Spiked

As I get older I seem to be less likely to turn the other cheek when it comes to plain old fashioned rudeness.

We sat around the fireplace on Saturday night. Andy had brought his mate Connor, and Connor's girlfriend around to Karl's place, where Tim, Jase, Karl and I were staying. The Black Piranha was snugged up in her crate. Each of us had fished different areas of the river during the day, and with the exception of Jase each of us had been 'jumped' on the river (anglers entering the water ahead of an angler already fishing up or down) or subjected to lack of etiquette during the day, and we were regaling.

But still, it was an awesome day, with fish hooked, caught, lost or landed. At one point I'd run into Tim and Karl on the track who were accompanied by Grieg who I'd not seen for years and Brent who I'd not met before, when wandering down the track came Andy and his mate Charles who again I'd not met before. Charles is married to legendary fly angler April Vokey and is a mean angler in his own right. We all carried spey rods and it was quite a wee gathering! I'd noticed in the car park that my truck had a flat tyre developing and didn't think much of it other than I'd need to change the tyre before changing locations.

I'd been at the bottom of the run I was fishing when Jase had called me and told me that he'd had a big brown smack his fly and not hook up and I was on my way up to see him when the gathering of long rodders had occurred.

That morning we'd started off early enough to be the second car into the Blue Pool car park and shortly after a van rolled in and 2 young guys got out. I wandered down to the river where Layla deposited herself at the head of the lower pool run, which is pretty neat swinging water. The first bloke who had arrived before us was landing a fish on nymphing gear in the upper pool as I started down. Soon one of the van guys came down (I'll call him blondie) and asked what my intentions were so I said "Yup I'm fishing the run down". Shortly after, he and his mate came down from the car park and disappeared behind the bushes. They re-appeared at the bottom of the run and began to rig nymphing gear. My heart began to beat faster and my blood pressure rose... especially when blondie approached the water half way down the run I was already fishing. I called out "hey bro, I'm fishing that water!" and again when he seemed to not hear. The second time he got the message and scuttled off with his mate. I set about my work and soon had a massive hit that caused the reel to shriek and a good sized fish cart-wheeled across the water before the hook was thrown. I soon had a few more hits and hookups and landed some really nice fish.

After the call from Jase I wandered up and crossed the tail of the Sand Pool to work my way down to my mate. He showed me some photos of a massive brown that he'd come across and we made our way back across and up to the Reef Pool for a fish. Soon I landed another fish that I called for a brown as it simply shook its head, but then a recently spawned but still silver rainbow appeared and was banked.

Dog's day out

Jase took off downstream and I moved down shortly to find him talking with Andy & Charles in the Blue Pool tail. Andy and I sat on the bank as Jase and Charles swapped gear and began blasting out casts, it was great to watch! It was nearing midday as we returned to the car park where my now fully flat tyre was replaced after a bit of fiddling and some assistance from the lads.

The rest of the day was pleasant as we wandered the almost deserted middle river. Late afternoon found me in one of our favourite pools where I managed to pull 5 fish in the head before Jase joined me and soon landed a big bugger of his own. I manahed a few more hits and 2 further fish as the sun dropped, and as the air cooled and we decided that a full unbroken day on the river was done.

Later that evening we'd eaten goose burgers and fries before being joined by Andy & Connor to watch the rugby. Our comparison of rude bastard notes left me feeling not so bad - Tim for example had a guy walk in on him and stand pretty much halfway between him and where he was casting to! Karl had had something similar happen and Andy just shook his head as he recounted his experience. With 2 visiting angling clubs plus a town full of guys with rods there was bound to be some pressure on the pools.

Early the following morning I was pretty careful on the drive back to town as my spare tyre isn't exactly laden with tread and it was raining. At the tyre repair shop the guy asked if I had any enemies? "Why?" I asked..."because there were 2 screws and a nail in that tyre". Yup, those bastards in the property maintenance van who'd tried to jump me had left some presents in the tyre for me.....

