It reminded me of a Priest I met in Ireland years ago on Loch Currane. Mike Shepley plays his best fish of the day, only to lsoe the big fish after 20 minutes. My fellow anglers at the lodge even wanted to know if they could buy some flies of the same pattern from me, and I managed to hand out a few I tied that evening. I tied up something different, a virtually all-orange affair, but I would fish it the same way as the Ranga Rainbow of my previous day's success. I was fishing down the pools quicker than my colleague, taking a good couple of steps in between casts, but I was fishing the fly itself, slower and deeper, mending the line sometimes three times every cast.
Icelandic rivers are cold, fast and crystal clear.
I've seen salmon charge 20 yards up a pool to grab a fly. In Scotland or Ireland, the fish hold station until the fly reaches their vicinity, then they might or might not rise to the occasion. I came back the next day with a 9 fish tally, including a couple of small grilse returned to the water. My little joke was lost on some of my fishing companions, who still wondered if they might get a couple for their box. It could just as well have been purple with fluorescent green spots.