What lies ahead for our beloved salmon?
In the first of a two-part series, Marcus Janssen asks avid fishers what they love about salmon – and how to save them
They are a physical reminder of the health of the marine ecosystem
Anyone who has held a chrome-bright salmon beneath the surface, observed its gills pulse as it regains its strength, and then watched as it glides effortlessly back into the current will know that the spell they cast is irreversible. But what is it about this species in particular that makes it so beguiling?
“For me, it is because they are truly wild,” says Earl Percy, president of the Atlantic Salmon Trust. “They are a physical reminder of the health of the marine ecosystem and its importance to all of us.”
Legendary cricketer Lord Botham is another passionate fly-fisher whose enduring love affair with salmon runs deep. “They’re just a magnificent fish,” he says, with the reverence generally reserved for creatures such as horses or big cats. “A fresh-run salmon is a thing of undeniable beauty, and when then you consider their amazing lifecycle, you can’t help but feel huge admiration for them. I also love the therapy of fishing for them.”
Botham’s sentiment is shared by David Profumo, the award-winning novelist and author. “Salmo salar is one of the most elegant, beguiling and inspirational creatures I have ever encountered,” he says without a second’s thought. “Even in spawning livery and epigamic colouration, it seems to ripple with mystery and power. Small wonder it is historically mythopoeic and a symbol of valour, splendour and plenty since ancient times. Part of the mystery in pursuing this quarry is often: are they even there?”
There is no question that the uncertainty and mystery surrounding salmon is part of their allure. “They’re an enigma,” says gillie, Spey-casting champion and tackle developer Ian Gordon. “The fact they don’t feed in freshwater makes them the ultimate quarry. After generations of study, they continue to keep us guessing. The more you learn, the more enigmatic they seem.”
QUESTIONS AND VARIABLES
Peter Rippin, sporting agent and co-owner of East Ranga in Iceland, one of the most prolific salmon rivers in the world, agrees: “Salmon fishing is neither more skilful nor more difficult than fishing for other species. It is special because it presents so many questions and variables: how many smolts survived on their way to and at sea? Have the adult fish successfully returned to the river? Where will they stop? And so on.
Endless variables, each one lengthening the odds of success.”
Vastly experienced fly-fisher Tarquin Millington-drake, whose travels have taken him to all corners of the globe and the finest fisheries known to man, feels there isn’t one single attribute that makes Atlantic salmon stand out from the countless other species he has fished for. “There are many things,” he says. “Their wildness, the beautiful places they take us to, their willingness to rise, their aggression, their history, their size, their behaviour. There is no other freshwater fish that nails a fly in fast-flowing water and zooms away in the way that salmon do.”
For many, however, it is the journey that these fish undertake that sets them apart from all others. “To ponder their migration and the challenges they have overcome to make it back to their home river is just incredible,” says Earl Percy.
Tiggy Pettifer, head of fundraising and events at the Atlantic Salmon Trust, agrees: “When I learnt that Mrs Salar could travel from high up in the Scottish hills to her feeding grounds off Greenland or in the Norwegian seas and then come back to the same place to lay her eggs, I was staggered,” she says. “Never mind the waterfalls they will scale and the predators they evade. It’s no wonder they get under your skin.”
“They are the most beautiful, hardfighting, perfect, most frustrating fish that you will ever try to catch,” adds Chris Tarrant. “They are proper warriors, too: the journey each one has to complete is an incredible achievement in itself, which is why I have always liked to return them once they have been landed and admired. They are the ultimate, ultimate prize for any true fisherman.”
MOST MEMORABLE SALMON
Every salmon angler I know has a particular experience that, for whatever reason, occupies their thoughts more than any other. Chris Tarrant’s is the stuff of legend.
“At the top of an absolutely raging rapid that crashes down through a jagged gorge on the Gaula in Norway, there is a classic salmon pool,” he says. “To reach it is a huge climb for any fish, but they make it and then rest in the pool at the top. Some of the fish are extremely large. Out of the blue, after a long, blank morning, I hooked such a fish in the top pool. I played it for long enough to know that it was very large and even began, foolishly, to think I might quickly net it.
