THE BRITISH ARRIVED a week after I caught that first Alagnak chum. The group's leader was Arthur Oglesby, revered author of the classic book Fly Fishing for Salmon & Sea Trout (Crowood Press, 1986). With him was his wife Grace, who could easily hold her own onstream. All the British seemed born to fish a Spey rod.

Like Arthur, many anglers in his group maintain prime beats on Scotland's River Spey. A roofer from England is typical. He pays $4,000 each year to fish the Spey for a week, and after four years he has yet to hook a single fish. I discovered that the British in general and the English in particular saw fly fishing as an extension of their social life. Rain or shine, fish or no fish, they have a jolly time. As a result, no international group was more popular with Katmai's guides than the British.

Whether fishing a single- or two-handed rod, the British cast floating lines and moderately weighted flies. I did, too, mostly with 9-foot, 7- to 8-weight rods and 9-foot leaders tapered to a 10-pound tippet. The extremely aggressive chums pursued flies swinging quickly across the currents, so I strongly led the fly. I often tossed in a big downstream mend to increase the fly's swing speed.

The British, of course, invented this greased-line presentation for Atlantic salmon. At 10 to 12 or more pounds, the Alagnak chums were about the size of adult Atlantic salmon that had spent two years at sea. The smaller female chums reminded me of grilse. The buck chums, pound for pound, were considerably stronger and more active than the female chums.

I felt that the buck chum compared favorably to the Atlantic Salmon. The British agreed. Even on the big Spey rods, a 15-pound tidewater chum became a load. While they never made fishing a numbers game, the Brits still racked up a lot of salmon. Even a day full of breaks and chitchat saw 20 chums to the fly; 40 chums was a good day for some, and a workday for others.