Images by Ben Conway, Ron Brown and Roy Moore.
I must admit that since my last visit to Trondheimsfjord, Norway, in 2015, a return trip has been at the forefront of my mind. So much so that about a year ago, a few friends (Ron Brown, Lee Bennetts, Roy Moore and Mark Reed) and I began organising an excursion to coincide with the flush of spring fish that our guide Phill Dale had told us about. We were keen to sample the ‘self-guided’ option this time, meaning that we would have our own vehicle and could make our own plans. It was brilliant being fully-guided on our last trip, but having our own wheels and being free to go off any time we liked would mean we could pick and choose our venues and capitalise on the best slots in the tide. Preparations were much the same as the previous trip, with the exception that we brought only two baits: ragworm and bluey, and we brought along a good deal more ragworm than the previous trip, knowing full well what a deadly bait it is throughout Trondheimsfjord.
The date of April 5th soon rolled round and after meeting at Mark’s house, we crammed into a trailer-towing minibus and were driven up to Gatwick for the flight over. After a bit of a kerfuffle with the vehicle hire, we made the hour or so trip from Trondheim airport to the familiar setting of Skarnsundet Fjordsenter, with its imposing road bridge and deep clear waters riddled with the lines of swift currents. Of course, the first order of business was to get out on the pier in front of the apartments (a very good mark in its own right and one of my personal favourites) to try and catch the first fish of the trip. Mark was first to strike, catching a plump haddock and then Lee landed a codling. The other lads went in whilst I persevered, determined to catch something. I was unlucky to miss a firm bite and bump off what felt like a haddock but next cast a respectable whiting decided to impale itself on my mighty offering of bluey and I went inside vindicated.
The venue for our first full day was a mark called ‘Stu’s Point’ and the pier adjacent to it. We chose this particular spot as it had yielded good fishing for us on our last trip and could comfortably accommodate five anglers. Stu’s is renowned for big plaice and dabs – two species we were all keen to target. Ron and I elected to fish the point itself, contending with a vicious crosswind in the process, whilst Mark, Lee and Roy fished the pier. The fishing was pretty good for me with at least ten dabs falling for my ragworm offerings, along with the odd small codling. A few of these fish were over the pound but Ron found the pick of the bunch, reeling in a plump dab of 1.7lb. On the pier, the others fared similarly, although Mark managed to add a flounder for good measure.
After a trip to the Co-Op to stock up on supplies, Ron and I decided to give the pier outside of the apartments a proper go, whilst the other three headed over to a mark known as ‘The Landing’ on the other side of the bridge. After a cast or two, Ron had a strong run against the ratchet of his Penn Fathom and after a spirited contest, I scrambled down the boulders and plucked a beautifully plump haddock from the water. This was a big fish in the absolute peak of condition, full-finned, healthy and with a vivid violet sheen across the flanks. Ron and I were elated and a quick weigh on my scales registered a weight of 7.2lb – what a cracker! Fortunately, Ron managed to return this fish in the harbour behind us after it had lolled about for a minute or two getting its breath back. Haddock do seem to give a lot of themselves in the fight and most of the time they do not seem to go back well. Shortly afterwards, Ron had another thumping run and lifted into what was clearly another scrapping haddock. This was a canny fish and managed to dive under a ledge in close, with everything going solid. Ron patiently paid out some slack and luckily the fish worked its way out and a final heave brought another cracking haddock to the surface. We figured this one as a little smaller than the first although still well in the 6lb+ bracket. Like the first fish, this went back fine after a quick photo.
The rest of the session passed without real event. Fishing up to the left of Ron in slightly deeper water, I was first to contact our old friends the velvet belly lanternshark and the black-mouthed dogfish once the light went. After both Ron and I got sharp spurs in the hand from careless handling of velvet bellies, we decided to call it quits. Ron’s brace of monster haddock had been a great end to our first full day. The others weren’t that long in returning and it turned out they had had a slightly busier session than us with codling, coalies, haddock and the only ghost shark of the trip (caught by Roy) falling to their rods. Unlike last time where small coalies had been a bit of a pest everywhere, this was to be the only session any of the group fished on this trip where the same was true.
The second day dawned with light winds but a mixed bag of weather, being one minute raining hard and then fairly bright the next. We were keen to explore further afield and after finding our first choice mark occupied, a call to Phill gave us the location of a mark twenty minutes’ drive south west, a fairly lengthy pier with deep water and a mixed bag of potential species. We set up and almost straight away, Lee was into a nice cod of about 6lbs or so. Soon after, Ron started getting into a similar stamp of fish. At my end of the pier, I had a couple of small codling and Mark managed a reasonable codling on a metal jig in close. After starting to hit a ledge as the tide dropped, Mark and I decided to devote our efforts to spinning with the jig, both landing a tidy codling each whilst at the other end of the pier, Roy caught a nice pollack of 4lb+. We soon decided that it was pointless to continue at this spot if we couldn’t fish effectively on the bottom and another quick call to Phill gave us directions to another mark about 20 minutes further down the road that might be friendlier to us.
We pulled up to a medium-sized pier with a slight bend in the middle and a railing running all the way along. Behind us was a muddy-bottomed harbour and immediately in front of the seaward side of the pier, large boulders strewn with kelp and visibly well-populated with sea urchins loomed in the clear water. The mark screamed flatfish as much as anything and, keen as mustard, Mark and I scurried off to the far end of the pier to get some baits out. The fishing was fairly steady for me from the off, with small codling and the odd dab being the mainstay, although I did have a nice double shot of a 6.12 cod and a 1lb+ dab as the highlight of my session. To my left, Mark seemed to have the bum spot with very little coming to his rods. At the other end, Ron was cleaning up with 14 cod in total coming to his ragworm baits, the largest being in the 8lb+ category, whilst Lee was ticking over with codling in the middle. Roy had gone off to try a spot fishing off the rocks round the corner but returned after a few casts with no fish and kelp snatching at his gear on the retrieve. He sandwiched comfortably in between Ron and Lee and launched his baits out into the fair run of tide.
