Back to the bush and the fish – Part II

No fire alarm this night. Just solid sleep. (See the post before on Reefton on the fire brigade building opposite the cottage)

For the next two days I had some alternatives to choose: either an overnighter again but in a hut or some smaller creeks not too far away day by day. I went for the first option. In love of the bush, the sandflies and the nice DOC huts. The access would be a mixture of rough 4WD track and some tramping. I started rather late, paid the fly shop lady a visit and headed off. Target was a river fished some weeks before but this time further up. Pretty much where I ended fishing back than I did start now. The drive and especially a couple of sections gave me some doubts but the car performed flawlessly. Especially one section trough the bush which was a detour around a no more existing section of the old track. The last January floods took it away. Parking, getting the pack ready and fishing the same way upriver as usual with a big pack: fish the pools without it and later on pick it. The river was low and clear, some fish spotted. Rather few, but I did not expect many fish up there, due to the experience some weeks ago and the low flow rates. At the moment of writing I can’t remember what I caught this afternoon, most likely if I dig in the memory I had two nice browns of something around +5lbs in the net. I jumped one k of river as it showed some unpleasant structure due to mining on a slope close by to fish just the last stretch up to the hut. Reaching the supposed location of the hut it was rather dark, wondering where the hut should be, but I was lucky as it just happened that I found the steep bank access to the hut above the river. I should have unpacked the head lamp right away.

Lightning the fire in the chimney, having a look on the bookshelf, I found some nice evening lecture and even some up to date newspaper. Now I was informed on NZ SI issues of importance. The hut was warm and in the dim lite of the fire and the candles it looked quiet cozy. Burning quiet a lot of fire wood that evening. I would have to take care of that and replenish it the next day. Butter chicken second round this week, a beer and after some meditation by starring in the flames the call of the mattress. In the hut book I read something about rats, so I tried to close all obvious entrance holes. But still later that night the ‘trip trap’ of the small mammals started and once I had the feeling as some was very close to my head. It took some while to find sleep.

In some of these DOC huts you find strange things. Some find old fly fishing diaries of Scandinavian authors, I found a watercolor paint box – a high contrast of color to the dirty grey of the hut interior. What these colors might have painted?

Getting ready for the next day. Fishing up a tributary that was said to have very few fish three weeks ago (somebody was walking (fishing?) it for eight hours and only saw three fish), thus I was curious and had rather limited expectations. But just after a dozen meters I spotted the first trout in a nice pool. It was patrolling its pool and got suspicious, so my chances where fading. After a while the fish gave me a clear sign as it swam very close to me, stood there for a minute and then swam back to feed but much more cautiously than before. I did not succeed and left for the next one. The order of appearance of the following trout might be mixed up but surprising things happened. Pretty much in every decent pool – not in all – was a nice brown of something between 4 and 7 lbs. In the meantime I discovered what they were feeding on: brown, gold flash enhanced, black beat head nymphs size 12 – pretty junky flies. These flies imitated the emerging may flies very well. I got a hook up on a fish that immediately went for a rock crack, I managed to pull it out just to have the trout in there again. Rood bent in half circle, I pulled the brown out again and it went downstream to a stick, I avoided  making a loop around the stick but it went under a shelf with a sharp edge and just seconds later that was it. Leader was snapped. Neither fluor nor anything else reasonable would have avoided that. It was fair the way it went and I was happy that it was a barbless fly, thus the fish might lose it pretty soon. 

The next fish was an interesting take of opportunism, as the trout was pretty much following an other fish to push it out of its territory and it still took my nymph placed ahead. Before that I was trying to catch one of the trout participating later in these territorial disputes. This fish fought again very vigorous and enduring, trying to reach an unclear base of a big rock wall where I did not want to have it at all price. The price was high as after making maximum pressure with a pretty much closed reel drag the fly came out. The river and the nature became witness of a very Bavarian swearing. I was really pissed to lose that fish. Seconds later I was again laughing about the situation and my outburst of discontent. Another – the third fish of the day – was lost in a less memorable situation. 

This river was fun, interesting structure, low clear water, nice trout now and then, I knew pretty much how to catch them and the fish were way strong. Only bad thing, up to now not a single fish came to the net. But things turned to the good and the next fish was landed: a nice brown of 7lbs. During the fight it dragged me up through the rapid well into the next pool upstream. I landed it around 50 meters upstream from where I hooked it. Tough fish!

