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a giant Fraser River sturgeon for Keith with ace guide Jeff - read all about the big battle below |
Lovely company, beautiful
scenery, guides with a sense of fun and fishing to die for. What’s there not to
like.
In October I was kindly
invited to join Keith and Sandy Armishaw of 'Angling Heritage' fame on a fishing trip to Canada, three days
hunting sturgeon on the Fraser River followed by three days salmon fishing on
Vancouver Island. We were to be joined by Graham and Jane Nicol and Abby from
Aberdeen. They all proved to be the most enjoyable company you could wish for
so even without the fishing, the holiday was a success. And we had lots in common, all lovers of gardening and wildlife, Jane even being a regular volunteer at the iconic RHS gardens at Rosemoor.
As for the fishing, Graham
and Abby only wanted to fly fish for salmon while Keith and I were keen on
trying for sturgeon and treating the salmon as a bonus. So we paired off, with
Sandy and Jane exploring the local places of interest using our vehicle or indulging in
some retail therapy.
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Fraser River scenery and weather to die for |
On day one, Keith and I set
off down the Harrison river on Merr’s jet boat. Western Canada is a gorgeous
place, the guides a treat to be with and the wildlife prolific. Loons and
western grebes were numerous, bald eagles too along with harbour seals, plus
goosanders and Canada geese, all busily feeding in the crystal clear water and
framed by mountains of conifer forest draped in moss and lichen.
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Hugh's 'hot spot' - waiting for a bite |
Surrounded by all this
beauty, we anchored up and lowered our baits into the deep water, small balls
of fresh salmon eggs wrapped in ladies tights. The gear was simple, the
strongest possible hook attached to tough braid, a small lead weight, a
powerful multiplier and 10ft. rod.
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happy to be fishing - guide Merr and yours truly |
Keith had fished here the
previous year so he generously gave me first turn when and if we got a bite.
Only one rod each is allowed, so Merr spread the three out either side of the
boat and though we were fishing for creatures that might weigh over a hundred
pounds the bites can be very subtle, so I watched each tip like a hawk.
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always time to smile when you catch a new PB |
Plucks from squaw fish kept
me on my toes because sturgeon bites are similar but slightly slower and more
purposeful. We saw several great heaving’s of water as sturgeon showed they
were out there but we couldn’t tempt them to take so Merr moved us downriver a
couple of times to try different spots.
He changed one bait to a lump
of salmon gills and it wasn’t long before my rod heaved over like a barbel
bite. No missing this and I was quickly attached to a sturgeon that was simply
unstoppable. Despite my heaving with every muscle, line poured off the reel at
an alarming rate.
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hell fire, they sure can pull - 100yards ripped off already and lots more to go. It reached a snag by that far cliff |
With at least a hundred yards
of line already torn off my reel Merr calmly mentioned that sturgeon don’t
usually run as far as this one and when another hundred yards had evaporated
downriver he was less calm and decided to follow the fish in the boat before it
spooled me.
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struggling to gain control and failing |
I have caught some big fish
over the years, including Alaskan halibut to over a hundred pounds but this was
something else and I made only slow progress regaining some line. As if this
wasn’t fun enough, I was distracted by a bald eagle flying just over my
severely bent rod when it was stooped on by a peregrine. Life doesn’t really
get any better than that.
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bald eagles galore - this one atop an old osprey nest |
Soon after this gift from god
the fish had became snagged and I feared the worse, especially when the line
twice pinged off rocks and went slack. I thought the braid was broken but each
time I reeled like crazy and made contact again. Then it became snagged round a
sunken tree but the gods were kind to me again and it came free.
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a glimpse of my first ever sturgeon ... six to seven feet of angry muscle |
Finally I
could see my leviathan deep down in the blue depths and Merr suggested it was
at least six and a half feet long and weighed upwards of a hundred and fifty
pounds. It was a very good start to the holiday!
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beaten at last and heading for the bank for unhooking - it's quite big! |
We had finally won the battle
and dragged it towards the boat, though as Merr tried to tow it to the bank
with the boat the strain was so great that the hook pulled, so we’ll never know
exactly how big it was. I was relieved as it saved me getting wet in the cold
water. Suffice to say it was BIG.
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by my roach fishing standards, this is a monster |
Sturgeon conservation is most
impressive on the Fraser, each fish being measured for length and girth, then
tagged so their growth, age and numbers can be monitored.
Any fish over five
feet cannot be removed from the water and must be studied close to the shore.
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every fish is measured from nose to fork in tail |
Scientists have a data base of over 55,000 sturgeon now, with at least a third
still being tagged, so there’s a lot of sturgeon in the river! It is such a joy
to be fishing in a place where the fish stocks are so carefully looked after
and treated with admirable respect.
