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FISHING IN
LAPLAND AND AMONGST ELK AND BEAR "A beaver head moved
silently across the surface of the water downstream where the
veils of mist, faintly red-tinged by a sun already below the
horizon, had started their nightly dance out on the water,"
writes Harry Salmgren, captain of the Swedish International Fly
Fishing Team, of his wild country fishing experience in Lycksele,
Lapland fishing conservation area. I had heard that bears also had increased in the area, but this didnīt worry me too much. They usually always have time to hide before the inquisitive visitor catches sight of them: Only their droppings, similar to cowpats, gave tell-tale evidence of their presence in the vicinity. Brown trout fishing in beaver land My fishing guide promised that there would be a lot of both brown trout and grayling in the rivers we were making for along twisting gravel tracks. However, most caracteristic were the surroundings with deep forests and several beaver traps. Pointed, gnawed-off treestubs along the river banks also showed where they had ravaged. With feverish zeal I prepared the fishing tackle, and an E-12 imitating a caddis fly on the surface of the water was my first choice of fly. A couple of swift false casts in the air and then the WF-line lay stretched out on the water. A loud splash near the shore close by set my heart turning summersaults. Oh - only a beaver startled by the guide who had started collecting twigs and brushwood for our campfire where he would be keeping the coffee pot heated until far into the light summer night. Smack! A resounding smack interrupted my contemplation of the beaver and the fly line went taut. The E-12 had disappeared. A growing wake revealed that a fish had been there, but the line was slack and the fish had vanished. Typical me, always lacking in concentration at the start fishing trip when all the new impressions attract oneīs attention at the same time. All the new sounds and movements of the wild weer as enticing as the fishing. But I knew the the fishing would win. ...as night falls Dusk had started to fall and
the fire the fishing guide had built spread a pleasant glow
around our camping place a bit up towards the edge of the
forrest. I had again thrown out the fly when a large brown trout
suddenly leapt out of the water, the line tautened in pulsating
jerks and ran off the reel. The fishing guide, who had heard the
sound of the reel, came happily to my aid. The brown trout tried
frantically to free itself from the hook, but was in the end
forced to give up. It was a beautiful 6 The fishing guide put more
twigs and brushwood on the fire and it burst
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