iS 
LAND & WATER 
December 14, 191G 
Days by Salmon Pools 
By William T. Palmer 
IN these days an hour or so of eventide may be given 
to that comfort of the salmon angler's soul, memory. 
One cannot point to mighty trophits of the sport, 
cannot produce signed (and even sworn) testimony 
of great kills. And not being wealthy, a private sketch 
of good salmon stream has never been more than a wish. 
But neither the e.xpert nor the rich can take awa\- the 
joys of days that are past. 
One's earliest memories of salmon are misty, dim, un- 
certain. There was the silver gleam of a great fish bending 
away from the shadow of a»small child jerking along the 
rock edge of the bridge-pool ; there was the tremendous 
leap over the mill weir, a resounding splash that day we 
lished the lodge with bent pins and paste-crumbs. There 
was the last feeble kicks of a great fish drawn on to the 
shingles of the ford by the blacksmith. Surely it is privi- 
lege indeed to have been brought up on the edge of a 
salmon water. 
And then, as one grew in stature, the wisdom of the 
waterside was opened as a book page by page. The sal- 
mon came most freely when the floods were full of fallen 
lea\es, when the " back-end " broke down in storm and 
rain, and for days the raging torrent licked and leapt 
near the tiny suspension bridge which had succeeded the 
ancient stepping stones. Great and joyous among fishes 
was the salmon, and particularly to be desired was an 
hour in the gorge of the waterfall where fish after fish 
leapt and failed, leapt again and succeeded in passing up 
that foamy ladder of waters. 
The ancient men of our village held that the waters 
would draw us— meaning to destruction, though in years 
to come they drew us to sport, and anc graduated by 
minnows and perch and trout to that king of all sporting 
fishes — the salmon. 
My real initiation was, however, somewhat irregular. 
A stranger called on me— a \illage lad— 10 assist in the 
taking of a fish, handed over the rod, and sat down to 
rest and enjoy my battle. The fish had given him a 
tiring half-hour. One soon found that the extra weight 
made much of my trout knowledge of danger rather than 
practical use, but luckily the strenuous thirty minutes had 
exhausted most of the salmon's power. There was some 
hesitation at coaxing into, guiding across, a swift current, 
but a slight strain roused him to action, and after that 
matters went easily. But the stranger claimed the fish- — 
and I got a shilling. To me my prize was the more 
\aluable. 
West and north and far north, south and east and on 
the confines of the sea, one has had great sport among the 
salmon. One has spent many a happy day in the glens 
when th(^waters ran clear and low, and the coming rain 
was but a twitching in the barometer. There is a charm 
about the surnnmdings of salmon fishing which thrills 
though the years grow into a long tale, and the miles 
between are many. ^ 
There is that south-country stream where a belt of 
shingle forms a great pool at low tide, a veritable trap for 
salmoi. should the inland waters be low and bright. One 
has waned out on that bar for many a long cast when a 
" certain liveliness " has shown salmon on the move. 
But one Iiad to be wary indeed for the shingle was narrow, 
and on the land-side it was but a step into seemingly 
fathomless mud. And the heavy waters j^laycd havoc 
with the thorns cast in to prevent poachim;. One's feet 
were constantly tripping over or tangling in their debris 
any many a fine fish was lost by fouled broken lines. Yet 
though uncomfortable and difficult the shingle bar has a 
reputation for good sport on a suitable day. 
The typical rivers of the English East Coast are hardly 
swift enough for the salmon's delight, though time was 
when the Thames was a great haunt of their kind. And 
may be again when education has pro\ed to all and 
sundry that a stream is not a channel for casual or manu- 
facturing filth. Further up the coast the rivers become 
more sintable, and one has watched the great fishes leap- 
ing under the bows of a big in-bound cargo tramp. And 
inland the ri\ers run Imskly, with many a shady nook, 
many a deep pool where the %alley drift has been washed 
off down to the living rock. Such a pool is now in one s 
mind, with a great railwav bridge stilting over, and the 
possibilitv of a " gallerv " to one's strike and ])lay. 
Legend s'avs that in less "strenuous times the guard of a 
halted train perceived a strange angler in difticulties down 
here. His salmon would not move from beneath a rock. 
So down the steep embankment slid the railway-man, 
stoned the fish from its hold, and breathless, clambered 
back to duty before the signals had given " right ahead." 
And the record is written in the books of a great angUng 
club, for the fish was a giant indeed. 
Touch of the Seabreeze 
And now one's mind fails to record in true order the 
salmon pools one has fished. Are we not over the Border .-' 
There was a wee stretch of Tweed, a longer one of Spcy 
something worth while on the Findhorn. And out in the 
Hebrides one has knowledge of lochs which are salt, and 
fjords which are fresh, of higher and lower waters, of 
rivers where tide and flood rips arc dangerous furies. 
But whever one's salmon is to be taken, one hkes to fet4 
the sea-breeze on one's cheek, to taste the tang and saltness 
of great waters near at hand. 
Yet far inland, in brawling torrents, there are pools 
which cannot be cut out of memory— pools so close- 
gripped in rock that a hooked salmon has to be played 
down cascades and across minor streams before the gaff 
comes into use. There are pools beneath the alders where 
the fish are invisible in the blackness, and where one has 
to wade waist deep to get within safe casting distance. 
Then there is that place of delight, a rock firm-footed in a 
half-mile of swift-coursing water. If there be a fish 
anywhere it is Iving in the tiny swirl behind that rock, 
ajid one lucky day" a succession of six glorious fighters 
came to the rod here. Last time one passed the place 
(in the train) a big flood was casting fountains of spra\- 
over the polished black shoulders, and from the edge of a 
little bay an angler was busily casting. Lucky fellow— 
I wonder where, he is to-day ! 
There are also the peat -pots of the Highland streams- 
holes scooped by yesterday's flood to be filled level by that 
of to-morrow. Unknown places these with sheer depths 
and under-cut banks, often well decorated with branches 
and tree-roots and more troublesome to fish than even the 
trough in the rocky glen. 
But what of the lochs, the lakes, the Uyns, the loughs. 
The pen falters at the words for memOry passes beyond 
that poverty-stricken medium of exchange. The purpl. 
"mountains, the clouds trailing among the rocky turrets, 
the hillsides aflare with crimson and gold, the fresh green 
of the grass land, the bronze of the heather, tlie plumed 
larch, the green-topped fir of the islands, the m^vin;; 
waters, the steady boat— no, words are a faihure. Let the 
finest j)art of salmon-fishing pass in silence. 
One would have liked to record that the salmon in 
different waters are much different in moods and habits, 
and one has indeed been tempted to the belief when fly 
after fly of favourite brands has been unable to coax 
a single rise, and then some local nondescript has killed 
lish after fish. Like all other sporting fish, the salmon is 
capable of high education, and where he is' much sought 
for he becomes as finicky as a Thames trout, as djiinty 
in tastes as a canal roach, who prefers a slight tincture of 
opium in his diet. On his day of wild feeding the salmon 
will come at any lure — when he is out of sorts, nothing 
will prc\ail. And in certain waters it is bitterly said that 
fish prefer the strange flies of those " off-come bodies " 
to anything which may be presented. 
Fishing water— outside, there is stariight, a frosty 
air, a stillness in which even my poplars fail to rustic 
their leaves. One has fished under such circiunstances, 
but the true weather for salmon is — ah ! what is it .'' 
The tail-end of a wet week, a time of spring tides, the fish 
thoroughly on the mov^e, the waters not too turbid nor 
yet too clear, and then what matter if a squaU of sleet 
or rain or hail should come down while your biggest is 
making a gallant fight for freedom. 
