Dad and I recently embarked on a two week long trip to the south island of New Zealand. We arrived in Christchurch late on Thursday night and, after a few hassles with the hire car, were away on Friday morning. After a lengthy drive we had reached the area where we stayed that night, a quick fish in the local river produced a little trout for Dad and a follow from a large brown for me. A terrible night’s sleep ensued which involved us moving the tent in the middle of the night and eventually calling it quits and sleeping in the car due to gale force winds. Tired and weary we awoke the next morning still keen to fish, but the wind was still up from the night before and we only managed to sneak in an hour on the water before the wind became unbearable. We ended up spending the day driving further south trying to find some better weather, with a fantastic view of Mount Cook along the way.
This move didn’t really work for us and we ended up camping in gale force winds yet again. Finally on Sunday afternoon the winds died down enough for us to break out the fly gear and fish a small creek in the area, between us we managed to net 5 trout with a resoundingly small average size, although some bigger fish were hooked and even larger ones sighted. Monday morning we awoke to a strange sight, all the trees remained straight, the tent wasn’t rippling and the air was full of sand flies. At last the wind had died, we packed up in record time and made our way to a small lake we had identified as a likely prospect after the relentless south westerly winds. Upon arrival we found crystal clear water with a mirror finish, the trout were at this stage absent but as the wind picked up trout could be seen cruising the shallows feeding on the windblown insects with a kind of reckless abandon you could only dream of. When presented with a large terrestrial pattern the trout would alter their course to inspect the fly, often taking it in the same fluid movement. The first fly I presented to a fish resulted in a take and a fantastic fight in shallow water. The fish weighed in at a touch over 2lbs and was the first fish for the trip to break the 2lb mark.
We continued to work our way around the edge of the lake, I allowed Dad to take the lead and present his fly to the fish we could see, while I worked the outer drop off behind him. Dad had a few fruitless takes in the shallows while I hadn’t received any attention on the drop off. My next cast landed just outside a large weed bed with a small splat as my large humpy landed on the water. In a matter of moments a large trout appeared from the depths and took my fly without hesitation, after a scintillating run which saw all my fly line disappear from the reel. In a short period of time the hook popped free from the trout’s jaw and I was left with nothing other than a drowned fly, a lot of line to retrieve and blood brimming with adrenalin. It was at this stage the wind began to increase and simply casting became quite a task but as usual we persevered, I managed to present a cast to a smaller trout cruising in ankle deep water and my fly was promptly inhaled. The ensuing fight was one the likes of which I have never experienced before, with the trout spending more time in the air than in the water with a long series of heart wrenching aerial displays (I have lost a few trout when they have gone aerial in the past). At last I had him in the net, not a large trout by any means but a terrific fight. This was our last act of the morning session here as the wind had now picked up to an extent where small whitecaps were forming on the lake and trout could no longer be seen feeding around the edges. With the wind looking like it was going to stay up we decided to move to Mossburn and extend our stay in the cabin by starting a night early. This was a great decision as we finally got a decent sleep, although this did come with a downside as we slept through our usual starting time and found ourselves arriving at the Mataura River much later than we intended, with a strong wind running straight down the river. After walking a few hundred metres we finally found a small stretch river that was flowing perpendicular to the wind and partially sheltered by a small gravel bank. I worked my way up this bank blind fishing a tungsten nymph through the fast water and after a few minutes I saw the tell-tale jolt in my fly line, lifted to feel weight but the experience was short lived as after the flash of a silvery flank the fish was off downstream sans my fly. Unperturbed I continued working up the bank and it didn’t take long before my flyline shot underwater and I came up solid to another fish. This fish stayed deep and used the swift current to its advantage, often threatening to head back down through a small rapid. Eventually I managed to work the fish to a small section of soft water along the bank that I was able to net it in.
The trout weighed a touch over 2lbs and was my first decent fish on a home tied nymph. Since I had already tangled with a few trout along this bank it was Dad's turn to take the lead and it didn’t take long before he hooked one in the same stretch, which promptly busted him off with a powerful run downstream. A quick re tie and Dad was back into the action, or so we thought. The rest of the bank didn’t produce any action and eventually we started making our way back to the car to try and find somewhere out of the wind that might produce an evening rise. Along the way Dad couldn’t resist a few casts into some likely looking water and it paid off with a 1lb trout taking his nymph shooting upstream in an impressive display of power for a fish of its size, but it couldn’t escape its inevitable fate and ended up in the net shortly afterwards. This prompted us to continue fishing our way back to the car but it was hard work and eventually we moved further down the river to an access point which we had been talking about visiting for quite some time in the build up to the trip. A short drive down the river and we arrived at the prospected spot, a quick re-rig to change over to a small mayfly pattern with an unweighted nymph underneath it (my favoured rig for a mayfly hatch) and we were on the water, the first 5 minutes were extremely quiet but eventually a small hatch started and we found a pair of trout rising consistently along the far bank. I presented a cast to the rear fish while Dad moved his way up the bank and positioned himself to cast for the fish higher up in the pool. Unfortunately for Dad the fish took my nymph on the first drift and he didn’t even get to present a fly to his fish before I was calling on his duties as photographer. The fish was in poor condition and fought extremely poorly for its size but still weighed in at 2.5lb and measured 57cm.