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girth is measured just behind the pectoral fins |
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Keith enjoying some fluff flinging for chum salmon |
Unable to add to our sturgeon
tally, we headed downriver to a fast, shallow stretch in the hope of catching
chum salmon, particularly a female so that we could re-stock our freezer with
salmon-egg bait for the sturgeon. We caught plenty of males as they were
aggressively defending their lies in preparation for imminent spawning.
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a colourful chum - ready for spawning in the nearby gravels, then they become bear bait |
We
released them all, the males spilling milt on the gravel as we unhooked the flies.
The sport was too easy, so thick were they on the shallows and I soon lost
interest ... but not in the wildlife. Dozens of bald eagles scoured the area for
dead and dying fish but the highlight was an osprey plunging in successfully
just upstream. Wherever they are in the world, ospreys have an undeniable
charisma.
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moving swims in Jeff's jet boat was a speedy joy, with wildlife all the way |
Next day dawned bright and
sunny and we were to be guided by Keith’s old friend, Jeff. He led Keith and
his son to a hatful of sturgeon the previous year so we hoped he might be able
to repeat the trick and as if in anticipation, Keith’s wife Sandy joined us to
share the adventure. We bombed off downriver, leaving the Harrison far behind,
heading to one of Jeff’s ‘secret spots’, though he admitted such places no
longer exist on the Fraser.
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Jeff was very particular about where the bait should be cast |
However, he was very careful
to make sure we were anchored over THE spot, searching back and forth with the
echo sounder before being satisfied we had a chance of a biggie.
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waiting for the little pluck that could be from a monster |
He certainly
knew his stuff, for it wasn’t long before the rods were twitching and we were
catching. It was Keith’s turn to take the next bite and because of what
followed, I was glad it was.
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who would win the contest was in the balance for more than an hour |
Dashing forward and striking,
the rod took on an alarming curve. This was a BIG one and Keith failed to slow
its powerful runs.
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Jeff found Keith's struggles quite amusing |
It stayed deep except when leaping clear of the water to
show Keith just what he was up against. All we could do is look on in
admiration for the fighting attitude it showed.
This was a battle of wills
and it was always in the balance as to who would win but to cut a long story
short, after an hour nothing had changed.
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oooooh! - it's not very happy |
Keith was flagging, the fish wasn’t,
and as if to rub salt into Keith’s aching muscles, this huge fish kept on
jumping, six times in all. It was simply awesome.
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OMG moment - that is an awesome fish |
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the reel got quite hot |
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still angry but tiring |
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plungng to the bottom yet again, using the string flow to it's advantage |
We all worried about the hook pulling or the line breaking. Well, you would after an hours fight wouldn't you, especially when it was diving so fiercely under the boat. It was give and take, Keith giving, the fish taking!
Eventually the strain told
and when Keith’s stamina was finally spent, the fish weakened too and we battled it inch by inch towards the shore.
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WOW! now THAT is a big fish |
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Jeff keeping a watch on the time to see who would give up first |
Jeff leapt off the boat, Keith staggered off and Jeff kept a clock on the battle until he grabed the line.
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it's almost over now as Jeff waits for his chance to grab the line |
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angler enjoying a beach holiday - we just laughed |
Keith collapsed face down onto the beach. It
had taken 1hr 28mins to defeat and we were all elated that he won the contest. Well,
the fish wasn’t happy or beaten and when trying to hold it’s head end for
Sandy to take a pic, it gave a mighty heave and pushed me into the river.
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a truly powerful sturgeon and still fighting - that splash on the left is caused by me - pushed into the river |
It was especially good that
Keith’s wife Sandy had been able to share the excitement and see Keith catch
his biggest ever sturgeon. It measured 7feet 10inches, had a girth of 99cms,
had been tagged many years previously so was at least 44yrs old and weighed about 280lbs. What a
beautiful, prehistoric creature, a battler to the end and on releasing it we
watched in admiration as it swam gently off into the depths … and to think that
sturgeon sometimes grow substantially more than this in the Fraser. It sure is
some river.
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a triumphal trophy shot - happy days for all |
All the sturgeon that we
caught at first had already been tagged, then inexplicably, like busses, we
caught four which were ‘virgins’. These included a monster on a wet day when it
was my turn to strike the tentative bite.
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we're doing battle again and it's another biggie |
We knew immediately it was an
exceptional specimen as on it’s first run it leapt clean out of the river, causing
us to oooh and aaagh like a missed goal at Man U. It made my knees quake with
apprehension as I had visions of a long battle similar to Keith’s on the
previous day.
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yikes - this one's pulling a bit |
Our guide Jeff always
measured ‘Battle Timings’ because as all us fishermen know, our struggles tend to become
exaggerated, especially afterwards in the pub. The fish did
fight hard but unlike Keith I put my back into it and had it alongside the boat
in 28mins!