“However, it started to take more and more line and got closer and closer to the lip at the top of the rapids, before suddenly roaring off downstream. I tried to follow it as best I could, bouncing down over the rocks, with my drag screaming as yard after yard of backing was ripped from the reel. I badly bruised one of my knees and cut one leg of my waders to ribbons but, somehow, I got to the next pool some 300 metres downstream, completely exhausted, and by some miracle the fish was still attached to the end of my line. Slowly, inch by inch, I began to regain my backing and line. By this point, my mate had appeared with the landing net and quite a large crowd of local Norwegians were assembled behind me. They were actually getting glimpses of the fish, although I could still see nothing. ‘Big fish, big fish!’ they kept saying, followed by mutterings of ‘Twenty kilo, 20 kilo!’
“As it started to dawn on me just how big this fish was, I began to feel sick at the thought that I might still lose it. Eventually, we got it right to the lip of the net. Hardly daring to look, I saw just enough of the fish’s mouth to see that it was truly colossal. But then, it was all over as the fly pulled out from the fish’s mouth and all that remained was a horrible, sick feeling as the exhausted beast just sank into the depths. The whole thing had taken probably the best part of an hour. I still don’t know how big that fish was, but I do know that it was very, very large. Even though I didn’t land it, it was also the ultimate salmon fishing adventure. It remains, in every way, my most memorable salmon.”
Like Tarrant, Profumo’s recollection is a tale of heartbreak. “I was on the Restigouche River at Downs Gulch, back in 1975, and I was able to sight-fish from our canoe for a truly enormous fish that was holding to the side of a shoal, shifting in the run at the head of a deep, cliffy pool,” he describes. “We saw him eventually come up for my streamer, but after that I never got him under control and he promptly popped the tippet around the anchor rope. Guide Wilfred put it at closer to 40 than 30lb. Of course, I can still see it.”
The pain of losing a big salmon is difficult to describe. “I remember it like it was yesterday,” says Peter Rippin. “It was the first salmon I ever hooked on my own, aged 11 or so. I had spotted a good fish of 10lb to 12lb weaving in and out from under the rock ledge on the River Lyn in North
Devon, so I drifted my worm from the little bit of spume at the head of the pool down towards the ledge and it was effortlessly sucked in by the fish. After a heroic battle that lasted for many hours (it was probably five to six minutes), I edged the fish closer to the bank, all the while wondering how I was going to land it. My prayers were answered when a local came down from the fisherman’s path and offered to help. He prepped his tailer (this was the early 1980s) and, standing downstream, slid the wire hoop over the salmon’s tail at exactly the moment I decided to drop the fish back into the tailer. The tailer-catch released, but forward of the fins, slid upwards over the salmon’s head and cut the line. My heart was utterly broken.”
“Two years ago, I had just had my spine rebuilt and my right hip had deteriorated and was in need of surgery, so I was in a lot of pain and unable to move,” says Lord Botham. “I was up on the Halladale and the gillies somehow managed to get me down to the river and into a beautiful salmon pool one evening. I was fishing a single-handed rod as I was unable to cast a double-hander and, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting to catch anything. But I did – a stunning 21lb sea-liced cock fish that I will never forget. It was the best 25 minutes of pain I have ever endured.”
Millington-drake has fished for salmon in Norway, Iceland, Russia, Canada and the UK, and landed fish of up to 52lb. The most memorable? “I have had some incredible battles in Iceland, running downstream over boulder fields, but I guess the most memorable has to be my first 40lb fish from the Alta, which we followed for 2.5km down a major set of rapids (we were looking up at the waves from the Karasjok boat) until we reached the calm of a pool. We got out of the boat only for the fish to set off again. I nearly cried and gave up, but an hour and 35 minutes later, it was ours.”
Norway’s incomparable River Alta has arguably been the scene of more broken records and broken hearts than any other salmon river on the globe. For Tiggy Pettifer, it ended in elation. “My most memorable (and biggest) fish was unquestionably one that I caught on that incredible river. The sheer power of that fish was awesome – it literally pulled our boat downstream. And when I finally landed it, its beauty was something to behold. It was one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life.”
The Alta has special memories for Ian Gordon of battles with monster fish, but when urged to pick just one fish, he recalls a magnificent 27lb fish from his home river, the Spey. “I hooked it in my favourite taking lie in Polarder, on the Lower Pitchroy beat. This is one of those really intimate lies where you know the cast on which the fish will take the fly, if the stars are aligned. This particular fish was the last of three I had in an hour.”
