DIY Fly Fishing NZ: A Moment

intact2

intact bank on left

It’s mid to late afternoon. I’m hiking downstream back to my vehicle. I’ve been out all day in tough trout spotting conditions: heavy cloud and even worse, high wind. The combination is a deadly deterrent to seeing fish. With the grey ruffled surface I’ve only seen one trout. Unfortunately it saw me first and was fleeing the scene when it caught my eye. An impressive trout. That’s what’s in here. Good ones. Not many but some good ones. I know. I’ve fished this river intensely before. It’s small water, open terrain with nowhere for an angler to hide. I feel the odds have been against me today, in the present conditions. It doesn’t help I’m running low on energy, have flu-like symptoms and the past two nights have been feverish. As I walk downstream it suddenly gets calm. I mean totally still. It hasn’t been this way all day. I appreciate the silence. A long perfectly curved pool with the outside bend/ fully intact stretches out before me. By “intact” I mean it’s a heavily grassed bank, not broken or shingled/ eroded. Here are some examples:

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intact bank far left, I’m on sheep/angler trail

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intact left side bank and slight bubble line…all good except wind

In late season low water conditions intact banks can have some of the deepest water in a moderate sized river pool. They are also some of safest locations for trout to live, feed and hide as many such banks are undercut. When it’s hot and windy I sight-fish from a downstream position, when possible, as trout often hang tight and pick off terrestrial insects which fall or collect in the water along the bank. No such luck seeing much of this on this trip. And when it gets real calm or late day stillness settles in, an intact bank can be a good place to watch for a possible rise; a sign of feeding.

I decide with the sudden stillness to sit, re-fuel and watch the 40 yards of so of perfect bank water. I eat and study the slow outward bend flow with its faint bubble line. It feels good to sit and rest after walking all day. As if on cue, it happens. A solitary rise just slightly off of the bank. A minute later it surfaces again. Same spot. The first opportunity of the day. It’s feeding occasionally. It’s feeding subtly. I think it’s a smallish fish as it’s not displacing much water. But I’ve been fooled before by rises here in NZ. I’ve learned in my three adventures here that NZ trout are always bigger than they first appear.

I’ve seen just a few blue winged olives out with the inclement weather and tie one on and wade slowing and carefully from the shallow, intern side (opposite side) of the river.  My disturbance travels almost across stream but fortunately fades before reaching the rising fish. I almost blew-it. I almost communicated my presence. I cast to the fish perpendicularly. I’ve got a long leader. My line will be at least 12 ft from the trout. The size 18 olive passes over the spot. No response. I change flies and go with a size 14/ 16 black foam ant. Something more visible but not outrageous. It’s a simple pattern I’ve done well with when I’ve had my chances. On the first passing it catches the trout’s eye, its head appears and takes the ant while turning downstream. Surprising I remain calm, take a second (pause) and then slowly set the hook and am connected. It races up and down the pool then decides to run the riffle/rapid downstream to the next pool. I scramble and chase, get lucky and land it. A good one. It measures at the 6 lbs mark on my Mclean weigh net.

intact bank

Because of the continued stillness I decided to hurry to the next intact bank that I know is about one half mile downstream. With Adrenalin I have renewed energy.  By the time I get to the next location the wind has picked-up again and it starts to rain heavily. I hunker down hoping it will pass but it doesn’t. I’ve had one opportunity. I’ve taken one good fish today.

weather

The decision during the moment of calmness to sit and watch the long intact bank saved my day. I had two other days on the same challenging river where good fish were taken similarly.