It wasn’t long after coming back from his excursion that one of Roy’s rods bent right over and line buzzed from the clutch of his reel. Roy picked up the rod and as we watched, felt for the fish before lifting smoothly into it. The Conoflex Highlander hooped over into what was clearly a serious weight and sensing the gravity of the situation, we gathered round to see the battle play out. The fish moved up the tide towards Lee’s lines and some swift jiggery-pokery was needed to prevent fouling. As the fish edged closer, hugging the bottom, the excitement grew between us all and Mark descended the precariously steep wall in front of the pier with gaff in hand to await the surfacing of the leviathan. There was talk of halibut, but the lack of runs and nodding fight of the fish seemed more like evidence of something else entirely to me and I was not surprised to see the pale belly of a serious cod coming up through the water column and being swiftly gaffed by the waiting Mark. Lifting the fish up the side of the pier, the group issued a stream of profanities and exclamations of amazement, along with speculations at what such a beast might weigh. The fish was clearly over 20lbs and after a good photo session with the delighted Roy, we gathered round again to see what the scales would register. The digital Berkeleys settled at 22lbs 7oz and after congratulating an ecstatic Roy on his expert handling of the fish, we gradually drifted into our respective spots to redouble our efforts in the sound knowledge that this was an area attractive to monster fish.
Not long after, Roy’s ratchet buzzed again and after a short while, the culprit sped off on another little run. At this stage, we were all thinking as one, ‘halibut’, and after a lift of the rod and a spirited tussle, Roy was delighted again to secure the group’s first halibut of the trip – a fish of around 4lbs. As darkness began to fall, it was Lee’s turn to score with the flatfish as he landed first a decent plaice of around 2lbs, then a halibut of his own, this time a little bigger at around 5lbs. Darkness produced little but black-mouths and we decided to head on home, collectively delighted with our day. Back at the apartments, Mark decided to embark on a solo mission to The Landing whilst the rest of us elected to go straight to bed. In the event, Mark had little to speak of and returned home a couple of hours later after a very wet session.
The next morning, I decided to head out with the LRF gear to see if I could up our species count a little. The harbour in front of the apartments is home to all kinds of smaller critters and the broken ground lends itself to light lure fishing techniques using the bread-and-butter splitshot rig and a section of power isome. After a brief dangle, I had a bite and reeled in a goldsinney wrasse; a species that the harbour seems to be particularly well-laden with. I was then summoned back to the apartment as the rest of the group had settled on a plan of action for the day; another visit to the successful mark we had fished the day before.
We packed the van with gear and our iffy-smelling selves and began the lengthy drive, all a little nervous as snow had settled overnight and the road was treacherous. As it was, Mark expertly piloted us to the spot safely and we all piled out and strung out in exactly the reverse order of the day before with me nailing down what had been Roy’s spot. The weather was a stern contrast to the previous day with a howling crosswind blasting through and making casting a little tricky. The fishing was different this day with the action all coming at the other end of the pier with Ron landing some lovely cod with the best going 9.15lbs (agonisingly close to a double!) along with the only halibut of the session. Roy, on the other hand, had a different set of tricks up his sleeve for this session. I was baiting up when I happened to look over and saw his rod comfortably bent over into a fish with the others gathered round expectantly. I heard the gasp go up from the group and heard the word ‘plaice’, so I dropped what I was doing and hurried over to see what was taking shape. A huge plaice lolled on the surface and was gaffed by Mark and lifted to safety. On the pier, the giant flattie flapped angrily as we looked on in wonderment. This was by far the biggest plaice I had ever seen caught and was a stunning example, broad and thick, and dark with vivid orange spots. After rattling off some pictures, it was time for the weigh-in and the scales read 4lbs 10oz – what a fish! In classic Roy style, he was in again not long after and he nonchalantly lifted another big plaice up the pier wall, a fish of 3lbs 3oz. This spurred us all on to fish hard for plaice of our own. I soon managed one, although my fish was a small one in the 1.8lb category, before Ron also caught one of similar size. This proved to be the end of the day’s action and we filed into the van again and set a course for the apartments.
The next morning, Lee and I decided to hit the pier early doors to catch the last of the flooding tide. We set up and hurled baits out into the current. The fishing was slow with only a small coalfish falling to one of my baits before we were called back to the apartment. Mark had formulated a plan to go and fish a mark to the east at Straumen, a spot we had fished before and done quite well at. Remembering well the events of the previous trip where one small area had produced virtually all the fish, I shrewdly made sure I was set up in roughly the same spot before casting out my chunks of bluey. It was not long before I was into cod with steady bites producing three fish to 6lbs+ with another lost at my feet. Further down the field near where I had fished last time, Mark and Roy were encountering snags with only the odd dab for consolation. Mark soon announced that he was moving on to another venue and Roy elected to go with him. Ron, Lee and myself stayed in the field as there were clearly fish present in our area, with Ron moving to my right to capitalise on the movement of fish across the grounds. The dropping tide began to reveal an underwater obstruction out at around 80 yards range which I began to lose fish and gear on, forcing me to shorten off my casts. Still, the cod kept coming although with the slackening current, we began to get a lot more fussy bites, some of which were clearly from flatfish. Lee lost what looked like a good cod to the snag and I had a tearing run that came to nothing and after a few hours, we decided to give Mark a ring to pick us up. It turned out in the meantime, Mark and Roy had fished one venue and moved across to another, with Roy catching plenty of dabs and Mark landing a belting plaice of 3lbs 12oz, along with codling and a bonus haddock. We joined Roy at the spot where they had ended up, a beautifully feature-laden mark that we had done well at last trip. However, this time, the spot seemed out of sorts and we left without pulling another fish off it, although we did have a close encounter with a man and his son trying to start a bonfire directly behind Roy! The rain was coming down intermittently but this didn’t seem to deter the boiler-suited Norwegian who kept emptying more and more fuel on to the damp pile of brush in a vain effort to ignite it. Roy’s proximity to his intended inferno didn’t seem to overly bother him either. I concluded that this guy was either seriously deluded or mildly deranged and I did feel a bit sorry for the boy having to watch his dad fail ridiculously and being chortled at by a gang of foreign fishermen!