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oh yes, that will do |
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portrait of a happy angler |
To be fair it didn’t have the attitude of his monster, nor the girth
and being four inches shorter than his, weighed a mere 230lbs … but at seven
and a half feet it was mighty impressive.
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portrait of a beautiful monster |
The place we had to take it
ashore proved to be the sort of place that hippos dream of – deep soft mud, so
deep that once we’d got off the boat into it, we couldn’t move. Unfortunately
the fish could move and it was Keith’s turn to end up being pushed into
the river. ‘Fill your boots’ has a different meaning when wearing chest waders
and struggling with an angry fish and with the rain pouring down, all we could
do was laugh.
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we were as wet as the sturgeon |
Jeff estimated it’s age at
about forty years, so it surprised us that it had never been caught before. As
with every fish landed by anglers, we injected a tag behind its pectoral fin
before release, noting its serial number on a computer. When a third of the
fish caught by many thousands of sport fishermen from around the world are
still un-tagged, it serves to reinforce the feeling that there are amazing
numbers of sturgeon in the river. It’s a resource that is carefully protected
by the Canadian Government and the guides and a lesson in common sense for many
countries, including the UK!
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a pretty bearded one - the fish looks nice too |
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I loved the sturgeons' markings ... like a work of art |
What is even better news is
that not all the fish are big. In fact, some of the best looking fish I have
ever caught are baby sturgeon and Keith and I caught several during our three
days on the Fraser.
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what a pair of beauties ... and I mean the fish this time ... |
Cutest of the lot were a
couple of two footers weighing just a few pounds and maybe five years old.
There were several of three to four feet long and around fifteen years old and
we had a few five footers weighing about sixty pounds and around twenty years
old, so there is a good range of year classes and hope for a healthy ecosystem
in the future.
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battling happily yet again |
The smaller ones still pull
‘well hard’ and we were delighted to end our three days with a double hook up,
a leap clear of the water and a brace of five footers.
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action stations - I'm sure they leap to let you know what you're up against |
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a beautiful pair of five footers to end our stay on the Fraser River |
While trying to curb the
sturgeons’ enthusiasm for staying in the middle of the river, skein after skein
of white-fronted geese tumbled out of the sky above our heads before landing
wearily on a nearby sandbank after their long flight from arctic Alaska. Being
a lover of wild geese and the remote places they nest, it was even more
exciting than if I’d caught another sturgeon. So we ended the day on a high
with the reminder that winter was rapidly approaching.
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hundreds of white fronted geese from Arctic Alaska |
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we saw plenty of fresh prints of numerous black bears |
Our three days on the Fraser
were over but our holiday wasn’t as we now had three days salmon fishing to
look forward to. Graham and Abby had caught lots of chum salmon on the Frazer,
along with a few beautiful silver coho, all on the fly of course, and now we
were to try our luck on the fast flowing crystal clear rivers tumbling down the wooded mountains of Vancouver Island. It was a beautiful setting
for a bit of fluff flinging and with several black bears and bald eagles
keeping us company, there was never a dull moment.
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lots of bald eagles sat waiting for the salmon to die |
Vancouver Island is famous
for man killing cougars and I harboured hopes of seeing one … but not too
close! Our guides were Bill and Ron and though I was assured that the chances
of seeing a cougar were nil, Ron did see one close to his home on our first
morning in the darkness of dawn. It was his first ever sighting in fifty years
of life on the island but it was enough to raise my hopes. If you don’t look
you don’t see so whenever we saw black-tailed dear grazing, of which there were
many, I searched carefully for cats eyes in the cover.
Our days started before dawn
so we always had a chance as we drove over bumpy forest tracks for an hour and
a half in the half-light. The drives were necessary because a deluge of rain
had fallen on our transfer day and flooded the intended fishing spots on the
Stamp River.
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the gang on their way to the Stamp River Falls |
However, this only served to encourage huge numbers of salmon to
run and we watched in awe as hundreds gathered at the falls and fish pass. Non of
us had ever seen so many fish … tens of thousands struggling through the
turbulent rapids.
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rainfall flushed falls cascading past glorious autumn colours |
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washing machine full of salmon |
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a place of unrivaled beauty |
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so many salmon you could walk across their backs without getting your feet wet |
We would be fishing for chum
and Chinook salmon using 11ft switch rods, a shorter version of double handed
salmon rods but still enabling double Spey casts to be achieved, a necessity
along such wooded rivers. Fortunately, Bill was a patient guide as he coaxed us
to create the ‘c’ loop one side before the ‘d’ loop the other, then punch the
line out by pulling hard on the lower hand while holding the upper hand firm …
well, something like that anyway.