All angling adventures usually get defined by one or two moments no matter how many days one fishes, how many opportunities exist or how many, or few, fish are caught. The moment of calmness which produced the above fine brown trout defined mine. The moment, just a single moment, made my trip…

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fly fishing NZ 2019

skull

Yikes, that was brutal! Don’t know if I want to do that again. Tough trip. Dry-flies blowing upstream! Tough low-light conditions for sight-fishing. A lot of walking. Many days it was just a long hard slog: 10 miles plus. And in spite of our effort few fish were spotted. There simply weren’t that many opportunities. I think I averaged less than one quality chance per day. I saw less fish than in past seasons. Terrestrial fishing was almost non-existent.  Maybe the summer just wasn’t consistently hot enough in the regions that I fished? The angling was best when the sun was out. However, “blue sky” days were rare. Most of the time it felt more like winter than summer. In the end, I caught a few good brown trout on dry flies. Four of the best were spotted on a high plateau river that I’ve fished in the past. It is “known” water but receives less angling pressure than some of the other rivers I was on. Here are some photos…

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nev1

lastfish1

 

windshop

most days water had a wind-shop

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ahur5xx

rare still morning

ahurir 8

backeddy

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5trees

nev9

morning

 

nev3

roman

roman throwing line

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pairs

rays2

ahurir13

grasses

ahurir17

roman in the wind

lift

top

 

girth

 

nevv2

ahurir3

shadow1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fly Fishing NZ, Gita and Brown Trout

 

pomardriv

HERDERS

They appear out of the mist in a small beat-up truck that has metal cage like kennels bolted to the flat-bed. A man and woman jump out and flip the latches on the cages. Several dogs, all Border Collies, bolt through the doors like thoroughbreds at the start of the Derby. The woman makes sharp whistling sounds and the dogs immediately respond. They push the sheep herd in the wanted direction. It’s a well rehearsed, beautiful choreography. Everybody knows their moves, even the sheep. The man and woman make eye contact with me and nod. They see me for what I am, an angler. I nod back. I’m probably on their property; their large sheep station; their ranch. They have thick woolen hats on. She’s in a bulky sweater. He’s in a tattered work jacket. It’s early in the day, cool and drizzly yet like all herders I’ve seen here in NZ, they are in shorts and high Wellington type boots. Their foot wear, like their truck, has seen a lot of miles. They head off on foot with the dogs and sheep leaving a trail in the wet grass, and disappear over a hill. I go down to the river. As I walk I keep hearing whistling in the distance. I’m on a high country station somewhere in Central Otago. I feel I’ve been here before even though I know I have not.

sheep

rdplateau

high plateau road to river

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nz trout are thick, brown caught on dry-fly

THE CAMPGROUND

I’m up early checking and getting my gear together; my morning ritual. It’s still dark but the campground is alive. Touring cyclists are going through their own preparations: tinkering with their road bikes, their specialized shoes and cycling packs. They are as excited about the day ahead as I am. Some are already on the road. I can see bicycle lights strobing in the distant dark.

A fellow camper drops by. I can tell he’s an angler by his outfit: shorts over synthetic long-johns. It’s kind of the official uniform here for people who chase trout. His name is Remi and he is from France. He fly fishes NZ three months a year and has done so for several seasons. He asks me how the fishing has been. I reply, “slow for me”. He says it’s been, “slow” for him too and that other anglers are reporting the same.

Remi feels we are here “too late” in the season. He also feels there are “too many anglers” around. I tell him I was here last year at the same time and the fishing was excellent. He says, “the same time?” I reply, “the exact same time”. He looks puzzled

mornfogtfree

sriffle

romraindist

heavy clouds

Remi and I talk about NZ rivers and trout. He’s a great resource given all the time he spends here. Then I head out to fish. Light is starting to flood the valley and I want my last day to be a full one. I’ve run out of food and first head for a local coffee shop that opens at 8:30 am most days. Sometimes it opens at 9:00 am. That’s small town NZ…open late, close early. I grab a couple of muffins, a large flat white (coffee) and a thick chicken sandwich. I’ve still have three large Smitten apples in the bottom of my backpack and a liter of water, so I should be good for a full day.

