The Take

One of the best things about fly fishing, the thing that keeps me coming back every time, is 'the take.'  It is the moment when you know the fish - in New Zealand, most often a big fish - is going to take your fly.  He's seen it, and he's coming after the presentation, and you know that something interesting is about to happen.  Sometimes the fish will take the fly and I'll mess up, sometimes the hook doesn't connect, occasionally he takes the fly and spits it, and sometimes I'll be lucky enough to do it all right and catch one here and there.


In search of the next take, I left Queenstown last week and spent a week on a backcountry river in search of good fishing.  I had decided to hitch hike to the trailhead, and went out to the road at 8:20am last Thursday.  I got a ride with a guy from Alaska part of the way, then a short ride with a couple guys running a boat shuttle vehicle, and the last leg of the ride with a Kiwi fly fishing guide and his American client.  The trailhead sees a bit less traffic than I expected, and I'm grateful to all of them  for their help, as it could have taken quite a while on the rural roads.

Queenstown the last night before leaving

Waiting for a ride

After hopping out at the river where the road ends, I spent my first day fishing in the lake and near the river mouth, and saw quite a few fish.  In 2 months in New Zealand I had only broken off one trout prior to this trip, and the first fish I hooked at the river mouth snapped my 2x line without a problem.  Shortly thereafter I snapped my fly line while double hauling in  the wind (line wrapped on the reel seat, I think), and I was 'gutted,' as they say here.  I ended up being able to strip some of the line coating off, splicing the lines and coating with some UV Sealant for an adequate solution that has held up perfectly since.

The mouth of the river

After camping at the trailhead the first night, I hiked upstream a few hours to my first site and set up a basecamp for 2 nights.  This river is managed on a Beat System in which anglers must reserve the river sections they wish to fish prior to their arrivals, and I had been given the lowest section for my first 2 days (it prevents helicopters and other anglers from dropping in on each other and the possibility of bloodshed).  I found that the fish in this river are smaller on average than elsewhere in New Zealand, but that numbers were much higher than anywhere I'd visited here; much more akin to the way we fish rivers in the States.  Blind fishing, or casting to likely looking water without spotting fish, was possible in some places, but I still fished mostly to sighted fish.

Some German girls happened by when I was landing this one for a photo opportunity

Guess what kind of flies I was using

I moved camp further upstream for my 4th and 5th nights in order to fish the upper 2 Beats.  Camping is allowed off of the trails and the valley bottoms, which are private lands that allow public access for hunting and fishing purposes.  This ended up being a good thing, as I explored a spot I had selected on my topo maps and found a secret waterfall recessed into the hillside.  The waterfall is not visible from the trails and is only accessible by crossing the river and a big field, so it was a neat place to have my tent for a few nights, and also provided a steady supply of water for cooking. 

Typical rainbow in this stream

The river is an  interesting mix of bouldery gorges and large meadows

Boulder section

Meadow section

Overall, the fishing was quite good.  On other rivers we've been landing 2 or 3 trout on a really good day, and I got 21 fish in 4 days fishing on this river, so I was pretty happy with that.

4-5 pound rainbows in this tiny water!

Some of the strangest trout water I've ever seen

On my last day I walked all the way out about 4.5 hours to the trailhead, waited 2 hours for a ride from other hikers, and spent my 6th night on the shores of a lake on the way back to Queenstown.  On the hike out I met 2 Brits named Lewis and Steve who are doing working on a cool filming project fishing around the South Island, and I may meet up with them later in March for some fishing on the North Island (check out their site  at http://trouttrackersproject.blogspot.co.nz) From there I got a ride from a very nice American couple that was traveling through Queenstown, and I rode all the way back with them.

I'll be headed north towards Mount Cook tomorrow morning via some fishing spots I learned about while stateside this past fall.  Until then, tight lines.

Out and About Queenstown

Queenstown sometimes gets a bad rap.  Though there are certainly options to bungy jump, sky dive, jet boat, para glide, hang glide, party through the night, etc., and the town attracts the people with plenty of money to do it all, Queenstown has lots of aspects that would make it attractive to anyone.

In fact, I often find myself walking around and feeling like the only thing missing on the scene is Sean Connery zipping around town in an old Aston Martin in a sharkskin suit, or sipping martinis in on a bowling club veranda.  There is something about the place that feels old-fashioned, and whether it is the old sailboats or British propriety  of many of the Kiwis, parts of the city feel like the 1960s to me.

The coal-powered TSS Earnslaw in its 100th year on Lake Wakatipu

While walking around yesterday, I was trying to figure a good way to describe Queenstown, and the best I could come up with was to take the small lakeside town of Ephraim where my family used to vacation on the Great Lakes, make it 10 times bigger, and place the Grand Tetons across the lake from town.  That's pretty much what it looks like.

