The Skipper is devoted to the sport of ‘throwing for a rise,’ which he thinks the perfection of fishing. It can hardly be pursued with success anywhere but in Norway, for only there do fish seem to rise greedily after a constant succession of fine, hot, sunny days, with never a drop of rain or cat’s-paw of wind.
The great charm to him is the extreme delicacy required. You must put on your thinnest cast, your smallest fly, and throw your lightest; and unless you throw a very long line you have not a chance for the beggar. Then, if he comes at you, you can see him through the calm clear water, and watch the whole performance. You get a rather better chance where two fish are rising close together, as there is some jealousy and competition between them, and each of them is likely to rush at your fly without sufficient meditation, lest the other one may get it first.
The Skipper has studied fish from a moral point of view, and says that they are very much like men: and he invariably turns his knowledge of their habits to good account. Throwing for a rise—in a lake like this, where the fish run large—on a calm bright day is decidedly his forte; his motto in fishing being ‘far and fine.’ Whereas Esau shines more in a rapid stream than elsewhere.
The latter had a great time with the Professor, who he said was a capital fellow, and gave him whisky which they drank ‘to better sport;’ and they both agreed that there were no reindeer to be found in the district at present, and the Professor said he was going further north if matters did not mend speedily.
After the fishing and visiting were concluded, we hoisted sails of primitive construction, formed of a rug and a landing net, which, with a fair wind, soon brought us to Gjendesheim.
We think this wind is the chief cause of our misfortune. When we were in these parts before, the wind was always against us whenever we journeyed; and in that year we had first-rate sport, both in shooting and fishing. But this time the wind has always been with us, and we pay for the luxury by getting no shooting and not much fishing. ‘No mahtterr—a time will come.’
After food the Skipper with Öla went over to Leirungen—a small lake about three quarters of a mile distant. Öla carried his canoe, and did not like the job. It gives us considerable satisfaction to make Öla do any work, he is so abominably lazy.
It seemed that the tide of luck was already changing, as both he and Esau—who was throwing a fly on the river nearer home—brought in a few nice fish.
Just before bedtime there arrived at the rest-house three Norwegian tourists of the sterner sex, and a young lady the daughter of one of them. The father was a barrister, and the other two were the Lord Chief Justice of what they imagine to be Common Pleas, and a very thin, dried-up student of theology. They all talked English, and the young lady seemed anxious to practise the language.