GITA

The muffins are gone in an instant and I think about what Remi said, “We are here too late…there are too many anglers around”. I didn’t want to hear that. I already feel jinxed on this trip and my angling confidence is low. Just before I arrived in NZ tropical storm Gita blew through and with it came heavy rain, high and dirty rivers. And the trout seem to be “off”. Many we have come across in the shallows seem to have lock-jaw and are inactive. Spotting fish has also been challenging with the heavy skies. Those that are feeding seem to be down deep and on nymphs; very tiny nymphs. When the water starts to clear and optimism returns we get another deluge. At times on this trip I’ve felt like hanging up my wading boots. I’m taking the weather personally which of course is irrational. But anglers are like farmers…much of our success or failure is dependent on what is going on above, in the sky.

boots

 

rdplatshadow

road to river

dirtwater

fast dirty water

romnosglas

roman’s streamer brown

streamerbwn

another streamer brown, photo by roman

romfat

another pic of roman’s thick streamer brown

LAST DAY

The morning is still cold as I arrive at the river after visiting the coffee shop. I wet wade through a side-channel on the way to the main flow. It’s bright outside but there is high thin white cloud that is casting a milky glare on the river. I can still see through the surface but not a great distance. I feel I’ll be able to spot a fish in the shallows or one tight to the bank if I go slow and search carefully. Wishful thinking? I don’t know. In spite of walking 7 to 15 km a day on river stones and through thick clumpy Tussock grass for the last twelve days, with little sight-fishing success, I still have the energy and the desire to find a great fish. There are few things in life that I have this much resolve and patience for. I still have today. I have 8 more hours ahead of me. I’m going to put in my time and search.

It’s already windy which means this afternoon it could really blow and make angling and trout spotting tough. Morning might be my best shot; my best chance. At the first river pool and run that I come across I spot a large trout lying in the shallows. I’m shocked. Luck like this just hasn’t happened on this trip. It’s not moving much. It’s decision time: small nymph or little terrestrial dry? My hands shake at the sight of the impressive trout. I decide to go with what I’d toss at home. I cast and the beetle drifts a little, and I mean just a little (a few inches), to its left. No response. I cast again and this time it passes slightly to its right. Again, no response. After 2 or 3 more casts I get it right, the fly lands dead ahead of the fish and tracks right to its nose. His very large head tilts up and eats. What?!!! I can’t believe it. I set the hook, it holds and I eventually land it. When I take the trout out of the net to get a photo it lies motionless. I admire it for a moment and then without warning it bolts. I lunge with the net but it’s gone…no picture…I can’t believe what just happened.

I try to compose myself and continue on upstream and within 10 minutes spot another large fish on a bank in shallow water. Another chance. It rises to the fly, I land it and this time get a few photos. Then a little later I locate another great one on a bank. It also surfaces but the hook doesn’t set and it disappears into deep water and doesn’t return. I’m OK with that. I’m getting chances. More opportunity sight-fishing with a dry-fly in the last few hours than I’ve had in the past twelve days.

van

cargo van (home) my second week

The wind picks-up and then starts to howl and spotting fish becomes almost impossible by mid day. A bit of wind riffle on the water can actually help you see better. Too much, and it’s like someone has pulled down the window blinds. I persevere, spook one and then don’t see any more all afternoon. I return to my vehicle at 5 pm. I’ve walked all day and searched the water well. I’ve seen no other anglers. My best day angling of the trip. The door finally opened today. I had been standing there knocking on it all week and then it happened; it opened, just for half a day, but it opened. There was opportunity…two wonderful trout spotted and caught on dries. It’s why I came here.

bestfishdry

last day brown caught sight-fishing with dry-fly

 

bigbwnangle

same last day brown

REVIEW

Roman and I threw streamers when the water was dirty and big dries when the sky and water started to clear. When the rivers finally settled we had some opportunity to sight-fish. We probably caught less than a dozen trout but they were good ones. Quality over quantity. It is what fly fishing in NZ is really about. Here are more photos of rivers, landscape and trout. Some of the fish pictures below are of the same trout featured above but taken at different angles.

