On the Up & Up

If you look to the top right of the present layout of this blog, you'll notice a new video we just posted "On the Up & Up". It's a fun moment from our latest trip to New Zealand with a full flex rod. Yes, we're Orvis Endorsed. No, it's not a shameful plug. Yes, we really do love the Superfine rods. No we don't use them in every situation. Yes, we'd recommend the rods for Alberta trout waters. They can handle a lot and have an amazing feel. We hope you enjoy this latest vid!
The good news is the season is coming on strong. There'll be some early season headaches with weather and water condtions, but things will roll soon enough!

Quietly Into the Night

We return to Alberta tomorrow. We leave New Zealand, with the leaves drying and willows turning yellow at the first signs of the changing season, late Feb eerily similar to late August at home - the warm, dry weather taking its toll on the trees. The rivers are low and warm. The nights only now cooling quite noticeably. The afternoons are calmer but take just a touch longer to warm. The highways are quiet. All is peaceful.

So it was on our last foray into the back country, to explore a new road and a couple of new valleys, mostly for the fun of it and definitely for next year's trip. The salmon are in many waters and the trout are a little more than just put off - they aren't happy their big, distant cousins are in the small habitat, and certainly aren't keen to share a bath tub.

So it was we were driving out from that last jaunt up a remote, lonely valley that we thought of a fish I'd missed on 3 successive rises to my mayfly. I stood above it high on the bank and each time it rose to my mayfly I struck early. The optics from above were starkly different to water level: from above you saw the head pop but you strike too soon often, as the large headed trophies need to turn or return to the water prior to striking. I missed each take back 6 weeks or so, simply pulling the fly out of an open mouth prior to that turn. It was at the end of the 5 weeks of high, muddy, miserable weather and water and that moment more frustrating because of the negative run of conditions.

But on this drive out the water was low, cold, clear. And there was enough time to walk over to the pool and see if it was there. We were close by and it was worth a look. And as we walked over and peered over the bank, the mayflies were popping and my fish was popping like mad.

It was epic. And I got him this go 'round. And it was the greatest moment and memory we'll both take with us from this trip. Me for being so engaged in the fishing, Amelia in the video. And it was epic.

Conundrum? Not really...

We’re a few weeks into this year’s trip to New Zealand. In a million years I wouldn’t have guessed the trip to go the way it has. It has been odd in a peculiar way. From the day we landed and the first fish, it’s been a bizarre circus for me personally. I’m getting a take from every single fish I line up on. No matter what we’re fishing for, rainbows or browns, it’s the same. See a fish, get a take. The only fish I haven’t have been a rainbow that was holding deep in a run, holding beside a fish we’d caught and I simply didn’t want to tie on a longer dropper nymph to get it. The other two were both browns on a formerly impossible spring creek that has been very good to us the return engagements. Those two simply looked at the flies but either took and I missed or ignored me altogether. Otherwise, It’s getting a little ridiculous. To the point that it’s almost a little tedious.

I stopped typing to read what I wrote above. I cringe in sharing that. I honestly don’t mean to sound like a pompous ass. Honest. I’ve been taken aback at how it has gone thus far. Between last year and this year’s trips, it’s been quite amazing fishing. In one run on one stream a few days ago, Amelia & I had 2 double headers and a single in a 10 m bit of water. All were 3 to 6 pound browns. In New Zealand?

 

I had a fellow earlier in our trip comment on my string of takes. His suggestion has some validity: why not go fish more heavily pressured rivers where the take isn’t guaranteed? While there is merit in that, the thoughts in my head are as follows:

WHY? If you know New Zealand enough to explore and to return to previous year’s waters that treated you well, or are able to deduct others that offer similar fishing, or you know the weather and water cycles to know where to be and when, why would you deliberately seek out pressured waters that others fish simply because they are known to produce big trout, especially when we aren’t here to simply catch big trout? As we’re here to enjoy intimate moments on some neat streams and creeks, with a few bigger rivers here & there, simply to engage some cool moments with trout (regardless their size – be it a 3 lb brown or 10 lb sea runner) then what is the point of going to where others fish with regularity and risk the chance that you’ll run into others and disrupt their or your day, especially when we’re all simply here to enjoy our time? Quite a conundrum.

