TR: The gourmet trip. (long)

(If you don't feel like clicking on all the links for the pictures just go
to the website at the end of this post and click on TR:s for the web
version)

The Gourmet trip.

As I sit down to write this trip report it strikes me as one of the oddest
fishing and hunting trips I have ever experienced. Having been asked to join
a friend of mine, Andreas, for some ptarmigan hunting and Arctic char
fishing in one of the more remote locations you could imagine we left home
on the first Saturday of September.

We drove about 450 kilometers from the city of Skelleftea on the east coast
of Sweden to Hemavan village west of the small city of Tarnaby and close to
the Norwegian border. Hemavan is a village situated in a beautiful mountain
valley with several peaks in excess of 1500 meters. We were to fly with a
helicopter, the morning after our arrival to Hemavan, our destination being
a distant mountain valley west of Ammarnas village another 80 kilometers
away.

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My friend being a hunting and fishing guide had arranged for us to stay the
night at Sanninggarden mountain resort. This resort being where he normally
hosts his hunting guests has won several honoraries for their excellent
food. This trip was meant to be a chance for my friend to do some hunting of
his own, something not very likely to happen whilst guiding others and his
attitude towards the whole thing was that we should spare no expenses in
order to make the most out of the journey. I kept telling my friend that
there were limits to what I could afford, but his only response to the whole
matter was that it will be all right.

On arrival to Sanninggarden Andreas told me and Jimmy, our companion for the
trip, that he had some unfinished business. At this point I understood his
ever present comment that the economic issue would be all right. His
unfinished business was to pay Sanninggarden mountain resort for all the
guest nights he had booked. Knowing that he was to pay something close to a
quarter of a million Swedish crowns to the owners it became obvious that he
expected a nice cut in prices on his own and our behalf.

That night became the first of the gourmet dinners we were to have, although
under a more civilized manner than the rest.

The first dinner menu:

Starter, small fried pancakes filled with Vasterbotten county cheese,
whitefish eggs, crème fresh and onion. Red wine (I'm sorry to have to
confess that the name has slipped my mind).

Main course, reindeer fillet with fried potatoes and salad. Red wine.

Dessert, fried Vasterbotten county cheese with cloudberry jam. Red wine.

We ended dinner with coffee and brandy in a very nice lounge next to the
dining room. The owner being a friend of Andreas presented us with a
exquisite little problem. He poured three different brandies for us to try.
If we could decide which one was the oldest he would serve us a brandy,
Grand Champagne, where one bottle alone costs close to 5000 Swedish crowns.
We succeeded to find out which brandy was the oldest and alas ended the day
with a new experience.

Early next morning we had an excellent breakfast and left for the helicopter
platform. Our flight was to leave for a mountain valley west of Ammarnas, a
valley with two lakes and a small stream connecting them. As we sat and
waited for Andreas to deal with some unfinished business, i.e. paying for
all the flights bought earlier during the hunting season, I realized that
the long flight was going to cost more than I felt I could afford. Not
really reassured by Andreas attitude that it would be ok, I listened to the
discussion about the price. It was obvious that Andreas had been taking his
business to these guys all autumn and now wanted to have a fair price, and I
must confess that I was positively surprised by the price he negotiated.

15 minutes later the helicopter was loaded with our gear and we were on our
way, holding the dogs in our laps as we flew. Andreas had used his contacts
and booked a Saami cabin in the valley, which in turn meant that we were
going to have the luxury of a roof over our heads, real beds and a kitchen
to cook in.

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I call it a luxury since I normally live in a tent when I visit the mountain
area. When we arrived at the cabin after 20 minutes of flying we more or
less just dumped our gear, loaded our shotguns and were on our way in less
than 10 minutes.

Hunting for ptarmigan usually takes place at an altitude of around 800 +/-
200 meters above sea level (a.s.l.). Having the cabin located at the bottom
of the valley, at about 300 meters a.s.l., meant one hell of a hike before
we were where we thought the ptarmigans might reside. I'll cut this part of
the story short suffice to say that we walked 35 kilometers that first day
with altitude differences of 700 meters, and we shot 24 ptarmigans.

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Once we arrived back at the cabin I was totally beat. It was getting dark as
we hung the ptarmigans in a shelter and I was starting to feel despair over
the fact that I hadn't tried the fishing in the crystal clear little
mountain stream yet.

