A wonderful coincidence?

24.2.2010 News

Gunnar Már, son of pioneer Haukur Þorleifsson, with a nice little grilse on opening day on Langá last season. Photo by Einar Páll Garaðrsson.

The old days are slowly fading into the mists of time and with them a whole lot of lore and history that has never been put on paper, simply reliant on aging humans passing them on, until…..

One of the pioneers in turning the mountain beats of Langa into some of the most prolific salmon fisheries in Iceland, was Haukur Þorleifsson, an old school banker who along with some friends purchased some property in the area. There was some wonderful trout fishing up there in those days but no salmon because of the imposing Sveðjufoss. Haukur and his friends started on Sveðjufoss and then went from one foss to another over the space of thirty years and some five fosses later, the river was accessable for salmon all the way upto the headwater lake.

 Over the many following years this band of brothers fished the upper Langá and discovered its secrets as the salmon gradually inhabited the river all the way to the lake. Haukur's son Gunnar told us an amazing story recently involving Haukur.  Gunnar takes it away:

The Green Highlander. Photo by Hilmar Hansson. 

“My fathers favourite pool was Hornhylur (Corner Pool below Sveðjufoss) and his favourite fly was the Green Highlander. For him there was nothing better while fishing than to hook a salmon on a Green Highlander in Hornhylur. Once he told us, having been fishing the pool, that a rainbow had appeared and soon he was standing under it! Now it must be said that my father was no idiot and very down to earth in fact. So I was surprised that he did not waver in telling us that he had indeed been standing under the rainbow.

Into a fish on a beautiful pool on the Mountain beats of Langá. Photo by Einar Falur.

This story stuck with the family long beyond his days and instead of contesting him, we simply shrugged and told each other that he had probably fallen asleep on the riverbank, which he frequently did, and dreamt the rainbow. Then, once awake, the memory had been so vivid in his mind that to him it seemed real.

Then, years after my father had passed away, my son Hörður and me were fishing the Hornhylur. I had just finished casting some fly over the pool and as I waded to the shore I saw Hörður waiting on the bank, having tied on a new fly. Suddenly I looked upstream, and behold, a beautiful rainbow had appeared, seeming to bridge the river just below the falls. “See the rainbow,” I said to Hörður with a knowing grin, remembering my father and his story. “Which fly did you pick?” I then asked Hörður. He smiled as he opened his palm, he had tied on a Green Highlander.