New Zealand: Dreams come true - Pt.2

By KURT KONRAD

With doubtful feelings we relocated through a mountainous massif to a valley, where several rivers met. The plan was to stay there during the following week.

We began the fishing on a river, which - according to Peter, had peaked two years earlier. Access to the river was not possible by car, so we had to pack everything needed for 3 days. We got to the river after an hour of striding, each of us carrying a 20 kg heavy backpack. Because of the strong head winds, we used 6-weight rods.

We spooked a few dark-coloured fish that were only half a meter away from the bank. In Slovakia, I would never have fished in such headwinds. It had a bad influence on the accuracy of our casts. The result: we spooked all the fish. I tried to switch the line and cast upstream but because of the 6m long leader, the flies would land right in front of me. If I cast over the fish, they would spook and stop eating. During that day we spooked about 20 fish. Only Peter was lucky enough to land one. Over us dark clouds suddenly approached, so we found ourselves in need of cottage. We got there absolutely exhausted, not only physically, but also mentally. What´s more - the sand flies started biting us unmercifully. They bit us on every tiny bit of exposed skin and our insect repellent didn’t provide proper protection. I ended up wearing socks on my hands while I was eating dinner to prevent more stings.

The cloudy weather made it hard to find fish the next morning. And even though the headwinds had died down, we repeatedly spooked fish. Near the cottage, the river divided into two arms. Kubo and I chose the smaller of the two arms and all of a sudden I noticed a beautiful fish. It was Kubo´s turn so he cast a cicada. He couldn´t see the fish, so I was responsible for telling him when his cicada was in the right place.

The Cicada attracted the trout; it turned and went after it for about two metres. I shouted: „It´s coming, it´s coming, It´s coming, It´s there! “ A huge fish emerged out of the water, but Kubo pulled the fly out of the fish´s mouth with a premature strike.

A few hundred metres upstream, the other guys were lucky to spot a beautiful dark fish. I entered the river about 15 m lower and offered it a dry fly. To be honest, I assumed it would be another attempt in vain. I thought I was going to lose the fish, as I was still disgruntled about the previous day.

My cast wasn´t very accurate, which the guys weren’t late to comment. The trout, however, decided to get the fly although it passed him by two metres. I couldn´t believe what it! I hooked the fish and was now running after it on wobbly stones for almost 100 metres as it was trying to escape down the stream. For a few minutes, the fish tried to fight its way out of the landing net – but after 3 days of not landing a single fish, I finally got it!

It was a moment of pure euphoria, where I realized that length isn’t everything. The fish’ massive, wide body was much heavier than any fish I had ever landed of similar length. While being bitten on my head by sand flies I took a photo of the fish and finally released it back to the river. For the rest of that day, I didn´t feel the need to catch another fish. Later in the day, we arrived at an impassable lagoon in which Peter spotted another gorgeous fish. It started to as we went down to the river. Wading through the water was more than difficult there. Peter had to go into the cold water up to his chest.

He tricked the fish using a dry fly, and afterwards Kubo willy-nilly ran with a landing net to help him. I followed him with my camera. In the crystal clear water we watched an exciting fight with a fish that measured 70cm and probably weighed over 5 kilos.

The light rain changed into a heavy one. Walking through the difficult terrain back to the cottage lasted around an hour. We came back totally exhausted and soaked. On the other hand, we were all extremely happy, because each of us had landed a beautiful fish.

It was raining all night, so in the morning, we woke up to a cloudy, flooded river. All the rivers in the area were flood and so we headed into the nearest town to find out the forecast for the following days. 3 days later we moved to another river.

Our Czech mate Petr visited us and therefore we formed 2 pairs. Petr and I went on a river that hadn´t cleared fully yet. We tried desperately to find trout but had no luck. Petr cast at random and landed a smaller trout, but it took a while before we finally spotted a gorgeous fish at the end of a deep pool about 2 metres from the bank.

