Hóp has always tempted me because stories say that good food-fish of various shapes and sizes are caught there. Over twenty years ago, my wife and I made an unsuccessful trip to Hóp. We lost our way down by Myrkuberg and were somehow ‘lost in existence.’ The view was poor, and it was difficult to get one’s bearings. On Pentecost (Whitsunday) 2014, the conditions were different because the visibility was good. We drove straight down to Ásbjarnarnes.
The weather forecast for the whole country was incredibly good. If it held true, we were probably in the worst weather in the country. A stiff northern breeze made it impossible to cast a fly against the wind. I have yet, therefore, to verify whether it is promising to fly-fish in Hóp. Another thing made the fly-casting difficult: the dog, Lappi.”
Lappi was on his first fishing trip, and it proved to be quite a hassle. For starters, he viewed lures, floats, and worms as exciting toys, so we had to be constantly on guard to make sure the dog didn’t bite the bait. Casting a fly also required caution because Lappi was pacing steadily behind us. Then, when the first fish was landed, the dog felt it was only natural that he should get to eat it. At first, after arriving at the spot, we weren’t sure what to think. We imagined the dog plunging over the cliffs because he ran all over the rocks, completely free of any fear of heights. Those worries proved groundless, as Lappi is as sure-footed as a mountain goat. Furthermore, his interest in the fishing actually cured Lappi of the fear of water that had plagued him until now.
The purpose of the trip was to get some fish for dinner. Did we succeed? Yes, but just barely. First, we tried our luck below the cliffs on the south side of Ásbjarnarnes. The same feeling of disbelief hit me as when I first stood before Lake Þingvallavatn or Lake Þórisvatn: “Are we really supposed to find a fish in this massive body of water?” Out went the bait, and about an hour later, I landed a 1.5-pound sea-run Arctic char. Shortly after, I saw that my wife had hooked a fish. I ran to get the camera—not the net—because the priority was getting a good fishing photo. I could see it was a very hefty fish because the rod was bent double, but just as I aimed the camera, everything went slack. The fish snapped the twelve-pound line. We then swapped lines and put a stronger one on the reel. Nothing happened for a long time. Eventually, however, the float vanished beneath the surface. My daughter had hooked a fish. That fish got into the rocks on the bottom, and everything got stuck. There was nothing to do but break the line.
We decided to end this trip to Hóp by fishing on the north side of the headland. The conditions there are much better. Soon, we caught another 1.5-pound sea-run Arctic char. We went home with one good meal’s worth of fish.
