Three Generations Fishing for Wild Bann Salmon - By Stephen Smyth

Three generations fishing for wild Bann salmon

The author with one of the fine fish caught and released that day.

When my late father Russell shrimping was hardly seen at all. introduced me to salmon But the great thing was, back then, fishing almost sixty years there were fantastic numbers of wild ago, it was quite a different sport. The salmon in all our local rivers, and worm was deadly, a bunch of three big almost everybody caught a few. blackheads below a pinch of split shot. Fishermen also were different in those Spinning was popular with the Stukii, a days, everything caught was one for the half scaled copper and silver spoon, table, nothing was wasted or just being the most favoured, along with destroyed, and everything was relaxed, Tobys, blue and silver Devon Minnows Fishing was like a day out. This old and No. 2 Mepps. Fly fishing was fashioned type of sustainable fishing occasionally practised when conditions lasted for decades, recreational angling were right, with sinking lines and heavy, did not affect the salmon numbers, if three or four piece, split cane rods, and anything the salmon count increased

and there was plenty of fish for everyone.

My father Russell truly loved fishing, but he loved especially all our family going with him, including my mother, and she also caught them. An ideal day would be three or four fish of any type caught, and everybody getting one each. If you caught one, dad would then organise it that you relaxed and didn’t fish again until everyone else had been successful. He encouraged everybody to go fishing with him, friends and their children too, and he was happy not

Eddie got into position behind John. fishing himself but setting up and looking after everyone else. He always was a true sportsman.

Against this background, I have been trying to get my son John a salmon on the fly at Carnroe, and make him the third generation of the Smyth family to do so. Dad caught hundreds over his lifetime and he was undoubtedly a special favourite of the Carnroe boatman ‘Old’ Charlie Torrens. ‘Old’ Charlie, Dessie and ‘Big’ Willie Wilson have all made sure that I also have caught a few. This season Willie and I have been determined to get John, when he was home from his studies in London, a Bann salmon on the fly. All the exams were now finished, and during the previous week John had his first two contacts with the “King of Fish”. But nothing had stuck: nobody’s fault, in all types of fishing, this happens. It has been hard going with the fly this year, but we knew he was getting closer and closer.

Well, only a few had been caught on the fly during the week, the shrimpers were getting plenty, but now I had a

Decky (on the right) was the trusted netsman.

new, secret weapon. For the past forty years, for the shop, dad and I have bought worms, prawns and flies, from our great friend ‘King’ Billy Peden. On the day of dad’s funeral, Billy was the first man to arrive at the Church door, with tears streaming down his cheeks, so he will always be our special friend. Billy has retired now, but his son Robert keeps the bait business going and last week, when Robert made another delivery to our shop, I told him the latest about John’s quest. “I’ll get you a fly that’ll work,” he said. “I’ll post it down to you. It catches salmon everywhere.”

We decided to fish with ‘Billy’s Special’

The fly duly arrived, it looked great, and I thought right, for old time’s sake, John will fish the whole shift with

The author’s late father Russell.

Billy’s Special. John flogged the stream at The Throw for hours, casting perfectly, swinging the fly round nicely, dabbling it up, down and across in the streams and, despite seeing loads of fish, not even an offer. When you keep seeing the salmon jumping, it encourages you, and John kept persevering and fished on and on. There just is no other way.

Hours later, when we eventually took a break, of course our friend Decky stepped in, and within fifteen minutes had the day’s first fish on the fly, an excellent, fresh, eight pounder. Maybe the salmon were on the take at last, who knows, but we immediately abandoned our cup of tea with Willie, and almost ran to get started back into it. This time John took his own path, wading out in the deeper water towards The Island and fishing the stream back in towards The Hut. Plenty of fish were still jumping and all we needed was a bit of luck. I trusted that fly and John was fishing well. Come on, come on, and give us just that wee bit of luck.

And then it happened. In slow motion I saw the whole take, the salmon turning on the fly, John letting go of the loop of line in his hand and raising the rod tip. Crash, bang, wallop, the salmon was on and really well hooked. It tore off, across and downstream, taking loads of line from the reel. My trouble now was that John was out in the middle of the river across the stream and there wasn’t a chance I could wade out to him in my thigh boots.

The other anglers we fish with are all our mates so, when I started hollering for help, they immediately stopped their fishing, pulled up anchor, and started out in their boats over to help John. He kept the rod tip up, and kept the rod bent nicely into the fish, which at times was a good thirty yards below him and was very lively, jumping, running and darting in the stream.

As cool as ‘Cool Hand Luke’

John had no chance of wading away from the precarious spot where he was standing when he hooked the fish, so the salmon was going to have to be battled back upstream, against the heavy current, to him. We all hoped that our knots were sound, and that it was really well hooked to take that upstream strain. Big Eddie, who runs our syndicate, got well positioned right in beside John, and Decky became the trusted nets man. The good thing was, all three of them were as cool as ‘Cool Hand Luke’ and left all the panicking and stress to me watching anxiously from twenty yards away.

Fifteen, nerve-tingling minutes later, when Decky expertly scooped the eight pounder into the net, everyone cheered. I was so elated for John and very, very relieved. A few quick photos, it was a bar of silver, straight in from the sea that day, and the sea lice still had their tails attached. Very quickly the fish was released unharmed to continue its upstream journey.

I’ve taught John that for us, one salmon a day is enough. For over fifteen years I have immediately stopped fishing if I catch one. We try and store our luck for the next time, and don’t throw another cast to try and catch two in a day. Both of us are very happy to do this catch, release and stop.

“Right son, home at top speed and we will call and show granny the photos and you can tell her all about it.” I did this exact same journey many years ago with dad, and now with John. It reminded us all of golden times, salmon fishing at Carnroe with my father, and this special day was a new memory for John and me to cherish forever.