Story and Flies:
Bob Erickson
of Huntington, VT |
Bob works for the Defense Department and lives in Vermont
with his wife and son and a chocolate lab named Baxter. Bob
finds plenty of time for fishing and exploring, especially
near his camp in Rangeley,
Maine, where there is great trout and salmon fishing. |
Be sure to see Bob's other
flies and stories:
Streamers for Labrador
The Maine Event
Sucker Spawn
Deer Hair Mouse |
Salmo
Salar. The Leaper. King of Fishes, the Fish of Kings. “Born
in Northern Rivers, nurtured in the high seas, the Atlantic
salmon has captured the hearts and minds of man to a degree
rivaled by few other wild creatures”. “Fishing for Atlantic
salmon is not just about catching salmon on a fly. It is
about the romance of the river and one’s encounter with the
noblest and most enigmatic of God’s creatures”. Pretty heady
words. I had become convinced that I needed to take the
chance of landing a wild Atlantic salmon before I died. Or
before the salmon were gone. Yes, I’d caught my share of
landlocked salmon in my home rivers of Maine and some nice
ones too, but it was the thought of hooking an Atlantic,
silver bright and fresh from the ocean, that really sparked
my imagination.
I typed
“Atlantic salmon fishing” on Google and hit search. Halfway
down the second page I found the link to Grey River Lodge.
The opening sentence from the web site pulled me in: “World
class Atlantic salmon fly fishing action awaits the traveler
following a 60 minute helicopter flight over unspoiled
wilderness to the most remote river on the island of
Newfoundland”. I read on. Some of the best pools are located
near the lodges, but many more are accessible if you are
willing to hike. Many pools have yet to be named. Minimal
angling pressure and long days of fishing during whatever
hours one prefers, no schedule to follow here.
Grey
River was sounding like my idea of what fly fishing is meant
to be. The Grey River salmon run is abundant; two of the
last three seasons have been the most productive since the
opening of the lodges twelve years ago. All this, and to top
it off the Grey is in Newfoundland. Ever since I had spent
two weeks fishing in Labrador with Newfoundland guides, I’d
longed to visit the land and experience the culture that
shaped such warm, witty, hard working and seemingly care
free people.
I
emailed Tony Tuck, the owner, inquiring about the
possibility of a trip in 2008. Tony sent a promotional DVD
shot in 2004. The film opens with a salmon hook up, followed
by a twisting leap of incredible height and a scorching,
drag singing, to the backing run. There are aerial shots
from the helicopter of the two lodges (the Forks and Salmon
Brook), the river, rugged and beautiful countryside and
wildlife. One of guests interviewed believes he has died and
“gone to heaven”. Tony also sent a list of references. The
first three of those that I spoke with didn’t go into a lot
of detail on their Grey River experience except to say just
go! Here are some of the words I heard: “But the charm of
Newfoundland would draw me back in a heartbeat” “An
outfitter that really gets it” “You won’t regret it” “If I
lived back East, I’d be a regular”. A very high percentage
of Grey River fishermen are repeat guests. Openings for the
month long season fill quickly, but there was one available
for 2007, the third week of June. That opening was at the
Salmon Brook lodge. Located on a tributary of the Grey, it
is restricted to only three anglers per week, fitting for
the much smaller water. I called Tony and took it.

