by Terkel Broe Christensen

In mid-June, most of my friends had left home for salmon fishing in Norway. Back home , I w a s regularl y update d b y Facebook’s endless stream of messages directly from the waters. Some anglers complained about lack of rain and generally lack of salmon running through the rivers during the hot spell. Other anglers jubilate after having landed the salmon of their dreams. Salmon fishing has always been like that, a cocktail of fascination and frustration: for those who are away on salmon fishing as well as for the ones having to stay back home. Salmon fever My lot last summer had nothing much to do with angling, as I had to stay home to work and wouldn’t be able to travel. Since the opening day, I had considered quite a few times going to River Skjern, though. This river is one of the few in Denmark having runs of salmon. But this year was a very special one as very few salmon were present when the fishing opened on April 16th. In a way it was okay with me as I then could relax and concentrate on my work and family without being inflicted by this strange disease called salmon fever… Schools of salmon During the first week of June, everything changed as I started reading reports of salmon caught in the River Skjern. On June 10th ten fish were caught. The 12th another ten salmon came to the net. And then the 15th another nine… I decided to make a visit to the sluice gates at Hvide Sande. The sluice regulates the water level in the Ringkøbing Fjord where the Skjern River has its estuary. Consequently, all salmon running this river has to pass by the sluice and as is the case when salmon have to swim under a bridge, they often hesitate. The presence of schools of salmon here and there and the tell-tale splashes of mighty fish jumping is a sure indication of running salmon.

I text a sms to my fishing pal Kenny and ask him to update me on the situation in the river. Kenny is a keen salmon fisher himself and works at the House of the Salmon – the visitor centre at River Skjern. This means that he’s in daily contact with dozens of anglers. This gives him invaluable information on what’s going on where at the moment. Kenny’s reply is short and straight to the point: ”I’ve lost two salmon so far, 6-7 kilos, after 20 seconds and 10 minutes fight, respectively. It is now the moment! I plan going fishing Tuesday and Wednesday – can you join me?” Shelter from the wind I manage to get two days off and head for the river Tuesday morning. When I meet Kenny at 9 o’clock, he has already been fishing since sunrise on the lower part of the river, yet he hasn’t seen anything. He suggests that we try a new location.

We decide to go further upstream in an attempt to avoid the harsh westerly wind. Though we try to find a place where we can be the first on the beat, each time we drive down to the river, one or two cars are already parked there.

After driving around in vain for half an hour we realise that today the majority of anglers on the river have one common priority: to fin d sh el ter for th e stiff wind . As a consequence, they flock on the same, sheltered stretches of the river as we are looking for. We decide to try a location downstream of the the Sonderby Spang foot bridge, some 25 kilometres from the fjord. As we cross the meadow to get to the river, Kenny kindly invites me to fish down first. I’m fully aware that his greatest wish is to

Kenny Frost with his first salmon of the day. It measures 86 centimetres and weighs 6.8 kilos.

fish down first himself, and though I would love to fish down first, I decline in a friendly manner: “No, I’ll follow you… "I have to change my leader, first.” For a moment, I think back when we were kids and were less courteous. We used to race down to the favoured bend in the local brown trout creek to in an attempt to be the first to cast out our Mepps spinner. Did that salmon take my fly?

I start fishing just below the bridge while Kenn y walks a few hundred meters downstream to begin his fishing there. The wind makes it hard to get the line out and the casting isn’t particularly artful. Worse still, the wind pushes the line on the surface in a manner that negatively affects any feeling with how the fly fishes.

There is a fine balance between getting your fly close to the bottom where the salmon are holding and getting snagged. After ten minutes fishing, I get stuck in the bottom in the middle of the stream and by striking hard I succeed in freeing it. As I start taking in line for a new cast a bright salmon leaps near the opposite bank making a significant splash. I estimate it to be between five and six kilos. I fish on with renewed enthusiasm after having yelled to let Kenny know that I just saw a running fish. Despite the wind, my casting is suddenly near to perfect. I have to fish out three casts before it really blows me away that my fly is gone. And then I realize the reason the salmon leapt: it had kindly been released by my breaking the tippet when I stroke hard as I thought the fly had snagged!

I rush down to explain what happened to Kenny, then quickly rushes back to take up the fishing again.

An old dinghy attached to the bridge offers me a place to sit while I change the leader and I am fully absorbed on selecting a new fly when I hear Kenny shout: ”Fish! Fish!” A large salmon jumps out of the water, just as I turn to see what’s going on. Kenny tries to follow the fish as it runs downstream. I, too, start running as fast as I can.

Though it is a strong salmon coming directly from the sea, Kenny manages to get it under control and ready for the net in no more than 10 minutes.

Kenny Frost with his first salmon of the day

Salmon with sea lice. As lice fall off after a few days in fresh water, sea lice are a sure sign of a fresh fish..