We are completely comfortable to ‘only’ catch 2 to 7 pound trout from the type of waters we love, the ones that put you 13 feet from a 6 pound brown holding tight under a rounded mat of tree roots – where only a bow & arrow cast can be used as side, rear, upper back casts are blocked. To watch a fish respond and charge 3 or 4 feet to take your dry when you were hoping it might just consider your nymph… that kind of thing. Why seek out pressured waters where that is less likely?

The more popular waters also have a missing element: surprise and exploration. We’re excited about what we might or might not find on a new reach. One day earlier in our trip we literally bush bashed for an hour following a dry creek bed. As we walked up there was a bone dry channel. Then a trickle; then a corner pool; then a long glide and some almost waist deep water. It was looking great! Google Earth recon was looking excellent. But, then we came around a corner and the now babbling stream began to disappear into thickets of gorse and broom (nasty, thick and spiked weeds).  We marched onwards but only found ourselves mired in the thickest of nasty bush and the stream spread out considerably. A complete bust for trout. But, it was our bust, our wee exploration. Fun, hot, sweaty, miserable, hopeless, painful, hopeful, and full of anticipation that we might find a hidden gem with a trout or two. Of course, we’d likely catch them in that scenario, but the point was finding them, not the catching. The catching, by that point, is only a reflection of the effort. We weren’t so rewarded then, but 90% of the time we are, if only for one. And often, one is enough.

So, it has been an interesting trip for sure. We’ve fished some waters from years gone by. We have explored successfully (be it trout or not) and enjoyed our time. The weather hasn’t always lined up with the good fishing and the video work is a little lacking by our hopeful standards, but it has gone exceptionally well in so many regards. It’s been an interesting bit tho. I’m not used to the words “I’m getting a take from every fish I’ve lined up on for a month” and “New Zealand” in the same breath. It’s similar to last years’ trip where Amelia landed every fish she lined up on during an incredible 3 week run.

It simply reflects that it is no longer simply the fishing that brings us back here. Great friends, hope for new ones, hope for some amazing photos and video moments, avoiding the hellish winter at home this year, finally getting a great video of a fantail flitting about in a streamside forest, and countless small moments that go along with the endless string of trout that we seek in unique, intimate moments. At this point what is missing is a small cabin (batch) to call home, to share it all with friends, to enjoy what we’ve been able to enjoy. It’s getting to be so much like home,  a place to settle into might be the next phase of this experience in life. It’s all part of how amazing life can be, rising out of the simplest means of life as a fly fishing guide in Alberta, Canada. Life is wonderful, even in the smallest of things. We need more time with the people we care about, spent watching fantails, pukekos, wekas, and keas… or completely immersed in a moment with a trout…

Life indeed can be amazingly wonderful

 

The Drive By

We awoke to rain. No surprise as it poured the day before and all through the night. Such is life on the west coast of the south island, New Zealand. The waters near us were up and off color, so we packed up and headed north. As can happen, the rain let up as we drove. The skies remained heavy and the air saturated, but we drove into clear waters under the endless bridges and culverts that line the west coast. We drove quite a distance and came to a single lane bridge the west coast is famous for. Given the weather and that it was mid week, there was nobody around. We slowed the van to a crawl as we crossed the bridge. The water was beautiful. Clear, deep blue. The week prior, we'd driven the same route down island and asked ourselves why we had never stopped at this and a couple of other rivers. Today, we were dead tired as we were at day 39 of having had one day off fishing. It's funny how, for as many many days and rivers you have fished in New Zealand, there are multiples of that to fish yet. Your body needs a break from time to time and with the rain having been pouring down earlier and all night, we'd checked our minds off fishing and were enjoying sitting in the van, on our way to get an ice cream bar and back to visit friends.
But, the rods are always folded over on the bed behind the driver's seat. You just never know. So, we inched along the single lane bridge, looking down at the sandy bottom of this stunning river, white rocks dotting the bottom. I glanced upstream to a tongue of a gravel run. Sure enough, this day would not go with out a fishy encounter. There, mid river, as large, dark brown held at the bottom of the gravel, surfing and ferrying mid river, mid current. Impressive!
The van was parked, the rod assembled. I hopped the guard rail and slid into the river below the bridge. I launched the large dry upstream and the fish stopped holding in the current, allowing itself to drift. It slowly rose as it drift about 22 feet downstream, coming up from about 11 or 12 feet down. It was a large pool. It was a large brown.

