than fly through Montreal, wait for a while and then head up to Gaspé we took the new Canadian Affair flight that comes directly from Gatwick to Fredericton in New Brunswick via Halifax. The flight was really pretty good as it is six hours to Halifax and then a further thirty minutes on to Fredericton. The main reason for doing it this way is that after fishing on Gaspe we are moving on to the Miramichi in New Brunswick, so it made sense to be hire a car from there and do the long drive first.

A six hour drive moved us up along the Miramichi system, up to Bathurst and Campbellton, past the Restigouche river system and then up into Gaspé where immediately everything reverts back to French speaking. Henry and I just about managed to negotiate petrol and some directions with our school boy French. Finally we arrived at the Camp Bonaventure Lodge on the banks of the Bonaventure River. The lodge is relatively new, built in 1995 and very comfortable. After a brief orientation we hit the hay in an attempt to be fresh for the following day.

New Online Fishing Photo & Video Magazine

Many of us of the years have been somewhat in awe of one Mr Brian O'Keefe and his incredible photographs that have had certainly me dribbling about fishing. Well, Brian has launched a new online magazine concentrating on incredible photography and video in the fishing arena,and I would heartily suggest you take a look:

http://www.catchmagazine.net/

Our very own Henry Gilbey has also been asked to contribute amoungst other well known characters and has provided some fantastic shots for this kick off issue. Subscription is free and it will be sent out the first day of every odd numbered month. Enjoy!

Game Fair 2008

We looked forward to this years Game Fair with huge anticipation. After the cancellation of last years fair and this being the Game Fair’s 50th anniversary we knew it was going to be big, but nothing prepared us for our arrival on the Thursday. The show was considerably larger than the 2005 Game Fair at Romsey, and believe that the organisers clocked a massive 150,000 people through the gates on the opening Friday!

We were lucky enough to be joined by Chris Yrazabal from Los Roques and Páll Þór Ármann from Iceland this year, and their help was greatly appreciated. Having their added expertise with us and the opportunity for those going to Los Roques or Iceland to pick their brains was fantastic. As these two operations are pretty hot property right now it generated a lot of interest, especially our new fishing on the Upper Laxa I Adaldal in Iceland that has been likened by some as the finest trout fishing in the Northern Hemisphere.

Thank you so much to all those of you who made the effort to come and find us and chat face to face. We love putting faces to names and the opportunity to discuss this year’s trips, see the pictures, and begin planning for next season.

The weather was incredible… almost too good, and by Sunday I think most of us felt that we were melting. Chris was obviously in his element being used to the 30 degree heat!

Once again we found ourselves next to the Latin American Fishing Company who we work closely with on a number of South American projects, so we really enjoyed catching up with them, especially as Gordon Richmond had been on a couple of trips with us recently.