SPANIARD’S BAY, N.L. — It is the first day of February and there isn’t a blade of snow on the ground in Spaniard’s Bay. I am not happy about this winter so far. Here on the Avalon we were to have another big storm of rain and high temperatures Friday.
There was hope of snow for the weekend, but we will have to see.
I’m losing hope for a proper snowy winter. So far I haven’t strapped on my snowshoes, not even once.
Anyway, trout season is open.
As I contemplate fly-fishing plans, it might be a good winter for catching brown trout on nymphs. I feel like telling a fishing tale.
For many years I wanted to go salmon fishing in Russia, always, I suppose would be a fair description.
At least it seems that way, because I’ve been reading fly fishing magazines ever since I can remember.
So I really don’t know when I first heard of the fantastic salmon fishing on the Kola Peninsula, but it was certainly long ago. In 2007, opportunity knocked, or dinged on my computer I suppose I should say.
Back then I had only a few years of journalism experience in the fly fishing world and I wasn’t very well known.
Mostly I’d been writing in Canadian publications about fishing here in Newfoundland.
I felt it was time to go big or go home. I spent some leisure time searching Russian salmon fishing camps online.
The Atlantic Salmon Reserve seemed a good match for me, so I sent off an email and resume. I heard nothing back.
That was early February I think, and by May I had forgotten all about Russia in the short term, and had my angling energy focused on local trout and Labrador salmon.
The invite
On a weekday just before Victoria Day weekend my computer dinged and a new email appeared in my inbox.
It was from Peter Power, owner and operator of the Atlantic Salmon Reserve. He asked for my phone number so he could call me. I quickly replied.
Two minutes later my phone rang and I was on a call from London, Eng.
It was Peter and he explained that a writer and photographer he had booked into his Rynda camp for late June had just backed out.
If I still had an interest, there was a spot for me.
I just had to get my butt and fishing gear to Stockholm, Sweden for a charter to Murmansk, Russia on Jun 23.
I thought about it deeply for 1.0 seconds and said yes. I was going to Russia. I had a month to get ready.
I already possessed a passport, travel gear for fishing and photography, all that good stuff.
But I had just a short timeline to navigate the red tape and official KGB invitation needed to acquire a Visa.
Yes, no joke — I had to have a written invitation approved by a local KGB official. However, all that was easy compared to telling Goldie about my grand adventure.
She had put up with a lot of my hunting and fishing extremes, but hey, this was a biggie on short notice.
Stuff like this is better stewed slowly than fast fried.
But I had no option or slow-cooking time.
I just said it straight up at supper. “Goldie, I’m going to Russia.”
She thought I was joking at first.
Upon realization of my seriousness, she replied “No you’re not.”
Somehow, by dessert, I was going.
I remember my daughter Allison joking about it at the table.
Goldie was not amused.
Our pilot announced on the cabin loudspeaker “We are now entering Russian airspace.”
I looked down at the ground through the window.
Damn, I’m in Russia and going salmon fishing.
It looked no different than home from 10,000 feet.
As a kid growing up through the Cold War, I had never imagined this could ever happen.
Then I read in the magazines of adventurous anglers going to the wild remote rivers of the Kola and I began to dream.
The feeling was surreal, one of the pivotal moments of my life.
The world wasn’t as big as I once thought.
From dream to reality
And dreams sometimes materialize into reality.
I could write a short book about this trip.
For now I’m going to tell you about the day I went off flying around in a MI-2 chopper with Peter Power.
He wanted to show me around all the rivers and then head up to resupply a bunch of Norwegian hardcore brown trout anglers.
They had been dropped off in the headwaters of the Kharlovka River and were tenting while wandering about in inflatable canoes.
They had radioed their position and needed supplies, incidentally wine and spirits for the most part.
Peter explained to me that the headwaters of all the famous Kola Peninsula salmon rivers had amazing brown trout populations.
In fact, I now know that this area is arguably the best brown trout fishing in the world.
At the time, it was the first I heard of it. Peter pointed out that he only booked Scandinavians for these trips.
There were no permanent facilities and harsh weather.
Nobody, but the Vikings were up to it.
He said he would consider a Canadian.
I told him I wanted to catch a Russian brown trout. He told me I had a half hour.
The Vikings were certainly a rough and tough looking lot, but nice enough fellas.
We all sat around yarning about trout over a beer on the tundra.
Peter mentioned about me wanting to catch a trout and better get on with it. In no time I had the perfect nymph handed to me and was being coached in my quest.
The clock ticked and I kept casting.
You know what? I wouldn’t have minded staying on for a few days with these guys. I dug the vibe.
Landing a beauty
On about the sixth cast my line went tight and I was into a battle with a beautiful trout.
I can’t quite remember all that went through my head but this I do recall.
Damn, I’m a long ways from home.
I wish I could tell Dad about this.
I landed the trout and had a picture taken.
It’s been my Facebook and Twitter account photo forever. It’s important to me.
Thanks guys, wherever you are right now, planning a summer adventure quite likely.
Thanks for helping out a total stranger from Newfoundland.
I heard Alexander firing up the chopper.
He meant business and we needed to get back to camp before dark.
He’d been shot down in Afghanistan by an American-made missile shoulder launched by a guy on a horse.
It blew out the tail rotor but he managed to land and walk back to camp. Tough eh? We boarded the MI-2 and Alexander lit up a smoke.
Paul Smith, a native of Spaniard’s Bay, fishes and wanders the outdoors at every opportunity. He can be contacted at [email protected] or follow him on twitter at @flyfishtherock
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