GOING TO NORWAY?
GET A GUIDE!
It’s no secret the fjords are special places to fish. In our first of a series of shore adventures, find out why having an expert at your side brings rewards
On my maiden trip to Norway a while back,I experienced plenty of exciting action from the boat. Drifting through some of the country’s largest fjords, and surrounded by some of the planet’s most exhilarating scenery some 300 miles inside the Arctic Circle, huge cod and coalfish certainly tested my light tackle to the limit.
During that trip, it crossed my mind on several occasions that many of these giant specimens could easily be targeted from the shore. Of course, being in the capable hands of an experienced Norwegian skipper meant that he knew what signs to look for to put me on top of the fish, with bird activity being one of them.
From the shore, though, it’s a whole different ball game. For a start, access to marks can be a problem. Although heading out of a harbour and steaming due north into a fjord is easy with an experienced skipper, if I was to jump into a car and head off to find a productive shore mark on my own, I would be totally clueless.
Fast-forward a few years and I found myself heading back to Norway. This time, my plan was to attempt to tackle some of the many shore marks I had gazed at with envy during my previous trip.
In recent years, British shore anglers have realised the huge potential to catch enormous cod, coalfish, ling and halibut from the beach. Consider this: on occasions, you may be casting into very deep water, often several hundred metres to the bottom. By travelling ‘blind’, it could (and probably will) spell disaster, in terms of your success.
EXPERIENCED
For this trip, I hadn’t done any research at all, nor did I study a Norwegian map to find any roads or tracks that could possibly put me straight to a big-fish shore venue.
Instead, I had a plan. Just like I used the expertise of a boat skipper before, I would take advantage of the knowledge from an experienced shore angler; someone who knew the marks and, more importantly, how to access and tackle them. Why would I want to waste valuable time, money and fuel searching out a mark?
For those who have experienced fishing in Norway, you’ll probably know of several fish camps that attract many UK-based anglers. For those making a first shore visit, you probably don’t. My decision and choice of venue wasn’t a difficult one to make.
A man who has led British anglers to several world shore-record fish inside the last two years, which included cod, ling and wolfish, would be the perfect choice, so I quickly called John Strange, who is based in Bristol. He operates Guided Fishing Norway, at Bodo, in the Saltstraumen region, which is located in the northern half of the country.
I laid out my full expectations of how I hoped my visit would pan out; basically, I wanted to turn up, go fishing and land a lunker. What I really needed help with was the logistics, such as transporting my kit like rods and reels, sourcing bait, and taking the correct clothing. Northern Norway in the last week of January would require some serious warm clothing, or so I thought.
After five minutes talking with John, I soon relaxed and listened as he explained that I could hire, at a small cost, all the essential tackle, bait and clothing. All I needed to do was pack a small suitcase with a few base layers, waterproofs and comfortable clothes for non-fishing time.
I didn’t even have to worry about the transfer from the airport to the accommodation, as he would take care of it all.
ACCOMMODATION
All that was left for me to do was get to Gatwick airport and head out to Norway.
One pleasing aspect about this trip was I would be joining lads I knew, which always makes for a more relaxing trip. Simon Newman and David Wood-Brignall, from Kent, were no strangers to Norway, while Alex Veel, from London, was visiting for the first time. The flight from Gatwick to Oslo takes around two hours 30 minutes, and then a further flight to Bodo takes an hour less.
Eventually, we touched down in Bodo, where it was raining hard, which suggested the temperature was rising. John was waiting at the gate, and after a short walk to the car park, we loaded his truck and headed off for the 20-minute drive to our accommodation.
On the road John pointed out marks we were passing. “Down there you can expect cod over 30lb; that mark over there produces big halibut too,” he said.
I looked out into the darkness, where high mountains were silhouetted against the sky, and tried to imagine hooking a 30lb cod from the shore. Excited didn’t even begin to explain my emotions.
Soon we arrived at a fantastic wooden lodge in the mountains. It sleeps 10, has a spacious lounge area, bathroom with shower, and huge kitchen. Stepping inside, you simply remove your boots and leave them on the heated floor, and in less than an hour they’ll be dry.
JUST PERFECT
Outside is a large tackle shed containing racks for rods, places for tackle boxes, a huge chest freezer for bait and an incredible, separate drying room. The latter has constant hot air blowing and is ideal for hanging your base layers, suits and waterproofs after a day’s fishing in the snow or rain in freezing temperatures. Everything was just perfect.
The next morning saw us rise at 6am to find that John was already up preparing a full fried breakfast for everyone, and by 7.30am we were off to our first destination.
We arrived at a flat calm fjord, surrounded by snow-covered mountains that were blinding in the sunshine. Above us, sea eagles circled majestically as they scanned the surface looking for an easy meal.
The hire tackle consisted of powerful Zziplex and Century T900 rods coupled with Daiwa Saltist multiplier reels loaded with braid and mono leaders.
The ground was mixed-to-rough (rather like many UK shore marks) with the only difference being the enormous depth. Around these parts, expect to be casting into anything between 80 to 200 metres deep.