The amazing part of it - that 10.25 lb brown wasn't alone. No sooner than releasing the fish, we spotted another giant. AJ was up and she simply flipped the same fly out. Same result, frankly.

The cicadas were absolutely electric in the ponga ferns for the 3 hrs we fished the river.

After several good fish were landed in the 3km above the bridge we fished, the weather found us and the monsoons began - as they often do. Rain falling at 25 to 50mm and hour (1 - 2 inches) for 10 to 18 hrs straight tends to blow rivers out for the afternoon, so we stuck to the original plan. Ice cream and a quick visit with friends. Quite a discovery though. 50+lbs of trout in a few runs after spotting from the hwy bridge. Where else in the world can you do that?

Beech Spring

Amelia & I have a favourite spring creek. If you know beech forests, you understand that they are typically found in hilly, relatively steep mountainous terrain. If you know spring creeks, you know that they typically flow out of the ground in pastoral settings – or at least a ways out from the toe of the slopes that water infiltrates. So, to find a beech forest spring creek is relatively rare, but that’s what we stumbled across a few years ago as we explored a back country west coast river. Our spring creek is very spring influenced but does pick up a few ephemeral, run-off fed fingers. The kick is that for most of its run, it flows under a beech forest canopy and is quite weedy in spots. It’s not a long run either, perhaps 1.5 km of water. And there aren’t fish everywhere but there are a few nice browns, most certainly. This year we’ve fished it once a month and will likely fish it once more before we head home to Canada. On each of our visits, AJ missed one of the largest browns of our trip – likely tipping the scales near double digits. There’s a clip of video that will be on our West Coast Spring Creeks dvd (due out later this year) that shows just how amazing the fish and spring creek is. As it is, this blog post shows how amazing both the setting and fish are. The pongas, tuis, fantails, beech canopy, mosses, and a few browns… it’s a stunning little bit of water. Below, you’ll find some of hour favourite photos of this wee gem.

Pining

It's hitting me today. It's a little under 3 weeks until we fly to New Zealand. We're working hard to wrap up quite a few loose ends - I'm working hard on a brand new Fly Fish Alberta website that will come on line this week or next, as well as laying new foundation to our Fortress Lake Retreat site. It's been go-go-go on the computer the past 2-1/2 weeks with the new sites and a ton of video work - the sight fishing dvds, laying some foundation to a "Real New Zealand" dvd as well as 2 others to compliment a submission to the Back Cast Fly Fishing Film Festival. There's quite a roll of videos to come soon - while having taken their time, are being scrutinized for layout and content , presented in our style.

So here I am today, tired eyes and all. I flipped open Google Earth to have a look at my favorite locations. I began to daydream about a river AJ & I had an amazing experience on last year. We managed to land many dozens of browns in the 4 to 7 pound range in under 5 hours of fishing. Given how far back in the wilderness this reach was, we only had so many hours to fish. As it turned out, we only fished 1.4 km of the water due to the impassable beech forest. We planned to head back there late in our trip but the weather never allowed for it. So, today, I'm looking at Google Earth, zooming a little tighter to see the tiny tribs under the beech forest. I'm looking at the water between where we fished and the lowest take out. While we fished 1.4 km, there's about 6 km of water that is readily fishable - if a guy packs in a small dingy. So, here I sit, day dreaming of the singing, deafening cicadas echoing through the beech forest as we slowly drift though, under the beech forest, Amelia casting at browns and me with the fish eye lens trying to capture the feel of the moment on video, while holding her in position to tag into as many browns as she can. Will we be able to actually pull this off, given how remote this water is? I don't know but the day dreaming makes me pine for the possibilities. And why, when reality was that for a month we couldn't get back to the river due to heavy rains, do we only envision these perfect moments when the sun shines and the fish are easy to catch?

