The weather’s changing, and so’s the fishing. I’ve been back in Christchurch for a little over a week now and still haven’t had my first lecture. Two classes are being taught online and one has been postponed. All of this means that I have precisely one lecture per week. Ridiculous. If only the season wasn’t drawing towards its end.
I’ve managed to get out a few times since getting back, however none have been overly successful.
The first trip can be described rather simply.
Day 1: Andrew misreads the weather forecast. We walk out.
Day 2: Isaiah has an allergic reaction to a wasp. We walk out.
Day 3: I get my truck stuck. A tractor pulls us out.
I did vent a wee bit of frustration at a particularly stubborn fish that wasn’t playing ball.
Not my proudest moment.
We did manage a couple of fish in between the wind and the rock throwing.
A true trophy to start the day.
Look, it’s a real fish.
I spotted this fish from approximately 2m away.
The next day, after the incident with the wasp was dealt with, I managed this monster.
That was pretty much it for that trip.
St Paddy’s day saw me in absolutely fine form. I’m not going to go into what I got upto that night, but suffice to say I had one hell of a hangover the next day.
Nothing like a bit of fishing to ward off hangovers though, so I took to the rivers with that old stalwart…the Grinch.
The fishing was a bit slow, but we both managed to connect to fish. Unfortunately Andrew’s fish, which naturally was larger than mine, did the dirty on him and snapped him off.
I managed a couple to the net before we commenced the walk home.
I’m not totally sure what I’m upto in this picture.
Satisfying fish. Filthy tactics.
That’s all for now. This weekend I’m heading into Fiordland for the first time with Chris Dore and Jeremy. Should be a sweet trip. Hopefully I’ll have a great report for you guys following that trip.
Surprise surprise, I went fishing again.
Had another early start, fuelling up with one of Andrew’s trademark fry ups. These breakfasts are pretty damn crucial if you plan to have a really big day on the river, heaps of beans, toast, eggs – all the good stuff. We headed off to a small stream which I had intended to fish on opening day, but due to high flows couldn’t. After a long drive filled with conversations not fit to print we arrived at our destination. The river was carrying a touch of colour, but was certainly fishable.
We did a bit of bush bashing to get down to the river and pottered our way up for a minute or two. Andrew made a passing comment about how fishy the eye of the pool ahead looked, and what do you know, there was a fish. I was first up today and commenced my attempts with a size 16 version of my go-to nymph. I wish I could say that the fish took it with wild abandon, however this was not the case. In fact the whole time I fished to it the brownie didn’t swing to take a natural once. Changed nymphs several times before settling for a fly I had received in a flyshop flyswap (Thanks HerkDrvr/JD). The weight on the fly just seemed right, plus it had that tinge of red which can so often trigger a response early season. My first cast went slightly wide but the second was drifting right over its nose. The fish didn’t appear to move a muscle. It just sat there finning in the current. Hang on, my indicator just dropped. STRIKE! It must have simply opened its mouth to intercept the passing nymph. Immediately after feeling the prick of the hook the fish took off for the other side of the river. I put as much pressure on it as I dared and managed to halt its progress. A dogged battle ensued in the middle of the stream before I began to get the upper hand. Finally the fish was in the net thanks to a graceless (but hella effective) swipe from Andrew. Upon examination the fly was barely imbedded right on the neb.
This is how close I was to losing it.
And the prey we seek.
That proved to be the one and only fish we saw in that stream for the day. After being bluffed a couple of times due to the heavy flow we ended up cutting our losses and heading back to the car to continue our day elsewhere.
We ended up deciding to have a potter up a delightful small stream that neither of us had fished in the past. Started slowly without seeing much. I was on one side of the stream with Andrew on the other. Suddenly he exclaimed ‘****’, the bow wave heading upstream explaining to me the cause of his frustration. Not much further up he spotted a fish apparently unaffected by the spooked fish’s antics. First cast over it with a small colubriscus and bang, fish on.
A good bend in the rod.
We pottered up a bit further before spotting a fish sitting just back from a branch in the tail out of a pool.
Spot the fish.
I couldn’t quite rustle up Andrew’s first cast magic, and ended up changing my flies several times before finally hooking the fish on a small #16 grey and brown nymph. It put up a pretty damn good scrap given the confines of the small stream, but eventually it too succumbed to the pressure.
A great fish for such a small stream.
Grip and grin.
We prospected our way up for another 15 minutes before Andrew again spotted a fish. It was sitting just off a swirling back current, clearly darting into the swirl to feed. Andrew pitched his nymph into the back current and we enjoyed a great visual of the fish moving a good metre to take his nymph. This proved to be the scrap of the day, really making his reel sing.
Hey there fish.
After this we continued our way up, but didn’t see another fish. Possibly they were having their afternoon tea break, but the glare was pretty crappy. We turned back, content with our efforts. I tried to make friends with the old lady in the tea room on the way home, she was not friendly back.
This may well be my last report for a couple of weeks. I’ve got 3rd year law exams starting in just a couple of weeks, so for the first time ever I may have to prioritise something over fishing. Keep the comments coming guys, and be sure to subscribe in order to stay posted.