The fish was actively feeding on the surface and in the water column. I offered it a cicada; the fish turned in direction of the fly and swam towards me. However, the fish turned and swam into the middle of the river where it continued to feed. It took me 15 minutes to trick it on a pheasant tail nymph. You can´t imagine how happy I was about that heavily built and amazingly coloured fish. Because we didn´t find any more fish we returned down the stream to the confluence and we set out on the other river. Straight away, we found a huge fish. Petr, however, cast too far and spooked it. In another pool he tricked a fish using a Blow fly: A magnificent wild trout.

That night we had experienced the coldest night on New Zealand so far. Peter, who had slept in a thin sleeping bag, was as cold as ice in the morning. After the huge success we had had the previous day I took the rest of the guys to the river in which I had fished with Petr.

I landed a nice fish using a Pheasant Tail nymph but the rest of the guys weren’t very successful and mostly just scared their fish.

Having noticed another fisherman, we got out of the water and marched several kilometres upstream where the river divided into two tributaries. As we were marching along the river we could hear two people whistling at us. It turned out that our Swedish friends, Jacob and Christian, whom we had met in a town a few days previously were trying to reach us. They saw our car and decided to come have a look. Jacob knew the river very well so he informed us not only about the exact number and usual positions, but also about the length and weight of fish in particular pools.

We arrived at a pool with two fish, both of admirable size. It was now Kubo´s turn.

Being instructed by our two Swedish mates he cast his fly to the fish closest to him. It distrustfully hid below a tree´s roots so in stead he focused his attention on the second fish a few meters upstream. He finally hooked the fish and he was rewarded with loud cheering and clapping: “Yeeeeah! Nice fish, man!” Unluckily, the fish unhooked itself while he was playing it.

Later we arrived at the beginning of a deep lagoon. It was now my turn. Jacob told us about a large fish. We had to find it. Peter spotted it while he was hanging from the tree above the canyon. The fish was in the shadow near the rock wall. I was a bit nervous because of the presence of our Swedish friends: I really didn´t want to screw up my chances of catching that fish while they were all watching me.

I cast my first cicada according to Peter´s instructions. The fly drifted over the fish, and I prepared for a new cast. However, as soon as I raised my rod, I heard Peter shouting: “No, no, it´s coming!” In that very moment the fly flew out of the water, and the fish disappeared. Feeling gutted and disappointed, I started reeling in the line – but then Peter suddenly shouted that the fish had come back only a few metres upstream.

I waded a bit further in and cast. And when the fish hit the fly, I could hardly believe it. I hooked it and the fish took off up stream and soon after I only had about 20 cm of line left on the reel. Luckily, the fish turned around and swam back towards me. I started reeling, but the fish didn´t stop fighting. Suddenly, the pulling stopped and the fish was gone. The last meter of line was totally frayed on the rocks. That´s fishing! You win some, you loose some.

A lot of fishermen came to our camp the next morning because the unpleasant weather had driven them away from the west coast. By the river we could see a lot of cars. The fishing there was over for us, and we decided to spend the last couple of days by the New Zealand lakes. It took us all day to transfer to the lakes but in the evening we finally got there.

The surrounding nature was tough, but it surely had its allure. The lake, we arrived at, was lined with parched grasslands and crags. A strong wind was blowing, but from time to time we could spot a feeding fish.

We decided not to fish that evening and we cooked our traditional meal - penne pasta. We wanted to have enough energy and stamina for the following day. A half day of unsuccessful casting had passed when Peter finally hooked a fish using a Green Beatle. That lake was home to a traditional form of Scottish trout, so we admired the beautiful fish.

During the three days which followed, we didn´t hook any fish. They were either feeding too far from the bank, or we couldn’t persuade them into biting our flies. We tried at both dawn and at night, we tried streamers, chironomids, nymphs, dry flies... To put it in a nutshell, we tried everything to no effect. We found it really, really hard to leave New Zealand on that note!

I’ll remember New Zealand for its magnificent nature, of which I saw only a fraction, combined with truly nice and friendly people. Altogether New Zealand is a heaven on earth. In my dreams I can still vividly see how I hooked my biggest fish on that small Cicada fly. That’s why I´m a fly-fisherman. However, I have to warn you. Once you visit this country you will never stop thinking about returning.