The Dream Fish: The Story of the Fish of Life

About a week ago, I (Jens), my partner Klara, and our dog Wolger went fishing as a little end-of-season outing here at home in Jämtland. Most of the flowing waters up here close on September 1st, so we tried to make the most of the last days of August to get as much fishing in as possible before the rivers close.

This late in August, the trout start preparing for spawning, and the larger individuals that usually prefer lakes begin to move more and more towards the rivers. This fishing for migratory trout, as it is called, is a favorite among many fly fishermen as it offers the chance to catch large individuals that are rarely found in the rivers during the summer.

And last Sunday was the day when the stars aligned perfectly for me.
Below follows a short story about how I achieved a new personal best, the feelings, and the experience.

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We got out a bit later than we had planned. A slightly too long sleep-in combined with a dog that wasn’t in a hurry to relieve itself delayed us. The weather was, to say the least, variable: Sun, calm, rain, wind, sun, and rain and wind all at once... A classic big trout weather, and not at all unusual up here in the mountain world.


It started well right away. Klara waded out a bit upstream, and it didn’t take long before she shouted "YEP!" and the taut line formed a nice bend in her rod. Not long after, the first fish of the day was in the net. A nice and feisty trout weighing 1.3 kg. A few quick pictures later, it was released to swim home, and we were embraced by the feeling that if it continues like this, it will be a really good day. '

Little did we know then HOW good the day would be.

Because apart from a small trout that took a tiny dry fly, it would take 6 hours until the next fish, and what a FREAKING fish it was.



I stand a bit out in the river, really as far as I dare to wade considering how strong the current is. I’m casting as far as I can because I think that gives me the best chance of catching a fish.
But then I see, about 4-5-6 meters out from where I stand: There are rings on the surface from a fish that has risen. It looks like it’s from a very small rise, but I’ve just retrieved the entire line and think I’ll try to cast the fly there anyway, even though it looks like something small. After all, it’s been 6 hours since we felt anything on the line.

I’m really just casting a leader length out and swinging the fly past where I think the fish is - first cast nothing, but then I think I’ll give it another try, but with a bit more movement in the fly this time. I cast again and I barely start to strip the fly when it hits. The fish of a lifetime.

The strike is so hard that a jolt goes through my entire body, and it felt like I hooked a TRAIN!
Almost immediately, the fish is up and thrashing on the surface, and I don’t see the whole fish, but enough to realize that this is something extraordinary I have on the line. After this, my memory starts to fail me a bit, as I go into FULL panic.

Klara is about 20 meters upstream from me and sees everything. Everything from how the fish is thrashing on the surface, how my eyes are POPPING OUT while I’m just screaming “KLARAAAA IT'S A MONSTER IT'S A MONSTER”. I call for help. Embarrassingly many times.

Klara acts quickly and wades to shore and starts guiding me on what to do, because I’m in total panic and not at all in the game. It might sound strange that someone who has been fly fishing for nearly 15 years would panic when they have a big fish on the line, but this is not just a big fish. This is the fish of my life. And the panic is not the same as when you’re running and being chased, or the panic when you can’t find your phone or keys in the first two places you look. This is a different kind of panic. It’s more like anxiety, the anxiety and fear that I might lose the fish of my life that I’ve managed to trick into taking my fly. My fly that I tied during one of the many dark evenings of winter, with just such a late August evening in mind.

I stand completely paralyzed in the current. The power on the other end of the line is something I’ve never felt before. It is so FREAKING strong. I feel almost helpless as the fish rushes 70 meters downstream. Somewhere in this, my line gets tangled in the line basket and I have to yank it loose so it doesn’t break. I try to fiddle with the drag to tighten it but I turn it the wrong way and loosen it before I can correct it, and when I try to reel in, I’m so nervous that at times I reel THE WRONG WAY and thus give the fish line instead of reeling it in...
I’m simply very, very nervous, and I say several times in almost a trance "I don’t want to, I don’t want to". What I don’t want is, of course, for the fish to come loose, but all I can express in all the stress is: I. Don’t. Want.



And here I am so incredibly grateful, happy, and lucky to have Klara. My amazing woman. She not only stays calm when I’m standing like a frozen juice mixer in the current and just screaming from stress, but she also guides me on what to do and somehow manages to break through all the anxiety of losing the fish and all the stress I feel.
She calmly says that I need to back to shore, keep the pressure, and try to stop the fish before the next rapid. She repeats several times that I should take it easy (that didn’t get through the stress), fish is on and we will get it up, but that it will take a little time because it’s a very big fish. And she says something that really sticks with me during the fight.

I promise I will net it for you.
A promise. Perfect.

So finally, it starts to come closer to where we are after having followed it a little downstream. The fish is up on the surface several times and shows what an enormous tail fin it has, but we haven’t seen the whole fish yet.

Klara has moved a bit downstream to get in position to net the fish, while I stand a bit upstream trying to push it towards where she is.
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter that there’s a strong current - this fish just has to come up.

Here somewhere, I start to be a bit more in the game, and can take in what she says I should do to land the fish.
But even though the stress has started to ease, the anxiety takes over more and more.
To understand this anxiety, I should add that practically all the big fish I have encountered this summer have come loose. Some have broken the tippet, others have torn the fly apart, while the majority have simply come loose. It hasn’t mattered if they’ve been on for a long time - just before netting, they have come free. A classic when it comes to big fish.
It has marked the entire summer, and it’s that anxiety that is now taking over.

I see the fish approaching where Klara is standing. I also see the net and become completely convinced that the net is too small. But in the midst of all my anxiety, Klara is perfectly positioned, ready on her toes when the fish turns on the surface, and in a completely magical way, she nets the biggest freaking trout I have ever seen.



If I screamed before, you can imagine how I scream now.
It’s a scream that cannot be reconstructed, it’s a primal roar that the body just lets out by itself.
I can’t believe it’s true. Holy freaking god in hell. I have to check several times to see if the fish is really in the net and not just in my dream. It’s the craziest thing I have ever experienced.


And I am completely convinced that if Klara hadn’t been there with her calmness, her experience, and her ability to "get in the zone" and guide me through this, this would have been a story that ended like so many others - with a fish that came loose just before netting.



After weighing, measuring, and taking photos, it gets to swim home again - and now, a week later, I still get chills and feel moved when I see the pictures and video from it.

This is something I WILL never forget. Thank you life for giving me moments like this. Thank you Klara for being EXACTLY the person you are. Thank you dream fish for giving me this EXPERIENCE for life.

80 centimeters long, 42 centimeters in circumference, and 5.6 kilograms heavy.

Jumalauta.

Now I’m going to have a cigar.