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Vancouver Islands' mountains were such a gorgeous place to fish |
Graham and Abby are both ace
fly fishermen and had no problems putting the fly over the numerous fish and
catching plenty. Keith and I were on a steep learning curve but caught our
share in the end. The chum had been in the river for a few days, the males
developing large kypes and grown ‘colourful’.
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Keith with a fiesty chum |
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Keith amusing Bill with a spinner enticed battle |
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a dark but lumpy chinook that couldn't resist Keith's lure |
It would be being kind to
describe them as attractive but as they powered off downstream at a rate of
knots in an attempt to return to the sea, the sport was entertaining.
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didn't they ever tell you to keep the rod UP! |
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Ron tails my chum |
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an ugly beast but a good sporting fighter |
Next day we were on a small
river only four kilometres from the sea and dozens of chum were surging through our pool to their
spawning redds. The water was very fast and though we had heavy sink-tips on,
getting the fly deep enough to attract a take proved difficult. We had to laugh
as they leapt past us, untroubled by our incompetent efforts. I felt sure I saw
one smiling as it became airborne just beyond my flailing rod tip.
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screaming reels - the salmon off back to the sea with guide Bill enjoying the party |
However, I wasn’t going to be
beaten and started, would you believe, to use my roach fishing skills. Paying
line off the reel as if trotting a float, along with mending the line allowed
the fly to scratch the bottom … and bingo. Fish on. The struggle was violent,
the salmon screaming off towards the sea before I could slow it and start
regaining some line.
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happy days - these fresh run chums were a joy to behold |
After a period of give and take, Bill was able to tail it
… and what a fish, a sparkling silver gem that he described excitedly as a
‘cromer’, fresh from the sea and still with sea-lice behind it’s adipose fin.
It was one of the most beautiful fish I have ever caught ... then I caught several more - wonderful fishing!
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simply gorgeous fish - and Keith with one on downstream where a black bear appeared on the bank in front of him |
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a fish as beautiful as you could ever wish to catch |
Now I seemed to have mastered
a technique that worked, I hooked a fish almost every cast, some of which
stayed on long enough for me to hold for the camera.
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switch rod magic and little red fly |
Keith was
lower dawn the pool and had his share of action, though most of his fell off. I
too had a problem or three, one big fish kiting left into a fallen tree, just
like a chub, bless’em.
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Bill trying to free a biggie from a snag - the salmon excaped of course |
This day was as good as
fishing gets so I siestad well when we returned to the lodge in mid afternoon.
We wished we could have fished on longer and not had to rise and travel before
dawn but that was the deal we signed up to.
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a river full of fish |
On the last day Keith and I
decided to try for a steelhead in the upper reaches of the Stamp River, even
though it was a little early for the best fishing. It was our last days fishing
and the weather was perfect, a frost with mist rising off the crystal river
followed by warm sunshine.
Our guide was local expert
Sean and he knew more than a thing or two about catching steelhead. Anchored mid-river,
we couldn’t believe how many fish there were, the bottom of the river literally
black with salmon, some of them big Chinook of twenty to thirty pounds. Among them were the occasional
steelhead, holding station to eat any spilt eggs from the spawning.
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Sean assured me that the subtle changes of colour make a difference |
Our tackle was more familiar
to us, multipliers with ten foot rods, floats rigged as if chub fishing, using
plastic imitation salmon eggs of a variety of subtle differences, trying to
trot the baits past the waiting steelhead … and we caught loads of fish but the
wrong sort. Chinook salmon aren’t meant to take those sort of baits but on this
particular day they hadn’t read the rules.
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a battling chinook that wouldn't give up caused gritted teeth |
Battle after battle was fought, most
eventually escaping but enough landed to satisfy our hunting instincts, the
best to Keith being a great big lump of about 25lbs.
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that sure is a lumpy salmon |
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plenty of water to encourage the salmon up to their redds |
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a spotty steelhead nears the net |
We moved upstream through
some impressively rafting type white water and lost almost all the steelhead we
hooked but eventually landed a small steelhead and for me, it was a lifetime’s
ambition fulfilled. One day I’ll return in the high season and try again for a
bigger one. Well someone’s got to do it.
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ace guide Sean happy with my first little steelhead |
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Hugh, Jane, Keith, Graham, Abby and Sandy - our gang doing what they do best ... eating and drinking |
On our final night we
gathered for a celebration dinner in our resort hotel and laid plans for a
return visit next year. I shared a room with Abby and was up at dawn to enjoy
the views across the sound to the mainland. The sand flats studded with large
flocks of Canada geese, American widgeon and velvet scoter.
It was a fitting end to a
splendid holiday and it’s difficult to imagine ever enjoying one more. As I
wrote at the start, lovely company, beautiful scenery, guides with a sense of
fun and fishing to die for. Perfect!
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sunrise on our final morning, with wildfowl adding to the magic |