A memory from the past

With 5 hours of mountain biking "in my legs", I finally stood by the crystal clrear waters of Börsriver, surrounded by barren and desolate mountains. No other sound was to hear but one from the river and I was filled with satisfaction of the thought of having four days fishing in this desert landscape. A very stoney ground with only low vegetation showed that we where high up in the artic terrain. Probably it was up here the last remaninings of the inlandice melt and disapeared. On the northsides of the mountain lied snow and ice in spots. Small streams was made of the meltingwater from the area which "ran" together making a small flow, ending towards me. Below the smaller flow it turned into a fine "entranceflow" which seemds like it kept salmon. With great eagerness I loosened "the fly" from the flyrod. I started to fish from the entranceflow and from a part with bigger stones in the middle of the flow.

"The fly", a own variant of a Green Butt, swept off the assumed places. When I reached the stones it suddenly pulled hard in the line and the first Börsriver salmon was hooked. It went off downstream in a long rush. The leader was only 0.24mm and I started to doubt if this was gonna work out. The salmon ceased and was standing with streched line out in the flow. I took my chance to reach a spot below the fish making it swim upstreams. I succeded but the salmon was far from tired. My friends now discovered that i drilled fish and hurried for rescue.

- Now, don´t loose this salmon. We need one for marinating, Anders said.

After a few more rushes the salmon finally started to get so tired that Anders, with a firm grip around the tailfin, could lift it up on shore. Four kilos shiny Atlantic silver.

"Ohh, what I´m longin for a new season to start"