Salmon and the Stream

by JACK RUSSELL

1

YEARS ago there was but one general type of salmon rod, and that was the heavy, twohanded rod, such as is used on British waters. It was made either of greenheart or of split bamboo. Even as late as 1931, English manufacturers were recommending 12 to 14 foot rods for grilse, and 15 to 17 foot rods for salmon, and they still say that these heavier rods are better than the lighter ones. The rods weighed from 12 to 26 ounces — sometimes more.

Hewitt’s Secrets of the Salmon, however, opened up a new era in fishing tackle. The lighter rod with a detachable butt began to come into its own in American and Canadian fishing, and today the only place in America you will ever see the larger rods is on the waters of the Restigouche, Grand Cascapedia, Bonaventure, or other Quebec streams.

I believe that a rod of from 7 1/2 to 10 ounces is heavy enough for all ordinary salmon waters in New Brunswick. As a matter of fact, I have about a dozen rods of my own, and the heaviest one is a 12 ounce Thomas, which I never use except for June fishing on the Bonaventure River, out on the Gaspé coast. That rod is a two-handed one, and is well over twenty years old. During the rest of the season I seldom use a rod over 9 ounces, and I have killed a 30 pound June run fish in thirty-five minutes with a 9 ounce Paine rod.

There are many rod makers, but I happen to have confined all my rods to four makes: namely, Leonard, Thomas, and Paine, which are all made in the States, and Hardy, the English rod.

Rods are like golf clubs, tennis racquets, or any other sporting equipment. What suits one man will not necessarily do for another. I have tried out ten or twelve rods before finding one that “feels right.” I have been asked many times to select a rod for someone, and always hesitate, because what will suit me may not suit the one who will use it.

We frequently have casting contests in the dooryard of my base camp. If I have made a long cast, someone will say, “Well, that is because of your special rod.” I ask him to try it himself, and oftener than not, though he will be able to make just as long a cast with his own rod, he will fail with mine.

The fascination of a long cast is like hitting a long ball in golf. It is the hardest thing to get an angler to stop. Yet I find that long casting on the stream is of value only on rare occasions.

Most salmon are hooked at not over 60 feet from the canoe. When longer casts are consistently made, the angler will start out fishing with a cast too far away from his location, and he cannot fish so carefully as when he starts a few feet away.

To cover the water properly, one should start from 15 to 18 feet away, casting first on one side and then on the other, with the same length of line; then, stripping a short length of line off the reel, start over. In this way every foot of water will be covered on each drop. There is no real reason for trying to cover 80 to 100 feet of water, because the guide will drop you down the few feet needed to allow the shorter and far more useful cast.

If a fish is hooked with a very long line, he has the advantage of you at once, for his first run is quite likely to take your casting line off, and run well into the backing. A smart guide will follow the fish quickly enough to allow you to recover your backing, but it is much more difficult with the long line at the start. With the current of the river and the normal pull of the fish, a long line offers a lot of resistance, and I think that many fish are lost soon after hooking because the weight of line helps to pull the hook out.

When fishing dry fly, with a very long leader, I do think the long caster has an advantage. During dry-fly time, which is after the water warms up and is clear and low, the fish is quite likely to refuse any offering if he is close to you. But I have hooked and killed a fish that was lying about 10 feet away.

Most fish are hooked in the arc at the end of the cast. That is to say, when the fly has been cast out to the side, at an angle of about 45 degrees, it will be carried downstream by the current and will reach the “hot spot” a few feet from the end of the cast, and there I find most fish are hooked. The most difficult place to hook a fish is straight below you. I have seen many a fish come up to the fly at that point, but they invariably miss it. I remember one summer day on the Bonaventure when my good friend, E. E. Risley, a very expert angler with all sorts of tackle, was fishing greased line on a pool where there were at least fifty salmon in sight. And although I sat on the bank during a good part of the day, helping direct his cast either to drop the fly right over a fish, or to allow it to come over him, we did not have a single fish come up for the fly. “Riz,” as he is affectionately known, had tried every trick he knew, and he knows them all, but no fish.

Beginners who have been used to trout fishing have a hard time to keep from striking a salmon. That usually ends up with the fish breaking away at once, or with his missing the fly altogether. It has been my experience that the fish hooks himself, and he is on before you realize he is after your fly.