This first fish needed a sister, it took again a while to find a feeding and open minded fish. I was not in the mood to change fly all the time as the fish were taking the described fly, but some got suspicious too quickly. There are two ways to fish in such situations: with a high amount of perseverance, frequent fly-changes and giving fish a rest in case they tend to get spooked or to give the fish some casts and in case it behaves spooky or starts to stop feeding just to head on, as the next fish is just a few steps away. The last approach is based on two preconditions: there are basically fish and you are able to spot them constantly. But walking upstream pool by pool is like constantly unpacking presents, as every pool is like a gift and a box of surprise. On the downside you might cover more ground and thus have to walk back longer in the evening. But as long as I have a fishing rod in my hand I don’t mind walking (translated: I don’t like walking without a rod or a bike on the back).

Back to the second fish. The sun was already low, I reached a pool that only gave a partial view under its surface due to heavy glare. But it was enough to see a cruising trout. I was pretty close, in such situations freezing is the best way to react and then slowly on the knees, observing the fish (as long as it is visible), considering the cast, adjusting the depth of the ‘custom fence picked merino wool’ strike indicator and finally a short cast in the direction I guessed the fish might be heading in the glary part of the pool. I only could see the indicator in the mirror like water and it moved! Strike, fish and battle on! Again a brown in best condition, strong and vigorous fighting. It had the same behavior of swimming upstream against a tight set reel drag. The fish swam out of its pool upstream trough the riffle, I had to follow and by this I did not realize a steep step on the pool inflow – I stumbled and took a short dip – (oh no! Wet again what it this case meant wet for at least two hours of walk to the car…) – fish was still on. The tug continued further upstream. I walked the fish upstream like a dog to finally land it successfully. A look on the scale surprised me it had ‘just’ 5 3/5 lbs. It was the last fish of the day as I had to turn around to rush back to the hut, pack the gear and continue to the car to drive back to Reefton. 

Part of the way to the hut was via a marked track. There were some obvious mountain bike tracks – an unpleasant experience for this brave biker, as he must have carried his bike 50% and pushed it another 30% of the stretch. Arriving on the hut I had to pay my firewood-bill. Thus collecting a whole bunch of good sized drift wood, wrapping it with one of my cords and carrying it up to the hut. More than I burned the night before. Packing, giving the hut a good sweep and leaving the rat-Hilton. Pack on the back and out. The track was rough and only suitable of hardcore ATV-freaks. After a while I reached sections where the track did not exist at all or was now a branch of the river itself. The detour was via the big granite boulders of the riverbed. Briefly after that section that made me wonder how to navigate it with an ATV I saw a tent at the track and right in that moment the owner. It was a hunter waiting for the big stag to show. We had a nice conversation for a while. It turned out he was Danish and had taken three month off for hunting in NZ. The roar was just about to start as the nights were not yet frosty. 

After another kilometer I reached the car. Finally I could get rid of the drowned waders from the last fish and put on dry clothes. Now just the 4WD track separated me from Reefton. I managed that well and even the tight detour section through the trees without damage. In an open section of the track I got out to have a fascinated look on the thousands of stars and the milky way in that clear night. No light pollution at all. Unfortunately the Canon only took the noise reduction picture while a considerable falling star made its way over the firmament just below Orion.

Reaching Reefton – it was pitch dark and around 8 pm I headed straight to a restaurant to get something to eat. I took a little bit of friendly persuasion to make the lady to still serve me. But I go my dinner and a couple of beers.

Back in the cottage, shower and relax. 

A great excursion!

Next morning I packed and went back to Ines and Tobias in Nelson. It was good to drive that way not tired at night time but well rested in the morning.

I was already looking forward to come back to the Reefton area to fish.

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Back to the bush and the fish – Part I

As usual the start towards Reefton for my four days of “father without family fishing excursion” happened a little later than planned, but it was still early and close to dawn. Driving south towards Murchison I immediately saw the result of the cold day before: snow on the mountains, close to freezing temperatures and fog in some valleys. Autumn was there and could not be neglected any longer.

In Murchison the good cappuccino showed high attraction and made me to stop and have a short break with a slice of cake. Sitting there on the chimney in the Café a man came in and asked “is that car outside your car” I did not recognize him and was a little irritated as I was parking against driving direction. It was Tony from Overland rental on a tour with some clients. NZ SI is a village.

