July 2018
By Allan Nørskov Johansen
Trophy hunting in River Karup. Part 1.
Just a second ago, the fish violently attacked my little fly. It turned right behind it with a big swirl, without striking it. After a fruitless effort in the last dark hours of the night, I found myself near the end of the chosen river stretch at dawn. Here was a top holding position… and a territorial fish was the inhabitant!
Check out part 1 to see, if I landed the fish.
A late August summer morning.
I tried to focus on the beautiful eastern morning light, which with its mere presence slowly awoke the river valley. Thoughts of the fish haunted me, and I was impatient to give it another go. After a little minute, my fly went airborne again.
This time I didn’t swing it up along the holding position, with a nice steady movement. As soon as it got into the “striking zone” of the fish, I began to jerk it hard up against the current. That immediately sparked a violent reaction. The tug came on very short line distance! I grabbed the rods cork handle firmly, as the fish ripped the loose fly line I held in my left hand from my fingers. Amazing that they sometimes strike the fly so subtle, that you can barely feel it!
The fish was on and immediately cascaded out of the water, in a wild an uncontrollable maneuver mid river. For a brief moment, I looked my opponent in the eye. A brut and ill-tempered lightly colored August male fish around 8 kg, was this morning’s adversary.
The fish turned, and went down river in a powerful run. I could quickly acknowledge that I just had to keep up. Already 30 m down the river, the first problems arose. Here two enormous weed ranks of crowfoot, divided the river into three individual channels.
A late August summer morning.
I tried to focus on the beautiful eastern morning light, which with its mere presence slowly awoke the river valley. Thoughts of the fish haunted me, and I was impatient to give it another go. After a little minute, my fly went airborne again.
This time I didn’t swing it up along the holding position, with a nice steady movement. As soon as it got into the “striking zone” of the fish, I began to jerk it hard up against the current. That immediately sparked a violent reaction. The tug came on very short line distance! I grabbed the rods cork handle firmly, as the fish ripped the loose fly line I held in my left hand from my fingers. Amazing that they sometimes strike the fly so subtle, that you can barely feel it!
The fish was on and immediately cascaded out of the water, in a wild an uncontrollable maneuver mid river. For a brief moment, I looked my opponent in the eye. A brut and ill-tempered lightly colored August male fish around 8 kg, was this morning’s adversary.
The fish turned, and went down river in a powerful run. I could quickly acknowledge that I just had to keep up. Already 30 m down the river, the first problems arose. Here two enormous weed ranks of crowfoot, divided the river into three individual channels.
A real ”concrete block”.
I had now caught up with the fish, and I put a lot of pressure on it directly from the side. But it held its position on the bottom, not moving the slightest bit. As if I’d hooked a concrete block!
I was certain that the fish hadn’t reached the weeds. It was simply strong enough to hold its position along the bottom, and take a little pause after the first initial violent run of the fight. I changed the angle of rod pressure a little again, to get it moving. I was thinking that I was gaining control of the situation… but then it went off again with full speed!
This time it went upstream, back to the safety of its original holding position. The strength of the fish had not diminished one tiny bit. So I let it take some line of the reel at first, before following it back upstream along the muddy riverbank. When I caught up with it again, it stood deep under the bank on my own side of the river, boring its head into the roots of the riverside reeds.
This type of roots is definitely not something you want your hook or leader tangled in. I had to do something! I held my distance to the fish from a downstream position, and put maximum pressure upon it, to try to get its head turned out into the current of the river once again. I put my hand on the spool of the reel, and blocked it! With full pressure on the fish and gear, my line squeaked a faint tone.
It worked! The fish was irritated, and steered out back into the middle of the river.
A real ”concrete block”.
I had now caught up with the fish, and I put a lot of pressure on it directly from the side. But it held its position on the bottom, not moving the slightest bit. As if I’d hooked a concrete block!
I was certain that the fish hadn’t reached the weeds. It was simply strong enough to hold its position along the bottom, and take a little pause after the first initial violent run of the fight. I changed the angle of rod pressure a little again, to get it moving. I was thinking that I was gaining control of the situation… but then it went off again with full speed!
This time it went upstream, back to the safety of its original holding position. The strength of the fish had not diminished one tiny bit. So I let it take some line of the reel at first, before following it back upstream along the muddy riverbank. When I caught up with it again, it stood deep under the bank on my own side of the river, boring its head into the roots of the riverside reeds.
This type of roots is definitely not something you want your hook or leader tangled in. I had to do something! I held my distance to the fish from a downstream position, and put maximum pressure upon it, to try to get its head turned out into the current of the river once again. I put my hand on the spool of the reel, and blocked it! With full pressure on the fish and gear, my line squeaked a faint tone.
