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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