A Thousand Shades of Orange and Green

There are many things in life that we take for granted and rarely ever reflect on. In the Loop-writer, Sanna Koljonen, participated in a study done by the University of Eastern Finland and it gave her a welcome opportunity to reflect on a recent trip to Greenland, her passion for fly fishing, and what makes up the DNA of a great fly fishing trip.

By SANNA KOLJONEN Photography by HENRI HELLSTEN, SAMPSA KÖYKKÄ, LAWSON JONES and SOLID ADVENTURES

Last autumn, I participated in a Finnish research project conducted by the University of Eastern Finland, the aim and purpose of which were, inter alia, from a tourism development standpoint, to identify and analyse what elements make a fishing experience memorable for an individual.

As I was answering the questions one by one, I realised that I’ve never really thought about fly-fishing in such an analytical way: What are my motives to fish? What makes a fishing experience a success? What drives me to try a new place or return to an old one? What do I do out of habit and which things do I actually have the highest regards for? And finally: What are the elements of a fantastic fishing trip?

Prior to this, without any deeper thoughts attached, some of my fishing trips just seemed to be better than others. During the interview, as I tried to analyse the elements of a fantastic fishing trip, one particular trip I made last season kept surfacing in my mind time after time: the one I did to Greenland last September.

It had all the three main elements that I came to realize formed the essential parts of an excellent fishing experience – at least from my point of view: pristine waters in the wilderness, big and beautiful fish, and good company.

PRISTINE WATERS IN THE WILDERNESS

Greenland is the definition of remote. Besides the airports, there is barely any infrastructure on this; the world’s largest island. This means access to rivers requires hours of travelling by plane and by boat, which of course, in the end, is worth all the travelling. Once you reach your destination, the only living beings beside you are the Arctic chars, reindeers and eagles.

To me, fly-fishing at its best includes turning off your phone and laptop and changing the city lights to northern lights – a wilderness experience that has become a luxury for most people. Being bound to metropolitan life most of the time, I never understood urban fly-fishing.

On the contrary, for me, the wilderness experience has always been an essential part of fly-fishing: I want to let go of all the hustle and bustle, disconnect from the inane city life and connect with nature – and myself. The experience is both liberating and empowering.

The jewel of Greenland that was my destination in September, Kangia River, is located on the Southwestern coast of Greenland. The fishable part of the river is as much as eight kilometers, all the way from the river mouth and onwards to a waterfall that forms a natural boundary for the spawners. This means that if you fancy testing new waters, you can hike along the river through new stunning and scenic fishing spots every day. And believe me, making your first cast in a pool full of fish that no one has fished before, only to see a curious Arctic char grabbing your fly and charging downstream like a cruiser definitely gives you a rush to remember.

BIG AND BEAUTIFUL FISH

When it comes to catching fish, I must admit I’m very simple: I want big fish. As I’ve sometimes said in my most modest moments that, I’d rather catch one 120 cm salmon than a hundred grilse, describes my attitude well.

In Greenland this meant that I targeted one of those 4–5 kg chars rather than catching a hundred medium-sized fish.

For me, however, it is not just the size but also the look that counts. As I release all the salmonids I catch on a fly, I do not care about the taste. And even though it’s a commonly known fact that the fresh chromers are even tougher fighters, my heart still pounds in a different way when I see a coloured one.

Spending the last week of the season in Kangia meant that most of the fish had already been in the river for a while and lost some of their sea strength but gained in colours instead. This meant that the river was just a flood of rioting colours; a thousand shades of orange and green. I’ll never forget the colours of my first big char in Kangia River – it was the most beautiful mix of emerald green and mandarin orange I’ve ever seen in my life.

The transformation from steelhead-like muscular chromes to more oval-shaped, slightly thinner, colourful creatures is incredible. Their dinosaur-resembling look reminded me of how ancient these fish are and how long they have existed before us. There is still so much that we do not know about sea run Arctic char.

Unlike salmon, the Arctic char in Greenland do not die after spawning but return back to the ocean. This means they must stay in the river for a shorter period of time and that they cannot cope without food as long as salmon because it would atrophy their intestines.