In casting, some fishermen work the rod up and down with a slight movement, to impart a jerk to the fly, and others just let the fly float down naturally. Personally, I always work my rod. It is difficult to say which method gets the most fish, or whether there is any difference at all.

It would seem that anyone casting a fly out in the stream should hook fish the same as the other fellow, but that does not follow. I have seen an experienced angler get fast to a fish almost at once, when called on to try, after a beginner had fished over the salmon for a long time. The same rod and the same fly were used by both men. Good casting is an art, for it is beautiful to watch. And where there are fish, it can produce grand results.

But it does not always work out that the perfect caster is the best fisherman. We had occasion to entertain a well-known expert from New Jersey. His handling of a fly rod was perfection. Long casts were his specialty, and the whole camp was lined up watching him. Another angler, just returning from the same pools as the pro, had two salmon in his canoe. The professional had none. Yet the second angler had allowed the pro to go ahead of him in all the pools. As the successful angler approached the camp where the exhibition was taking place, he had, in all humility, taken his fly out of the water, and was in the bleachers with the rest of us.

The guide who handled the pro asked me privately if I had ever had a fish net round my head. I said, “No, why?” The guide said, “This long caster cannot handle his line in this wind, and it has been wrapped around my head so many times it reminds me of a fish net.”

It is my opinion that the presentation of the fly spells the difference between beginning and experience. In the early June fishing, one must fish slowly and well below the surface, and after the water has cleared up and is warmer, the fly should be fished a bit faster and nearer the surface.

During the very early spring fishing on the Miramichi, for kelt fish, it is quite usual to weight the fly, or the leader, to get the fly down to the fish.

Like rods, flies are also a frequent source of inquiry, and it is easy to answer that question, for there has been little change in basic patterns from the beginning of salmon angling on this continent. I do not mean to imply that there have not been changes, and very definite ones, but the standard patterns hold good year after year, such as Jock Scott, Black Dose, Silver Gray, Dusty Miller, Silver Doctor, Durham Ranger, Mar Lodge, to mention the most common ones.

In addition to that list there are many flies which seem to do well on different waters. On the Miramichi, for instance, we use the Abe Munn Killer during the summer. That fly was originated on the river by an old guide, who probably had to tie the original with barnyard feathers. On the Bonaventure, during July, the Green Highlander is a very effective fly.

The size of the hook varies from the 5/0 in the early season to the 8 during the summer, or during low water, and the double-hook fly is the one commonly used. I am frequently asked which is the more effective, the double or single hook. I think that it is simply a matter of choice. It is certain that the double hook is easier to cast, on account of the weight at the extreme end of the line, but just as many fish are killed by the single hook. I have often heard it said that the double hook floats with the barbs down, but I would rather have them upside down, as a fish is far more solidly hooked if caught in the upper part of the mouth.

2

FOR many years I have made dry-fly fishing a study and hobby, and developed what is known as downstream casting. For many seasons I have been perfecting a cast which is exactly opposite to all established practice.

Because the rivers are too high in the early part of the season, and the water too cold, for dry flies, I seldom start using them until well into July, when the water is clear and low. Standing in the canoe, in order to handle a good lot of line, I start out by stripping some line off the reel, letting it coil at my feet. Then I cast the fly right up in the air, downstream from the canoe, checking it in midair to allow it to drop on the water as lightly as possible. Then, before the fly takes up the slack, I start passing out the coiled line at my feet, so that there will be no appreciable drag on the fly itself, and allow it to go the full length of the spare line.

I try to raise my fly off the water before it has sunk, but if it does sink, I dry it by the orthodox method of false casts in the air, and go through the process all over again, stripping more line off with each cast, until I have covered the water I want to fish. This is my most successful way of killing salmon. I have had experienced dry-fly men criticize it because there is more drag to the fly. I claim it makes no difference, and have proved it time and time again by killing fish right after all sorts of wet and dry flies have failed to raise them.

The next day, with my downstream method I killed the limit, eight fish, and did it all in a few hours’ fishing. Riz, who is very skillful with a dry fly, also tried it with marked success. He assured me that he had used that same method in Norway, where he had been fishing the year before. However, this style of dry-fly fishing has become known as “Jack Russell’s Dry-Fly Method,” and I recommend it to anyone who has had blank days in the summer, when fish are hard to interest.

