Kris Kent looks back at some of his fishing trips, the experiences and the people he has met along the way.
It has been said that “travel broadens the mind”. A Turkish proverb says that “travelling broadens the mind, more than reading.” What does that mean? Is it suggesting that when we travel we learn or just that it helps us look at things differently, or both. But does travel broaden the fisherman’s mind?
I first fished abroad during a stint as an expat working in Denmark. The fishing was either in the Baltic for sea trout or on the small rivers that flow across Jylland (Jutland) and into the Baltic for wild brown trout and grayling. I mostly indulged in the latter. The Jylland peninsula is relatively flat and therefore the rivers are of a shallow gradient. They lazily meander cutting deep into the sandy soils. This fishing didn’t broaden my mind as it was very much like my fishing back home on the streams of West Berkshire and the Cotswolds. I did learn a lot about fly tying during my three years in Denmark. I had a lot of time on my hands so decided to give fly tying a go. And at that time there was no better place to do so. Aarhus had several excellent fishing stores that sold a huge range of fly fishing and fly tying gear. Fly fishing was an everyman’s sport in Denmark and so prices were very reasonable. I bought a huge range of tools and a vast selection of hairs, feathers, fibres and hooks and set about learning the techniques. I also learnt that with my big fat fingers I’m not a good fly tier, my creations were functional but not pretty. Like me my patterns were a little portly.
My first proper foreign foray was a solo trip to Northern Sweden. During my three years in Denmark I amassed a huge number of Scandinavian Airlines loyalty points. Before I finished my stint in Denmark I decided to use these points for a trip up into the Arctic Circle. I booked a week at Meikak, a fishing camp deep in the Swedish wilderness not far from the Norwegian borderlands. Getting there was an adventure in itself. Flight from Aarhus to Stockholm then transfer to the flight north. After an overnight stay in Luleå there was a long drive to the helicopter station and then a short flight into the camp. There are no roads into Meikak, it’s either helicopter during the summer or snowmobile during the winter.
The first thing I learnt in Meikak was that Mother Nature can be fickle. It had been the wettest summer on record in Sweden. When I went down to the pontoons on the lake, which Meikak is situated next to, I found them two foot below the surface of the lake. The rivers were in full spate and unfishable. I also learnt to take advantage of opportunities as they arise and accept help when offered. I hadn’t booked any guiding during my week which ordinarily wasn’t necessary. With conditions the way they were, it was essential but no guides were available. One of the camp staff, a young Swede who was studying to become a fishing guide, took pity and offered to help me when he wasn’t working. Sweden has a wonderful educational system. Young people can do a college course in guiding which includes practical placements with professional fishing guides, very enlightened. We fished where we could. We fished small feeder streams that weren’t flooded out, usually so narrow you could jump across them. We fished the outflows of big lakes before they turned into raging torrents. These wide flats were shallow and only a few tens of meters in length but they often held fish. We fished the short braided streamy sections between the lakes. We fished the big pots below the falls where a heavy nymph would often produce a grayling from the depths. I learnt just how generous mankind can be and how tasty Char are for breakfast when you’ve been fishing for eighteen hours thanks to the midnight sun. I also learnt that whilst I’m comfortable with my own company a whole week primarily on your own can start to mess with your head. I decided that in the future being with other fisherman might save my sanity.
So my next trip was as part of a larger party, well a trio really. Whilst I was living in Denmark my partner was living in Scotland and during my visits to her’s I had got to know a local fishing guide. Roger fancied a trip over to the lochs of Assynt and invited me and another of his pals. He had a boat and outboard and a four wheel drive to tow it so off we set. We stayed in a hotel in Ullapool on the east coast and would fish three different lochs over three days, Lochs Cam, Veyatie and Urigill. That trip I learnt that an outboard is very heavy especially when carried over rough terrain and that in the Highlands the pull ins are always far too far from the lochs. I learnt that even the best quality rods break. Roger borrowed my Hardy 9’ 7 weight Smuggler to fish the inflow to one of the lakes and in the process managed to snap the butt section. Thank god for guarantees. I also learnt that mayfly hatches aren’t the preserve of the southern chalkstreams. The mayfly poured off the lochs and we caught fish both from the bank and the boat on wet and dry fly, awesome sport in great company.
My next trip to foreign climes was a very different affair and coincided with my fortieth birthday. Roger, the guide, was looking for opportunities to make some money during the quiet closed season and hatched a plan to run hosted trips to exotic venues around the world. As a trial he organised a trip to New Mexico. My then wife was looking for a special birthday gift so she paid a chunk of the costs. So in February 2007 six like minded fishermen found themselves drift boating the San Juan River, for big powerful rainbows, and fishing the tail waters below the Navajo Dam.
We fished hard and lived hard that week. We were up early in the morning for breakfast and then the drive to the drop in point below the dam. Boats had to be put in and loaded and rods put up ready to start the drift. It was several hours in the boat before we beached the boats for lunch and a little wade fishing. Then it was back in the water for the second half of the drift. Drift over it was unload the boats, stow away the gear and then back to the lodge for a shower and then dinner followed by ‘a few’ drinks. Not much chance to catch your breath and soak up the views.
