SALMON AND TROUT MEMORIES 



good fish in brilliant sunshine, in the middle of the day, in 

 water as clear as gin. Hans woke up to enthusiasm, rowed to 

 shore, seized his gafT, and after twenty exciting minutes, during 

 which a lusty salmon fought in vain for liberty and life, inserted 

 the steel point into a broad silver side, and presently deposited 

 a noble 3 5 -lb. fish in the well of the boat. We fished down the 

 pool with a fresh prawn, lost another fish — how a salmon can 

 seize a many-triangled prawn and then get off is one of the many 

 inexplicable mysteries of fishing — killed a grilse, and then re- 

 turned home to lunch, to find two 25 lb. salmon caught by my 

 partner lying on the doorstep. And so was confidence estab- 

 lished in the occasional efficacy of midday salmon-fishing in 

 brilliant sunshine. 



Some of the finest and most prolific of Norwegian salmon 

 rivers are those north of Trondhjem. Of the mighty Namsen 

 I know only by hearsay. But it was my fortune for a few years 

 to be lessee of the famous Forsjord beat of the Vefsen, a river 

 of great size and volume still farther north, near the Arctic 

 Circle, where in July 1907 I enjoyed some of the best salmon- 

 fishing I have ever experienced. About twelve miles up from 

 Mosjoen, the town at the north of the Vefsen, is the Foss pool, 

 about the size of Trafalgar Square, the cream of the Forsjord 

 beat. 



Never shall I forget my first morning on that pool, the day 

 after my arrival, and before I had had full time properly to 

 sort my tackle, or get fairly attuned to the feel of rod and scream 

 of reel. Ole, my boatman, was a taciturn, gloomy individual, 

 somewhat unlike the usual run of cheery, willing, simple- 



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