For flies I use the Pink Lady, Grey Hackle, and Brown Bi-Visible, tied Palmer, sizes 6 and 8, for early July, or whenever the water is not extremely low, and then I even use down to size 10. You will have difficulty in killing the larger fish with such small flies, but by using a 7 to 8 ounce rod, and fishing with a very light hand, you will tire the fish in an incredibly short time.

Ordinarily I use a leader 12 feet in length, Hewitt pattern, tapered from 3/5 to 9/5, and if that does not raise fish, I put an extra length of 9/5 on until I have a leader up to 18 feet long.

I notice that the new Nylon leader is gradually coming into more common use. When it was first introduced it was hard to tie on a fly or attach to the line, because the leader seemed to come untied so easily. Lately, I have found that this defect appears to have been overcome, and Nylon is used with success by a fair percentage of salmon anglers.

The usual length of the leader for wet-fly use is 9 feet, with the sizes varying from 2/5 for heavy work to 5/5 for lighter fishing, and late in the season. The larger size 2/5 is used principally during high water and with the two-handed rod. I think that the most useful for summer fishing is the 4/5, 9 feet long. All sizes quoted are English.

Greased-line fishing has been introduced within the last few years, and is popular with many salmon devotees. The practice, developed in England, is successful in many instances where all other methods fail. The fly is fished just below the surface of the water, with the line very well greased, so that it will float on the surface at all times. Contrary to my method of dry-fly fishing, the fly is cast upstream at an angle, and drops downstream with as little drag as possible. A. H. E. Wood, of Cairnton on Deeside, England, has written at length on this style of fishing, and anyone interested should get his articles.

Reels and lines should be carefully selected to balance the rod they are to be used with. Hardy’s St. John, Number 2, is the best reel I have ever used for dry fly, and for all rods between 6 and 8 ounces in weight. This reel easily carries 35 yards of I.B.I. (English size) line, with 100 yards of backing, and that amount of fine will suffice for all ordinary light-tackle fishing.

For the heavier rods, I use a Hardy Perfect, sizes 3 3/4 inches and 4 inches, also the Hardy Cascapedia size 3/0, and the American-made Vom Hofe, than which there is no better.

I was trained on English-made lines, and thought there were no others fit to use, but during the early part of 1932 I was asked to try out an American line made by the Ashaway Company. Julian T. Crandall, the fourth generation of Crandalls in fishing-line manufacture, came up on the Restigouche with me to see his line in actual use on heavy fish. My experience with the fine convinced me that I should never have to go abroad again to find a perfect line. I have never used any other line since that time.

The multicolored line was first conceived in my camp. On the train going to Canada, Julian Crandall had been trying to figure out how much line could be picked up by the caster, once the line was in the water. That led to a discussion of how a person could tell how much line was being cast or picked up. The idea finally was suggested that line could be colored every few feet, with different colors; and the next season, I had the opportunity of trying out the first one ever used in salmon angling. I have been able to tell accurately just what I am doing in line lengths since then. I can tell to the inch where my rod will pick up the line easiest, and in the event of raising a fish and not hooking it, I can tell just where he is lying by glancing at the color of my fine at the tip of my rod. And when I offer him the fly, after a rest, he is easily located.

3

THE New Brunswick government disposes of its valuable salmon privileges by holding an auction every ten years and letting the waters to the highest bidder. This arrangement includes some of the most famous salmon waters of the world, the Restigouche being the principal one. The Kedgwick and Upsalquitch are the tributary streams that are of most importance in that watershed.

The government establishes an upset price on the leases to be offered, and in the case of the Restigouche the water is usually all sold at the upset price, as the Restigouche Salmon Club has controlled the best of the leased waters for many years, and an outsider would have but a slim chance of ever outbidding the club for any water the Club may want. The Club has established fine camps along the river, and has not only developed the fishing but has been an important factor in the lives of the natives of the area.

It is my opinion that the Riparian Association of the Restigouche is the best-organized concern of its kind in the world. The Club, and other lessees and owners of water on the river, organized the Association for the purpose of conservation and propagation of salmon. They have a guardian staff that is fully aware of the responsibility of their job, and a stranger never gets on the river without being “catalogued.”