With an open eye especially on long straight sections of the road, because that is the kind of road the speed limit enforcement officers (aka Police) prefer most of the time to tell the driver “You did drive 1XX km/h – you were to fast!”, I reached Reefton and continued to the access of the river. Dirt road, packing the final stuff in the pack including tent, Neoair mattress (the lightest and most comfortable mattress but unfortunately after around 30 nights the first and second series tend to loose air – a known production problem as they changed the design considerably in the meantime), sleeping bag and food for one night, I was ready and set to start this little adventure. The steep slippery access was kind of funny with the pack. Arriving on the river around noon I pretty much immediately spotted the first trout and prepared my rod. Leaving the big pack on the bank to fish the single pools just with the small watertight pack.

First cast on the river and fish on! The strong 6lbs brown took the barbless nymph and after a good fight it came to the net. Such a good start, I was curious how it would continue. It continued quiet well. The next fish – all of the day came to the nymph – was a 7 lbs brown caught by blind casting in a good looking run. Followed by a 3-4 lbs fish, another 7 lbs brown and finally a brown of 5 ¾ lbs. The second 7lbs fish was special. A cast of medium distance in deeper water, the fish took and provided a good fight, going around one big boulder in the deeper part of the pool I had to follow and the usual thing happened: having the chest waders only waist high was a bad choice and I was wet. The fish felt much heavier and I hoped for something around +8 lbs. A very good looking brown ended in the net and was gently released after some pictures. (Fishing solo I have my DSLR readily prepared with the remote control so I can shoot quiet quickly without keeping the fish to long caged in the net, taking close care it breathes well. Besides that I do by far not take pictures of every fish caught)

For the night I intended to set up camp close to a major creek entering the main river. I found a very neat spot: a few square meters of sand close to the high bank, sheltered and surrounded by big rounded granite boulders and driftwood, fallen trees and a log jam. A perfect place with lots of firewood around. It was not so much up the river as intended but further up the next day I did not find anything comparable. Dropping the big pack there and continuing upstream to catch the last fish of the day. It did not long to find the next and the next brown but they were soon suspicious so I continued to find the last catchable fish and caught it – a nice 5 ¾ lbs brown. The fish on that day did prefer some rather large may-fly emerger in dark brown, size 12, with black tungsten bead head fished rather high in the water column. But some of them again were fooled by the ESPT nymph size 14.

Finally I checked in at the camp aka “Sand-Flat Hilton” at around 6pm. I had to get a fire burning to dry all my wet things and especially the wet waders from the dip caused by chasing the seven-pounder. Starting to unpack my pack and unwrapping the tent – or at least what I thought to be a complete tent – I realized that the poles where missing altogether. Exactly that happened what I was afraid of as I checked the tent back, not by unpacking but by touch on completeness. My reaction was undecided between: ‘rush back to the car before its dark’ or ‘you fool - no find a bail out’. I knew it would become a funny night with a half collapsed tent as I expected temperatures close to freezing. Now it paid that I choose the camp right in the middle of obstacles and had some meters of cord with me (6-10 meters of 5mm cord – always a good back up! An other item not to be missed are light flip flops and medium thick merino socks - in combination that gives you dry camp shoes). Before trying to set up the tent I tried to start a fire as this would be the alternative to the tent: having a fire up all night. This worked out though the branches where still wet from the last rain. This was done, so the tent. With some technical constructions of the available cords, trunks, stones, boulders I managed to set up a form that looked like a tent at least. It was time to get rid of the wet waders, build a construction to smoke them – I mean dry them and the other wet clothes. It was pretty much like baking a cake: keeping the right temperature and not to burn the waders. Plenty of firewood was available so the fire was nice and warm. After a while and some very relaxed hours sitting and lying on the campfire I started the dinner preparations: butter chicken with rise. Unfortunately I was lazy and brought only one can of beer. The clothes and the waders got dry, I only burned the wading socks slightly. Lying beside the warm campfire and gazing at the thousands of stars on the firmament above I thought silently smiling: That is fishing! What a blast – it could not get better. (Might be with tent poles…).

The night in the kind of tent was cold and I did not get much sleep. Next time we would definitely need the Yeti VIB 600 sleeping bags instead of the ultra-light VIB 250 bags.

