No fishing lately. SW Alberta is still in run-off (rivers). A slow and steady one so far…that’s good.
Some window photos…
Midges are small; tiny; minuscule; wee; teensy; petite; itty-bitty things. Here are trout taken on midge dries this past weekend while fishing with my dog Abby.
With only a light breeze on Sunday I checked out my local tail-water river. Spring in SW Alberta has been slow in coming. Nothing new. I’ve been itching to get out as there is a ton of snow in the mountains and when the temperature finally heats-up and it begins to rain, a serious run-off will occur and it could last awhile….possibly a couple of months. So, the opportunity is now to sight fish (and hopefully the next couple of weekends) as the water is low and fairly clear.
There were some bugs on the river: midges were the most numerous type; then some Skwala stoneflies; and just a few BWO mayflies. I saw very few rising fish. It was a slow day. However, I managed what looked like a Cuttbow (hybrid) on a dry…a nice one, and missed a good brown trout at the end of day.
Next weekend should be a bit better as hatches intensify. The BWO’s will get the fish looking up and rising.
WHILE IN NEW ZEALAND ALL OF MY DAYS were consumed with slowly and deliberately walking the stable banks of rivers in search of brown trout. My preference was always to cover these sections while walking upstream (sneaking up behind the fish)…for obvious reasons. Sometimes, however, due to the position of the sun (lighting and glare), I searched while walking downstream. This meant covering the water even slower, being more cautious and also trying to spot trout from a greater distance as I was much more visible/exposed. I located many trout this way. Once one was spotted I’d try to mark the location mentally, then leave the river’s edge/bank and circle around behind the trout so as not to disturb it. Then I’d cast upstream to it. Often this ended up being a blind cast or one with a bit of guess-work involved due to river glare. It all depended on the time of day; the height of the sun. And most trout spotted weren’t rising and therefore not showing off their exact location which made things even more challenging.
Sometimes instead of fighting glare I decided to gingerly walk back upstream and when the river depth allowed, I’d cross it and approach the bank fish from an upstream position, often wading mid-river. From this vantage the fish would still be very visible due to the light. Then I’d cast “Down and Across” to it. This meant staying some distance on the approach, using a long leader, and keeping myself and fly line low. If the fish committed to my impression then I ‘d sweep the rod parallel to the water either to my left or right, in order to set the hook, depending on my orientation to it, with the objective that the hook, often a fairly small one, would catch the corner of the trout’s mouth. Although I didn’t keep stats, my hook-up rate/ percentage seemed significantly better this way than at any other angle/approach. More importantly, with good light I was always able to watch the trout’s behavior and reaction (feedback) to my fly. I wasn’t blind due to glare. I wasn’t casting my leader over a fish I couldn’t see, or see very well, or risk having it (leader) land heavily, especially when trying to punch the fly into difficult wind or making an extra long cast. The method (down and across) meant the trout saw the “fly first” (no leader) as it tracked right to its nose. It’s a well-known technique often used on rivers that receive a lot of angling pressure. It works at home and it worked in NZ.
If the light provided good visibility to approach a fish from behind, then I’d always selected that option. It was my first choice as there was less of a chance of being spotted and therefore frightening a fish. If there was a lot of glare and/or wind in my face, I’d get above the trout and go with a “Down and Across” presentation. I caught some beauties this way on several challenging, heavily fished South Island rivers.
Every day on a river is like a blank canvas. Although there are some basic angling tenets to live by, in the end you get to choose how you apply the paint. Down and across can be a great brush stroke.
All journeys begin in your head. They start with a thought. You imagine what it would be like to go somewhere and you begin to process it. Sometimes you do that for a while then let it rest. Then later on it resurfaces. The thought returns. Sometimes this goes on for a long while and other adventures/ journeys end up occurring instead. Then that particular thought returns.
Several years ago I ordered a few books on fly fishing New Zealand (NZ), South Island. Every winter I’d pull them out and read another chapter, look at another road or topo map, highlighted some rivers, search the internet and imagine what it would be like to go there. Then I’d check the cost, look at my insufficient budget and promptly plan a less expensive angling adventure instead. Something closer and more manageable like springtime Rooster fishing in Baja, or a week or two just south of the border dry-fly fishing Silver Creek in Idaho or the Missouri river in Montana….all wonderful destinations in their own right.
When I thought about a trip to NZ I first felt I’d have to go for a month, nothing less. Well life being what it is, I could never manage to string together thirty days. Finally I came to the conclusion that if I waited for the opportunity to spend a whole month there, it just might never happen. So I managed to put together two weeks and a few travelling days. It would be 13 angling days total in NZ. Not a lot of time but I felt possibly enough to shake off jet lag, orient myself, find my wading legs and get in synch with a few rivers. I felt that if I could do that and if the weather cooperated, I may have a chance to fool a few amazing NZ trout with dry flies, and hey, maybe even a trophy.
