282 A Sportsman at Large 



on the occasion of this, my second visit to the Sand ; but we 

 had quite a number over thirty pounds, the biggest of which 

 (thirty-seven pounds) fell to the skilfully wielded rod of Mary 

 Lambert, who also had others of thirty and thirty-two pounds ; 

 whilst I took one of thirty-five and lost another, probably 

 a few pounds heavier, in rather curious and certainly 

 aggravating fashion. 



I was fishing with fly (a " Wilkinson ") the swift run which 

 connects the Foss Pool with the A asen ; whilst Tom and his 

 wife stood on the rocks above watching me cast. Almost 

 immediately I got fast in a very big fish, which headed down- 

 stream in an attempt to reach the lower pool. I managed 

 to thwart its intention, and, after a time, had the salmon 

 beaten to a frazzle ; but I was in a cul-de-sac and could proceed 

 no further. The salmon was some twelve yards below me, tail 

 down the stream, which was running so strongly that it was 

 quite impossible to drag the fish against it. I could see it 

 plainly, and judged it to be about thirty-seven pounds. I 

 was never in such a hopeless position. I have often won- 

 dered what I ought to have done under the circumstances. 

 It seems to me that the only hope of success would have 

 been to have allowed the salmon to drift gradually and quietly 

 to the head of the A asen a distance of about seventy-five 

 yards, then, if I could have crawled up the rocks, I might 

 possibly have shifted the line as I progressed until I could 

 gain the Pool. 



But this operation would have had to be carried out " blind," 

 as it were, for the rocks inevitably would have hidden the fish 

 from my sight. 



But it is no use discussing what " might have been " except 

 from an academic point of view. All I could do was to make 

 futile attempts to drag the weighty fish up against the stream. 

 All the time I was doing so, it was shaking its head violently 

 and continuously ; so that it was not long before it succeeded 

 in wearing itself loose. Then it slithered away down-stream, 

 lost to sight and (by no means) to memory dear. 



Tom and Mary told me that, from where they were standing 

 on the rocks above, they could see exactly what happened 

 when the fish took my fly. They said it was a wonderful 



