As two
years ago the packing for the chopper flight had to be done pretty quickly. I
was lucky that I did not miss any substantial items. Except that I should have
taken the pack of toilet paper I had in my hand but did not throw on the pile, thinking
that there would be plenty at the hut as experienced before. It turned out that
there was nothing at all. So I had to use a workaround in terms of some 50NZ$ bills
I packed. Lucky I had some. No just kidding, kitchen paper was the bail out. It
worked fine.
The sky was
grey and the clouds where very low, thus only a pilot knowing the terrain very
well was able to fly the direct line. Wayne knew exactly where to fly so the
sneak through over the ridge with close to zero visibility for some meters was
perfectly mastered and down we dropped to the river valley and towards the hut.
A big
cyclone has hit the slopes around Karamea around Easter, deforesting large
areas. All trees on some slopes lay flat on the ground, several houses must
have been damaged by that extreme storm.
First
evening at the hut. I had it all for myself. Love that calm. Dinner: appetizer,
filet, rice, salad, yoghurt with some cold beers with candles lightening the
room in a warm light. Reading at candle light. Nice evening. Unfortunately it
was much too warm to lighten the fire.
Candle
light, that is the word, if you travel to a hut take three things in
particular: a pack of long burning candles, toilet paper and insect spray to
get rid of the sandflies in case there are too many in the hut (cover food
before you spray and then leave the room for some time). And for the joy of the
next guest: leave all three left overs at the hut.
First day
at the system I decided to fish branch A due to the rather high main rivers,
which made crossing the confluence section impossible (ABC refers to the three
branches according to the old blog post nomenclature two years ago). Out of
that reason I had to grass-bash through blossoming grass as tall as I am –
hello hay fever... that was the maximum dose possible that day. Every single grass
bush exploded to a yellowish cloud of poles. Same did my nose and eyes: they
just exploded.
In one of
the early pools I caught an active feeding fish and unfortunately ripped it
off. But after a couple of minutes it was back on station and was feeding
again. I set up another nymph and caught it again! This time it saw the net and
I could remove both flies. Did somebody say NZ fish are supposed to be spooky?
I fished
well beyond a gorgy section and beyond smaller forks following the main right
arm. Very low numbers of fish even in the highly promising pools only one or
none… That was rather disappointing compared to the last visit, back then there
were considerable more fish not to say many.
In total I
caught some 4 fish of around 5 to 6,5 lbs. All browns, all on nymph, all in
good shape but not sign of mice at all. Such a low result that I tend to count the
double hooked fish twice.
Back at the
hut I was surprised to see it full: an elderly tramping couple and a group of
four young men on special vehicles, obviously not used to sports as they were
all sleeping in their beds – it was just around 8 pm. I felt a little bit
unfair to fry my filet second round and having a couple of beers. That night a
lot of wood was sawn… by the snoring sleepers.
Next day
was the turn of branch B. The whole thing was a little bit limited in terms of
fun as my left Simms wading boot for some reason caused awful pain with every
single step on the upper inner ankle. No explanation for that never had it
before. Now I understood a picture I saw once before of totally intentionally
cut Simms boots. I was close to consider the same. After some days I just ended
up to tie only the lower part of the lace and keep the upper section open. That
made me looking very stylish! It might be the fish did not like that.
Fishing was
tough. Very low numbers of fish and low numbers of eels. Lots of walking up
until the bush and well into the bush up to a big pool that was the point of
return two years ago. Back then there were close to half a dozen fish feeding in
that pool. This time I saw three not feeding. Water was clear and dropping, a
recent spate had added fresh water, spotting was good, thus perfect conditions.
I had no explanation for the low numbers of fish. Catching three fish the whole
day. Nevertheless the fish were in very good condition around 5,5 to 7lbs, but
no sign of mice died, as the area was heavily covered by 1080 just weeks
before.
At night I
came back to the hut rather late. And to my surprise it was busy again: this
time with two Germans, one relocated a decade ago to NZ, who had a fishing rod and
funny nymphs with him. The other one was his tramping buddy. We chatted for a
while. I had NZ sausages that night – not too bad at all.
Next
morning we made arrangements to share the fishing. I went to C branch and the
two others to another section. I walked for an hour strait on the track to cover
previously unknown water later that day. The whole day was starting very slow
in terms of fishing. I hooked a first fish close to the bridge that was pulling
me through two pools downriver. Strange it did not come to my mind that it
might be foul hooked. Exactly that was the case. Landing it, the fly was hooked
on the back fin, so this fish did not count. Close to that section I caught one
soon afterwards that was regularly hooked. At least that one was a real beauty
of something close or around to 6,5-7lbs (think I mentioned before: I am unable
to memorize more than three fish a day by weight and details, and after some
days most of that is blurred as well). To make a long story short: it was the
single one fish of the day. I followed the river a little bit more upstream than
before and was happy about the track leading back to the hut. What a strange
day celebrating Christmas. It was the 24th of December. At the hut
Tortellini and some red wine I shared with the two folks from Germany. The only
reminder of Christmas was unpacking a very generous present from my parents and
my thoughts of the usual joyful celebration at home.
No fly out
on the First Christmas Holiday or Christmas NZ-style (they celebrate on the 25th)
– thus I had to spend another day on that system. Branch A saw me again. Not so
far up this time just below the gorge. More kind of taking pictures as there
was not much action in terms of fish walking upstream. Even the always good lower
pools and a specific section did not show sign of fish! I ended up blank! It
happens, but not often.
On the way
back to the hut I had some casts to educated fish on a pool of the main river.
After a while I gave up and layed down on the bank. Not much sandflies thus a
quick snooze was an inviting option. After a longer while I got back to
consciousness and got upright and to my surprise – first thought was “it is a
dream?!” – there was a fisherman coming up at the bank. An elephant would have
surprised me slightly less. It turned out that this time it was a Swiss tramping
couple, he casting an evening line and
she around the hut.
To my
surprise he did not ask me thousands of questions about NZ fishing and the
local river system but about where I have been traveling the years before.
Being in NZ I would use every slight chance to gain more on site information
about fishing before I would ask somebody about his international travel
experiences. His high visibility orange fly line, the experience the days before
and some other experiences made me silently thinking: folks if you travel to NZ
to fly fish then DO your bloody homework. Read books, internet, collect
information on fishing, do your preparation thoroughly and behave accordingly!
It just improves your chances to catch the odd fish massively.
Nevertheless
the conversation that night was nice and I shared the next bottle of wine with
my “guests”, this time it was a rather young but still pleasant Cabernet/Merlot
from The Mission / Napier. In Napier Tobias made his very first steps three
days after his first birthday. Back then he was so unbelievable proud and
excited about what he just achieved.
10:30 the
next morning – it was Friday the 26th December – the chopper flew me
out to Karamea. Farewell River – take care and get the fish back!
On the way
out I made an aerial shot of a house close to the water, a house where I wanted
to say hello to the residents after being back out of the bush…