I had started to become aware that we were a few days in, and although some epic fish had been caught, I had not caught anything that impressive myself yet. I made up my mind to attack the pier that night as it was a spot that had been very good to me in the past and I knew it had the potential to throw up nice fish of a variety of species. The other lads concurred and we trooped out to fish along the wall. I elected to fish close to some rougher ground in the hope that I might pick up a fish moving off after foraging through it. This turned out to be a good move as an hour or so into the session, the rod registered a few nods and some slack line. I picked up the rod and felt for the fish, which obligingly gave a solid pull and I lifted into a satisfying weight. The fish stayed deep and thumped a few times all the way in, showing all the signs of a reasonable cod. By now Ron had carefully gotten into position to lift the fish from the water as we had left the gaff in the van. I gave the fish some stick as it came in towards the edge and a decent cod surfaced and was grabbed and carried to safety by Ron. This was a long, lean fish with a large head; quite typical of the kind of cod we had gotten used to catching in Norway. I thought if it wasn’t a double, it was very close to it and I quickly got my scales out for the moment of truth. The trusty old spring balances gave a weight of 10lbs 4oz; a first double-figure cod for me and a very pleasing moment indeed! After a few pictures, we fished on for another hour or so in the hope that more decent fish were out there to be had. In the event, only the velvet bellies and the black-mouths came out to play and we soon grew tired of these and returned to the lodge.
Our fifth day dawned to some very topsy-turvy weather. Forecasted strong winds and rain punctuated by brighter spells meant that we had spent the night before turning over plans to find a more sheltered area, settling on a series of marks about an hour’s drive south west. We made the drive down quite early, aiming to split up and spread about a little bit. Ron, Lee and I elected to fish the concrete pier and Mark and Roy drove a little further on to fish a series of rock ledges; a mark that had given the group a bit of a hiding last time due to an unseen snag. I was champing at the bit to fish the pier as on our last visit, Roy and I had enjoyed amazing sport in close with small coalfish and pollack on light gear. However, I was disappointed on this occasion to find that the pier seemed to have no pollack or coalies in residence, even the LRF gear yielded nothing. In fact, ‘nothing’ seemed to be the general theme of this short session with only a dab coming to Ron’s rod with even this fish dropping off at the side. Mark and Roy soon returned having had their fill of the ledges which were as unproductive as the pier. We all reeled in to pack up and were all a bit surprised to find that Lee had a hagfish hanging on to one of his baits. We were all aware that these jawless denizens of the deep were a feature of this mark at night but we didn’t expect to catch one in the day. This curiosity safely returned, we headed back over to the Skarnsundet area, looking for better fishing. Ron and I elected to fish The Landing, whilst Lee, Mark and Roy first went to look at a spot round the corner, then came back and headed south west a few miles to a sheltered pier.
The fishing at our mark was slow with a quick codling for me followed by a fishless stretch for both of us. However, the powerful tidal movements and quick switches of direction inspired confidence here and kept my motivation high, despite the wind blasting directly at us. After a while, I had a good strong bite and after a short tussle I landed what I had been hoping to catch: a haddock. Last time we visited Skarnsundet the haddock were plentiful and we caught them everywhere but on this trip they seemed to be more thinly dispersed although the bigger ones we had were a lot bigger than the previous trip. In any respect, this was my only haddock of the trip and I was pleased as punch to catch it as they are a species I am very fond of. Soon the others returned with talk of poor fishing down the road and, seeing as nothing that exciting was happening at our mark, we decided to return to base and regroup.
Back at the lodge we all had a feed and a refuel before hatching a plan to go and fish another spot in the Straumen area that we had been considering for a few days but not gotten to yet. We were welcomed by reasonable conditions, but almost as soon as we were all set up, a squall blasted through, hammering us with sleet and (at least for me) putting all notion of rebaiting on hold. Thankfully, the squall soon passed and we all settled into our respective rhythms, Lee having the best of the fishing at the end of the line, with a nice cod in the 8lb class his reward for a tough day’s angling. I concentrated on dabs with smaller fish baits on small hooks. Bites were constant although I only landed one dab and a couple of small codling. The others fared similarly and after a while, we decided to head on back as the next day was our last full day and we wanted to finish in style. This session had at least salvaged a bit of pride from what had been a tough day and one in which we had been off the fish for the most part. It had also produced a nice fish for Lee on a very significant date for him and I think we all felt good about that too.
Before heading to bed that night, we managed to chase down a fork and Ron and I came up with a plan to go digging worm in the morning. Ragworm seemed to be the key to a lot of the better fishing we had and having run out, we wanted to replenish our supplies for the big day ahead. Heading out not long after dawn to an area Phill suggested, my first taste of driving in Norway happened to take place in a decent fall of snow and sketchy-looking road conditions. I felt quite comfortable driving but in the passenger seat Ron held on for dear life as he continually reminded me that I was very close to the verge! Despite the dodgy drive, we made it to the grounds in good order and started to steam into the areas with the most casts. These were lug, not rag, and after a good hour or so of Ron digging and me picking, we had well over a hundred for the day – an effort that was to prove fruitful for me.
After another (apparently!) hairy drive home, we found the others awake and starting to gear up for the day. I divided the worms into equal portions and we all prepared our tackle and food. There was no question of where we were going; the mark that had given us our best fishing of the trip was looking fishable in the slightly lighter winds and we were all keen as mustard to get down there. Mark began the precarious drive through the snow-strewn roads and we made reasonable time, arriving to find the mark empty and inviting. I chose to fish a different pier a few hundred yards away to start with. Phill had told me that this was a good area for flatfish and, with my new stock of worm, I was eager to see whether I could winkle out a better plaice. As it turned out, this shallower mark was littered with loose weed and kelp, probably from the strong tides and winds of the last few days, and after a few casts, I headed back to the van and drove over to the other pier to join the lads. In my absence, the guys had done well, landing a couple of small ling along with a small halibut for Mark.
