Ever dreamed of literary greatness? This competition may not lead you to the Booker or Pulitzer Prize, but it could win you a fantastic Sage Z-Axis salmon rod!
In three different monthly competitions from May-July, tell us your best salmon/steelhead/sea trout stories in less than 150 words. We are looking for short tales capturing the essence of fishing for these magnificent wild species with a different topic/style each month.
This competition starts now;-
May 2010 - Fishy Tales - tell us your most humorous experience in the pursuit of these elusive giants, true or fictional.
Just reply to this thread below with your entry.
The overall winner becomes the proud owner of a brand new:
SAGE Z-Axis Series Double Handed Fly Rod Size: 15ft 0in #10 4pce (RRP £779)
This is not all. The winning entry may also be featured on the Sage website (at Sage's discretion) which is probably more alluring to a fishing enthusiast than winning either the Booker or Pulitzer Prize!
The lucky monthly winners can choose a Spey Line of their choice courtesy of Rio.
Terms and conditions
Maximum of two entries per member per monthly competition.
Closing Date and Time: Competition closes for entries at midnight (GMT) on the last day of each month respectively. Entries made after the closing time will not be taken into consideration. The overall winner will be decided upon and announced in August.
The winners will be contacted by us once a decision has been made.
Any person who is an employee or an immediate family member of an employee of Far Bank Enterprises or Fish&Fly Ltd is ineligible to participate.
All decisions of Fish&Fly Ltd will be final and binding. No correspondence will be entered into.
By submitting content, you agree to give Fish&Fly a permanent, irrevocable licence to use your content as it thinks fit.
The long drive from London to Bonar bridge had left me tired, but not sleepy ,the quiet of the night kept me awake.
having tossed and turned a trip to the kitchen and a strong black coffee saw me out into the pre dawn light .
A still but chilly morning morning greeted me ,not wanting to go far I eased my way in to the river just above the bridge .
Cast and step ,swing the #8 silkcut on the sinktip and up onto the bank under the bridge ,now just enough light to see where the fly landed.
No mistake, a good pull and ten minutes later theres a springer on the bank and not even full light.
That was my fish for that week ,well a couple of finnock in the gloaming .
What a change from another year ,when it was late saturday and a dry net week had gone by .
Maybe one cast left ,desperation had me fishing a wee stoat tail dropper thinking I might get trout .
thats the rocks I thought as the line went away ,but no ,ten pounds of Carron springer was there ,I guess she had just crept up the fast rocky water from the Gledfeild into the Mackenzie and was tired from the effort !
Walk her up and away from the the pool tail ,then get below and she was soon in the net .
A different age then some twenty years ago ,a fresh clean fish made some very happy eaters in Highbury the following week.Today she would have swam back to reproduce!
After a night of rain, the Tyne had risen nicely the morning we arrived. But after an hour or two’s pleasant fishing, I heard a roar from 100 yards upstream to “Get out of the water!” I turned and scrambled up the bank to see a huge flood carrying an assortment of smashed trees, dead sheep and other outsized flotsam down the valley.
After a few moments I decided I wasn’t about to waste a day’s fishing and resumed casting. At the second cast, my line went solid. However, my hopes of a salmon withered when a woolly back rose out of the water. However, since this was my last red Ally’s I wasn’t letting it go easily, so by winching and steering, I managed to work my prize into a back water, ease it towards the bank and bring it to the net. My first dead sheep on fly!
Some years ago I was privileged to be asked by three good friends to accompany them on a trip to Wales to fish the mighty Towy. We were to recce the river before the Sea-Trout festival to get prior knowledge of the infamous Sea-Trout Mecca of Wales; we were met by another good friend and expert in Welsh rivers Jonathan Jones.
We were ready to start and I was to fish below the weir while my friends took up the line in front of the weir. Darkness had descended and the tuneful sound of Sea-Trout splashing made us impatient and excited, as I stepped into the water two massive Sea-Trout launched themselves out of the river twenty yards below me, I let out my line mended it and counted the line round to adjust for the flow third cast BANG,YES! I shouted the line raced and raced the sound of my reel was echoing up the river and my friends were cheering then! something was wrong my line started to go up in the air, I was confused so being a Cumbrian and was not wanting to lose my fly line to the flying Sea-Trout I screwed down my drag and then there was an almighty crash as the SWAN! hit the water, all I could hear was “it must be massive with that splash!” as people were starting to congregate on the bank I had to own up to the fact I had hooked a Swan. In the distance you could hear Welsh obsanities about the English but the laughter was drowning those out.
