Spot on, Mr. Con'
By Conrad Hiscock

Rain, drizzle and fog was on the menu for virtually the entire week, which is not altogether uncommon on the southwest coast where I like to share my wit and wisdom in alluring an Atlantic salmon to my fly. Caplin weather, we call it.

But no matter what the weather, I seem to be ever persuaded by the lure of the midnight stars(when we can see them) and the coolness of a summer breeze (to keep the flies away), to venture to the salmon pools of Grandy's River with an adventure to pursue; to hook, play and land one of those magnificent animals of the water.

Lee Lafosse asked me if I would like to share a quality experience on a trip to Misty Mountain, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Hills of Couteau, where the waters are pure and the environment pristine. Lee and his two sons, both accomplished angelers, were to be the pride of the trip. Damien excelled in wood cutting and Christopher taught me how to use a sling shot as we relaxed at the lodge before going fishing.

Now, most people say that fly tying is an art and that angling is a sport; Christopher was and artist with the fly rod; a superb caster at the age of 8.

We decided that I would fish with Lee and Christopher, while Damien would fish with Don, Lee's chief guide, and Lee's brother.

Shortly after arriving at the lodge, we ventured down to one of the many salmon pools on the river.

The mist from the mountains was beginning to lift, wild roses raised their heads along the riverbank and daffodils exploded in the sunlight.

It didn't take very long before I realized that we were at one of those places to which God paid special attention during his creation plans. This was slice of heaven!

With regulations permitting us to take only one fish, I decided that I would wait until next morning to cast my fly. I watched Lee and his son Christopher negotiate among the many rocks in the river after we had followed the sandy trail from the lodge.

They fished the eddies and along the currents of the river, behind the rocks, besides the rocks, above the rocks and, in particular, between the Vs in the tides as the waters caressed through the rattles of the salmon pools.

In short order I heard a short. Christopher had a fish on...but not for long. The fish bolted for the other side of the pool and as it jumped and splashed back into the water, the boy's line went slack.

His father checked the flay and leader and I began to daydream as Christopher resumed fishing.

Then I heard another shout. Christopher was into his second fish. Lee was standing over his son's shoulder, giving his directions. One jump, two jumps, three jumps and he was gone. The line went slack again.

I had a burning desire to return to camp and get my rod, but Lee and I agreed that this was to be Christopher's evening at the pools.

I was snacking on Purity Jam Jams when I drifted off again, reminiscing about other trips when I was a boy, fishing with my bothers Joe, Leslie and Dale. My other two brothers and three sisters didn't do much fishing, but my daughters certainly had a crack at it. Oh, what wonderful memories..

And then I saw a fin as a fish was about to porpoise in the pool in front of me. It look like a small rise but it was somehow unusual and different; not the quick flick of a grilse, but a much slower and deliberate approach out of the tide and back again.

I glared at the spot until I saw the salmon emerge again from where he had taken up his place of residence in this salmon pool.

I gestured to Lee to come over to where I had been resting, observing and reminiscing.

Lee informed me he had tied on a four-pound test leader to a green as bug and that they were using a barbless hook. I suggested he change the tippet to an eight-pound test so that Christopher could have some fun with the large salmon.

"How big you figure he is?" Lee inquired.

I told him it was a large fish and that they were few and far between where we were fishing.

Occasionally over the years someone might get a 10 or 12-pounder, but that would be a rare event. The old timers on the river like Uncle Frank Benoite, Eric Rhymes, Joe Warren and Tommy Matthews told me tales when I was a boy about the big ones that went up the river. Maybe this could be one of those large fish.

"Put on an eight-pound test tippet because if Christopher hooks this fish, he's going to have some fun. Put on this No.6 barbless green body Cooseboom. Don't put a ripple hitch on the fly because I think this one will take just below the surface, "I advised.

And take it he did, on the third cast! All hell broke loose as the fish took the fly and headed the river. It hit hard enough to jerk the rod out of Christopher's hand and Lee had to jump into the water to retrieve the rod. He reeled the line and took up the slack, putting pressure back on the salmon.

In less than a minute all the line and half the backing had been stripped from the reel. When he had the situation in hand he passed the rod back to Christopher. " Play him like I taught you" Lee told the boy, "but hold on tight because you are in for a fight!".

What a fight it was, with Lee giving his son advice about keeping his line tight and making sure that this rod was up as the as the salmon continued running, jumping and doing everything it could in the cold mountain waters to get rid of what ever it wa that was putting all that pressure on its freedom.
"That's at least a 12-pounder!" Lee announced.

"Its a large female and thick down to the belly," I added. "when he had it in close to shore the last time I saw several sea lice on the fish. That's way it's so feisty". Seconds seemed like minutes as the boy continued to hang on.

When Christopher finally got the splashing fish to the beach, I grabbed it by the tail with my handkerchief wrapped around my hand and lifted the fish as Lee removed the fly. we were all amazed at the size of the fish.

"I estimated that it's at least 16 to 18 pounds!" I declared as I put the fish back in the water.

Christopher's eye were glistening with excitement as he said to me, "Your camera is hanging above your bunk and dad left his at home. But that's okay, Mr. Con, you can let it go now!"

What a terrific young boy and what a thrilling experience!

Needless to say, we were on the river early the next morning. I caught and released one fish and then decided to retain a plump fresh hen that was in from the sea.

By the time our fishing excursion had ended, everyone had a fish to take home. While leaving the Misty Mountain Lodge, I said to Lee, "Leaving this haven is like leaving heaven. What do you think, Christopher?"

He looked at his father and then at me. His eyes twinkled and he held his thumb and said, "Spot on, Mr. Con!"