What's at stake? Three days of salmon heaven in Canada
By Keith Elliott
Published: 23 September 2007
The good news: there's still time to stake your claim to fish one of
the world's greatest and most historic salmon rivers. If you want to
flay a fly next season on the Grand Cascapedia River in Quebec, you
have until 31 October to enter the annual draw for three days' fishing.
If three days doesn't seem much, you can spend the rest of your trip on
one of the Gaspé Peninsula's 13 other salmon rivers. But the jewel is
the Grand Cascapedia. Just 40 fishermen are allowed on 125km of prime
salmon fishing each day.
This is elite angling. And the rewards can be spectacular. On Middle
Pool, one of the most famous stretches, a June entry in the record book
alongside a fish estimated at more than 42lb reads: "First-ever salmon.
Where does onego from here?"
That "one" may be a bit of a clue to the river's exclusivity. Middle
Pool is where Princess Louise, the renegade fourth daughter of Queen
Victoria, fished all summer. It's where the governors-general of
Canada, who could take their pick of the country's fishing, went by
choice.
Despite high-seas netting, acid rain, seals and pollution, several
rivers elsewhere still yield large numbers of Atlantic salmon.
Iceland's innovative stocking policy has brought fish back to once-dead
rivers, while Russia's Kola Peninsula is reckoned by many to be the
place for sure-fire success.
But the surroundings in both are pretty grim. The Grand Cascapedia
and its brother, the Little Cascapedia, run through woodland that is
stunning at this time of year, the trees changing from green to orange
and gold. You're as likely to see a moose or a bald eagle as another
person. You'll certainly see some huge salmon.
For the Cascapedia's real appeal is the size of its fish. That
42-pounder was large but not exceptional. The average is 20lb – the
fish of a lifetime for most anglers. One hot stretch is nicknamed 424
Pool. One day, four salmon around 24lb were caught here before
lunchtime.
Nowhere produces such whoppers so consistently. Wander around the
river's fine museum and you are awed by salmon almost as big as their
captors. These aren't grainy, mono shots from yesteryear, either; every
guide has storiesof 50-pounders. The British record, by the way, is
64lb – caught in 1922.
But before you phone Air Canada, I should tell you the bad news.
The odds of winning one of those three-day slots are not good. Every
Quebecer wants a shot. I asked Marc Gauthier, who runs the fishing,
about my chances. He smiled, shrugged and said: "But maybe you know
someone who owns one of the private lodges..." Oh yeah. I mix with
billionaires all the time.
And "winning" is a relative term. You've still got to pay. Handsomely.
A day's fishing, depending on the stretch and time of year, costs
between C$475 and C$1,245 (£235-£620) for a non-resident, and a strange
rule insists that you have two guides. They expect a tip too.
(Generally C$50, though one got C$10,000 when his "sport" caught a
large fish.)
Still, I caught a salmon, a "tiddler" of 18lb. And I've fished the
Grand Cascapedia. Where does one go from here?
