Kia Ora, Aotearoa: A Day on the River

I was talking to my veterinarian (or I should say my cat’s veterinarian) shortly after we got back from our last trip in 2008. She and her husband had also been in New Zealand about the same time we were. She mentioned that she had bought her husband a day on the river with a fishing guide for his birthday. She went on and on about what a great time he had.

I had been contemplating the use of a guide myself to see how the pros do things, and there’s nothing better than good word of mouth advertising. So I booked a day on the river with Kevin Payne. Kevin and his wife Jodi run Back Country Trout of Fairlie, New Zealand. I scheduled the trip only a few days after our arrival; I needed all the help I could get before I launched out on my own.

Kevin picked me and my photographer (Cynthia took all of these fabulous pictures) up at about 8 am, and we set off for an hour and a half drive to the “secret” spot. I could tell that Kevin was concerned because the wind was picking up, and the location that he wanted to take us to doesn’t fish well in a strong wind. Several times he’d look at the grasses on the side of the road as we went past, trying to judge the wind. Sometimes stopping and putting his hand out the window to check. The trouble was we were going to be way back in, across a couple rivers, and there had to be a “go, no-go” decision made before we got too far down the path. So, go it was.

Trout fishing on the South Island is sort of like deer stalking with a fly rod. Because the water is so clear, you can spot the fish along the bottom (and vice versa). So, you slowly walk upstream scanning the river for telltale signs that might indicate a fish. Sometimes crawling on hands and knees. Once a fish was spotted the conversation would go something like this:

Kevin: Whoa, hold up. There’s a fish

Me: Where?

Kevin: Right over there!

Me: Where?

Kevin: You see those two light colored stones (about 50 feet away)?

Me: Yes.

Kevin: You see the sort of green patch just right of it?

Me: Yes.

Kevin: Ok, the fish is just between those two and slightly down stream. See him?

Me: Um, sure, let’s just say I do.

Kevin: Now just lay your fly out about 3 meters in front of him and a little to his left…

Sure, no problem. Did I mention that the wind was blowing about 50 kph? In fact, it was blowing so hard that instead of having to false cast and shoot the line to the target, all I had to do was let the proper length of line out behind me, (like letting out a kite), because it would just float out there, never touching the ground. I just would wait until there was a slight lull in the wind and fling it.

I really had a bad feeling about this. At home, when I would practice casting if the slightest wind would come up, I would just hang up the rod and try again later. Slowly, but surely, I managed to get better and was soon able to make pathetic excuses for casts that plopped on the water like a steel cable. Fortunately, the wind was blowing the surface of the water so hard that the fish couldn’t see the ka-sploosh! In the end I caught five or six fish, and lost as many due to ineptitude. The hardest thing to do is to wait the proper amount of time between when the fish engulfs the dry fly, and when you strike. The general guideline is to say to yourself "God save the queen", then nail 'em. However, I chose to say "Let's fire Obama". The largest fish being seven and a half pounds, the smallest being five and a quarter. I sigh when I think about what could have been in calm conditions.