I set up to Mark’s right and put out a sizable bluey bait on one rod and a flatfish trace baited with lug and a bluey strip tip on the other. I walked over to chat with the others leaving my rods on the ratchet. We had been talking a short while when one of my reels buzzed and the rod lurched over in the belting tide. I ran over and picked up the rod, feeling nothing for a second before a strong pull triggered an instinctive lift and the rod bent over sweetly as the fish responded with a heavy thump. Almost instantly, I knew that I was connected to a good cod and I was very aware that the hooks I had on were small and not especially strong. If I wanted to land this fish, I would have to go steady and keep my cool. The others gathered round as they could see I was clearly into a good fish and the battle commenced. There was a suggestion of halibut but I was adamant that this was a cod, I could even feel its tail ping on the line every now and then and the deep, nodding fight was classic cod. The fish made no major lunges for freedom and, with Mark in place with the gaff, I managed to steer it in towards us, seeing first the leader, then the big pale belly emerging from the clear depths. The cod surfaced and looked huge as it rolled onto its flank before being safely gaffed in the cheek first time by Mark and lifted to safety on the pier. The first thing evident was the small dead codling on the main hook of the trace; clearly the cod had been trying to consume its smaller bretheren. The big cod itself was firmly hooked on the pennel hook, a size 1 Kamasan Aberdeen short shank: a hook I use as much to keep a nice straight worm bait as to physically catch a fish and certainly not my first choice of hook pattern and size for cod fishing!
The by-now familiar pattern of photoshoot and weigh-in took place and the cod registered a weight of 19lb 6oz on Roy’s digital scales; a new personal best for me and one that I don’t expect to be beating in a hurry! After the excitement had simmered down, we carried on fishing and I kept up the flatfish tactics as I knew there were big plaice out there yet to be had. The tide was belting through and I was using green top Breakaways to hold bottom. I never saw a bite, but on reeling in my flattie rod, I felt a reassuring weight and for a second I dared to wonder if I had hooked my dream fish. The weight was consistent all the way to the side and I felt very little in the way of kicks and lunges. Shortly after the leader appeared, a brown shape began to emerge from the depths and I shouted for assistance, knowing what I had on. This brought Mark scurrying over to help land what was by far my personal best plaice, a cracking fish of 3lbs 5oz and a very satisfying catch for me, having dreamed of a big plaice for a good few years now. Even so, I felt that I was not finished and that there were more out there for me and possibly an even bigger one.
In the meantime, Mark, Roy and Lee had decided to have a little dig in the harbour behind us, a fortunate decision as half an hour’s toil produced plenty of juicy ragworm. Fishing to my left, Mark was proving himself to be the day’s halibut master, landing three in total all around the 4-5lbs mark. As dusk drew in, I was tempted to put both rods on halibut baits (being the only member of the group not to have caught one yet) but something told me to persist with the plaice tactics and to add a fresh wriggling rag to my lug baits. A rattling bite produced a nice dab and then the next cast saw a few deliberate nods followed by a long quiet period. I left the rod well alone, going off for a chat before coming back to my pitch and starting to reel in. Sure enough, the weight was there and it felt substantial. This fish lunged a little in close but I had a good height advantage and it couldn’t make any headway. The familiar brown shape surfaced and was safely landed by Mark and I was thrilled to see that this fish was clearly bigger again and I hoped that it would make over 4lbs. On the scales, the fish came in at 4lbs 5oz and I could not have been more pleased; if I’m really honest, a properly big plaice has been top of my wish-list for a long time (with a big cod not far behind!) and here one lay before me. Norway had done me proud!
Fishing on, I soon caught another much smaller plaice and Mark and Lee landed similar size halibut, taking the grand total of halibut for the group to seven. Unfortunately, I didn’t contribute to this tally and it looks very much like I will have to come back again to set that record straight! As night drew in, Lee set up a third lighter rod and began to explore the inner slope of the sandbank we were casting to. This didn’t produce a plaice but did produce a succession of good cod with the best going 9lbs 4oz and, with darkness having fully taken hold, a screaming bite and a vigorous scrap saw Lee landing an enormous 7lbs 6oz haddock! Truly a dream fish and amazing to behold. Lee was on fire and was kept busy with bites and runs on all three rods with the best of the sport coming on the light Conoflex rod that caught the good cod and the monster haddock. In my spot, I began hooking into what felt like a line snag and after catching my very first shore-caught ling, I lost a fish to the snag and decided to call it a day, more than happy with my lot. We gradually wound down the session, packing away the kit before driving back to Skarnsundet.
The next morning we were too preoccupied with sorting and packing to really fish, although Mark and Roy had a few hours on the pier in front of the house and I had a short LRF session, adding a corkwing wrasse to our species tally. In truth, I really wanted a lumpsucker as they are visibly evident around the harbour and I’ve never caught one before but it wasn’t to be this trip. With packing complete, all that was left was to say goodbye to Phill and Julian and to enjoy one last look across the amazing spectacle that is the view from Skarnsundet Fjordsenter. All of us had fished our socks off and caught amazing dream fish; I felt proud to be part of such a group of skilled and dedicated anglers. Boarding the plane and realising that I was journeying back to reality, I felt a sense of all things being right with the world; I had loved living the dream for a week but I had missed my pregnant wife terribly and I was eager to get back.
I sincerely hope to visit Norway again before long although, with a little one on the way, it might be a bit trickier to arrange in the future! The fishing here is truly what shore fishing should be; it’s not always easy and you do have to go at it hard, but the fish of your dreams are out there and with perseverance and the right attitude, you can catch them. Once again, I’ve left Skarnsundet with memories that will last a lifetime and with that considered, the price of a trip seems cheap. The only thing left to say is thanks to Ron, Lee, Roy and Mark (bullshit artists) for being such brilliant company on the trip and special thanks to Mark for assuming the mantle of designated driver for the whole week; nice one mate! Hearty thanks are also due to Phill Dale and Julian Röß; cheers for all your help guys and best wishes for your future as a married man Phill!