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Knowing that we had to eat before any fishing could be done I started to
discuss this with Andreas when Jimmy surprised us both by producing a moose
fillet out of the cooler. The next surprise came when we started talking
about wines. We had all, without previous discussions on the matter, brought
several bottles of better wines

Dinner second day:

Starter, three different Italian cheese and a red wine named "Velletri
Riserva".

Main course, moose fillet with fried potatoes and Karl Johan mushroom sauce.
With this was served a red wine, "Grand Sangre de Toro".

Dessert, fresh cloudberries.

After dinner, and a sip of Mcallan, we were feeling dazed but reluctant to
end the day without some fishing. As I approached the lower lake's outlet I
could see what could not be mistaken for anything else than Arctic char
rises. The fish had started feeding close to shore as the darkness became
more and more evident. Not knowing and not being able to see what was on the
surface I tied on a small shrimp imitation. Immediate success, on my fifth
cast something really heavy took the imitation and I set the hook. The
feeling of large Arctic char is that of how it feels to fight with a large
trout, if maybe slightly less aggressive.

- Tomorrow's dinner! Andreas said behind me, and the smile on his face
proved that he felt satisfied that I had the fish on. God knows he had been
bragging about the quality of this water for quite some time. After close to
five minutes the fish started to become tired and approached the net.
Suddenly Andreas' smile was all gone,

- jeez! What a fish! he exclaimed.

As I saw the fish approach the net I became seriously nervous. This was
obviously one of the largest Arctic char I've ever seen. A quick estimate
said that it was anything between 22 and 24 inches long. I felt that it was
the appropriate moment to tell Andreas, who was on his way to net the fish,
that a mistake would cost him his life.

Andreas is still alive today, and the fish was 56,5 cm long or 22,2 inches,
the second largest char ever for me.

Before it was so dark outside that we felt it would be difficult to walk the
300 meters back to the cabin I also caught a trout at lb 1 ½ . Having heard
all day that I was behind in the number of ptarmigans shot, I fell asleep
with a big smile on my lips.

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The third day started with some more fishing at the inlet of the lower lake
and after 3 hours of catching and releasing Arctic char in the lb 1 - 2
range I was quite satisfied to go hunting again, even though I knew I was
going to be humiliated by my two friends' shooting skills. After another day
of hiking up and down the mountain slopes, living from cavern hung salami on
dry bread with spring water from the mountain sides, I was quite intent on
making the Arctic char dinner one worth remembering.

Dinner third day:

Starter, Different French cheeses and a red wine named "Marqués de Riscal
Gran Reserva".

Main course, Arctic char, baked in aluminum foil with red onion,
chanterelles, olive oil, salt and pepper. With this was served mashed
potatoes and a white wine, "Chateau Bonnet".

Dessert, fresh cloudberries.

To cut the story short we were too tired to do any fishing that evening.

The next day we decided to cut down on the walking part as we all started to
feel the kilometers affecting our leg muscles. The irony of it all was that
in spite of this decision we ended up walking further that day than any of
the ones before. The total sum of ptarmigans shot during the trip was to
become exactly 100. Take into account that we saw more than six times that
number and you realize that there is an abundance of these birds in the
mountains. The strange thing is that since the hunt was introduced the
number of birds seems to have increased. I wasn't going to fish anymore
during this trip but I have placed the small stream and the two lakes firmly
in my memory, and I will return one day.

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Dinner last day:

Starter, sandwiches with the rest of last evening's Arctic char and some
fine chopped shallot and an Italian wine named "Masi".

Main course, ptarmigan breasts fried with onions, potatoes, cream, red wine
and a touch of lingonberry jam. The wine served with this was the same
"Masi" as before.

Dessert, Mcallan.

One might draw the conclusion that all the good food would've made us put on
some weight, but as a matter of fact I lost 7,1 kilo and I know my friends
also lost weight. The probable explanation being, that a normal day would
have meant at least a dozen times walking up and down the mountain slope,
from say 500 meters a.s.l. to 1000 meters a.s.l.

Next time I will spend a little less time hunting and a little more time
fishing. When it comes to dinner plans I will change nothing.

/ Roger
Daytime engineer
Lifetime flyfisherman
If you feel like it, visit http://biphome.spray.se/angler/ for info on
flyfishing in northern Sweden, Lapland