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bwnblurtop

fast river brown taken on dry

rommidstrm

DSCN4778

tropical

trout country?

calmwater

morning mist,  full day ahead

bowlong

rainbow on cicada prospecting

oreti

angler access, river over 1 mile away in distance

nevsmall

small stream, bright day welcomed

pomarivleft

love sight-fishing this river and landscape

bwnbackmit

sight-fished brown, photo captures unbelievable girth

DSCN4821

riffles and wind, wide open terrain

rno2fish

roman, brown on dry

DSCN4760

mid-sized brown on cicada dry, photo by roman

bwn3finge

brown on cicada on bank

calmtree

some good weather

streamerclose

streamer brown, photo by roman

mussrom (1)

field mushrooms

DSCN4803

dropping down from high plateau to river valley in morning fog

 

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cicada bwn

brown on cicada prospecting, photo by roman

DSCN4775

3treesnev

clear day

DSCN4772

handbwn

photo by roman

DIY Fly Fishing New Zealand: High Plateau

For three days in a row I drove the dirt switchback road all the way up to the high  plateau. That’s where the river was. I’d get up early. My campground breakfast: peanut butter on crackers, a banana and a lot of water. I’d always wake up parched. I never hydrate enough when I fish. Sometimes I even forget to eat.

z4

The car thermometer registered 2 or 3C in the mornings. Once in town I’d grab a large coffee, or two, for the drive. Then it was the slow climb up the switchback leaving the fruit trees and vineyards of the valley behind.

yes

In the morning there was always some fog or cloud at elevation and the temperature would drop. Prehistoric looking rock monoliths would appear and startle me as I made my way through the mist. I imagined Sherlock Holmes on the Moors in The Hound of Baskervilles, and a huge dog with glowing eyes on the hunt. I also imagined William Wallace and his clan on foot in the Highlands disappearing into the fog, eluding the English who were also on the hunt.

z1

After the summit it was a short steep drop with hairpin curves descending to the river. I kept my hands clutched to the wheel. It was low gear, foot riding the brake pedal all the way down…coffee sloshing and spilling. By the time I got to the crossing and pulled-over it was around 8:30 or 9:00 am and sub-zero, usually around  -4C. Cold. When I exited the car I immediately regretted not bringing waders on my trip.” Stupid is as stupid does”.

By then the top of the hills far to the west were just starting to catch the morning light. I’d watch the glow with envy. I’d have to wait some time before it travelled all the way to me and brought warmth. I was early. Too early. I’m always too early when I go fishing.

z6

I wrestled my wading boots on over heavy wool socks. They were still wet from fishing the previous day and stiff with the cold. On my first few steps I walked like Herman Munster. It was like I had cinder blocks on my feet. As I moved back and forth they loosened up a bit. I got the rest of my gear together. Fingerless fleece gloves made the task bearable in the cold. I checked and double checked to make sure I had everything. I didn’t want to have to come back to the car because of a forgotten item. I wanted a full day on the river. I wanted as much time as the light would offer. I’d be covering a lot of water and wanted to go in only one direction until late afternoon. Until the waning light would remind me it was time to turn around and boogaloo back.

Morning frost turned my boot tops icy white as I crossed a field on the way to the water. Grass hoppers, cicadas and other terrestrial bugs were sluggish, some seemingly in a deep sleep. I knew that would change. The sun would bring some of them back to life and trout would be on the look out for them.

z5

Briskly walking the river banks warmed me and then river crossings would make me cold again. Upstream I went, feet frozen, reading and memorizing the water as I travelled.

