Fly fishing in Iceland takes on the strangest of faces
The scene of the story, an angler casting on the Kvislafoss pool, the road bridge downstream and the northbank to the right. Photo by Heimir Óskarsson.
A lot of funny things tend to happen while fly fishing for salmon in Iceland. In some places they are called tall tales but as most anglers know only to well, you can hardly make up a fishing story that is so ridiculous that a true one cannot beat it every time. Here is one from the Laxa in Kjos.
The story involves Asgeir Heidar who is one of Iceland’;s most competent and excellent angling guides, a fellow with vast experience and know how. But everybody that excels in his field was raw once and Asgeir was raw in 1988 when he took his first job as a fly fishing guide on Laxa. His first client was an American fly fisherman. The story is well known among anglers in Iceland and was published in the book Laxa in Kjos and Bugda, only last year. As we have the copyright, here is the story, straight from the book:
One of his first clients was an American angler who turned out to be an accomplished fly fisherman. They were lucky, being allotted Kvislafoss for their first shift. Is was full of fresh salmon and they agreed that a Hairy Mary number 10 was a good fly to start with. This was in early July and the salmon were running in numbers. Asgeir liked his client and was determined to do well as he was new at this job and he wanted to make a good impression. Hopefully his client would ask for his services again if he ever came back.
Predictably, it didn’;t take many casts to hook a fish, in fact quite a big cock fish nailed the fly on the very first cast of the day.
Fish on in Kviskafoss pool. Looking upstream. Photo by Heimir Ásgeirsson.
From the start, the salmon was determined to break free. This is a difficult place at best if the salmon decide to run downstream, with a lot of deep channels, large boulders and the road bridge not 200 meters downstream. And this was an estimated 12 pounder.
Asgeir concentrated on the salmon. He totally blocked out everything around him and stayed close to the fish as it started to move closer to the north bank and with thee bridge looming large. Any number of boulders thereabouts could break it off and if it were able to run under the bridge at the north bank, the line would snag it and break. All the time Asgeir waded within close distance and waited for his chance to get the huge landing net under the salmon.
At last they were in the final run, precariously positioned just above the bridge over at the north bank. The salmon lying deep at the head of the run. Asgeir perched on a ledge, waist deep in the churning strong current He could see the salmon finning just above him and he knew that if he could not get the fish into the net at this stage, it would run past him, under the bridge, and the line would break. There would be nothing he could do to prevent so there were no other options than to take action.
So Asgeir decided that it was time to take a chance. He took a deep breath and plunged in with his head, up to his shoulders and somehow, wiggled the salmon into the net, burst out again and hoisted the silvery, thrashing fish aloft. Finally Asgeir had some contact with what was going on around him again, and he suddenly heard a ringing applause above his head. He looked up, only to see several dozen spectators on the bridge. Empty cars and a country bus. They had been watching the drama unfold and applauded the climax. Asgeir loved the moment, smiled gleefully, lofted the net higher and shook it. He then concentrated again on his position and how best to reach dry land again. But while wondering, something struck him. A familiar face in the crowd on the bridge? He looked back up into the sea of smiling faces, and sure enough, among the applauding group was none other than his client. The one he thought was playing the salmon. Seeing his surprised face, the client called down laughting: “Thank you Asgeir, but you realize that I lost him fifeteen minutes ago.”