I must admit that since my last visit to Trondheimsfjord, Norway, in 2015, a return trip has been at the forefront of my mind. So much so that about a year ago, a few friends (Ron Brown, Lee Bennetts, Roy Moore and Mark Reed) and I began organising an excursion to coincide with the flush of spring fish that our guide Phill Dale had told us about. We were keen to sample the ‘self-guided’ option this time, meaning that we would have our own vehicle and could make our own plans. It was brilliant being fully-guided on our last trip, but having our own wheels and being free to go off any time we liked would mean we could pick and choose our venues and capitalise on the best slots in the tide. Preparations were much the same as the previous trip, with the exception that we brought only two baits: ragworm and bluey, and we brought along a good deal more ragworm than the previous trip, knowing full well what a deadly bait it is throughout Trondheimsfjord.
The date of April 5th soon rolled round and after meeting at Mark’s house, we crammed into a trailer-towing minibus and were driven up to Gatwick for the flight over. After a bit of a kerfuffle with the vehicle hire, we made the hour or so trip from Trondheim airport to the familiar setting of Skarnsundet Fjordsenter, with its imposing road bridge and deep clear waters riddled with the lines of swift currents. Of course, the first order of business was to get out on the pier in front of the apartments (a very good mark in its own right and one of my personal favourites) to try and catch the first fish of the trip. Mark was first to strike, catching a plump haddock and then Lee landed a codling. The other lads went in whilst I persevered, determined to catch something. I was unlucky to miss a firm bite and bump off what felt like a haddock but next cast a respectable whiting decided to impale itself on my mighty offering of bluey and I went inside vindicated.
The venue for our first full day was a mark called ‘Stu’s Point’ and the pier adjacent to it. We chose this particular spot as it had yielded good fishing for us on our last trip and could comfortably accommodate five anglers. Stu’s is renowned for big plaice and dabs – two species we were all keen to target. Ron and I elected to fish the point itself, contending with a vicious crosswind in the process, whilst Mark, Lee and Roy fished the pier. The fishing was pretty good for me with at least ten dabs falling for my ragworm offerings, along with the odd small codling. A few of these fish were over the pound but Ron found the pick of the bunch, reeling in a plump dab of 1.7lb. On the pier, the others fared similarly, although Mark managed to add a flounder for good measure.
After a trip to the Co-Op to stock up on supplies, Ron and I decided to give the pier outside of the apartments a proper go, whilst the other three headed over to a mark known as ‘The Landing’ on the other side of the bridge. After a cast or two, Ron had a strong run against the ratchet of his Penn Fathom and after a spirited contest, I scrambled down the boulders and plucked a beautifully plump haddock from the water. This was a big fish in the absolute peak of condition, full-finned, healthy and with a vivid violet sheen across the flanks. Ron and I were elated and a quick weigh on my scales registered a weight of 7.2lb – what a cracker! Fortunately, Ron managed to return this fish in the harbour behind us after it had lolled about for a minute or two getting its breath back. Haddock do seem to give a lot of themselves in the fight and most of the time they do not seem to go back well. Shortly afterwards, Ron had another thumping run and lifted into what was clearly another scrapping haddock. This was a canny fish and managed to dive under a ledge in close, with everything going solid. Ron patiently paid out some slack and luckily the fish worked its way out and a final heave brought another cracking haddock to the surface. We figured this one as a little smaller than the first although still well in the 6lb+ bracket. Like the first fish, this went back fine after a quick photo.
The rest of the session passed without real event. Fishing up to the left of Ron in slightly deeper water, I was first to contact our old friends the velvet belly lanternshark and the black-mouthed dogfish once the light went. After both Ron and I got sharp spurs in the hand from careless handling of velvet bellies, we decided to call it quits. Ron’s brace of monster haddock had been a great end to our first full day. The others weren’t that long in returning and it turned out they had had a slightly busier session than us with codling, coalies, haddock and the only ghost shark of the trip (caught by Roy) falling to their rods. Unlike last time where small coalies had been a bit of a pest everywhere, this was to be the only session any of the group fished on this trip where the same was true.
The second day dawned with light winds but a mixed bag of weather, being one minute raining hard and then fairly bright the next. We were keen to explore further afield and after finding our first choice mark occupied, a call to Phill gave us the location of a mark twenty minutes’ drive south west, a fairly lengthy pier with deep water and a mixed bag of potential species. We set up and almost straight away, Lee was into a nice cod of about 6lbs or so. Soon after, Ron started getting into a similar stamp of fish. At my end of the pier, I had a couple of small codling and Mark managed a reasonable codling on a metal jig in close. After starting to hit a ledge as the tide dropped, Mark and I decided to devote our efforts to spinning with the jig, both landing a tidy codling each whilst at the other end of the pier, Roy caught a nice pollack of 4lb+. We soon decided that it was pointless to continue at this spot if we couldn’t fish effectively on the bottom and another quick call to Phill gave us directions to another mark about 20 minutes further down the road that might be friendlier to us.
We pulled up to a medium-sized pier with a slight bend in the middle and a railing running all the way along. Behind us was a muddy-bottomed harbour and immediately in front of the seaward side of the pier, large boulders strewn with kelp and visibly well-populated with sea urchins loomed in the clear water. The mark screamed flatfish as much as anything and, keen as mustard, Mark and I scurried off to the far end of the pier to get some baits out. The fishing was fairly steady for me from the off, with small codling and the odd dab being the mainstay, although I did have a nice double shot of a 6.12 cod and a 1lb+ dab as the highlight of my session. To my left, Mark seemed to have the bum spot with very little coming to his rods. At the other end, Ron was cleaning up with 14 cod in total coming to his ragworm baits, the largest being in the 8lb+ category, whilst Lee was ticking over with codling in the middle. Roy had gone off to try a spot fishing off the rocks round the corner but returned after a few casts with no fish and kelp snatching at his gear on the retrieve. He sandwiched comfortably in between Ron and Lee and launched his baits out into the fair run of tide.