It worked! The fish was irritated, and steered out back into the middle of the river.
Limitations and loads of problems.
Slightly out of breath, I stumbled down the riverbank again. I was clearly a bit slower this time around, and the fish got to the crowfoot before I could do anything about it. I simply couldn’t stop it… it was to strong!
When I caught up with it, the damage was already done. The fish went under the weed rank, and was now doing its best to dig itself deep into it. I tried to steer it out of there, but the fish was strong… and I couldn’t move it!
It was obvious, that I had to move myself to a position downstream of the fish, in order to have a chance to back it out of its weed rank hideaway. However, the plan had a serious flaw. Positioned alongside the fish, I was already standing on the last couple of feet of secure ground on this part of the riverbank. Right next to me was a major swamp area, in which I would undoubtedly be helplessly stuck, should I choose to venture out in this muddy wasteland.
Even though I might be able to pull the fish free of the weeds, I would be stuck in the mud afterwards not being able to follow the fish!
Limitations and loads of problems.
Slightly out of breath, I stumbled down the riverbank again. I was clearly a bit slower this time around, and the fish got to the crowfoot before I could do anything about it. I simply couldn’t stop it… it was to strong!
When I caught up with it, the damage was already done. The fish went under the weed rank, and was now doing its best to dig itself deep into it. I tried to steer it out of there, but the fish was strong… and I couldn’t move it!
It was obvious, that I had to move myself to a position downstream of the fish, in order to have a chance to back it out of its weed rank hideaway. However, the plan had a serious flaw. Positioned alongside the fish, I was already standing on the last couple of feet of secure ground on this part of the riverbank. Right next to me was a major swamp area, in which I would undoubtedly be helplessly stuck, should I choose to venture out in this muddy wasteland.
Even though I might be able to pull the fish free of the weeds, I would be stuck in the mud afterwards not being able to follow the fish!
Happiness quickly subdues disappointment.
A little while went by, where I did nothing. I just stood there, slightly out of breath… looking out over the river with disillusion. The last unsettling waves from the fish, was quickly wiped out by the river current… until they disappeared completely. Left behind was nothing but a blank watery mirror, with all signs of the struggle just taken place here, completely erased.
I was a bit disappointed over losing the fish… sure. But I picked myself up, and started yanking my line to loosen my leader and fly, still fastened to the crowfoot. The fish was long gone, but at least I wanted to recover my fly… if possible.
Luckily, I’m pretty conservative, when it comes to leader thickness and strength. So after a little while, my leader finally cut through the weeds, and I could retrieve my fly. I got my line on the reel, and walked a bit away from the river.
Happiness quickly subdues disappointment.
A little while went by, where I did nothing. I just stood there, slightly out of breath… looking out over the river with disillusion. The last unsettling waves from the fish, was quickly wiped out by the river current… until they disappeared completely. Left behind was nothing but a blank watery mirror, with all signs of the struggle just taken place here, completely erased.
I was a bit disappointed over losing the fish… sure. But I picked myself up, and started yanking my line to loosen my leader and fly, still fastened to the crowfoot. The fish was long gone, but at least I wanted to recover my fly… if possible.
Luckily, I’m pretty conservative, when it comes to leader thickness and strength. So after a little while, my leader finally cut through the weeds, and I could retrieve my fly. I got my line on the reel, and walked a bit away from the river.
Allan Nørskov Johansen originates from the city of Odense, and he is born 1976. Today Allan resides with his family, close to the river. Allan ”caught” his interest in fishing early on, with brown trout fishing in the small local streams near Odense. Later, many hours along the beautiful coastline of Funen went by, in an ongoing pursuit fly-fishing for the beautiful sea trouts. He visited the River Karup for the first time in the late summer of 1998, and immediately lost his heart to the beautiful countryside, and the river fishing for huge sea trout. Allan prefers a fly rod in pursuit of the beautiful River Karup sea trout, and therefore uses a great deal of time on fly tying as well. The "best experience" by River Karup is often when something unexpectedly and surprising happens on the fishing trip, and the fish suddenly act in a way you did not expect! It creates very memorable experiences. Allan also really enjoys helping others "cracking the code" with fishing tips or flies, so that others may experience catching one of the difficult sea trout from the river. His own best catch from the river is a male fish of 92 cm and 11.0 kg, caught at the end of June 2015. The fish was his second trophy fish from River Karup, surpassing "the magic 10 kg" mark, and gave him a long and memorable fight on his single hand fly rod.