Then the sunlight finally reached the river. I embraced its warmth. It was like nourishment. With the sun’s energy I knew things would come alive. With the light flooding the river I was now able to sight-fish. I could begin my search in earnest. My search for Brown trout.

z2

Not much had been written about this river on the high plateau, or at least I couldn’t find much. Several years ago I did come across one good story which caught my attention and stayed with me. It was written by a fly fishing guide. He described the region as wide open, barren, inhospitable and prone to hostile weather, and said the river was moderate in size. For an angler walk-wading, mid-sized water is always welcomed as it is easy to negotiate and locate fish in. The author reported the river did not hold many trout but had some good ones, even a few trophies, and said it fished best at the beginning of the season. Here I was standing on its banks near the END of the season. Wrong time? I didn’t know. I felt there had to be some trout around. And they had to eat!?

z7

I could tell the river had been fished over all summer long. The path alongside it was well warned by wading boots and sheep hooves. With a six month fishing season and a lot of angling pressure, I knew the trout here would be on high alert. With the wide open (no place to hide) terrain I’d have to take my time and be stealthy. I didn’t want to scare the few trout that I might come across. Things were going to be challenging…

By the afternoon the temperature had climbed and I was comfortable. I walked and watched. When I could, I climbed riverside hills and searched from elevation. I continued to make my way upstream. Then it happened. I spotted one.

z

For three days I fished different sections of the river. Eventually I hit a gorge and it was time for me to stop. I never saw any one. The place was silent. Silent except for the comforting sound of the natural world. Every full day I’d get 2 maybe 3 chances at great trout. I think I averaged 1 or 2 to the net per day, all on dry flies. Although I caught some larger fish in a river further north and saw more of them in a famous river south, the trout in this river were the hottest, most spirited of my trip. I brought my energy and determination to the river every sub-zero morning and these Brown trout more than matched/equalled it. I frequently saw the backing on my fishing reel. Many months later I still keep thinking about two very memorable trout that out-dueled me.

zzz

In a region described as inhospitable, I felt at home. In a region described as barren, I found a great river and some amazing trout. The high plateau…best place I’ve ever fished.

zz

 

zzzzz

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DIY Fly Fishing New Zealand: A Blank Canvas & Paint

nz feather

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.

DSCN3980

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.

DSCN4060

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.

nz reel pic

paintbrush(foreground), canvas(background)

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morning: waiting for sunlight to illuminate the river

nz head cradle

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nz me fighting

coaxing a brown trout, photo by roman

r net pic

roman with rainbow

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good light for trout spotting

DIY Fly Fishing New Zealand – Chasing Light

THE BEGINNING

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.

nz ah big bend

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.

nz me distance

author along river, photo by roman

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.

nz roman dist

THE MIDDLE

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.

nz car window 3

nz bungee

nz r biplane

r big bow

r big bwn

r fighting

roman: fish on!

r fish on

roman with fish off of bank

 

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…

ah flat

nz head shot

I also chased open terrain. It’s simply where I enjoy fly fishing the most.

nz ah side chan

nz curvetail top

brown trout

nz spring c

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.

DSCN4047

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.

nz car window 1

nz frost gras

great bank, early frost

nz n willow

 

nz great bank

a great bank

nz hand head

nz n long

nz slab

large bank brown

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.

nz girth net

nz ant

ant pattern

nz ah prints

others have fished here

nz beetle

beetle pattern

nz fly cicada

larger pattern: cicada

nz long brwn

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.

nz camo

large brown in shallows after release, blending in

nz top shot

another released brown

nz n path (1)

subtle path, river to right

nz hand hook jaw

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.

nz frost

early morning frost and fog, heading for a river

nz me cold

cool march morning

nz bib mouth

nz ah long willows

nz me 34brown (1)

photo by roman

nz equip

all day fishing equipment

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.

nz cabin 1

nz cabin2

nz coffee shop

small town coffee shop

nz me 34brown (2)

photo by roman

Other images…

nz shep jam

nz traffic jam

nz brut

had to beach this big brute

nz ah willows

nz n wind

in open terrain sometimes you have to deal with wind

nz big head

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”.

nz car window 2