Our first sortie was targeting halibut, and this mark has been known to produce them. Most of the tactics used are in line with those in the UK, but with certain secret tweaks from John to match the surroundings.
Large Pennell-pulley rigs with rottenbottoms were soon loaded with herring or Bluey and cast out around 60 yards. The beauty of having John with you, though, is he explains exactly what to do, what will happen, how the ground lies in front of you, and where every hidden snag is located. He’s also constantly reminding anglers to set the reel’s drag; a halibut weighing in excess of 50lb will certainly pull any shore outfit into the sea if the clutch is tight.
The tide was pushing left to right and out towards the mouth of the fjord, John noticed surface ice on the move. “It’s not normally a problem, but we’ll keep an eye on it,” he said.
After an hour, the tip of my Century T900 slowly dipped forward, quickly followed by being slammed down as the ratchet screamed and line spilled from the spool. As I pumped the rod, the obvious headshakes indicated I was into my first halibut, and then I hit a snag.
“Don’t worry, it will eventually swim out,” said John, encouragingly. Sure enough, the ratchet screamed as line was pulled again from the spool. It wasn’t a big specimen, but, at around 8lb, I was happy. It was unhooked quickly and returned into the icy water. This was soon followed by David Wood-Brignall beaching a similar-sized fish that also found a snag. Not a hectic day, but with a few codling filling in the gaps, we couldn’t wait to get on to another mark.
EXTREMELY DEEP
The following morning over breakfast, John had a grin on his face that led me to believe he was up to something. “What’s the plan today?” I asked. “I hope you’re all fit because we’re fishing into extremely deep water,” he replied.
We planned to fish in two groups, with Simon and David fishing together, while John, Alex and me would head to another mark that had been named The Abyss, for reasons that will become very clear.
Tackle, rigs and bait would be the same, with the exception of reels. “Today, we need to use large fixed-spool reels because you simply can’t get enough line on a multiplier to fish here,” John explained.
As Alex made his first cast, John started his stopwatch as soon as his rig hit the water. After four minutes the line was still leaving Alex’s reel. After six minutes his rig hadn’t touched bottom. We looked at each other in disbelief as John quietly grinned. Eventually, approaching eight minutes, the line suddenly stopped. “That’s it,” said John. “You’re on the bottom.” John could see we were confused and explained that here the depth was almost 900ft. As each of us cast, the stopwatch was a great indicator to the depth of water, and we weren’t ever in less than 700ft. Without John’s advice, I think this mark would have been a disaster for us.
I thought I was up to the task of winding in, but if you’ve never retrieved a rig through that depth of water, from the shore, it’s armburning stuff, and that’s without a hooked fish attached. Not only that, John’s advice played its helpful hand again as he explained that we are in fact fishing over the side of an underwater mountain. At around 150ft from the surface, there is an overhanging ledge to contend with as well. Not knowing this, both Alex and me would have lost rig after rig and left totally dejected.
It wasn’t long before Alex jumped into action as his rod tip pulled forward. What seemed like a lifetime later, his rod repeated its movement, and, after making a slow lift, it appeared a fish was on. Alex began to pump and wind, and so began the arduous task of bringing up whatever he had hooked in The Abyss.
With a mixture of excitement and tiredness
after around six minutes of winding and pumping, Alex whispered: “How far from the top is it?” When John explained he wasn’t even at the ledge yet, the anguish on Alex’s face was visible. Suddenly, the fish seemed to be stuck, and Alex looked a broken man.
“Don’t worry,” said John, “you’re at the ledge.” As he guided Alex through it, he explained that by simply lowering the rod tip, it offered the fish a chance to swim out and away from the ledge. Many anglers would have pulled at the fish and probably ended up breaking their line.
As if by magic, we watched Alex’s line move out as the fish manoeuvred away from the ledge, and the pumping and winding could begin again. Eventually, a shape approached the surface in the form of a healthy coalfish approaching double figures. It was easily Alex’s best ever, and although he looked overjoyed, he was shattered.
Then it was my turn to hook a fish, but I had the advantage of listening to John talk Alex through his ordeal. Almost identical to Alex’s coalie, I too hit the ledge. The line moved away, and a 10lb lumb floated to the surface some 30 yards away. Nevertheless, my arms were burning and a coffee was needed. It is, however, such a massive sense of achievement.
Then it was John’s turn to hook a fish, but this time he wasn’t smiling, this was a serious fish that needed working. As he pumped, his rod showed signs of heavy nods, typical of a cod. Then line was pulled from his reel as it went on a long run. After around 15 minutes, we saw colour rising through the clear water, and then sheer astonishment as a huge cod surfaced.
Before John could grab the cod, it decided to empty the contents of its stomach. On the scales it registered 28lb 12oz and we reckoned it easily threw up at least 2lb of various fishy bits.
Meanwhile, Simon and David were landing coalies and cod, with David landing several cracking ling to 25lb. All this, and there was still five days fishing to go!