It wasn’t long after coming back from his excursion that one of Roy’s rods bent right over and line buzzed from the clutch of his reel. Roy picked up the rod and as we watched, felt for the fish before lifting smoothly into it. The Conoflex Highlander hooped over into what was clearly a serious weight and sensing the gravity of the situation, we gathered round to see the battle play out. The fish moved up the tide towards Lee’s lines and some swift jiggery-pokery was needed to prevent fouling. As the fish edged closer, hugging the bottom, the excitement grew between us all and Mark descended the precariously steep wall in front of the pier with gaff in hand to await the surfacing of the leviathan. There was talk of halibut, but the lack of runs and nodding fight of the fish seemed more like evidence of something else entirely to me and I was not surprised to see the pale belly of a serious cod coming up through the water column and being swiftly gaffed by the waiting Mark. Lifting the fish up the side of the pier, the group issued a stream of profanities and exclamations of amazement, along with speculations at what such a beast might weigh. The fish was clearly over 20lbs and after a good photo session with the delighted Roy, we gathered round again to see what the scales would register. The digital Berkeleys settled at 22lbs 7oz and after congratulating an ecstatic Roy on his expert handling of the fish, we gradually drifted into our respective spots to redouble our efforts in the sound knowledge that this was an area attractive to monster fish.
Not long after, Roy’s ratchet buzzed again and after a short while, the culprit sped off on another little run. At this stage, we were all thinking as one, ‘halibut’, and after a lift of the rod and a spirited tussle, Roy was delighted again to secure the group’s first halibut of the trip – a fish of around 4lbs. As darkness began to fall, it was Lee’s turn to score with the flatfish as he landed first a decent plaice of around 2lbs, then a halibut of his own, this time a little bigger at around 5lbs. Darkness produced little but black-mouths and we decided to head on home, collectively delighted with our day. Back at the apartments, Mark decided to embark on a solo mission to The Landing whilst the rest of us elected to go straight to bed. In the event, Mark had little to speak of and returned home a couple of hours later after a very wet session.
The next morning, I decided to head out with the LRF gear to see if I could up our species count a little. The harbour in front of the apartments is home to all kinds of smaller critters and the broken ground lends itself to light lure fishing techniques using the bread-and-butter splitshot rig and a section of power isome. After a brief dangle, I had a bite and reeled in a goldsinney wrasse; a species that the harbour seems to be particularly well-laden with. I was then summoned back to the apartment as the rest of the group had settled on a plan of action for the day; another visit to the successful mark we had fished the day before.
We packed the van with gear and our iffy-smelling selves and began the lengthy drive, all a little nervous as snow had settled overnight and the road was treacherous. As it was, Mark expertly piloted us to the spot safely and we all piled out and strung out in exactly the reverse order of the day before with me nailing down what had been Roy’s spot. The weather was a stern contrast to the previous day with a howling crosswind blasting through and making casting a little tricky. The fishing was different this day with the action all coming at the other end of the pier with Ron landing some lovely cod with the best going 9.15lbs (agonisingly close to a double!) along with the only halibut of the session. Roy, on the other hand, had a different set of tricks up his sleeve for this session. I was baiting up when I happened to look over and saw his rod comfortably bent over into a fish with the others gathered round expectantly. I heard the gasp go up from the group and heard the word ‘plaice’, so I dropped what I was doing and hurried over to see what was taking shape. A huge plaice lolled on the surface and was gaffed by Mark and lifted to safety. On the pier, the giant flattie flapped angrily as we looked on in wonderment. This was by far the biggest plaice I had ever seen caught and was a stunning example, broad and thick, and dark with vivid orange spots. After rattling off some pictures, it was time for the weigh-in and the scales read 4lbs 10oz – what a fish! In classic Roy style, he was in again not long after and he nonchalantly lifted another big plaice up the pier wall, a fish of 3lbs 3oz. This spurred us all on to fish hard for plaice of our own. I soon managed one, although my fish was a small one in the 1.8lb category, before Ron also caught one of similar size. This proved to be the end of the day’s action and we filed into the van again and set a course for the apartments.
The next morning, Lee and I decided to hit the pier early doors to catch the last of the flooding tide. We set up and hurled baits out into the current. The fishing was slow with only a small coalfish falling to one of my baits before we were called back to the apartment. Mark had formulated a plan to go and fish a mark to the east at Straumen, a spot we had fished before and done quite well at. Remembering well the events of the previous trip where one small area had produced virtually all the fish, I shrewdly made sure I was set up in roughly the same spot before casting out my chunks of bluey. It was not long before I was into cod with steady bites producing three fish to 6lbs+ with another lost at my feet. Further down the field near where I had fished last time, Mark and Roy were encountering snags with only the odd dab for consolation. Mark soon announced that he was moving on to another venue and Roy elected to go with him. Ron, Lee and myself stayed in the field as there were clearly fish present in our area, with Ron moving to my right to capitalise on the movement of fish across the grounds. The dropping tide began to reveal an underwater obstruction out at around 80 yards range which I began to lose fish and gear on, forcing me to shorten off my casts. Still, the cod kept coming although with the slackening current, we began to get a lot more fussy bites, some of which were clearly from flatfish. Lee lost what looked like a good cod to the snag and I had a tearing run that came to nothing and after a few hours, we decided to give Mark a ring to pick us up. It turned out in the meantime, Mark and Roy had fished one venue and moved across to another, with Roy catching plenty of dabs and Mark landing a belting plaice of 3lbs 12oz, along with codling and a bonus haddock. We joined Roy at the spot where they had ended up, a beautifully feature-laden mark that we had done well at last trip. However, this time, the spot seemed out of sorts and we left without pulling another fish off it, although we did have a close encounter with a man and his son trying to start a bonfire directly behind Roy! The rain was coming down intermittently but this didn’t seem to deter the boiler-suited Norwegian who kept emptying more and more fuel on to the damp pile of brush in a vain effort to ignite it. Roy’s proximity to his intended inferno didn’t seem to overly bother him either. I concluded that this guy was either seriously deluded or mildly deranged and I did feel a bit sorry for the boy having to watch his dad fail ridiculously and being chortled at by a gang of foreign fishermen!