Due care and attention

When I was fishing the other day the reel, a click pawl Speyco, jammed solid at one point. I noticed a small sliver of metal between the spool and frame and had an “uh-oh this isn’t good” moment. Not wanting to break the reel down bankside, I got my pliers and extracted what was obviously a piece of broken spring. Back home I went online just to check instructions for changing out a check spring in this reel, and came across another bloke’s images – he’d had ALL of his springs broken on a single run of a steelhead.

Other bloke's reel

Hmmm. Anyhow, I broke down the reel and it was a complete mess inside.

Inside my reel

So, out with a bottle of white spirits and a tube of silicone grease. I broke down the click pawl system (2 of the 4 springs were gone) and cleaned the reel out completely. A wipe out with light oil and then grease applied to the springs and bearing, the 2 spare springs employed and she was back to good working order.

From Speyco's site. Nice and clean

I really should have done this when I got the reel, and it will need a wipe down inside after each trip. Goes to show how effective the sealed drag reels are these days. I'd be unlucky to have to clean some of my other reels more than once per year.

10 percent

On the weekend I had the distinct pleasure of fishing with one of the "10 percenters", one of those guys who are so uncannily wired in on the fish that they can wreak havoc on their finny adversaries. Karl's a mate of a mate's mate who invited Jase and I to stay in his Turangi house over the weekend. Ostensibly we'd gone down for the annual Fly Fest, but in reality this would be Jase's first foray post foot surgery and he was amping to swing some flies!

We met Karl at his house late Friday night. We got settled, had a chinwag and hit the hay around midnite. The can of V I'd drunk on the way down to ensure alert driving made its presence felt when around 1 I was still tossing and turning. But sleep I did in a fashion and it was around 5.45 when I heard Karl moving around. He was going to head to one of his spots to nymph with a mate of his who was coming down. Jase and I went to a run that was working well for swung flies of late and got into our work. The river was high and rain fell constantly... not high as in brown and flooded, but in the 45-55 cumec range against a normal 25-30 flow. The water had a beautiful tinge.

Jase started at the top of the run while I moved in just above the bucket. It was just such a different run with the extra flow that it took a bit of getting used to. I was fishing when Jase's series of nightmares began. He called out that he'd brought his wrong tips. I dug into my pouch and gave him a spare T-11 tip that I had. Soon I got a hit and hooked up to a beautiful little fish who simply didn't give an account of herself - the upturned hook in my sculpin fly had nabbed her in the upper jaw/nostril area so I'm picking that the upward pressure kept her mouth open and subdued her.

Then disaster befell my buddy - his running line broke on a strike leaving the fly, leader, tip and head attached to the fish. I dug out a spare head and tip and gave them to Jase. I finished winging the tail out then swung the entire pool again for nil other than snags, and left couple of flies stuck in the rocks. I wandered downstream and pulled a fish out of the next run, in close company of a fish executioner on the far bank who'd rip fish out of the water on his glo bug, boot them up the bank then dump them in the tray of his ute. Special guy, he obviously disliked fish intensely.

Jase joined me and we decided to move on for while. Karl had let us know he'd be in one of his favourite pools, one which Jase didn't like very much so I dropped him off and moved up to find Karl up to his waist fishing down the Hydro. I moved in behind him and watched him expertly comb the water. By the time Jase arrived with his mate Cutsie in tow, Karl had whipped 4 rainbows out for my single fish. It was like following an industrial vacuum cleaner! Jase beckoned so I waded over to find that he's lost another head (not mine!) to a fish and needed to go shopping. I gave him the keys to my truck and got back in the pool. What followed was a bit on an angling masterclass. Karl hooked up and called over his shoulder "brown!". The fish dragged him down and across and swam into the trees on the far side. Karl waded down, applying as much pressure as he could and then began a dance that started with net unleashed, rod bent crazily and  ended with shaking foliage and a sizable fish in the net. By the time he'd photographed the fish and returned across the pool I'd covered a fair bit of water for no takes so we decided to head upstream. Cutsie would catch up with Jase for the afternoon.

