Highlights
Is this a dream?
Is this a dream or am I salmon fishing in Iceland?
This was not a dream -- in fact it probably does not do justice to our actual experience in Iceland during the first week of August 2001, when a small group of friends and I leased a river, a guide, a lodge, and two four-wheel drive vehicles through the Lax-a Angling Club (www.lax-a.is). Iceland is a country of great extremes, the land of fire and ice, and the dramatic landscapes that are everywhere in view are in fact still forming and shifting. Volcanoes erupt every five years somewhere on the island, and this is the only country where crevices caused by the Atlantic tectonic plate can actually be seen above ground. There is no oil-burning pollution because geo-thermal springs are the countrys natural energy source. And while a fairly small percentage of the population are actually employed in the fishing industry, it represents the majority of the GNP.
Most of the salmon rivers run through lush sheep-grazing farms whose owners rent the right to fish to agents who, in turn, rent to lucky anglers. Of Iceland is 50 rivers, we chose the Flokadalsa with its 17 kilometers that can only be fished by three anglers at a time. The number of "rods" (anglers) permissible varies with each river, but it is strictly enforced, giving us plenty of space and the salmon less pressure during the season (June-October). Another reason for choosing the Floka was its location on the Snaefellsnes peninsula where our non-fishing members had plenty of opportunity to enjoy the island in a different way. They went sight-seeing, hiked moss-covered lava fields, rode Icelandic horses with their famous fifth gait, drove snowmobiles to the top of a glacier. They even explored a fjord by ferry, seeing puffins and nesting eagles while dining on fresh shellfish pulled on board during their cruise.
But lets get back to the real story? We fished every day, from 7:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m., and again from 4:00 - 10:00 p.m.; the sun never rose or set during this time. We started each day with a breakfast of home-made breads, cheese, and strong coffee provided by the Old English Lodge, a rustic and simple inn located at the mouth of the Langa River. Our guide, Danni, would be waiting with the 4x4s packed and ready to go.
The Flokadalsa was a short 20-minute drive from our base lodge, but a small cabin was next to the river where we had our lunch and took afternoon naps. Traveling down primarily dirt roads that, in Iceland, are the main arteries, we arrived at the river and were always startled by wide-open expanses that seemed to dwarf our four-man expedition. Visually we began to chart parts of the river that appealed to us. This is much easier to do in Iceland because there are no trees ?the river is literally exposed from horizon to horizon. What we saw were four sets of waterfalls with basin tail-outs, "S" bend meadow areas with deep undercut banks, one pool containing four large boulders surrounded by very deep water ? and this all within one mile of our 12 miles of river. "Incredible" was the only word that came out of our mouths.
The equipment we used was light by most salmon-fishing standards. A J. Roland Rod 9 7 wt. for Russell and myself, while John went with a Roland Rod 6 wt. All of us used light wide-arbor reels -- John used both a Tibor Freestone and Waterworks Force; I tried a Lamson Lite-Speed (excellent reel), and Russ used the Bauer wide arbor. Seven-weight Rio floating line with very long leaders (12 feet) completed the setups. Fly choices were primarily black with silver, some red, some blue. But we came to suspect that the stealth factor was much more important than fly choice.
The water itself is absolutely clear, no color at all. We were told the river was at a 30-year low mark, and the words "spooky fish" took on a whole new meaning. I liked the looks of the largest waterfall so I tied on a "Collie Dog" (#10) and made a cast near its base. On my second cast the water exploded; "Fish-On", I yelled into the two-way radio we carried so as to stay in contact with such distance between us. No sooner did the words come out of my mouth than the Atlantic broke off, and I realized the six-pound test tippet was not going to work. Tying on eight pound, I crept down to the four boulders, stood back about 20 feet from the waters edge, and made a test cast at the back of the pool, then dropped the fly in front of the middle boulder. After approximately a four-foot drift, a seven pound male pounded the fly and ran with it directly behind a rock. Walking into the water with my rod held high I finally got the line unwrapped. I also found out how deep this pool was. The water is so clear that the bottom which appeared to be about three-four feet deep turned out in reality to be more like eight feet. After three screaming runs, I was able to land the salmon. Then, and only then, did I announce to my buddies, "Fish on and I am taking its picture". Theoretically, the ice in Iceland had been broken and we each had at least some hookups in our first few casts. This was going to be relatively easy. (Wake up, these are salmon!)
From that point on our techniques and nervous systems changed dramatically. You could see lots of fish ? jumping, laying in the current ? but they could also see you since the weather was sunny and bright, not cloudy and rainy as was our pre-conceived notion of the Icelandic climate. Stealth now became an obsession. Climbing down canyon walls, crawling on our stomachs, and moving only in short bursts ? this was Ninja fishing at its finest. These Atlantics would only look at perhaps one or two casts, and then it was time to move on to another pool. Luckily, we had a tremendous amount of water to choose from, and each pool seemed more spectacular than the last. The experience of just being in such beautiful places would have been enough, but the prospect of catching these remarkable and noble fish made this almost impossible to describe.
I was lucky enough to get one of the larger Atlantics on a #20 micro tube after a very long "crawl and hide" journey down into the canyon. For me, this turned into a spiritual encounter with nature that I will never forget. By the end of our trip, we landed about two salmon a day, and had to work hard with small flies and precision casts to get them.
It was not easy, it was perfect.
Jack Hosick
J. Roland Rods (www.rolandrods.com)
Member of Trout Unlimited
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Since 2001 there was a new very good lodge built by Flokadalsá. For bookings and information, please contact harpa@lax-a.is
