Going a bit retro

Meinrad is a nice bloke and a qualified casting instructor. Jase met him via the local, Rod and Reel. A couple of casting refreshers were on the cards. I’d asked what to bring and the response was ‘whatever rod you want to practice with, and a good attitude’. I decided on a whim to drag the old mistress out; my Sage XP 590-4. The first high quality fly rod I’d ever purchased, she’d taken quite some wifely convincing to bring across the threshold. A “rod for life” I’d said. Other rods have come and gone since then. But I meant what I’d said. The first cast with her had brought a lovely fat brown far from where you’d expect such a fish. So light and responsive. Not uber fast. In the initial practice session I was overpowering the rod and smashing out all sorts of tailing loops and ugliness. But when it came together, well damn. I was back in love. Rolling forward a couple of weeks a back-country mission beckoned. It’d be my first post hip operation big mission and in a way was the truest test I could get. The gorge we’d drop into is mean, the walking is rough, mostly wading over slippery moss-covered rocks designed to roll ankles and test joints. I opted for the XP as weapon of choice. Before going over the edge I called SWMBO and told her of our plan, expected get out time, and what to do if she hadn’t heard from us. Boots laced. On with pack. Layla’s collar removed. GPS, food, survival blanket, lighter.

We set off downstream, where possible using terraces to stay out of the stream bed. Old familiar pools were passed. Finally after almost 3 hours we reached our starting point. Misty cool rain blew through, which combined with our sweat drenched bodies caused rapid cooling. I pulled my spare dry top out of the pack and donned it. I was wet wading while Jase had chosen waders. I’d felt that the additional restriction of movement of waders would tire me faster.

We rigged up under the ominous gaze of a huge bluff, cleft by a stream gully, the lowest of the 3-river confluence. The pool is beautiful with plenty of fish-holding cover. Jase was first up and immediately hooked and landed a beautifully coloured bow. It may even have been first cast. I’d tied on a stone fly with a 3.8mm tungsten bead behind a Category 3 Roger That. The fly plopped in and on the second or third drift was hit. And that set the scene for the day, the fish were active and in great nick. The old XP gave a great account and I bent her to the handle more than once. I’d hesitate to call the number of fish we hit between us. 

By midday the weather improved so jackets and under layers were removed. Layla rummaged in the bush, pushing out grey ducks and at one stage a Canada goose. She was having a back country ball. The fish were in great condition, some of the fights were the stuff of dreams with fish screaming uncontrollably up and downstream, and on occasion we took multiple fish from holding
pools. Quite simply epic fishing.

We continued to clamber up the riverbed, negotiating large rocks and edging around bluffs, and after 12 hours in the gorge we reached our get out point. The final descent was exhausting. At the truck I called in to wifey to let her know we were safe. My hip had stood up perfectly and the recent knee clean up op hadn’t hampered me overly. Layla dropped in the backseat, she’d had a hell of a big day. At the hut Jase fired up a feed of pork chops, spuds and coleslaw before we headed out for the evening rise.

The night before had been epic, I’d taken the Sage Trout Spey HD #3 armed with a scandi head and long tapered leader with an emerger down to the evening rise pool. As the sun had dropped fish began to move and I started covering rises, swinging the fly through rise forms. The sky darkened and rise forms splashed all over the pool; bugs constantly landed on my face in the darkness. The fish I finally hit launched and threw the fly, a fat football of a fish. As the rise dropped away I switched on my lamp and was astounded by the tens of thousands of caddis dancing above the water – with so many naturals available to the fish even getting an eat felt like a long shot.

This night, I tied an elk head caddis on and with the XP in hand wandered down to the pool. Jase arrived with his little #2 Sage TS HD wearing his gumboots. I hadn’t even brought another fly, if I lost this one my eyes wouldn’t let me tie another on. The rises were sporadic, clearly tonight’s hatch wasn’t going to be quite as epic as the previous evening’s. The fly was engulfed in a glop and I lifted to for half a second a decent weight that was here and gone. I flicked the fly to recast then though I’d best check it…. The hook had broken at the bend. Sh1t hooks. I don’t tie my EHCs – maybe I should start. Day over. A huge day.

The dog snuggled into my back that night and snored like a trooper. I was quite surprised to wake early. Outside, cloud had settled. We ate eggs and bacon and planned our day. We were expecting Andy, in which case he and I would fish a branch while Jase took out his spey gear. We decided to head down to the river for a quick fish until Andy arrived, so the XP was pressed back into action. We crossed the river and Jase headed upstream while I went to a favoured pool and fished out the head. A ‘bow and a brown came to the fly before Andy called and relayed that in Turangi it was pelting down and forecast to come our way so he’d pulled the pin. 

Change of plan. Back at the hut I rigged the trout spey gear and we headed off. I’d put on the Skagit head and a dual density tip followed by a Gartside Starling. The big river offers stacks of swinging water – in fact probably the best way of covering the water off is with long swung casts.

By the time we reached our turnaround point we’d both taken some ripper fish. My best had taken a sculpin pattern we call the Skanky Squirrel, a derivative of Jerry French’s Summer Sculpin as I’d retrieved the fly through thing deep water at the end of the swing. The fish taken hard then screamed out line leaping and spraying droplets. In the weigh net she was 4lb on the nose. 

The sky darkened as we made our way back to the hut. We packed, cleaned, baited the rat trap and shut the hut down then headed out. The skies opened. For once, we were glad to be off the river.