Marina Gibson fishes in far-flung places but, like Gordon and Earl Percy, her most memorable salmon was caught much closer to home, on the River Ure in Yorkshire. “It was pouring with rain and I was by myself. I saw him jumping downstream of me a few times and I thought, ‘I’m going to have you.’ I almost knew I wouldn’t touch a fish before I got to him, so I fished down the pool quickly until I arrived at his holding spot. He was in a peculiar place for casting, only a third across the pool and in a very slack back-eddy. I had to cast a short line and strip it back very short and fast, and he took. It was a very special moment.”
THE OUTLOOK FOR SALMON
Those memorable fish are in peril. Wild Atlantic salmon numbers have been in steep decline for several decades, and opinions are divided as to just how serious – and indeed reversible – the situation is. While some feel optimistic that we now have the tools with which to effect real change, others feel less positive, pointing to the past several decades and all of the conservation efforts that have, apparently, been futile.
“There is no doubt that Atlantic salmon are in real trouble and we need to do all we can to address their decline,” says Earl Percy. “I know a lot of people think that the problem is largely out at sea. I’m not sure I entirely agree, or at least I think it’s only a part of the story. It’s clear that we need to do as much research as we can to give us a better understanding of the issues we’re facing, but if you look at the world’s few remaining truly pristine and unspoilt areas of the North Atlantic, in places like eastern Canada, you’ll find rivers where salmon runs have remained relatively strong over
I caught a stunning, 21lb sealiced cock fish that I’ll never forget
the past 100 years or so. This gives me real hope that if we improve our rivers and spawning grounds by reforesting headwaters, removing unnatural obstacles and reducing farm runoff, I think we could have a much larger positive impact on salmon numbers than a lot of people think. Let’s solve the problems that can be solved.”
Lord Botham and Pettifer also believe there is reason to feel hopeful. “I think we can reverse the decline,” says Lord Botham, “but we’ve got to act now as the situation really is dire.”
“I believe that the future can be bright,” continues Pettifer. “If everyone comes together, which is starting to happen, salmon have some serious allies: The Missing Salmon Alliance, River Trusts and governments are all starting to work together. If everyone plays a part, then the future does look bright. Quite simply, we all have to do our bit.”
Lord Botham agrees: “We need to better understand what is happening to our smolts and adult fish in the marine environment. We need facts. We know there are supertrawlers that hoover up thousands of tonnes of fish and we know that global warming is affecting ocean currents and the distribution and behaviour of pelagic fish and their food. We have taken the oceans for granted for far too long, treating them as dumping grounds for our waste and a perennial and endless source of food for our ever-increasing human population.”
David Profumo shares some of their optimism. “Our precious salmon are under horrendous pressure on so many fronts,” he says, “but at least now the extent of their peril is widely recognised, if not fully understood. So perhaps we should not be entirely pessimistic. This is a fish that, given half a chance, will stubbornly push its way back, like a thistle muscling up through Tarmac. What I do not find helpful is the now quite widespread grumble amongst anglers that Scottish salmon fishing, for example, is a busted flush; that’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Millington-drake is less optimistic. “As the previous editor of The Field said to me once, in his 30 years at the helm he never printed a good news story about Atlantic salmon. The previous generation let us down badly and has left us with too much to do to achieve recovery. I do not know of one river which is improving. Furthermore, the rarer the wild Atlantic salmon becomes, the more exclusive it grows. Therefore, the next generation have less access or, worse still, no desire given the very meagre results.”
Like Millington-drake, Chris Tarrant has become increasingly despondent as salmon numbers have continued to fall. “Every couple of seasons, the Wye and the Hampshire Avon produce a really good spring run, and we think the happy days are here again,” he says. “But, sadly, with the deep-sea netting and pollution that goes on across this beautiful creature’s tortuous journey halfway round the world, I fear for the worst. I don’t think the salmon will become extinct, but I really do feel the glory days are, sadly, probably over.”
Peter Rippin sums the situation up: “Being honest, I think the future looks increasingly bleak, especially for more southern rivers. But… there is still a flickering light of hope out there. The Missing Salmon Alliance is endeavouring to cut through the speculation and find out exactly where, why and in what percentages mortality is happening in our UK rivers, estuaries and near coastal zones. It is important research that will hopefully land in the laps of UK politicians and begin to guide future policy.
“More broadly, the biggest difficulty, but the greatest hope, is to persuade the larger community of non-fishers to adopt the Atlantic salmon as one of the key indicator species with the capacity to educate us all on climate change and the health of our rivers and oceans. Unless this happens, the policy changes required in the UK and across the Atlantic, North Atlantic and Arctic regions will not materialise.”
The writing is on the wall. We need to act now.