Salmon Tales - July competition - last chance to enter!
SALMON TALES - sponsored by SAGE
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;-
July 2010 - True Tales - your best true story or experience while fishing for the kings of the river.
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.
I have waited a long, long time but finally the signs are improving. The heavens open in true west coast style and the lush coastal forests get their first proper drink in weeks. The rain is forced down by the great coastal range, roaring as it falls through the forest canopy, seeping in its purest form into the smallest brooks, streams and rivulets. These little rivers swell, pulsing with new life. Growing, Babbling brooks of pure water, the life blood of this untouched land.
Everything in this green paradise soon drips, drowns or murmurs: ancient trees, dried up watercourses, my fellow anglers.
As I look out to sea I know that this murmuring won’t last for long, for in the deep bowls of the ocean the king is stirring, aroused by the scent of his beloved and exiled freshwater. I await his glorious return from exile, the first Alaskan pioneer.
A Mustad treble from a spinner, reduced to a double with a pliers, hand tied in an hour from the only four materials I had. If necessity be the mother of invention then poverty is indeed the mother of necessity. I headed to the parched river armed and ready to do battle with my first two flies.
An hour or so later the miracle happened and the local bishop came downstream and netted a shining silver grilse for me. After receiving a sermon on not carrying a net I offered him my second fly which he immediately declined on seeing the blood stained hackle. Hand tying on a double hook is indeed a perilous pursuit.
He was not very pleased to net my seconds fish, and left the river quite upset that the King of fish would take such poorly tied flies, I'm sure the man above had to close his ears that night whilst the Bishop said his prayers.
I have my own net now, a vice and enough hooks , materials and flies to fish for all eternity, but no fly ever tied will ever match "The Bloody Shrimp."
Creatures of the night retreat into secret lairs as those of the sun venture forth to greet the dawning.
Morning's chilling mist blankets calm waters as the stragglers from last night's 'run' settle into shady lyes.
False dawn melts into the true light of day,and for a short while in rising temperatures the pool springs to life.
Sea trout splash in the shallows and several salmon 'head and tail' happily milling around a large flat stone that for today will be home.
A gentle current carries a no 12 double 'hairy mary' to the rising salmon,gently tweaked into their mist.
Mouth wide open it's whiteness gleaming like a beacon,strong jaws clamp the fly as a silver grilse rolls onto the bait turning back to the depths .A tail splash sends plumes of froth high into the air.The hook pulls deep and true...and the fight is on.
'Rising ghost like from dark shadows a curious salmon homes in on a crane fly dancing on the breeze.Unable to hold it's own against the wind the unfortunate creature is blown onto the water's surface.
With a powerful tail thrust the salmon begins his final run coming at the fly hard and fast from below.The gleaming whiteness of his mouth shining like a beacon.
Moments later his dark snout breaks surface and in an instant the salmon rolls onto and engulfs the fly in a flurry of spray.Diving deep and fast back to the security of his lye far below pulling the hook deep and true.
The fight is on !
Welcome to the exiting world of dapping.
It was the Tweed on a glorious September day. In the pool above the bridge a ghillie was doing all he could, short of illegality, to put a salmon on the line of his £500 per day guest and ensure a decent tip. Below the bridge I was plowtering about putting rising trout down
At one o’ clock they left for lunch and, when they were clear, I moved up to the pool that I knew was holding a few good fish. I performed the old Scottish, “steering them up” ritual; bombard the pool with rocks and stones and then use a bright orange fly.
I was on my way home with two fish in the bag before the absentees reached their sweet course.
One evening last week I opened my front door to go to the local shop. I paused as the fresh scent that only comes after summer rain permeated my senses. The desire to be on a Salmon river was instant.
Memories going back over thirty years came flooding back. Fish won and lost, recollections of anglers long since gone. Days on the lough drifting with a warm summer breeze, speycasting through favorite pools.
The Salmon runs are not what they once were, and we must help ensure that future generations can pause at their front door and relive the joy's of being on a Salmon river or Lough.
Though often called so, Salmon fishing is not a mere pastime or a sport, it goes much much deeper than that. Relatively few have drunk from the cup, those that have will never thirst.
Cathedral beat, Ballina, Hot day, but fish showing, fished hard, landed 2 grilse.
Delighted Ghillie, seemingly I was only angler to catch.
Back to hotel happy man!
Next morning on Ridge pool, news has spread, ghillie asks if it was me on Cathedral yesterday, act nonchalant, say I had 2, but was lucky.
Ghillie smiled and went on his way.
Suddenly I am into a fish, runs downstream, fish jumps, and breaks cast! Ghillie sighs!
New cast, fish hard, no takes.
Other rods have all landed fish , I am getting a bit twitchy.
Start at neck of pool hook another fish, fish jumps, a cracker about 16 lbs, fish keeps hard to far bank, wraps line round rock, and breaks me again!!.
Ghillie shakes head and walks off!
End of day, in hut admiring the kept fish, ghillie with big smile, politely asks me which one was mine!
Day 2 first strike, 37 seconds elapsed before the first run ended. As the line was running out it was lifting higher and higher until all my line was out of the water. There was a seal hanging on my fish! It looked big it must have been a pup and just hung on, hoping there would be slack so he could steal the fish. Another boat came close and we shouted to keep their distance. They shouted that there was a seal on it and there was no point in fighting, the seal always wins. They continued on a collision course with the seal, which got a fright and let go to avoid the boat. As it released I reeled in as fast as I could, getting the fish close enough to net it. 30 exhausting minutes =23Lb King Salmon. John
Dad and I were on Lewis again. Fishing had been tough going all week, with just a couple of sea trout for our efforts. It was the middle of the day, flat calm and sweltering. We parked the boat at the jetty for a rest and some lunch. After 10 minutes of snoozing in the sun Dad gets bored. "I'm going to do some casting practice off the jetty". A good first cast: the leader turns over and the instant the fly touches the water a silver salmon leaps vertically out of the water and engulfs the fly. "Not bad for an old boy" I think as I hurry for the net...
Salmon Tales - July competition - last chance to enter!
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