Getting old - the yow factor

Friday was a dog. Last day of month, a heap of work dramas, and only small positives to counter the balance - and then arrived home after the worst week for a long time to discover that my wallet was missing. Frantic calls to the bank to cancel my cards, another to a colleague to arrange to grab his access card for work so I could back track, a drive to his place in the back end of Albany Heights, another drive into town in peak traffic and a frantic run into the office. There was my wallet, under the desk. Back to the car, 20 minutes on the phone ‘uncancelling’ my credit card then back home arriving about 8. Still had to pack the yak for Saturday’s mission and then rattle up the fishing gear. Was after 9 before I was ready to sit down and work on tomorrow’s plan. Saturday I arrived at TT’s at 5.45am and kicked his ass out of bed. By 6.15 we had his yak onboard and were off on an amended mission, rather than the ‘African Queen’ adventure down the Ongarue we headed for another spot involving a yak trip up a feeder into a hydro lake. By 9.15 we were on the water heading upstream and as always in a new spot I spent time looking around. The paddle was really enjoyable. We pulled ashore just downstream of the first rapid system where TT told me that 3 weeks ago the water was a good 5m higher. He rigged his 4 weight with a bead head and indicator and I took the first stretch, hitting a fish almost immediately and that set the tone of the day. Swapping places he dragged one out and then we jumped back in the yaks and crossed the canyon and jumped out on the other side. A bush bash upstream, a dodgy crossing and we started up some really interesting water. Round about here I should say that I have never ever fished on such slippery rocks in my life, the bed was solid carved rock with a film of algae that made the Mohaka and Ruakituri ‘pink slime’ seem tame. (Brings back memories of walking the river bed in upper Ruakituri singing “I’m walking on pink slime, woah-oh, I’m walking on pink slime..” to the tune of “I’m walking on sunshine”). If I slipped once, I slipped a hundred times. We both had heavy falls. I wasn’t in my aquastealth studded boots and boy did I regret not packing them. The fishing in some stretches was nothing short of brilliant, above the falls only rainbows reside and in good numbers. Size wise a 3lb fish is a goodie up there, but having big numbers made up for it nicely. Highlights included a really good fish that gulped a Stimulator at the very end of a long drift just as the weight of current carrying the fly across and down a deep dark green pool started to sink the bug. A bulge in the current and a quick strip strike set the hook momentarily until the fish took air and threw the hook after several mighty leaps. We struggled upstream and in 4 hours covered maybe a km and a half but had a steady stream of fish banked and lost. In one pool I finally caved, tied on the Tongariro rig and bombed the bottom of the pool. Before we left that pool we had banked 9 fish and lost another couple, one which ran hard upstream and busted my 2.4 kg tippet like it wasn’t there. Stopping for lunch at a hunters biv we caught our breath, compared skating wounds and then carried on up. One of TT's fish fought amazingly, leaping 9 times before being banked. Finally at what we estimated to be 2pm we decided to turn and got back downstream in about 50 minutes. The crossing back was even dodgier, so it was a relief to finally get back in the yak. I rigged a sink tip and Woolly Bugger and we made our way slowly downstream looking for fish sheltering in the deeper corners. I caught a scraggy brown over a weedbed and then paddled down to where the drop off from river to lake was and caught a couple of small bows. We pulled the pin shortly after and I was surprised that it was 5pm already. We set off for home reflecting that our fishing spot is quite remote, access is hard, fotting was terrible and we hadn’t let anyone know where we were… in short it was dodgy and we are both getting far too shaky for dodgy stuff. Home to TT’s by 8 and then home to square everything away, I realised that I was really shagged. Lots of bruises, lots of trout. A day that will live with me a while I’m sure.