Salmon
Brook Camp.
With
only two months left before I would leave, I needed to start
tying flies. The recommended list was surprisingly short.
From one of the seasonal reports: “On the Grey River, you
only need two flies – A Blue Charm
and a spare Blue Charm”. Other favorite wets are
Green Highlander, Black
bear/Green butt, Thunder and Lightning,
Silver Tip, Silver Doctor, Cosseboom
and Green Machine. The
Grey River salmon “are wonderfully surface minded” so
Bombers in various colors are must haves. It was fun and
exciting to tie new, different patterns with such fanciful
names. Forward thinking Newfoundland regulations require
single, barbless hooks to promote quick, safe catch and
release. Another enlightened regulation: Your angling day is
done at four fish, even if all are released.
A good
fishing friend and I came to the conclusion this spring that
90% of fishing success is being in the right place at the
right time. I was soon to learn that with Atlantic salmon
you can bump that up to 100%. As I was waiting in the
heliport in Pasadena to fly in, four of the eight anglers
that been in at the Forks Lodge touched down. They did not
look happy. They had landed a total of one salmon for the
week. And the water was low. It did not look promising. I
then met the two folks I’d be spending the week with; Carl
Monk is the vice president of an insurance company from St
Johns and Bob Lapiene, a foundation contractor from
Nantucket Island. Both Carl and Bob would prove to be great,
upbeat companions. This was to be Bob’s eighth consecutive
trip to Salmon Brook. As we approached the lodge, Bob could
see the water was indeed low. He said, “We’re in trouble
boys.”

Fellow guest Bob Lapiene
and guide Dennis
We were
greeted by guides Dennis and Alvin, Alvin’s wife Marie was
our cook. Alvin and Marie were from the small community of
Grey River at the bottom of the fiord eight miles down
river. To put the area in perspective, Grey River’s
population is 120, no roads, boat access only. Power came in
1972, phone in 1975! Both Dennis and Alvin had been guiding
out of Salmon Brook since it was built. We had a late lunch
that featured wonderful bread baked hours before by Marie.
Later in the week other native delicacies I got to enjoy
were cod cheeks and tongue and bakeapple jam. Bakeapple is a
berry that looks a lot the Western salmon berry.
Then it
was time to fish. It was hard to be optimistic; Dennis or
Alvin had yet to see a salmon. At the head of the Cauldron
Pool is a falls that tends to force the salmon to stack up
from there down to the Bathtub Pool below and on through the
runs that end at Red Rock Pool. Dennis started me off at
Cauldron Pool. I had a lot to learn. Bombers were to be
skated smoothly both up and downstream. Wet flies were
“hitched”; a half hitch or two were tied in behind the eye
of hook. The leader ends up 90 degrees from the fly and
causes it to wake across the surface trailing a perfect
little “v”. I picked up the techniques well enough to meet
Dennis and Alvin’s approval, now if only the salmon would
come. Three days later, I finally got my chance.

Looking
upriver from the Bathtub to the falls in the Cauldron Pool.
Wednesday evening after dinner Dennis and I were fishing Red
Rock pool. I was skating a bomber down the center of the run
when a nose poked up. Dennis jumped up exclaiming that was a
salmon. My heart raced. The next cast brought a swirl; then
Dennis signaled me over to where he waited before I could
cast again. I was about to get my next lesson in salmon
fishing. It was time to rest the fish and build tension in
the fish and the fisherman! We gave it a few minutes beyond
what it took for Dennis to smoke a cigarette. By the time I
got back to casting my hands were shaking. Dennis had me
alternate between skating and dead drift. I began to lose
hope after the tenth cast, but Dennis told me to keep at it.
Two drifts later, the salmon literally exploded on the fly.
I’d never witnessed anything like the ferocious abandon with
which the fish took; it was as if he wanted to kill the fly.
I instinctively struck back. From behind me I heard Dennis
yell, “You got him, my son, you got him!” and I felt the
slap of his hand on my back. The fight was on. I could sense
when the salmon was about to jump, the raw energy vibrated
up the line, through the rod and into my hand. The height of
the leaps were hard to believe, five, even six feet off the
water seemed effortless. When Dennis finally tailed him, we
saw how bright he really was, there were red marks on the
belly where sea lice had been attached It took a while for
me to recover. A half hour later as darkness approached, it
happened again. The same scenario, the vicious take
following a cigarette’s worth of wait. This salmon committed
suicide by coming down head first from one of the terrific
jumps on a piece of exposed ledge in the middle of the pool.
He got tagged and provided my dinner for next three nights.
Hiking back to camp, we were ecstatic. Maybe the salmon were
going to come on strong?

