Fish On

(A writing to Dewey Gillespie from a very respected friend AJH)
Baron

As I cast, the 12-foot leader turned over satisfactorily.  I concentrated upon achieving as quiet an entry of the fly as possible.  On about the 13th cast I watched, fascinated, as the line cut sharply upstream through the current.  “Salmon,” I called as I set the hook. 

The salmon ran right through the head of the pool and into a long smooth glide.  The Hardy, St. John released all the fly line and about 40 yards of backing.  The salmon broke water and cart wheeled in a brilliant shower of spray as I lowered the rod tip.  Moving quickly up the right side of the pool and reeling in backing quickly, I was able to put strain on the fish again.  Feeling the pressure mount, the salmon turned and ran upstream.  I followed the fish to the bend in the river, and there we fought the remainder of the contest.  It was punctuated by short runs and head shaking soundings in 3 to 4 feet of water.  This is always the best time for me.  The sense of accomplishment, which does not surface until the end is near and the thrilling sight of this noble fish, shimmering like a newly minted coin.

          I netted the 12 pound salmon, and shortly afterwards I released it.  The salmon moved away with increasing vigor.  Those of us who fly fish know the magic of this moment.

          The fish was taken on a Cosseboom Special.