The camp spot was perfect as there was a spot of sunlight ride beside the campfire in the morning. Getting up, lighting the fire again to take of the chill of the morning, cooking coffee and preparing some muesli. I was ready to go for another day in paradise. Fishing up from the camp all the way to a point where we turned around fishing from the top two years ago (back then we choppered in further up). The day was the contrary in terms of fishing to the day before: I spotted dozens of fish and got several got shots but all the fish where just close to take my fly. Might be some took it and a I did not recognize the subtle takes. I ended up fishing this beautiful river right into the bush without catching a single fish. Unbelievable. Still it was a super day! I was totally happy and did not really care to catch nothing. For sure a couple of seven-pounders would have been the icing on the cake but it was ok like that. Around 5:30 pm I turned around and rushed to the camp sot, packed everything for the way out and rushed down the river to reach the exit before dawn. This worked out by the minute but climbing up to the car was only possible with my bright headlamp. Without it, it would have been impossible to find the track and reach the car. 

Happy to reach the car and driving out and over to Reefton, sending a message to Ines that I was back in the car as soon as I got coverage. That was a real nice adventure! Next time: check the tent.

Welcome home – I arrived at the familiar cottage in Reefton, had a Tortellini dinner a few beers, a movie in the TV and was ready for a solid sleep in a warm bed with no sandflies…

Two more days on another river to follow.

Barbless vs. barbed flies – think about it and consider the fair way!

In most of international trout fisheries you are strongly asked or it is the written rule to fish barbless. After a few weeks here in NZ I step by step pinched all the barbs on the flies I used, the same way as we do it at home. After around two weeks of transition I ended up fishing consequently barbless and in the meantime it got a rule I follow. But why is most of the trout fishing in NZ happening with barbed flies? 

I just recently asked a guide and the answer was pretty much what I expected. ‘I can’t afford that my client thinks he/she lost a fish due to barbless. And after a while of fighting a good fish the hole of the flies gets bigger and the fly might fall out easily. Thus I fish with barbs.’ Pretty much I do understand that argumentation. But consider the obvious advantages of barbless fishing: the fly can be retracted more easily from human flesh, from clothing, it penetrates the mouth of the fish a little bit more easily and in case of a broken leader the fly falls out of the fish’s wound most likely considerably faster than with a barb. Further unhooking the fish is much easier and the fly can be removed from the landing net (I know about these new ones). But besides these obvious hard fact reasons there are further aspects. Why should a fly fall out of the mouth when you keep tension? If you don’t keep tension you do not fight the fish in an acceptable way. Even when a fish jumps you keep the tension. And might the most important reason: you treat the fish more fairly, cause less harm due to less puncture, and quicker hook removal and thus easier handling. Finally for me it is some kind of fairness and additional challenge (whereas I strongly belief the advantages do outbalance the possibly existing disadvantages) to fish barbless. And that is what we are all looking for with a fly rod on the hand: challenges, tasks and problems (more in the meaning of the word used by climbing folks) we try to find solutions for.

Frankly speaking without doing any records I would estimate the percentage of fish I might possibly loose due to the reason fishing with barbless flies a most likely overestimated share of 5%. So losing one of 20 fish – that is a fair price I love to pay. 

Just yesterday I was fishing a smaller stream in the Reefton area with rather few fish (somebody walked it three weeks ago and saw the whole day only three fish). I saw around two dozen fish on that day, got good shots on might be half of them and hooked five (without spending to much time with every fish). All were in unbelievable strong condition. I lost the three first fish: one came of due to high pressure just centimeters from the net (I was totally happy about that easy release), one ripped off due to a nasty rock shelf even 0,25 fluor would have been broken on that (the barbless fly might have fallen out within hours) and the third, a very decent brown (6-7lbs), tried to power with full force towards an unclear deep rock shelf where I wanted that fish definitely not to have, so I pretty much did hold the line more or less tight and the hook cut out. All three lost fish where not caused by barbless. I was only really pissed about the second lost fish. The first gave me a big smile and the third lost – I pretty much could not avoid it. The day continued with a 7 lbs. fish that pulled me up 50 meters trough a rapid and a 5,75 lbs. brown, (which made me taking a dip because I could not see a huge boulder due to the glare on the water and still the fish was securely attached) that went upstream trough the next rapid as well, to end the day.

The same paradigm applies for other kinds of fly fishing such as fishing for bonefish, pike, trout outside of NZ, dorado in the Bolivian jungle and grayling to mention just a few.

For me fly fishing with barbed hooks is not acceptable and I can’t take it fully serious. Try it and dare to fish with fair flies! Think about it!

 See the trout above in a short clip at Vimeo: The Browntrout that needed Surgery.