We got to the next run after a brisk walk and I was first through. A fish took short on the second swing and then came at the fly again a couple of casts later to be firmly hooked. We worked our way down and Karl hooked and landed a really nice fish. We decided to head back to town and see if we could get into one of the 'name' pools, guess we were kidding ourselves thinking like that as town was flooded with anglers. We headed back to base for a shower and beer. Jase and Cutsie rocked in later, Jase having redeemed himself with 5 fish for the afternoon. That night we joined the Fly Fest crowd at the tavern and caught up with faces both new and old - it was great!

Blue Pool

Sunday dawned fine. Karl was taking a newbie out for his first trout so Jase and I decided to hit the upper river pools. It would be fair to say that it was a struggle to deal with the extra water... the Whitikau gave Jase a couple of short-takers, then I lost a couple of flies in the rocks at the tail of the sand, while Jase walked down to the Reef pool. I hopped down further to fish the tail of the Blue; the upper pool was occupied by some old guys with deck chairs. I got stuck in, the wading was trickier than usual but I stuck with it. I was occasionally hitting the bottom so my fly was definitely in the right area, and I managed in that first foray 5 hits for 3 fish banked. And they were uniformly small and dark nothing at all like the chromers we'd managed of late. Jase followed me down and managed a hit or 2 only, so we decided to up sticks, have lunch and decide on a new venue. We drank hot coffee and ate rolls sitting on the banks of the river and it was a fine place to be! Next stop for us was the Mill Race. Last trip I'd had a ball in here so was expecting great things. Jase went through first and then I followed him, really focusing on getting a shallow angled swing through the seam.  The fish when it hit, launched upstream and to the side twice and threw the hook. I concentrated harder. I swung that seam with great focus, putting the fly through slowly, fast, dead drift... but nothing else bit. Jase got a hit or two but nothing stuck, for whatever reason (probably angling pressure) the fish were reticent. We decided to make our final stand in the town pools and drove down to the car park which was standing room only. Again our little run was unoccupied (it looks like swift rapid water - unappealing to the millions of nymphers who walk past it). I went in halfway down and Jase fished the head. His first fish bit in the soft seam in no more than a couple of feet of water, and came downstream with firm determination. I had to run ashore so it wouldn't put me between the soft water behind me and the surging flow in front of me, and Jase banked her shortly afterwards. He hooked up again shortly thereafter while all I managed was snag after snag. I began to put 2 and 2 together regarding tips. 1. 12' of T-14 is a bit too much on the #6 2. That tip in combination with weighted flies sure combs the bottom, but in high water we are fishing the edges much more = snags

We met a couple of old mates back at the car park, and after a decent chinwag we got out of town. I remarked to Jase that I'd lost a heap of flies over the weekend. He'd lost none....

Blooding the X rod

X = 10, and Sage's X rod represents the 10th generation of blank technology. I've been using a Sage One 7126 (#7, 12'6") for my Tongariro double handed work up to now and its a fine casting rod, but probably that bit too much for fish in the 2 - 5lb category. With that in mind and based on good mate Jason's feedback (he's been toting an X 6120 for a while) I ordered same the rod... but its been some time in my possession without being fired - IT WAS TIME!

I was awake just before 3am so decided to just get on with it. Layla was fed and watered, I ate breakfast, grabbed a coffee and got on the road. The trip was pretty good, despite a damp road and a bit of fog I made it in good time and was beside the pool of choice by 7.30. I teamed the rod with a Rio Skagit Max Short 425, 12' of T-14 and tied on an olive bunny leach with an orange cone with enough weight to defeat the strong flow. I could see anglers in the pool below hauling fish so I knew it was just a matter of time before I was in... then I began to snag the bottom. I changed flies. I hung up in the shrubs on the far side. I couldn't feel my fly bumping the bottom. I changed the head to a 450gr Airflo F.I.S.T. I wasn't getting feedback through the line. In short I lacked that vital element of successful fishing - confidence. I sat down in the drizzle and reflected for a few minutes. The river was in perfect nick with a green tinge and running higher than normal. There were plenty of fish in the river. I just needed to go back to basics and trust myself. Layla nodded at me as I revealed all of this to her. Maybe the fish just weren't holding here... and I'd lost a couple of flies so I decided to move.