Queenstown Gardens on peninsula to left, town behind and to right

King's Coronation Boat House Cafe

My favorite spot in town is Queenstown Gardens, which takes up an entire peninsula that juts into Lake Wakatipu adjacent to town.  The original settler in Queenstown, William Rees, was an amateur arborist, and planted all kinds of trees in the park.  The massive Ponderosa Pines and Douglas Firs, matched by the arid climate  and sandy soil, makes the park feel like summer on the Metolius River.

The extensive gardens are well looked after, complete with stone bridges over canals, rose gardens, and an old Bowling Club dating from 1904 (a similar vintage as most of its enthusiasts, it seems).

At the far end of the peninsula, is a small gathering of trees and rocks covered with plaques, most of which are dedicated to Queenstown boys killed on Everest, K2, and other climbing ascents.  It's a good reflective little spot on the far side of a large rose garden.

Worth reading this and next plaque

I'm headed out tomorrow for 6 nights in the backcountry on one of the rivers close to Queenstown.  I'll be hitch-hiking there and back, and the weather looks perfect for it.  When I return, I will post pictures of what I find.  In about a week, I think I'll head north towards Mount Cook then look to WWOOF (volunteer on a farm in return for room and meals) or get a job at a winery or an orchard for 2 weeks.

Solo Backcountry River Trip

I've completed my first backcountry fishing trip alone since the guys left, and it went as well as I could have hoped.

There is a river in Fiordland that is reputed to have both brown and rainbow trout up to 10 pounds swimming in it, yet it sees very little angler pressure.  As I'm not naming the rivers I visit on this trip, I will just say that the one I had in my sights flows next to a famous New Zealand hiking track, and is difficult to access.  In fact, hikers must take a bus to a backwoods boat dock, take a ferry across a large lake, and must register to make the walk months in advance.

Once on the hike, they must stay in Department of Conservation huts (paying $50 per night) with 40 other hikers, and are required to walk to the next stop the next day.  Most people think that camping along the trail is illegal.  In fact, the rule is that camping is not permitted within 500 meters of the track, which for the most part means that camping isn't a viable option in the steep confines of the valley.  Upon consulting maps, however, I found 2 suitable side canyons that I knew would have sites, so I booked my bus and boat trips in and out, and went for it.

Coming in on the boat

In 1888, the man who discovered this route to the sea disappeared.  His small wooden boat was found on this small rock island, and the cross is the only testament to the incident.

Getting closer

First glimpse of the river

After disembarking the ferry and starting the walk with 40 other tourists and their guides, I stuck to  the trail for a bit, then found my canyon and crossed the main river to go up to my site.  A Canadian guy named Sam who was doing the full walk came along for the afternoon, and we went all the way up the side canyon to a lake that very few people ever visit.  Good start to the trip.

Bushwhacking with Sam up to the lake

We made it

For the next 3 nights, I camped at my little site on a gravel bar next to the tributary stream, and would walk out to the main river during the day.  Thousands of people visit this river every month, but it seems they all stick to the hut in the evenings and get their walking done during mid-day.  This left me a perfect access trail next to the river where I could duck in to the water, fish all day, then exit the river and walk back on the trail, knowing it would be nearby.

The river

I did see other people on occasion, like the foreign couple I stumbled upon at twilight while wearing my grey fishing clothes, tactical-looking fishing vest, Buff over my face, and gloves.  They were visibly frightened and I mumbled an apology and backed into the bush, only to see them high-tail it back to the cabin.  I laughed.

The other rivers we have fished here on the South Island have predominantly brown trout in them, and this river had an even mix of both rainbows and browns.  I caught an even amount of both species, and can honestly say the rainbow trout in this river were the most brightly colored I have ever seen.

Had to take pictures with a pocket tripod (thanks for the Christmas present, Stuart!)

Once again, the weather window for the trip was perfect.  It rained until the night before I left for the trip, was sunny for most of it, and started raining the night I came back out.  It was important to have good weather, as I knew getting back out with the river swollen from rain would have necessitated quite a bit of bush-whacking back to the river mouth (a situation in which I would have been on the 'wrong' side of the river from the trail).


The scenery at the head of the valley where I did most of my fishing was some of the best I've ever seen.  One valley was mostly exposed granodite carved by glaciers into a U-shaped valley, covered in patchy snow, and the other was heavily treed and shrouded in mist most of the time.  Standing at where they converge, it was possible to look up into both.

One night, the pump on my stove had issues.  I had brought a valve and gasket repair kit, and my first time taking it all apart was with sandflies all over my eyes and fingers, but I got it done.

Yes, different fish

On my way out, I fished for a while behind my docked ferry boat and hooked a large brown that jumped and got off right behind the boat.  The crew was very laid back on the return trip, never asking for a ticket, and even giving me a free ride back to town on their bus so I didn't have to wait for the bus I had booked.  Two French girls drove the massive boat most of the way back, so our course had a certain predictable left-right-left feel to it.

This is a river I would like to bring people back to someday, and it is cool to know that I picked it out in a fly shop in Idaho, and have finally seen it.  Now, time for an adventure to find the next cool place.  Check back soon.

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