In the first place, if one intends going on the river at or near the upper end, or at the mouth of the Kedgwick, it is necessary to stop at a government station to be registered, for no one is allowed in the area without going through this formality. There will be guardians all along the river, and if you are not in charge of a known guide, you will be stopped several times to show your credentials.

I had an experience one moonlit night when I was operating on the Restigouche. One of the guardians on my stretch of the river, Leslie Farrar, had often boasted that no one could get through his beat, either day or night, without being known.

The night in question I arrived at Broderick’s Landing, four miles above my camp, just before midnight. I had a new mattress in the car to be taken down to camp. Since the night was as light as any moon could make it, and since I knew every inch of the river, I shoved off with the mattress stuck up in the bow of the canoe. All went well, and as I passed the guardian’s shack about 2 1/2 miles downstream I laughed to myself over what I would say to Leslie the following day. I was about 200 yards below his camp when I heard the unmistakable sound of a paddle hitting on a canoe, and turning around I saw Leslie coming like a steamboat. He called to me to stop at once, and I let him come up to me. When he saw who I was, and had a look at the mattress in the canoe, he told me that he thought I was a poacher with a drift net, ready to sweep some pool. He had heard my paddle touch the side of my canoe, and set off after me thinking that he was making a rare haul.

I was thoroughly impressed with the efficiency of our guardian service.

The guardians have a patrol who pick up the fish before they even reach the river itself, and keep close watch on them until they are well into the river, where the various patrolmen see to it that the fish reach the upper stretches without being disturbed except by the angler. In years gone by, the commercial interests and the anglers have had many disagreements as to “rights,” but since the Federal Government established advisory councils, bringing commercial interests and anglers together to work out their problems, there has been a decided improvement for all concerned. The Federal Government is also carrying out investigations all the time to gather information on the life and habits of the fish — what percentage of them come to spawn the second time, the distance they travel.

The Grand Cascapedia has, I believe, the heaviest average of fish of any river in North America. I have before me the report of a year in which 7 rods killed 589 salmon weighing 12,878 1/2 pounds. The fish averaged 21.87 pounds. Of this total, 75 salmon weighed 30 pounds or over, and the heaviest one 40 pounds. That was on Cascapedia Club waters only, and there were other anglers on the river, whose catch brought the grand total weight to 30,591 pounds with an average of 22.3 pounds.

That same year, 1924, the Restigouche Salmon Club had 30 rods kill 1808 salmon and 258 grilse, a total of 2066 fish weighing 31,529 pounds, with an average of 15.26 pounds.

The Grand Cascapedia, the Moisie, and the Restigouche seem to be the three outstanding rivers for heavy fish. Why these rivers are chosen by heavy fish for their spawning grounds is a mystery. Just a short distance down the coast from the Grand Cascapedia the Little Cascapedia enters the Bay of Chaleur, and the heaviest fish I have any knowledge of from that river is in the neighborhood of 30 pounds. But a fish of that size is so seldom killed it is news when it happens.

Although there has been considerable criticism of the practice of leasing salmon streams to individuals or to clubs, I feel that in the end all persons profit by the arrangement, for it is certain sure that no political body would ever carry out the program of preserving fish or patrolling rivers the way private interests do. Although Federal guardians do a good job on the open waters of both New Brunswick and Quebec, I am sure we should never have the number of fish we have today if we had not had private organizations like the ones on all the private rivers. The fish they protect from the sea to the spawning grounds bear fruit for both angling and commercial interests. A guardian on a private river is hired to do a job, and as long as he does it, his job is secure. The man appointed through a political party knows that with a change of government or member he may well be laid off, and he hesitates to bring a charge against his neighbor when he may be off the river next week. I favor taking all sporting affairs in the way of fish and game out of the hands of politicians and putting them in the hands of an appointed Commission entirely free from politics.

Lumber companies have established booms at the mouths of most of the salmon streams in Canada, and there has been criticism that the booms keep fish from entering the rivers. I hardly agree with the claimants in most cases, for it is an established fact that salmon will overcome the greatest obstacles in their migration to spawning grounds, and although there may be streams where the mouth of the river is narrow and the booms make an effective blockade, in most instances there is always room for the fish to get by. During the early spring, most of the rivers have log drives in them, and I have always found the lumber companies reasonable about trying to get their logs out of the way of anglers, especially on the better fishing rivers.