Example of NZ fisheries/ env issues

If you follow the link below, you'll quickly see what kind of issues even a tiny little island like New Zealand is facing. Agriculture gets more open doors than even the oil & gas industry of the early days in Alberta did. Ag, combined with power generation (dams) are well on their way to changing the face of New Zealand. We're sold on it being a green country, but under the bed sheets it isn't too different from here. Given that the recently elected national government just recently dismantled the water councils and replaced them with pro-industry overseers, it could be some time before that worm turns. This is a link to a forum post showing a series of photos of irrigation 'withdrawals'. We witnessed countless such examples of dry riverbeds due to withdrawals on each of our trips, many waters simply no longer reach the ocean.
http://www.flyshop.co.nz/cgi-bin/forum/ikonboard.cgi?act=ST;f=5;t=2953

Last casts out west?

After the last posts, we decided to ignore common sense and head down the coast. Every river was up, every one off color. We got to where we hoped and those waters were high and while certainly fishable, the sighting would be difficult for tinged water, higher flow, and a forecast of cloud and rain - which keeps fish a little more off the surface but also causes sight fishing difficulties for the glare on the water. So, we changed focus and rather than march up a larger, open river, we again focused smaller, where bankside vegetation cuts glare and allows for sighting. And for an hour, we had a good time catching some nice fish from a mid sized spring creek. And, right on cue, the west coast rains came at the same time as we came into fishless water. We walked another km of the water and watched as it got smaller and hopeless. And that was it for the coast, as we heeded the forecaster's advice. We're back out east, visiting friends and looking to do some wrap up video and a few more days of fishing before heading home in 11 days. Given that the 10 day forecast on the west coast (and central alps) is of rain, heavy rain, showers, heavy rain... each day... could that be that for the beech forests this year?

The benefits of breaking both 4 wt rods.

Earlier in the trip, I mentioned (bemoaned) breaking both of the 4 wt rods that we brought. One was my fault for sure and the other was simply circumstances. So be it. I wound up with a 6wt rod in my hands thanks to borrowing a line from our friend Serge. He had also lent a 4 wt, but it’s a 7 footer and I`m a wee bit too fussy about these things, so I’m back to the 6 wt Helios. Again, 6 wts are not my favorite rods. But, you cast what you have and that’s what I have right now. After breaking her 4 wt, AJ isn’t letting me on the 5wt, it’s hers and fair enough. Keep the 6 wt in mind, on hold a minute as I get through this.

Last summer, home in Alberta, I wrote about a 30+” brown I caught. I didn’t go looking for it, it just happened in a random blessing. It was the first and only 30+” I've caught in Alberta. I don’t expect to repeat it as I don’t plan to hunt those size of fish using what is typically needed to be successful on those types of Alberta trophy brown trout waters. There are more of them in Alberta than most people realize, but it was a one off for me. It was nice, but it was a fish. In the post, I also spoke of chasing monster browns, like the sea runners in Argentina, or the mouse year monsters here in NZ. I mentioned that the last thing I was going to do is chase big browns just to say I caught one, to pump my tires. I simply don’t care enough to be seen in photos with big fish. In fact, last year we avoided waters in New Zealand where mice were making the browns huge because we didn’t want to run into the trophy hunters. Sure, we caught our share of very nice fish on our trip last year but it was just by circumstances of it being a mouse year and the perpetual rains keeping those fish in the small streams we reverted to in our successful attempts to have water to ourselves daily. It does not matter how big fish are, it’s the moments on the water that are important. It’s the enjoyment of where you are fishing, how you are fishing, who you are with, and whether you are really into what you are doing, among so many other factors. Size is way down the list for us.