To me, it seemed logical that this would also be part of the reason why the char in Kangia were generally much more eager to take a colourful fly placed in front of them than their cousins tend to be. Despite the fact that the spawning time was definitely drawing closer and the activity of the fish was slowing down, we had shamelessly good fishing and incredible moments throughout the whole week.

The abundance of char is something that is hard to put in words. Let’s put it like this: Think of a river that is packed with as many fish as you can imagine, then triple it and we’re getting closer. The guides estimated that the eight kilometers of the river that was accessible to the fish held around 100 000 Arctic char. That is as much

as Europe’s longest free-flowing salmon river, the 520-kilometer-long Torne River, held during its record year 2014. While observing that army of char swimming in Kangia, I made two conclusive observations:

1. In Kangia, there was probably more fish than water in the river, and...

2. in all the rivers we have in Europe that are impacted by humans it is total bullshit to claim that river ecosystems could not naturally take more fish.

GOOD FISHING COMPANY

Wanting to flee the city life and the masses doesn’t mean I don’t want to have anyone around me. I just want to be able to choose the people I spend my time with by the river. Fly-fishing is seldom easy, and you seldom catch fish all the time – this I’ve learned by heart as a salmon fisher.

My rule of thumb, based on experience, is: the less fish you catch, the more the company you fish in matters. Fishing, at least salmon fishing, is also a good test of friendship. This is because salmon fishing is so intense and nerve-wracking that if you can handle each other when salmon fishing, you will definitely be able to handle each other off-fishing. My advice is: choose the people that will comfort you when you lose a big fish, who will make you food when you’re all exhausted, who will borrow you a sleeping bag when yours is too light and who will put a smile on your sun burn and mosquito spray-tasting lips after yet another all-nighter where you got skunked. Without friends, fishing wouldn’t be the same.

In Kangia, I had the pleasure to fish with guys from a Finnish TV show called Arctic Waters – guys with whom I fished a lot last season and who had become good friends of mine. Besides the TV crew, there was a bunch of enthusiastic and definitely slightly crazy Finnish fly-fishers. I’m used to being among the craziest when it comes to fishing, but these guys took it to the next level. Many of the guys would hit the waters before I had even brushed my teeth and would fish nonstop until it got dark, on the best days landing approximately 50 fish a day, and never getting tired of it – definitely my type of fly-fishers!

The brightest star of the camp was undeniably the owner of Solid Adventures, perhaps most known as the founder and former owner of Loop Tackle Design, Christer Sjöberg. Christer’s hospitality was overwhelming and his passion for fishing so genuine it was inspiring to just be around him.

Add to that the late evenings spent at the lodge bar, listening to incredible fly-fishing stories from the exploratory days of the Kola Peninsula or saltwater trips from the early 90’s – stories that got carved in our minds as some of the best moments of our stay. I also learned that a guiding principal for Christer during his most adventurous life had been that we all get old, but you can decide whether you are going to be the one listening to or telling the stories – and he definitely seemed to live according to it.

As the use of natural resources is getting more and more fierce, river systems and fish stocks have been exposed to numerous forms of exploitation

THE FUTURE OF OUR RIVERS

The research I participated in was a personal affirmation that pristine waters in the wilderness, big and beautiful fish, and good company are the elements that make up a fantastic fishing trip to me. Another realisation I made was that places like Kangia River are a rarity today. As the use of natural resources is getting more and more fierce, river systems and fish stocks have been exposed to numerous forms of exploitation that have left an imprint on nature that we as humans cannot be proud of.

For us to be able to find rivers like Kangia nearer than in Greenland – or at all – in the future, a revolutionary shift in the management of natural resources has to take place and the value of pristine waters and healthy fish stocks has to be understood before the last piece of pristine waters and healthy fish stocks are destroyed. And this is what brings together the research of the University of Eastern Finland and the sustainable business-approach of Solid Adventures: they are both contributors of evidence to the widespread benefits and potentials of pristine waters – evidence that helps us challenge the old, destructive ways of using natural resources.