The
salmon that killed itself. Note the red sea lice marks.
But
over the next three days nobody rose or saw a salmon. Friday
afternoon Dennis suggested we take a ride in the “Argo”; an
eight wheeled all terrain vehicle, up to some ponds he
thought might have some brook trout in them. He had seen
some otter activity in the area. The Argo is normally used
during the hunting season to transport moose and caribou
back to camp. Although the ponds proved to be barren, the
ride was an exhilarating one. The ground the Argo could
negotiate was astonishing. We saw caribou and willow
ptarmigan. It felt good to take a break.
Dennis,
Carl and Bob cruising in the “Argo” with upper Salmon Brook
in the background.
We
fished without enthusiasm on Saturday morning. We were due
to fly out at three in the afternoon. I think everyone felt
kind of let down. Then the fog rolled in. We weren’t getting
out that night. Well, we might as well fish. It was still
socked in the next morning; Dennis suggested I try the tail
out of the Cauldron Pool. I raised a salmon! And after a
rest he took hard on the next cast and snapped the fly. Five
minutes later, he jumped higher up in the pool and there was
my bomber clearly visible tucked in the corner of his jaw.
It seemed the ultimate humiliation, but Dennis cheered me
on. I’m so glad he did. We dropped down to Third Pool where
I raised another salmon and again I hooked him on the second
drift. He was the largest of the week at 27” and 8 pounds on
the “salmometer”. It was a satisfying end to one tough week
of fishing. I could go home knowing everyone had given it
their best shot.

Third
Pool
So one
might think I was disappointed with the trip. But given the
conditions, I was more than happy and am determined to go
back. I believe it was just an off year. For the same week
in 2006, 54 fish were hooked out of Salmon Brook Camp. For
some reason they were late.
I
learned how to fish for Atlantic salmon. And I found out
that the words used to eulogize the Atlantic salmon are dead
on. The Atlantic salmon is indeed one of God’s noblest
creatures. They certainly proved to be enigmatic! I saw some
uniquely beautiful country and got to ride in an Argo and a
helicopter. Best of all, I met some folks that in a weeks
time came to feel like close friends. Who could ask for
more?

The
helicopter arrives to take us back to civilization.

The
headwaters of Grey during our departure
- Bob Erickson
Blue Charm |

Photos by Peter Frailey
Tying
Sequence:
Hook:
TMC 7999 #8
Thread: Uni 8/0
Tag: Silver Tinsel
Tail: Golden Pheasant Crest
Butt: Chartreuse Uni Stretch
Body: Black Uni Stretch
Rib: Oval Silver Tinsel
Throat: Blue Guinea
Wing: Black Polar Bear |
|
Green Highlander |

Photos by Peter Frailey
Tying
Sequence:
Butt:
Black Ice Dub
Body: Chartreuse Uni Stretch and Green
Dubbing
Throat: Yellow Hackle Fibers
Wing: Green Polar Bear |
|
Thunder and Lightning |

Photos by Peter Frailey
Tying
Sequence:
Tag:
Gold Tinsel
Butt: Pumpkin Uni Stretch
Rib: Gold Oval Tinsel
Throat: Orange and Blue Guinea
Wing: Black Polar Bear |
|
Krystal Bug |

Photos by Peter Frailey
Tying
Sequence:
Hook:
TMC 7989 #8
Tail: Green Krystal Flash
Butt: Chartreuse Uni Stretch
Body: Green Deer Hair, spun and clipped
Hackle: Orange Saddle |
|
Brown Bombers (2) |


Photos by Peter Frailey
Tying
Sequence:
Hook:
TMC 7989 #8
Thread: Uni 6/0
Tails and Wings: Calf Tail
Butts: Uni Stretch
Bodies: Deer Hair, spun and clipped
Hackle: Saddle: Brown, Orange |
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