Sophus Aars Stories-A summer day at Hellefoss

At the same time, the hunting congress was in town, so it took me a while to get going. But on the evening of June 30th, I packed up at a fisherman's house on the riverbank, just below Hellefoss.

What a catch there once was here! The salmon stood in shoals below the waterfall, and it is almost incredible what quantities could be caught in just one net cast. I remember it myself from the time I was a deputy magistrate in Eiker. Now I did not think of casting a net, but the desire to try my luck at fishing with a rod had awakened.

Since then, the fishing has often been poor compared to the rich years before. But still – Amund, my companion, and I set out early the next morning. We slung the boat up through the rapids, and soon we were at the fishing spots. Here, between the rock outcroppings and the current, lie two of the best spots.

One, considered the very best, is located below a high gravel hill where the river has carved out a backwater. This requires experienced rowing, knowledge of current and depth, and not least the ability to maneuver between all the logs that drift by. The other spot is larger, in the middle of the river, where the current breaks into deep and shallow sections.

Amund showed me some flies: "Guess which one he likes best?" he asked with a smile.

"Take whoever you want—he won't bite any of them," I replied.

The fishermen in the Drammenselva River do not swear by flies or artificial lures, but by small shiny spoons called "prît" or "løve". These are what the salmon bite on, they say.

We tried first with a fly, then with a spoon – without success. Then, suddenly, a violent jerk! The line was too far out, the log pushed the boat, and a large salmon jumped out of the water so silvery that the sun sparkled on it.

“He’s over the pound!” Amund shouted. “He’s over the pound!” (That is, over 8 kilos.)

The fight was on. The salmon raced up, down, dived, jumped, rolled and pulled us close to the logs. I felt the strong weight in my arms, my knees trembled, but I didn’t dare let go. The line tightened, the salmon took the lead, but in the end we managed to bring it towards the boat. After several critical moments – where we feared the hook would break – Amund got the cracker under and lifted the catch on board.

There it lay: a 15-kilogram salmon (60 old marks). Shiny silver, straight from the sea – the proof was that the sea lice were still stuck to the skin.

I was barely strong enough to hold it outstretched in my outstretched arm. What a magnificent fish!