Re-unionisation

In the winter of 1996, the All Blacks won their first ever test series away to the "Old Foe", the Springboks. As Sean Fitzpatrick, on hands and knees clubbed the ground with joy, Brian, Miles, Al, Andre and I watched the TV and knew that we'd just witnessed history being made. I have a vague memory that we fished the shorelines of both Rotoiti and Okataina, and that Milo hung a couple of large fish while the rest of us blanked. I think that's how it went.

Anyway, we'd never reconvened as a group to go fishing, always one or the other was missing. Families, careers, travel, life - it all conspires to get in the way. And so it would be again - Andre couldn't make it. We'd warmed up by going into town the prior week to watch films at the RISE film festival, (sans Brian who couldn't make that gig). The weekend was planned in advance to allow us to get together and fish the rivers around Turangi.

You know you're in great company when the weekend just flows, and flow it did. We fell straight into banter and fished as hard as we wanted to. I had some river time with Milo who wanted to kick back (with a big guiding season ahead of him a bit of downtime wouldn't hurt) and we sat on the bank yakking in between a bit of swinging. Brian and Al enjoyed themselves and Jase fished hard both days.

For me the fishing on Saturday was interesting. The river was lower and I'd persisted with the Airflo F.I.S.T when maybe I ought to have run a straight floating head. The first 5 fish I hooked were either there and then gone, or threw the hook on the first run. They were definitely taking softly and I now theorise that the heavier tip of the F.I.S.T's head combined with reticent fish and lower flow caused less feel in the take, allowing the fish to mouth and throw the fly. The lower flow did however open up some wading options that haven't been available all season, and I was able to access the Boulder Pool from above. This is the pool where a year ago I hooked my first ever fish on a spey rod, albeit briefly and this time it treated me to some quality takes. I manged to get the final 3 fish to the bank but the first few were frustrating as each threw the hook, including one that peeled line and felt like a solid fish.

Late in the day as Milo and I returned to the car park, Pete arrived with Kaiser in tow, and he and Layla played together as we talked smack. Brian and Al soon arrived and then Jase came downriver. We had all arrived in one place at the same juncture and without planning, and to me looking back now it seems quite apt. Back at base we settled in for a glass of Scotch and snacks before heading out for dinner.

The following day's fishing was absorbing. Bri and Al had opted to not fish, and to leave for home early. Miles and Jase would go up another stream with Andy, and I'd fish alone. The sun was still below the horizon as Layla settled down on her rock to stand guard over the run. A fish first cast would set the scene hopefully, but I dropped the next 3 in a row. I spent a good couple of hours combing down the pool, landing 5 fish and missing several more. I really wasn't hitting anything chrome or super fresh, but none the less a couple of the fish fought for their lives.

Spawned out but still on the chomp

Been in the river a while

I was feeling pretty tired, the day before had been a long one with 12 hours on the river and with daylight savings having robbed us of another hour's sleep overnight I just felt jaded.

I decided on one more run before pulling the pin, so drove up to the OTHP (Over The Hill Pool) which is prime swinging water. The day before I'd taken a dip at the head of the run where it drops from knee to hip depth.... and I promptly did the same again! Given that I'd followed Jase down the pool yesterday and he'd extracted 8 fish to my 2, I thought I'd be a good bet in here. But again I had the dropsies! Fish were holding in the very soft water below me and as the fly gently swung in they were hitting it. I had 3 takes before I got my first positive hook up and the fish bored out into the heavy flow giving a decent account of itself. Not silver, not fresh, but well recovered. I spent a couple of hours here, chiding myself for my ever worsening casting creating sub par opportunities to hit fish in the far seam across the main current. Fish were hitting and missing or occasionally hooking up. By 1 pm it was time to go and on the spur of the moment I decided to drop into one final run near town. Surprisingly, the pools immediately below the bridge were devoid of anglers. Given that they are real troll holes, that was quite unexpected. The run I was in had been generous to us this year, but with decreased water the rocks were slimy and I had trouble getting a grip on the bottom. The wind blew first up and then downstream in darkening gusts. My rhythm was blown and I fished without enthusiasm.

The boys rolled in late in the afternoon, they'd had a cracker up another stream. I'd finished tidying the house and was caffeinated and ready to drive. With an extra hour of light at the tail of the day the drive didn't seem quite as taxing, none the less home was a welcome sight. It won't be another 20 years before we do this again.

Small hackled wets on the swing

I've got a real hankering to swing some wet flies on the light double hander, so I've had a couple of sessions tying wee wets. I've never really focused on this style of fly before and all my swinging efforts have been focused on streamers large and small. Don't get me wrong, the streamer method has served me well on both runners and resident fish, but I want to try something a tad different. The reading I've done indicates that fishing small wets with the double hander is not always a swinging game; upstream and across presentations to drift the flies dead appear to also be on the menu. I guess the real appeal is that its a new and exciting aspect to the trout spey game that I haven't tried yet.

The other day as a cold rain fell (it had snowed earlier) and the river was high, we noticed a swarm of swallows diving and bombarding. It was apparent that a hatch was on and after we'd (successfully) fished through the run with streamers I asked Pete (one of the country's foremost bug spotters and fly tiers) if he'd seen what was coming off - he hadn't. I didn't even bother to look, given that the fish were actively smashing my streamer and it wasn't until much later that I'd sort of out 2 and 2 together that perhaps the hatch was stimulating the fish to feed, and as a juicy streamer came past they'd lash out at it because they were already on the chomp.

If I'd swung some small flies would they fish have taken them with gusto? That would've been a cool scenario. Really keen to try this in lower water conditions than I think we'll find anytime soon. With more rain forecast there's no sign of a letup or a chance for the water levels to fall. The good news I suppose is that the fish runs should continue unabated.

