The edge of Te Urewera

Tuesday just dragged on, as work does pre-mission. Left the office at 3.45 home to see the family and then threw my pre-packed gear into the truck. Traffic south wasn’t at all bad considering. The weather was a bit of an enigma though, forecasts leading up to Weds & Thurs hinted at cloud, heavy cloud, thin cloud, rain, sunny spots, cloud… typical NZ stuff of late. Arrived at Milo’s, packed his gear in and had pause to stop and think about where we were staying as the booty included axe and firewood. We got on our way and headed south as the sun dropped. It was well dark by the time we hit Murupara and crossed the plains to the edge of Te Urewera.

Our mission was to fish cicada imitations to fat hard rising fish. The weather gods could well have put paid to that plan, the previous week snow had fallen on Ruapehu and Tongariro and cold snaps kill cicadae off overnight.
We arrived to find the hut vacant, but some previous occupants had left bottles and cans in the fireplace, however it was pretty sweet. We got the fire going then sat outside with a drink and watched the stars overhead. Basically we talked sh*t until 3am then dropped into our bunks.

It got a bit chilly under the still sky, so when we woke at gentleman’s hours (7.30) it was no surprise that a decent dew fall greeted us. A cooked brekkie of bacon, eggs, hash browns and beans washed down with hot tea got us going and with full stomachs we headed away from the hut. On the way to explore some water that Milo had passed through at some stage, we stopped on a high bridhe to see if we could spot a fish. In the tail of a long run a fish rose and took a bite off the surface, then swung around in the current. 100m upstream, a cicada hit the water, throwing out vibrations in the form of rings on the pool. We watched in morbid fascination as the cicada slowly floated down towards us (we were 30m above the water) and after a minute or two entered the trout’s zone. He saw it 6 or 7m out and casually lined it up before scooping it off the surface – great scene setter for the day!

We parked and got out at a high point - The River was a beaut! The day was sweet – sunny without a cloud in the sky and cicadae were singing – not quite in summer force but enough to encourage us to tie on big terrestrial patterns. I got the first run to fish…. and was a bit rusty as I hit the first fish far too early. My second and third were much the same, even though I told myself to slow down. Finally I got a good hook set on a nice rise and had a hell battle with a fat stocky ‘bow, the fight was quite torrid so I was happy to get to use the net. The water was pleasant and the day hot – hot enough to regret my choice of wearing my lightweight waders, and hot enough to keep cicadae singing. The aerial displays put on by wood pigeons was awesome. The water covered ranged from gravel runs to some gorgeous rocky pools.

Lunch was eaten sitting on a fallen log, re-catching some of the earlier fish and just shooting the breeze. We got a few nice shots and captured some underwater video. When we reached a magic piece of water, it was my shot and I had tied on the most god awful double-decker foam sandwich Chernobyl Cricket thing with legs sticking out all over the place. Milo directed me to a fish and I smacked it down – the fish charged the monstrosity, opened wide and smashed it off the surface. Game on! The fish ran me ragged, taking line with ease. I was quite glad to finally net him and get a few fly-in-the-gob shots. We fished the rest of the pool for no result.

We wandered upstream to our get out point but the fish weren’t quite done with us – Milo enticed a strong rise from a fish that went vertical when the hook bit, and it didn’t stay in the water long either. It was his fish of the day and a fine way to finish.

We walked up to the car and went to look at other spots up and downstream, finding nice water in the process.

Clouds were starting to gather on the horizon by now. That night the wind hit, blowing smoke all through the hut. I was in bed early, needing to make up for the 4 hour sleep from the night before. Milo slept badly though, the flapping iron in the chimney keeping him awake. As we sat on the veranda the next morning, the wind was howling. A tree groaned and fell taking a few more with it across the valley… we decided to pack our gear into the truck and head off to find some sheltered water. We got out with no dramas, just a bit of dead fall on the road and made our way up to the spot we had in mind. When we arrived we met up with a bloke in a house truck with a quad on a trailer behind. He was there with his wife for a few day’s hunting. We picked his brain and he willingly gave up some of his 40 year’s experience, telling us that the stretch we were about to fish got quite a bit of pressure. We parted ways and headed upstream. The water was different from yesterday’s, with a boulder bed and surrounded by heavy native. Very reminiscent of some South Island waters. We fished up, pool hopping. As luck would have it, I didn’t cover any visible fish and nothing rose for my fly; Milo on the other hand had 3 chances and each time the fly popped free of the fish’s mouth! One of his misses was a beautiful big brownie who put his whole head out to eat. Oh well. We had many highlights including blue ducks and arriving at an amazing grotto like gorge.

 Milo did hook a small rainbow on a sunken cicada, and then that was it, time to leave. Next time we’ll give ourselves more time. Thanks bro, sweet trip.