I had started to become aware that we were a few days in, and although some epic fish had been caught, I had not caught anything that impressive myself yet. I made up my mind to attack the pier that night as it was a spot that had been very good to me in the past and I knew it had the potential to throw up nice fish of a variety of species. The other lads concurred and we trooped out to fish along the wall. I elected to fish close to some rougher ground in the hope that I might pick up a fish moving off after foraging through it. This turned out to be a good move as an hour or so into the session, the rod registered a few nods and some slack line. I picked up the rod and felt for the fish, which obligingly gave a solid pull and I lifted into a satisfying weight. The fish stayed deep and thumped a few times all the way in, showing all the signs of a reasonable cod. By now Ron had carefully gotten into position to lift the fish from the water as we had left the gaff in the van. I gave the fish some stick as it came in towards the edge and a decent cod surfaced and was grabbed and carried to safety by Ron. This was a long, lean fish with a large head; quite typical of the kind of cod we had gotten used to catching in Norway. I thought if it wasn’t a double, it was very close to it and I quickly got my scales out for the moment of truth. The trusty old spring balances gave a weight of 10lbs 4oz; a first double-figure cod for me and a very pleasing moment indeed! After a few pictures, we fished on for another hour or so in the hope that more decent fish were out there to be had. In the event, only the velvet bellies and the black-mouths came out to play and we soon grew tired of these and returned to the lodge.
Our fifth day dawned to some very topsy-turvy weather. Forecasted strong winds and rain punctuated by brighter spells meant that we had spent the night before turning over plans to find a more sheltered area, settling on a series of marks about an hour’s drive south west. We made the drive down quite early, aiming to split up and spread about a little bit. Ron, Lee and I elected to fish the concrete pier and Mark and Roy drove a little further on to fish a series of rock ledges; a mark that had given the group a bit of a hiding last time due to an unseen snag. I was champing at the bit to fish the pier as on our last visit, Roy and I had enjoyed amazing sport in close with small coalfish and pollack on light gear. However, I was disappointed on this occasion to find that the pier seemed to have no pollack or coalies in residence, even the LRF gear yielded nothing. In fact, ‘nothing’ seemed to be the general theme of this short session with only a dab coming to Ron’s rod with even this fish dropping off at the side. Mark and Roy soon returned having had their fill of the ledges which were as unproductive as the pier. We all reeled in to pack up and were all a bit surprised to find that Lee had a hagfish hanging on to one of his baits. We were all aware that these jawless denizens of the deep were a feature of this mark at night but we didn’t expect to catch one in the day. This curiosity safely returned, we headed back over to the Skarnsundet area, looking for better fishing. Ron and I elected to fish The Landing, whilst Lee, Mark and Roy first went to look at a spot round the corner, then came back and headed south west a few miles to a sheltered pier.
The fishing at our mark was slow with a quick codling for me followed by a fishless stretch for both of us. However, the powerful tidal movements and quick switches of direction inspired confidence here and kept my motivation high, despite the wind blasting directly at us. After a while, I had a good strong bite and after a short tussle I landed what I had been hoping to catch: a haddock. Last time we visited Skarnsundet the haddock were plentiful and we caught them everywhere but on this trip they seemed to be more thinly dispersed although the bigger ones we had were a lot bigger than the previous trip. In any respect, this was my only haddock of the trip and I was pleased as punch to catch it as they are a species I am very fond of. Soon the others returned with talk of poor fishing down the road and, seeing as nothing that exciting was happening at our mark, we decided to return to base and regroup.
Back at the lodge we all had a feed and a refuel before hatching a plan to go and fish another spot in the Straumen area that we had been considering for a few days but not gotten to yet. We were welcomed by reasonable conditions, but almost as soon as we were all set up, a squall blasted through, hammering us with sleet and (at least for me) putting all notion of rebaiting on hold. Thankfully, the squall soon passed and we all settled into our respective rhythms, Lee having the best of the fishing at the end of the line, with a nice cod in the 8lb class his reward for a tough day’s angling. I concentrated on dabs with smaller fish baits on small hooks. Bites were constant although I only landed one dab and a couple of small codling. The others fared similarly and after a while, we decided to head on back as the next day was our last full day and we wanted to finish in style. This session had at least salvaged a bit of pride from what had been a tough day and one in which we had been off the fish for the most part. It had also produced a nice fish for Lee on a very significant date for him and I think we all felt good about that too.
Before heading to bed that night, we managed to chase down a fork and Ron and I came up with a plan to go digging worm in the morning. Ragworm seemed to be the key to a lot of the better fishing we had and having run out, we wanted to replenish our supplies for the big day ahead. Heading out not long after dawn to an area Phill suggested, my first taste of driving in Norway happened to take place in a decent fall of snow and sketchy-looking road conditions. I felt quite comfortable driving but in the passenger seat Ron held on for dear life as he continually reminded me that I was very close to the verge! Despite the dodgy drive, we made it to the grounds in good order and started to steam into the areas with the most casts. These were lug, not rag, and after a good hour or so of Ron digging and me picking, we had well over a hundred for the day – an effort that was to prove fruitful for me.
After another (apparently!) hairy drive home, we found the others awake and starting to gear up for the day. I divided the worms into equal portions and we all prepared our tackle and food. There was no question of where we were going; the mark that had given us our best fishing of the trip was looking fishable in the slightly lighter winds and we were all keen as mustard to get down there. Mark began the precarious drive through the snow-strewn roads and we made reasonable time, arriving to find the mark empty and inviting. I chose to fish a different pier a few hundred yards away to start with. Phill had told me that this was a good area for flatfish and, with my new stock of worm, I was eager to see whether I could winkle out a better plaice. As it turned out, this shallower mark was littered with loose weed and kelp, probably from the strong tides and winds of the last few days, and after a few casts, I headed back to the van and drove over to the other pier to join the lads. In my absence, the guys had done well, landing a couple of small ling along with a small halibut for Mark.