Blown out

Jase and I had planned to swing the Whanganui River over the weekend, as spring is the season of plenty where the fish feed heavily and regain condition lost over winter. Spring is also the season where we receive the most rain - although in a year like the one we've had its hard to believe that we get anything but constant rain. We got into the hut late on Friday night, and soon after the rain set in. It was ferocious. The river below the bluff on which the hut sits roared. The temperature dropped and soon I was feeling quite uncomfortably cold as the hut is not insulated and we hadn't put the fire on. I got up several times to answer the call of nature and put another layer of clothing on. It was a pretty uncomfortable night all in all, and I woke at 7. We grabbed coffee and salmon on grilled buns, made lunches then rigged up. A 10 minute walk saw us at the river where we quickly turned around - a roaring mass of chocolate milkshake greeted us. We quickly made a few calls, threw our gear in the truck and headed for Turangi - whilst there'd been decent rain in the foothills around the Tongariro it had been nothing like what had fallen our side of the ranges. The Tongariro was running high but our mates described the river as "coloured but imminently fishable". We got to Pete's place and picked him up, dropped Layla off for a day with her mate Kaiser and headed down to look at the river. We found that a preferred run was unoccupied so headed down. While Pete and Jase got setup in a tail out of a large slow pool, I headed down to the next run. The fish were certainly moving - it seemed that every time I looked upstream one or the other was hooked up. It took a while for my first hit, which didn't hook up, but after that I was able to land a couple of beautiful fish and get smoked by a couple more.

By mid morning the rain started in earnest and sticks and debris began to come downstream and the water coloured up. I moved up above Pete and waded out; immediately the leak in my waders made itself felt. Pete left the river to answer the call of nature and immediately 2 people moved into his spot! Seriously, the utter lack of etiquette in this river is appalling. Pete gave the interlopers a curt serve and moved down. I soon hooked up and in short order landed 2 fish and lost a 3rd that jumped in front of the chief interloper.

By now the water was tinged brown and still rising so we left and went in search of coffee where we ran into local guide Dave Wood. He'd put his clients into numerous fish in the morning and was on his way home. As we spoke a black cloud loomed and hail pelted down - we scuttled back to the truck and headed upstream. It wasn't any better up there but we jumped in anyway for a quick shot at the Blue Pool (which was greeny brown) before pulling the pin and heading back to Pete's where I was happy to stand in front of the fire and dry off my soaked leg and socks. The drive back over 'the Punga' to the hut was slow but ok, and still it rained. We got the fire going and hung our coats and waders up to dry and the hut rapidly warmed up. Laya lay in her crate nice and warm and we ate venison slices followed by duck/goose/veni sausages, salad and oven fries. I was exhausted and hit the hay early. I awoke at 1 am to heavy rain and again at 3 - it was suddenly very cold... I was up at 6 to news that it had snowed in Turangi. We packed quickly, tidied and locked the hut and hit the road. I'd told Pete that we'd drive slowly in anticipation of black ice. Sleet was falling as we headed up the range and that shortly turned to snow, so we were reduced to a crawl. At the summit we found a small car parked, being blanketed with snow. The couple in the car were tossing up whether to progress or go back - we pointed out that the conditions were likely to be the same both ways so they said they'd follow us as we crawled forward.

Photo credits: Jason Cochrane

Another car joined our small convoy and we snaked our way down the far side of the range and soon the snow falls cleared and we were back into dark drizzle.

Breakfast at Pete and Sherrie's was awesome and warmed up we grabbed Pete's gear and headed off. Our nominated spot was occupied so upstream we went. The river was a beautiful hue of green and had dropped markedly. A couple of guys were already in the tail out we wanted to fish so Pete and I headed up to the Whitikau pool which looked fishy but where neither of us garnered a hit and then the Fence Pool which marks the upstream fishing limit. The fence is an ugly back swirling mess that ate 2 of my flies and so we quickly moved on. On the way back downstream I dropped into the Reef Pool while Pete carried on. I was getting a really good swing and after a while hooked a small fish that swam upstream before throwing the hook. The next fish handed me a caning of a lifetime - it hit, ran out my running line, continued into the backing and in the current with no means of following, I knew that I was doomed. I tried to put pressure on but the leader broke and I was left wondering what if... winding and winding that line back in I had to stop for a little rest.

I caught up with Pete and Jase down at the Blue where Pete reported that he'd had a hit and Jase had caught a couple. I decided to kill time by following them down and Jase soon nailed another fish. His efficient casting makes my agricultural efforts look clumsy. But as long as there's a fly in the water there's hope.. speaking of which I'd been using various flies after losing one on a snag decided to change to a favourite fly. The hit when it came sent water spraying and the fish tore off cartwheeling across the current. Jase who had finished fishing the run motioned to Pete below me and he waded ashore as the fish zoomed by. I got it under control and Pete netted it for me a shapely fish of 5lbs.

That signaled time to move on and the banter flowed as we talked about the next location. The car park was moderately full but we stopped for a look and couldn't see anyone in the water we wanted so a quick walk saw us in place. Pete had decided to fish the tail of Cattle Rustlers and Jase was in the bushes so I got in and quickly hit a nice little fish. Pete reappeared below us - another guy was fishing where he'd wanted to go so he moved into the tail of our run. Jase jumped in at the head and hooked up straight away. He'd given me some tips on setting my anchor and keeping my arm straight and I was focusing hard on keeping my casting sweet - as a result I was laying out straight cats which swung really nicely through the holding water. And the fishing was epic! Pete nailed a couple and in my traverse of the run I hooked 7 fish and banked 5. It was epic! Every few casts and I either got a tug or was tight to a fish and I had an utter ball.

Cloud over Pihanga

Small & feisty

It rained all the way home....