There we were, with a project in hand and eager to conquer the Baltic. The conditions were favorable, and Sanna was waiting for us in a small local shop to equip us with everything we needed for 24 hours of non-stop fishing. An hour of driving through pine forests and 23 reindeers later, we arrived at the chosen stretch. From the top of a steep cliff, the view was overwhelming. The river, challenging and powerful, had carved the wall on which we stood, and beneath it, a pool of water as dark as peat surely harbored some of the precious Baltics we dreamed of. As we set up our gear and lit a small fire, a cocktail of sandflies and mosquitoes feasted on us. Shortly after, the sound of a first splash indicated that we were right: they were there.

Sanna rowed with the decisiveness and confidence of someone accustomed to such a task. As we crossed the river in that boat that leaked generously, we subjected her to a thorough interrogation. Sanna had been fishing for salmon in Lapland for almost a month without interruption, and she was still waiting for the first of the season. She was in one of those crises where success eludes you. She spoke of lost battles, bent hooks, exploded tippets, sleepless nights without seeing any sign of a fish, and others where the run was intense but, for some reason, the fish didn't want to cooperate. "Believe me, Baltic salmon are different from Atlantic ones. You'll end up agreeing with me.”

That night, while we still struggled to fall asleep in the tent due to the adrenaline and the cold creeping into our sleeping bags, we couldn't imagine that the next day, a radiant sun would wake us up and never leave us for the rest of our week. The following day, the water temperatures had already reached close to 20 degrees. Game Over. Although it may seem strange, in recent years, these types of episodes have occurred in these latitudes with some frequency, perhaps indicating that something is changing on our planet. In Lapland, these heatwaves have a strong impact on the rivers. The sun shines for almost 24 hours, and soon the temperatures make fishing inadvisable, both for the chances of success and for the well-being and recovery of possible catches.

Nevertheless, a year later, Juan and I returned to finish what we had started. We still didn't agree with Sanna's assertion that the Baltics were special, and we attributed the previous year's outcome to weather conditions. Therefore, having learned our lesson, we waited for favorable predictions and jumped on a last-minute flight to Luleå. There we were again, ready to explore the vastness of the boreal forest and its rivers in search of the elusive Baltic salmon. Ten days and nine nights later, after giving it our all, tired, with few hours of sleep and uncountable mosquito bites, we returned home with our tails between our legs. What had happened? We didn't understand. Everything seemed OK, and we even found some areas with quite a few fish, but we barely got any reaction, and when we did, we lost in the hand-to-hand fight. Was Sanna right?

I've always thought that in fishing and in life, everything is about working to be in the right moment and place. Buying tickets to win the lottery, as we would colloquially say, and learning in the process. This time, a couple of months later, it seemed we had them all. Lapland and Baltic salmon were finally favorable to us again, like on that magical welcome night with Juan and Sanna, but this time with a taste of farewell in the backend of the season. A magical week, alongside my friend David Fernández Miguélez, with numbers closer to the imaginary than to the reality of the Baltic rivers. It was as if these rivers wanted to give us back all the hours, all the effort, and energy that we had put trying to understand them. As if they knew that my three seasons chasing Baltic salmon were coming to an end.

Lapland and its salmon had changed me forever. That morning, soaked to the bone, holding onto that fish, I felt the same as three years ago when I caught my first Baltic salmon. Only this time I understood the value of what had just happened.