Just to share

It's funny how things go. When you travel to fly fish for 3 months or spend extended times doing it, at some point it becomes like a job - you're there to do it but after a month just the act of taking another step gets arduous. Rolling out of bed puts another hour of sleep against a potential 10 lb brown... or... more apt to us... the potential of the perfect video of that 10 lb brown. The fish aren't the hilight of my fly fishing. That's an odd thing to say. The act of catching a fish falls down the list of why we fish. The scenery, the water, the exercise of access, the hope for amazing light, the optics of seeing fish cruising, neat streamside insects, time lapse video of clouds, birds, old farm buildings, and so many more things combine to set that stage upon which we are supposed to focus solely on catching a fish? No, the fish is part of a package.
And so it was one day later in our trip that we found ourselves on a river ripe with browns 4 to 10 pounds. We had walked in on the Trans Alpine rail line to a bridge 5 or 6 km down. We had to hop off the rail line twice as the rumble behind us suggested that would be a good idea. The blue streak of the train blurred by as folks on the outside car waved as we cuddled up to matagouri and bush lawyer - each of which have spikes 1 to 4 cm long. Cuddly bears, those.
The day went off extremely well. AJ nailed a couple of hogs, I had fun with fish in the 4 to 6 lb range. She then lowered her standards and caught fish this mortal was catching. We tagged a lot of fish. But the last fish of the day is what caught my attention, and I immediately identified why.
We watched as a brown moved about its cycle of a back water. Done right, slowly moving into position while the fish is cycling the other direction is time consuming but easily done. On glare filled days, such as this was, it takes longer as you can't always see what the fish is doing, where it is going or has disappeared to. But I managed to get into position to cast and sure enough it took the nymph, as most New Zealand cutts - er - browns do on cooler, cloudy days. Once hooked up, it shot out of the back water to the main river and started to hammer downstream. I cranked the hell out of the rod but it was angled downstream and once that angle is established, it's the fish's game to lose. I slowed it down but it went straight into the log works below.
And that's when that moment summed where I was physically and mentally at that point on the trip. We got great video of fish that day. We caught a lot. We had fun on the railway. We saw some neat birds. Amelia was in heaven for a few huge browns. Did I need to land this fish? Nah. So, given that it was not likely to be landed no matter what I did as it was going straight into the logs, I thought to limit the time it would fight me and break it off. I lowered my rod and tightened the line and gave it a solid yank. And again. Neither broke the 2X. I could see the fish rolling in the logs. I again tried to break it off. No. So, I decided that if it wouldn't jerk snap, I'd just strip line like a pully and break it off, given the current and logs and fish would conspire to cause breaking tension. No. Instead, the branch it was wrapped around pulled off and both fish and wrist thick limb were pulled upstream. Both were landed. I'm not sure but it looks like it was likely a 5+ lb brown and likely as heavy stick.

As I sit back in Alberta, waiting for spring to kick a few more risers to the surface, I know I'd do the same again. It's not the end of the world to not catch a fish. If it's a 9" golden trout or a 14 lb brown, a 17" cutt or a 22" rainbow, do you have to land it to enjoy it? In this case, I landed it and was oddly almost disappointed. I was trying to do a good deed by breaking it off but somehow 2X held. So be it, I suppose! I fully enjoyed the day, as did AJ. And that is exactly how it goes after fishing every day. Fully enjoyable and the need or have to have a result certainly gone by the wayside. I find most of my days like that now.