It took a few minutes of driving and 10 minutes of walking to the next stretch. Most anglers avoid it because the swift flow doesn't look like holding water, but that same swift flow disguises a really nice bucket. As I arrived a nympher worked the fast water at the head of the pool on the far bank... really I couldn't see what he hoped to catch up there but each to their own I suppose. I began to comb the water, with each cast moving down a step. The first fish that hit ripped line and tore off downstream and in a blink of an eye completely did me, taking my running line and plenty of backing as it exited the pool ... before throwing the fly. The next 90 minutes was magic, simply magic. The next fish (and first landed on the rod) hit the fly and then cartwheeled downstream, causing the reel (click pawl Speyco) to shriek. I leaned on the rod to pull the fish clear of the current but time and again it charged into the heavy water before I finally was able to beach her. She was simply majestic, fat, silver and utterly beautiful.

After a few photos she shot away into the current. The depth of the next fish as he leaped when the hook bit told me he was sizable so the fight was perhaps more epic than the previous and hes bored away again and again, causing the reel to have conniptions. When finally landed I was gazing at the largest Tongariro rainbow I've caught in many a year, a large broadsided fat silver jack in full silver regalia.

And as if nothing could top that I managed another 3 fish to the bank before the inevitable happened and jealousy kicked in for 2 other anglers (who had inched closer and closer each time my rod bent) who decided to try and fish the pool from the far bank. This is so typical of human nature but I suppose the sound of a screaming reel has that effect. As their casting began to encroach I started dropping my fly 3 feet in front of them, to show I was still working the water. I had the distinct pleasure of hooking several more fish, one of which I landed and another which took to the air in front of them, spitting the fly. By now Layla was a bit soaked through and was curled in a damp ball on the bank and I was getting hungry so it was time for a move.

In town I caught up with Pete and the shop and we talked tactics, dribble, pheasant shooting, dribble, and even some smack. He gave me the lowdown on some tactics employed by a notable spey angler and from that I knew both where I'd be going and what I'd be doing after lunch. 2 pies and a bottle of V for me, and a pile of dog biscuits for Layla. We arrived at an empty car park (this NEVER happens) and with a spring in my step I strode towards the pool while Layla (who'd perked up) began to follow up scents. The rain had stopped. Upon entering the pool I saw how the extra flow had changed its characteristics... usually the flow of water in the head was swifter creating a massive challenge to sink a fly. With the increased flow a distinct seam of joggly water was created and the likely holding water increased 3 fold. Against this backdrop I have to say that the most fish I'd ever taken here before was 2 in a session. The session that unfolded was nothing short of epic as fish after fish took the fly and screamed line off the reel. It was quite simply a red letter session.

By the time I'd fished 2/3 of the run and another angler appeared with his dog, I'd stopped counting hits and misses, fish caught, fish tussled with and dropped... by the time I'd worked 2/3 of the pool a guy appeared with nymph rod in hand and old dog in tow and asked me my plans. I told him I'd keep fishing down so he was welcome to fish up from me. He duly went in and straight away hooked up. Layla went up the pool to help him land the fish... I called her back.

My last fish landed from the pool was the only spent fish for the day and heralded time for a move. I had just enough time to swing one final run. The fish that took near the bottom of the run was small and silver and I tried to horse her ashore. The hook pulled. And with that, I pulled the pin also. With 4 hours of driving ahead of me it was time to go.

X rod blooded - what a red letter day.