But you can’t stop fate.

This week, all has been wonderful for AJ and I. Her desire to fish a beech forest lined water for a nice brown in a clear run led us to a new river. She had an amazing day earlier in the week on the river new to us, and we gave it a rest for several days before returning. This last visit was of very warm, sunny weather with little wind. The cicadas were electric. We had to raise our voices to hear each other talk for the buzzing and clicking of thousands of cicadas. And these were the huge cicadas – the size of your thumb. We walked to the river and emerged from the beech forest beside a run. AJ was behind me and I had to tell her to walk around, through the bush. A large brown held 2 feet off shore. She did as planned and popped the large dry 4 feet above the fish. WHAM! 6 pounds. I’ll cut the epic day story telling by saying we landed 5 browns 6 to 8.5 pounds in the first 50 yards of river. All SMASHING the surface prior to us casting. All smashing cicadas. I spent much of my day casting a 2 dry fly set up... 2 large cicada patterns. Heck, I was using a big 6wt stick, so why not?! We worked our way upstream and had a whale of a day. To say the least.
By 6 pm, we’d had a great day, the shade now creeping onto a few runs. We came up to a large flat where there had to be a nice fish. AJ walked one side and I the other. As fates had it, I spotted a nice fish cruising around on my side. Trouble is that it was unsettled, moving all through the run. It covered 30 yards of my side, hit the center of the run and dropped down, then down and back in, then across and up. Each time, I tried to cast where I thought it was going. They were good casts, just that the fish would turn the opposite direction from what I anticipated. I’d seen this fish from a distance back and it had already been on the cruise, so I knew I hadn’t spooked it. It was just unsettled. AJ kept rolling the video for some reason and caught me as I tried a long up and cross stream cast.
Part of not liking 6 wt rods is the temptation to make long casts rather than move into position to get the ‘right’ cast, which is always the best option. But, it was a long way around and nipple deep crossing, so I tried to get my flies to where the fish had moved to. It stationed at a log at the top of a run for 20 seconds. With a 4 wt rod, there was no chance I was punching two large dries 75 or 80 feet to the fish. Good thing I ‘chose’ to use the 6! Right! So, there I was, casting to a nice fish at 75 or 80 feet with double dries. AJ kept rolling on the vid. I still don’t know why as the odds kept getting worse as the fish kept moving. But where it stationed, I was able to get one cast 4 feet to its left, then I muffed a cast, then my third landed the flies 3 feet to its right, the line well away from the fish. And wouldn’t you know it... the fish turned and came to take. When it took, it looked about 6 pounds. As it ran under the logs across the river, it felt maybe 8. As it came across to me I figured about 8. Then I simply couldn’t move it in slack current and started thinking a touch higher, before it started to go downstream, then across and up, and up, and up...
Again, I have to reiterate... I don't care if I am ever photographed holding a large trout. As I said to AJ after I released this one... I thought one of her fish earlier in the day in an intimate pocket of water was so much more enjoyable, and that almost every other fish of the day was far prettier. All the other fish of the day honestly had far more enjoyable qualities to it. But, this is the one that most people that read this blog... this will leave the biggest impression. Again, it’s just a fish. Albeit, kind of a big one.

My net scale bottoms out at 14 pounds and kind of sticks. This fish took me there. Was it 13 or 15 pounds... I don’t know, nor much care but it was a biggie. Let’s call it 14 and leave it alone.

It’s funny how things and perspectives change. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll use the 6 wt a little more often. Anyone ever notice how a 6wt tosses 2 big cicadas better than a 4wt and lands the fish that eat huge bugs just a little easier?

;)

Oh, and I didn’t turn to AJ and ask her to hold my fish so I could get a photo of her with a big fish (see previous post for sarcasm reference).

 :)

E P I C

This day was stunning. The sun shone. The wind was non existent. The cicadas were hitting the water and fish were smashing the surface like someone was throwing body parts into the piranha pool. Speaking of body parts, I know a lot of people that would have given one or two to have been with us on this day. Speak no more, just the photos, Ralph.