I set up to Mark’s right and put out a sizable bluey bait on one rod and a flatfish trace baited with lug and a bluey strip tip on the other. I walked over to chat with the others leaving my rods on the ratchet. We had been talking a short while when one of my reels buzzed and the rod lurched over in the belting tide. I ran over and picked up the rod, feeling nothing for a second before a strong pull triggered an instinctive lift and the rod bent over sweetly as the fish responded with a heavy thump. Almost instantly, I knew that I was connected to a good cod and I was very aware that the hooks I had on were small and not especially strong. If I wanted to land this fish, I would have to go steady and keep my cool. The others gathered round as they could see I was clearly into a good fish and the battle commenced. There was a suggestion of halibut but I was adamant that this was a cod, I could even feel its tail ping on the line every now and then and the deep, nodding fight was classic cod. The fish made no major lunges for freedom and, with Mark in place with the gaff, I managed to steer it in towards us, seeing first the leader, then the big pale belly emerging from the clear depths. The cod surfaced and looked huge as it rolled onto its flank before being safely gaffed in the cheek first time by Mark and lifted to safety on the pier. The first thing evident was the small dead codling on the main hook of the trace; clearly the cod had been trying to consume its smaller bretheren. The big cod itself was firmly hooked on the pennel hook, a size 1 Kamasan Aberdeen short shank: a hook I use as much to keep a nice straight worm bait as to physically catch a fish and certainly not my first choice of hook pattern and size for cod fishing!
The by-now familiar pattern of photoshoot and weigh-in took place and the cod registered a weight of 19lb 6oz on Roy’s digital scales; a new personal best for me and one that I don’t expect to be beating in a hurry! After the excitement had simmered down, we carried on fishing and I kept up the flatfish tactics as I knew there were big plaice out there yet to be had. The tide was belting through and I was using green top Breakaways to hold bottom. I never saw a bite, but on reeling in my flattie rod, I felt a reassuring weight and for a second I dared to wonder if I had hooked my dream fish. The weight was consistent all the way to the side and I felt very little in the way of kicks and lunges. Shortly after the leader appeared, a brown shape began to emerge from the depths and I shouted for assistance, knowing what I had on. This brought Mark scurrying over to help land what was by far my personal best plaice, a cracking fish of 3lbs 5oz and a very satisfying catch for me, having dreamed of a big plaice for a good few years now. Even so, I felt that I was not finished and that there were more out there for me and possibly an even bigger one.
In the meantime, Mark, Roy and Lee had decided to have a little dig in the harbour behind us, a fortunate decision as half an hour’s toil produced plenty of juicy ragworm. Fishing to my left, Mark was proving himself to be the day’s halibut master, landing three in total all around the 4-5lbs mark. As dusk drew in, I was tempted to put both rods on halibut baits (being the only member of the group not to have caught one yet) but something told me to persist with the plaice tactics and to add a fresh wriggling rag to my lug baits. A rattling bite produced a nice dab and then the next cast saw a few deliberate nods followed by a long quiet period. I left the rod well alone, going off for a chat before coming back to my pitch and starting to reel in. Sure enough, the weight was there and it felt substantial. This fish lunged a little in close but I had a good height advantage and it couldn’t make any headway. The familiar brown shape surfaced and was safely landed by Mark and I was thrilled to see that this fish was clearly bigger again and I hoped that it would make over 4lbs. On the scales, the fish came in at 4lbs 5oz and I could not have been more pleased; if I’m really honest, a properly big plaice has been top of my wish-list for a long time (with a big cod not far behind!) and here one lay before me. Norway had done me proud!
Fishing on, I soon caught another much smaller plaice and Mark and Lee landed similar size halibut, taking the grand total of halibut for the group to seven. Unfortunately, I didn’t contribute to this tally and it looks very much like I will have to come back again to set that record straight! As night drew in, Lee set up a third lighter rod and began to explore the inner slope of the sandbank we were casting to. This didn’t produce a plaice but did produce a succession of good cod with the best going 9lbs 4oz and, with darkness having fully taken hold, a screaming bite and a vigorous scrap saw Lee landing an enormous 7lbs 6oz haddock! Truly a dream fish and amazing to behold. Lee was on fire and was kept busy with bites and runs on all three rods with the best of the sport coming on the light Conoflex rod that caught the good cod and the monster haddock. In my spot, I began hooking into what felt like a line snag and after catching my very first shore-caught ling, I lost a fish to the snag and decided to call it a day, more than happy with my lot. We gradually wound down the session, packing away the kit before driving back to Skarnsundet.
The next morning we were too preoccupied with sorting and packing to really fish, although Mark and Roy had a few hours on the pier in front of the house and I had a short LRF session, adding a corkwing wrasse to our species tally. In truth, I really wanted a lumpsucker as they are visibly evident around the harbour and I’ve never caught one before but it wasn’t to be this trip. With packing complete, all that was left was to say goodbye to Phill and Julian and to enjoy one last look across the amazing spectacle that is the view from Skarnsundet Fjordsenter. All of us had fished our socks off and caught amazing dream fish; I felt proud to be part of such a group of skilled and dedicated anglers. Boarding the plane and realising that I was journeying back to reality, I felt a sense of all things being right with the world; I had loved living the dream for a week but I had missed my pregnant wife terribly and I was eager to get back.
I sincerely hope to visit Norway again before long although, with a little one on the way, it might be a bit trickier to arrange in the future! The fishing here is truly what shore fishing should be; it’s not always easy and you do have to go at it hard, but the fish of your dreams are out there and with perseverance and the right attitude, you can catch them. Once again, I’ve left Skarnsundet with memories that will last a lifetime and with that considered, the price of a trip seems cheap. The only thing left to say is thanks to Ron, Lee, Roy and Mark (bullshit artists) for being such brilliant company on the trip and special thanks to Mark for assuming the mantle of designated driver for the whole week; nice one mate! Hearty thanks are also due to Phill Dale and Julian Röß; cheers for all your help guys and best wishes for your future as a married man Phill!