I picked late February, early March as summer in the southern hemisphere would be coming to an end and transitioning into Fall. I hoped less anglers would be around as the prime time season would be winding down; I hoped that water levels would be like they are at home at that time of year: generally low and clear; I hoped for sun so I could sight fish; I hoped the trout would be looking up and willing to eat some of the terrestrial flies that I planned to tie and fish; I hoped for a shot at some special fish. I hoped for a lot.
I met a friend, Roman, the first week I was there. He had already been there for several days and had warned me from a distance to, “Bring your A game”. He had been catching but reported the angling was extremely challenging. Our time overlapped for a week and then I fished solo for my remaing week.
While Roman was in NZ he bungee jumped, climbed into a bi-plane, and sped our rental car around like a professional rally driver, leaving a good portion of the front bumper somewhere up on Rainbow Station road. He fished with equal enthusiasm and caught some great trout. On two occasions I was fortunate enough to be close by and photographed some of the ones he caught. His featured rainbow and brown trout below were some of the best of the week. His confidence fly: a yellow humpy. He was a great angling and travelling pal.
It is much easier to sight fish when it is sunny so on my second week I tried to stay flexible and mobile. I watched the weather reports and went where the conditions were predicted to be most favorable. I chased the light…
I also chased open terrain. It’s simply where I enjoy fly fishing the most.
In the clear low water conditions the fish tended to be in and around the pools and along banks with some depth or those in close proximity to pools. I’d cover the shallow river sections quickly and then slowed down and was especially watchful in the prime areas. That’s where a good fish would be. If not, then it was onward and forward to the next promising pool. In NZ you have to cover ground. Often it is as much about walking as it is fishing.
Spotting fish was all about maintaining concentration. Lose it and you’ll miss or spook fish. Scare a fish and you might not see another one for a long time. I scared my share, especially in low light conditions.
I caught all of my fish on dry flies, most of them being terrestrial patterns. Usually the smaller sizes were best. By the time we arrived in NZ the trout had been fished over by local and international anglers for 4 solid months. Also two out of the three rivers we fished were quite famous and therefore they probably receive additional angling pressure all season long. I found most trout to be quite selective and challenging. There were signs other anglers had been around but I rarely saw anyone during my 13 days there.
All trout caught were released.
Brown trout blend in well with any sort of river bottom and with bank shadows and coverage. Often they are difficult to spot. You have to go slow, watch, then watch more, and look for shape and any sort of movement.
Once March arrived mornings were quite cold, especially on a river I fished on a high plateau. By mid day things always heated up, even the fishing.
Holiday parks (campgrounds) were a bargain in a relatively expensive country. Here are some photos of small cabins I rented (below)…all parks had hot showers, some had a community kitchen and laundry facilities. Many of these units were booked by vacationers. Town Fish and Chip stands were also a great deal.
END – LAST DAY
It’s my 13th day here in NZ, my last day and it’s coming to an end. The light is waning. I’ve got this 8 pound plus brown trout feeding on some tiny Blue Winged Olives (BWO’s) riding a bubble line on the outer bend of a large perfect curve on the famous river that I’m on. I’ve read a lot about this river but no one ever mentioned any sort of hatch in their reports. Yet here is this oversized trout feeding on them. It’s windy. It’s cold. I’m wet and I have been out in it for 8 hours without waders. I have a full box of carefully designed BWO flies back in my car a one hour walk away. A lot of good they’re doing me in the bottom of my duffel bag! The big fish took a good look at a small ant pattern I tossed its way but rejected it. The ant has duped several picky fish on this trip.It also came close to eating an Adams like pattern but didn’t. I decide I’ve got to hike back to my car, heat up, organize my luggage and head for the Christchurch airport 4 hours away. I’ve simply run out of time. Leaving a fish like that feeding is sacrilegious but I’ve seen some great fish in the past two weeks and made some connections. I tie on a fairly big cicada pattern and toss it above the trout knowing what the end result will be – he’ll take off! The cicada passes over him, his feeding comes to an abrupt end and he disappears. Game over. Now I can go back to the car and get warm.
On the drive to Christchurch I’m thinking of my time in NZ: All the large, beautiful trout; seeing them rise; the clear rivers and majestic terrain; Roman taking off in the bi-plane; the outstanding brown trout he caught on the bank; great breakfasts at the Wrinkly Lamb; the Aussies talking about a river in the shadow of a high peak north of a big lake where they spotted many large skittish browns; a small fly shop owner talking about the same river and warning us about the Quick Sand around it; another angler looking bug-eyed while describing his experience the previous day on a small river two hours away where he and his guide spotted a 3 foot long brown trout cycling in a pool and how he cast to it and the fish ate but the fly didn’t set; I’m thinking about a Fish and Game officer telling me about a river two valleys south where big sea run browns return and how his friend fished it recently and spotted several but couldn’t get them to take. I’m thinking about all this and that I need to try to get back to the south island and Chase the Light. That’s what I’m thinking. And as I said at the beginning of this post, “All journeys start in your head; they start with a thought”.
Mid-winter. Photos taken several years ago near Tucson, Az…a warmer place.