Greetings to our friends in Norway

“It’s a keeper!” Kenny exclaims. It is his first fish this year. The fish is killed, photographed, measured and weighed and we make a small video sequence and send it to our friends fishing in the Gaula in Norway. A plethora of likes and enthusiastic comments on Facebook follows the photo of the salmon. Kenny’s update that reads: ”A salmon to celebrate our silver wedding anniversary later this year!” Coffee and muffins

Salmon often run the river in small schools, so one salmon caught does, more often than not, mean that there are more in the vicinity. We fish on for a couple of hours, then Kenny persuades me to have a break and to go to the nearby village and celebrate the catch with coffee and muffins. In the village, the salmon is admired by all that we meet. After the break we concentrate on some of the classical spots higher up in the river: Skobæk Creek, Ahlergaard Farm and Borris Krog Bridge. The river runs narrow and deep up here, and in some places overhanging trees make it difficult to fish efficiently. Under the branches Kenny shows me how to cast so as to make the line fly just under the trees. Then the fly is given slack line to allow it to sink. It may cost a fly now and then to fish the lies under the branches, but is well worth it, Kenny explains. Sea trout love to stay in places like that during the day. And the salmon, too, in fact. Bu t th e two species have differen t preferences. Whereas the sea trout will typically hide in the shaded darkness, the salmon prefer to lie at the edge between the shade and the sunlit water. I do have a slight take, when covering a lie under an old spruce. A sea trout? I think so. Though it could as well have been a salmon.

The House of the Salmon at River Skjern is a visiting centre for anglers. Here anglers purchase fishing licenses and get updated on the latest news about the fishing.

Nothing beats a fly rod bend over in a full bow.

Salmon on

First salmon landed

An evening sa lmon After dinner, we decide to return to the spot where Kenny caught his salmon earlier the same day. As we cross the meadow, Kenny once again asks me if I want to fish down first. This time I’m less generous. I just accept the invitation right away and walk down to start fishing where Kenny had started his fishing this morning.

Not even five minutes of peace does Kenny grant me this time before yelling: “Salmon!” Oh no, I think, not again. It’s not fair. That was ‘my’ salmon! As I start reeling in, Kenny is reduced to a mere spectator as the line run out at an unbelievable pace.

The fish has set off in direction downstream towards the fjord. In a few moments time the fish passes me. More than 100 meters of backing are out. The rod is bend over in a full bow, and Kenny starts running, too. Caught up! A little further downstream, the salmonpulls between two iron poles placed out in the river by an eel fisherman. There is no way, Kenny can counter it as the poles are connected to another pole on the bank by a cord – and the fly line is running under the cord. This time he is really caught up.

Slowly but relentlessly, Kenny approaches the pole. Now there is a danger that the rod will be knocked against the rusty metal, risking to break the rod or, worse still, he will lose that fish. We are both wearing short rubber boots as there is no need for waders when fishing at the height of summer.

“I think that salmon will cost you a wet sock!” I say. Kenny has no time for comments. Quickly he hands me his cell phone and wallet, then wades out. A meter from land, the water reaches to his belly button. Yet he needs to wade out further. He takes of his glasses and cast them to the bank. Cautiously, he wades takes a couple of steps into deeper water and manages to free the line from the first of the two iron poles.

General Practitioner is an effective salmon fly in Danish rivers, too.

Treading water to keep the head above the surface of the water and fighting the salmon at the same time!

Suddenly Kenny is afloat and fights to get the line past the second iron pole. He actually manages to free it and feels several hard jerks in the rod from the salmon. The fish is still moving downstream at a steady pace. More than 150 meters of the backing are out now.

Thanks to the buoyancy of the wadding jacket and good foot work, Kenny manages to stay in the surface.

His head and arms are on top of the water –most of the time. In between, he ducks under, then he resurfaces like a walrus and spits out a mouthful of water. Despite Kenny’s past career as an elite open water swimmer, he has to fight hard and for quite a long time to get foothold some 50 meters further downstream. He is shivering with the water pushing on his full body up to the neck. I reach out a hand to help him safely back onto land. He shivers like a drowned water rat as he trots of downstream in his water-filled boots. Slosh! Slosh! Slosh!

The salmon shows signs of fatigue and Kenny can regain the backing while I try to get some good shots with the camera. An invitation with guide

About half a mile downstream from where it took, we find an appropriate spot to land the fish. It is netted without much drama and quickly released.

Suffering from mild hypothermia, Kenny’s body shivers violently. Quickly we pack the tackle and head for the car. After Kenny has had a warm bath at the House of the Salmon, we send a text message to our mutual friends fishing in Norway,

”Salmon six kilos caught and released. If you should decide to stay home from your salmon holidays next year, we could fish together, here in the River Skjern. What do you say? I can guide you, if you wish?!”