That week was my first trip to New Mexico, my first time in a drift boat and my first time fishing a tailwater. I learnt a lot of new fishing techniques that week both from the American guides but also from my fellow rods. I learnt a lot about New Mexico, Americans and American food. But perhaps more importantly I learnt a lot about human nature and how people behave when you throw them together with unfamiliar people in unfamiliar situations. There was a bit of friction between the alpha males at the start of the trip and a bit of jostling at the start of day for who fished with who and with which guide but by the end of the trip we were all rubbing along happily. I also developed a great admiration for the guides. These guys were up early and late home every day, sometimes seven days a week and week in week out during the season. They worked hard all day long putting boats in and taking them out, hours on end at the oars. They put up with our bad jokes and dodgy fishing technique and never a harsh word. True saints.
The following year an advert in Fly Fishing & Fly Tying caught my eye. It was for a hosted trip to Rajamaa, a camp on the Finnish Swedish border back up in the Arctic Circle. My previous experience in Sweden’s Arctic Circle meant this was a part of the world was unfinished business for me. I rang up and booked my place. There must be something about travelling fishermen because at the airport we all spotted each other before boarding the plane. Was it the look of anticipation, was it the fisherman’s tan or was it the sea of green and khaki clothing. As we introduced ourselves to one and other we were curious as to why we couldn’t see our host Magnus Angus. On arrival at Rajamaa we discovered this was because he wasn’t coming due to an accident in the family and that it had been too short notice to get a replacement. The camp owner Lars and local guide Jesper would step up to the plate and cover for Magnus.
I learnt three things that trip. Firstly never to share sleeping quarters with other fishermen. The lodges at Rajamaa accommodate three or four in an open plan bed, sitting, dining room. The snores emanating from the various beds actually caused the lodge to reverberate. Sleeping through it was impossible. Don’t get me wrong I was as bad as the rest, guilty as charged. Secondly I learnt that Mother Nature was still fickle. That summer had been one of the driest on records and the river was low. On the bright side this did make the wading a whole lot easier and it concentrated the fish. Thirdly I learnt that nothing is ‘for sure’ in fishing. One of the special features of a trip to Rajamaa is the night fishing for big Lake Grayling. After a day on the river we would load into the minibus and head up into the hills to a large lake. Before the sun set we would wade out and get used to casting big dry flies out onto the lake. Once we were comfortable with the routine we returned to shore for a few beers and a sausage or two grilled over an open fire whilst waiting for the sun to set. As soon as it was dark we waded back out to wait for the big caddis to hatch. These big caddis hatch at the lake shore and then skitter out over the lake to mate and egg lay. The big lake grayling then avidly feed on the skittering caddis. Two nights we went through this routine and on both nights the caddis failed to hatch and the big lake grayling stayed deep in the lake.
I guess that all travelling fishermen have their own ‘bucket list’. Those places they want to fish before they have to finally hang up their waders for the last time. It could be Iceland for big brown trout and char on tiny midges or big fish on mouse patterns and hoppers in New Zealand. One of mine had been Poland and the River San. I ticked this off my bucket list in 2010. My first experience of a ‘hosted’ trip aside I decided to give it another go, this time with the venerable Paul Proctor hosting. I already knew Paul quite well and Peter from the Rajamaa trip was also coming along, otherwise I didn’t know anyone else in the party. I know this causes some people a little nervousness but I’m pretty easy going and happy to muck in with anyone. The San was generous without being easy. We all had fish each day including a few personal bests. The hatches of Blue Winged Olives came off and the trout and grayling responded accordingly. We all got along well and the week passed far too quickly.
It’s all too easy to get stuck in a routine and not to challenge your approach when fishing. On the San we all got into the river and immediately started casting upstream. Because this is of course the British way. The local guides and anglers looked at us quizzically. Were we mad? In Poland, and much of the rest of Europe, anglers cast whichever way best suits the conditions and the fish. They cast upstream if the wind was blowing upstream and down if it was blowing down. On the San the grayling in particular can be very finicky. If you put your fly line anywhere near them they ignore your fly. So when the Blue Winged Olive hatches are on they mostly fish downstream so the first thing the fish sees is your fly. The technique is deadly but takes some getting used to. The cast is stopped high with the rod tip lowered as the line extends away below you carried down by the current. Additional line can be fed out by drawing line off the reel and then wiggling the rod tip to lay it on the water. Very long drifts could be achieved a bit like long trotting with a float. Picking the line up when the fish takes at range can be a challenge though.
Before going several people warned me the food wouldn’t be great, cabbage, cabbage and more cabbage. They couldn’t have been more wrong. My eyes were opened to Polish cuisine. The lodge manager Wojtek fed us like kings. Roast locally shot boar, veal, stews, fabulous sausages all washed down with wonderful beers, wines and of course a few vodkas. I also learnt the value of having a good story teller on a trip. There were two ‘pie eaters’ on the trip. Grant and Kevin were good friends from Wigan. They had travelled and fished widely and had so many stories to tell that the rest of us rarely got a word in edgewise. I’ve never laughed so much, my sides actually ached each night when I went to bed. Grant also taught me an important lesson. Never leave saucy photos of your girlfriend on your camera. He asked Paul to take a photo of us all one evening and Paul got a hell of a shock when he pressed the on button and was confronted with said girlfriend in the all together.
So this was how I got started fishing abroad. In part two we will see how the story continues.
Biography:
Kris Kent has been fly fishing and trotting for brown trout and grayling for over 20 years in the UK, Europe and Scandinavia. He is PR Officer for the Grayling Society and helps out The Wild Trout Trust with their online communications and events.