After a quick release it was Dad’s turn to put some casts in for his fish, after a few drifts where the trout moved almost every directions bar towards Dads fly, instead favouring naturals, the trout finally stayed put when Dads fly drifted through and scoffed his nymph. Another relatively short fight ensued and the fish made its way into the net. Much shorter than my fish but still weighing in at 2.5lb, it also exhibited scars down its back although nowhere near as severe as the trout I caught.
We worked our way up the river and Dad found four fish gorging themselves on the surface with a conveyor belt of food washing past them in the bubble line whilst I was stuck on the far bank unable to cast to them. Dad picked off the rearmost fish and in the time it took him to land it the rest of the fish had shut down and the rain that was threatening had set in. This trout also weighed 2.5lb and was shorter again with much better condition. With the rain now soaking through we got cold extremely quickly and moved back to the car and set off back to the cabin to rest up and see what the next day had in store. Wednesday morning came quickly and we made our way to a section of river we had done well at on a previous trip, however this time the water was lower and clearer and as a result the trout much spookier. I managed to hook three over the course of the day but was unable to guide any into the net and Dad unfortunately couldn’t muster a take and so we left the river with our tails firmly planted between our legs. The next day we decided to hit the Oreti up downstream of Lumsden, this water looked perfect for nymphing but a strong north westerly quickly spoiled this plan and after one small fish on nymph we left the river and decided to have a rest as we were both exhausted.
On Friday we woke up to find a light drizzle had set in overnight and spent most of the morning searching for clean water to fish. Eventually we settled at the Mavora lakes but there was nothing to bring the trout close to shore and as it always is they were rising just out of casting distance. We spent the weekend catching up with family and didn’t fish again until Sunday night where we called in to the Aparima river on the way back to Mossburn. Early on I picked up a small brown that was missing part of its gill plate but after that we were unable to elicit a take and eventually called it a night.
On Monday we returned to the Mataura river eager to tangle with some of the larger browns we had seen lurking in the river. We took turns at losing trout in the morning with Dad dropping two and I dropped one all fish estimated to be about 2lbs. We moved a little bit further down the river for the afternoon session and found a fish rising hard against structure still within sight of the bridge. Dad presented a cast into the clearing where the trout was rising, its head popped out of the water and it sipped down Dads adams. After an intense start to the fight Dad had finally worked the trout out of its lair into the open water where it finally tired and found its way into the net. Weighing in at 3.5lb it was the biggest fish so far by 1lb.
We continued working this piece of river but could only manage to hook trout without landing them. When darkness fell the hatch we had been waiting for didn’t eventuate and we made our way back to the bridge and called it a night. Back to a new piece of the Mataura on Tuesday and we found ourselves amongst a plethora of small trout which were hitting our flies without hooking up constantly, Dad managed to work his way through them and bank two 1.5lb trout whilst I was left with nothing. We eventually ran out of accessible river to fish and decided to move to the spot we had fished successfully last time for the evening rise. We arrived a little later than we had wanted to and found the hatch was already building, much to my surprise I found a trout rising in the lie I previously pulled the skinny buck from. Slowly picking my way up the bank I flicked casts into the lie. On my fourth drift through the area my dry shot under water and I lifted to an eruption of water as the trout poured all its energy into burying its head under the willow it called home. I managed to turn it out into open water and eventually netted it. This fish also weighed 2.5lb but was a different trout and in better condition than the last two we had pulled from this bank.
Once this fish was released we quickly made our way up river to an area we knew housed at least four good trout, we drifted flies down the bubble line but we were too late as the hatch stopped and the trout stopped rising just as we arrived. We flicked flies in the fading light hoping the trout might still be at their posts in the bubble line but we soon realised that this was futile. Wednesday was our last morning at Mossburn and the time came for us to move north again. We stopped off at the upper Mataura where we found browns willow grubbing the edges but these fish weren’t easily hooked and the only one I managed to hook busted me off in a matter of seconds.
We finally stopped moving north when we reached Kinloch. The next morning as we were packing up the tent Dad suggested I try spinning off the beach into Lake Wakatipu, and what a suggestion it was, fourth cast I hooked up to a feisty salmon, and then another and another. The fishing was insane and I managed to land 7 salmon in the morning bite with a good size rainbow thrown in the mix somewhere. Dad came down and picked up three after he had packed up the tent. It was shear madness until the sun appeared from behind the clouds and suddenly the fish stopped feeding.
This saw an end to our fishing on Thursday as we had quite a distance to travel to get to the Ahuriri River. We rose early in the morning hoping that the wind would be down but this wasn’t the case so we began to pack up the tent. As we were just about ready to move on the wind dropped and we seized our window of opportunity hitting the river with heavy nymphs in search of our first Canterbury trout. It didn’t take long before I was getting takes on the nymph but no matter what I did I couldn’t hook them, I had almost convinced myself that it must have been catching on rocks before I finally came up solid on something. Now this fish barely fought and I was semi convinced it was a small willow branch but up popped a tiny rainbow with my nymph in its gob.
A little bit further up Dad managed to snag one on his dry and one on the nymph at the same time.
We continued fishing the river and ended up with a final tally of 9 rainbows between us, all tiny although I did hook a 2lb model that wrapped me around a log in record time. This period of no wind was short lived and eventually it picked up and started barrelling down the valley.
The next time we went out would also be our last with our flight due to leave in the early hours of the next morning, we fished the Waimakariri with lures and watched in amazement as trout chased smelt in the shallows but all I managed to hook was a small sea runner. A great end to the trip spending the evening on a river but unfortunately we couldn’t fool many of the trout.
Thanks for reading,
Cheers Alex