Thankfully the Swan was alright, and that it had broke my line as I was not looking forward to unhooking it!!!
We all got back in the water and the laughter was too much and then came the piece Del a resistance one of my friends is large man and pulling his waders on was like pulling on a sausage skin, well he was laughing that much he was flatulating and starting to loose his balance then it came one fart to many and his waders burst!! making one hell of noise, Needless to say we were about to be banned from the river so we had to get out and have a bar-be-que and a drink.
Sept. 29 started great – I was headed for “The Margaree” via Atlanta, Boston, and Halifax, Nova Scotia. My son, Michael dropped me off at the airport but not before telling me that this would be the last time that I would be going without him. Hopefully I could reserve a spot for him next year.
Once I arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia I had to go through customs. Now the Canadian Customs officers in Nova Scotia sometimes ask many questions – especially if you are an American – the one that I had asked me what I was going to do in Canada. I guess he thought I was importing fly fishing rods into Canada – because he asked, “Why I needed three rods.” What a question – I was going to fish “The Margaree.” If he knew anything about fishing he would have known that you come prepared.
Fishing at night can always put one decidedly on edge. Like the first time I fished the Towy in Wales...
...It was a mild, early season night and the guide had told me that the pool I was to fish was haunted...
“...Every full moon...” he said
...“every full moon, the ghost of an old, drowned fisherman will take another...” It was one of these tales obviously designed to scare newcomers.
Night soon fell and lo and behold, it was a full moon. In the pool, with the mist and gurgling it did feel quite spooky, so much so that I was decidedly on edge. All of a sudden I felt a cold, wet ghost in my waders. I let out a loud yelp in the darkness which was answered by my guide and companion’s laughter up on the bank. They’d “forgotten” to tell me levels were set to rise.
I had just become a full syndicate member of a large lake fishery in Tasmania Australia and was looking forward to hooking into some of their giants I had been told of. On arrival we were asked to dinner at the owners home (ex British game keeper) and his wife so some very nice food and lots, (and I mean lot,s) of red wine.
Then came the story of the duck eating trout. I thought these people are just extracting the urine out of this 50 something ex pat Welshman, but listened and laughed with them. I am still not sure if they were laughing with me or at me.
Then the next morning was on us and we were off to the bottom lake, sneak past the main home, where I swear I could still hear them laughing about the Welsh guy and the duck story. Then....... I we were watching a mother duck and her 5 small duckings waddle out into the lake then a smaller one about 3 meter behind. Thinking how unlucky would this little guy be if the story were true about the....... then gulp! no duck, nothing. I would not have believed it if I had not seen it with my own eyes. And my fishing buddy saw it too. Big Fish!
In my now distant youth, we fished for fun and occasionally for the pot. For example, mother expected fresh salmon to be conjured up to pacify my irascible grandmother on her occasional visits. One such time the call went out. I was dispatched to high Cree where large numbers of autumn fish gathered in the dub above the road bridge. Conditions here were poor. The other solitary angler had blanked. Cockily I stated that I’d have a fish in five minutes. To his horror, I slung a bunch of lobworms the size of my fist into the neck of the pool. Within seconds the rod tip bobbed and a fish was at the bait. Without ceremony I hooked and landed a reddish, cock grilse. Mother was happy and Grandmother was duly pacified. Only the visiting angler was perplexed by the curious tactics he had witnessed.
A salmon angler was fishing the River Tay, when he hooked into this enormous fish and no matter what he did he could not budge the fish.
After 2 hours of getting no where with this monster from the deep, he decided to get some help from the Ghillie.
So not wishing the leviathan to do a runner with his expensive tackle, he took the decision to tie the line around a tree.
After tying the best knot he could think of, he ran to the top of the beat where the Ghillie was.
After a spirited walk back to the same spot with the fisher re-telling every step/movement of the epic struggle. They eventually get to the spot where he had tied his line to the tree, only to find that the fish and all his gear had gone.
Not only that, the tree was gone as well!!
Last edited by Kingfisher28; 22nd May 2010 at 17:52.
SALMON TALES - Win a SAGE Z-Axis double-hander
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