Matt Harris and friends chase abundant salmon on the hatchery-supported East Rangá in Iceland
TWENTY TWENTY-THREE has been a very tough Atlantic salmon season almost everywhere. Having fished for two pulls and one fish landed in 18 days of fishing, I was just about ready to hang up my spey rods and take up golf.
Then an old mate of mine, Pete Rippin, called. We talked about the good old days on the Kola Peninsula before Putin’s disgusting bloodbath in the Ukraine put an end to our travels in Russia. I bemoaned the fact we might never return. “There’s so few fish left anywhere else,” I lamented, but Pete wasn’t having it. “Come and see what we are doing on the East Rangá,” he countered. “That’s a hatchery fishery, right?” I asked with a hint of scepticism in my voice, but Pete cut me off with a laugh, “Just come and see it — and bring your rods.”
I arrived at the beautiful Aurora Lodge in early July and was thrilled to see a bunch of old friends. Jack Meredith, Dan Christensen, Iain Laing, Andy Britton and Pete Woodhouse — abunch of kindred spirits who all cherish the fishing on the Kola. They were all enthusiastic about the East Rangá, and were returning for the second, third or fourth time. The next day — nursing a sore head after a great night with old mates — Iwent with Jack and Iain to get a look at the river. Due to a freakish heatwave and perhaps the ongoing volcanic eruption at Fagradalsfjall on the Reykjanes Peninsula, the river was heavily coloured by glacial melt, but another old friend, our guide, the brilliant Irishman Matt Solon, seemed undeterred. “They’ll have it, even in this,” he winked. He was, as usual, spot on. Jack and Iain are excellent casters and canny anglers. They cover the water elegantly and efficiently and were just barely into their work when Iain lifted into a good fish. I rushed around with the camera to shoot some images and then watched in surprise as Jack, fishing down behind Iain was suddenly into a fish too. I turned to Matt and laughed.
“That’s not unusual here,” he grinned as he fetched the net.
Ten minutes later, I was looking at two spanking sea-liced salmon lying in the same net. Jack and Iain quickly held them up for the camera and then they both shot back into the East Rangá’s waters, none the worse for wear. Happy days. More fish followed. Wading down the long sweeping cut-bank at Drapubakki, Jack pulled out a lovely clean fish that gave him a spectacular run-around in the icy currents before Matt could scoop the fish up in his outsized net. The fish was hooked deep in the gills, and after attempting to revive it, Matt recognised that all further efforts were futile and swiftly dispatched it.
I looked at the clean silver fish l
