PART TWO:
The continuation of my fly fishing journey through the South Island of New Zealand, with old friend Bill Wojcik.

"Sadly we had to leave the rivers"

Even though heavy rain can make the rivers too dirty to sight fish, there are some "spring creeks" where trout up to 3 kg can sometimes be found sipping mayflies, in often crystal clear water.
Careful polaroiding is called for, in such clear water the fish are easily spooked. Small flies, finer tippets and dull fly lines are required.
Prized by the fishing guides and locals alike, many of these spring fed creeks are a carefully guarded secret, a good map will assist in finding them, as will the odd slip of a tongue in the local pub!

A bright sunny day and a few beers with a local gave us the opportunity we were looking for.
Bill was amazed at the clarity of the little creek, the obvious richness of the water with its abundant weed bed, and the size of the trout gently sipping down duns in this section of water no more than a metre wide and 30 cm or so deep.

I crept carefully into position to cast upstream to my prey, the wind was rippling the water but the fish could clearly be seen taking merging nymphs. This fellow certainly knew where to feed, an overhanging piece of Gorse bush and narrowing bank left a casting zone the size of a dinner plate, all into a twenty knot wind!

The wind blew the first cast onto the bank side vegetation and hooked up in the grass. Thankfully I managed to pull the fly free without spooking the fish, three or four attempts later, the small merger pattern hit the target area, and the fly was taken gently. The shallow water erupted as the fish took off the instant he felt the hook set, breaking my leader on the Gorse bush branch trailing in the water! Hooking these fish is one thing, landing them can be another story.
Carefully walking upstream, to the main creek confluence, we spotted another nice fish. Again stalking on hands and knees, Bill approached with the utmost caution, and presented several tiny flies to the fish. Twice the brown took naturals so close to his artificial that we both thought the fly had been taken, the second time he sulked off into the lush weed bed.

The northwesterly now picked up considerably in strength, the cloud cover darkened and the other rising fish quickly stopped feeding; it was time to head back to the camper for a nice cold ale.

A lake in the deep vally.

After a short rest and bite to eat, we decided to head further north of the Queenstown area to a couple of small lakes in the hills.
By the time we arrived, nature again changed her tune, and the sun once again smiled brightly upon as we approached the first lake. The deep valley offering comforting protection from the prevailing wind.
Around the near shoreline, in near perfect polaroiding conditions, no fish could be seen, they were obviously still in the deeper weedbeds.

Descending down the winding track to the second lake, we pulled the camper up along the edge of the shore, we did not have long to wait before we spotted the cruising trout.

Fish appeared to be taking the odd beetle at the edge of the ripple on the windward shore, and an occasional cruiser moved in right along side the bank searching for food.
It was only a few casts and Bill was on, a solid little rainbow, which displayed its acrobatic talents for a couple of passing hikers, before coming to the net.

Feeling a little tired I was more than happy just to sit on the bank, watch Bill, relax and enjoy the beautiful sunshine and surroundings. Bill hooked and landed several fish in thirty or so minutes.

Wanting to head off to Lake Wanaka, so we could catch the evening rise, saw us heading off again. From the camper when passing the first lake on our way back out, we spotted a couple of nice browns that were cruising between the weedbeds. Another angler was already fishing the small lake, so we did the gentlemanly thing and left him the water, besides we had a reasonably long drive ahead.

We arrived at Lake Wanaka with just an hour or so of twilight left, no time to go looking around, but enough time to check out a large bay.
This normally productive bay was under high flood; the shoreline was several hundred metres back from its usual levels. We set off searching the water but found no sign of any fish activity. The howling wind, menacing bulls and electric fences waist deep in water made the decision easy to call it a night.

We drove the camper to the edge of the main lake, closer to town, and found what we thought would be a nice quiet spot to spend the night.

After dinner whilst having a quite beer several cars pulled up and we expected the local lads were out for a good time. To our surprise we witnessed a large gathering, with several people being baptized in the freezing lake, followed by much praising of the Lord, and singing of hymns!

The next morning at first light a walk along the edge of the lake outlet showed it was practically unfishable due to high water levels.

"Occasionally the sun shone through".

I had never witnessed anything like this.
We did spot a good brown hugging the bank only inches from the edge, and after showing Bill the fish, I carefully lowered the small beadhead nymph through the dense bushes, right in front of the fishes nose.

The trout casually took the fly, but in my eagerness I pulled it right back out of his mouth in trying to set the hook. On reflection it would have been near impossible to land the fish had it been a successful hookup, but that’s half the fun when ambushing such quarry in tight areas.

We drove several kilometres downstream to check the Cluthra River proper with fingers crossed.
The Cluthra caddis hatch can be astounding. The last time I fished this section, the caddis were so thick it was impossible to breathe without taking in a mouthful of the insects. (I don’t understand why trout think they are so tasty?) It was almost amusing to watch with each cast the rod with line unfurling through the air knocking many tiny caddis out of their dizzy mating flight into the water!

As suspected the water levels were very high, we later learned on the radio that some threat of flood hung over the Wanaka township. This spot I had camped at previously was almost a metre under water. Bill would not get to fish the Cluthra caddis hatch tonight.

Time to press on further north to the Omarama area. Driving along the winding Lindis Pass it was further disappointment for me to show Bill the many now flooded streams and burns that I have come to know well, that I intended to share with him this trip.

At the end of the long drive as we expected, the Ahuriri River was also in full flood, its milky white waters, crashing and churning relentlessly over the large boulders.

A co-operative rainbow.

There are however, several lagoons within the area that open late in the season, coupled with such poor weather the lagoons would certainly not be overfished. In fact the station owner assured us he had hardly seen a person around because of the weather.

Polaroiding was more difficult than expected; even these normally clear waters were somewhat discoloured and high in level.
The wind was blowing strongly but the lee shores of the lagoons offered some pockets of polaroiding water.
On seeing a fish rise to my right, I sent a quick cast in his direction; the trout obviously saw the small wet as I watched excitedly as the large bow wave moved quickly to where the fly had landed. One quick strip and the rod pulled savagely as the line tightened. The strong fish broke the surface and tail-walked spectacularly in an effort to throw the hook, a good strong fish.
Bill approached just as I was releasing the fish, he had checked out the adjacent lagoon, but only spotted one fish, that shot out of the shallows when he nearly stepped on it.

Steadily stalking the shore and quickly covering any movement with small wet, I managed to bring another three good fish undone, all charged over with an obvious bow wave and a resultant boil as they turned and took the fly.
As night was closing in we moved the camper to an area kindly provided for fishermen by the station owner.
Time to cook dinner, have a few nightcap drinks before bed.

"Ahuriri Lagoon rainbow".

The next morning another check of the lagoons failed to show any sign of fish feeding. After a leisurely breakfast we headed off towards the Lake Tekapo area.
Again the rivers were running wild, even the small burns I have found clear on previous trips despite reasonably heavy rain, were in flood.
It was necessary again to search for other lagoons or sheltered lake margins. We came across one such lagoon with a healthy population of both browns and rainbows.
Deciding we had done enough driving for one day we settled in for the evening, with the steady drizzle increasing. Time for a break from fishing, and a good night to relax, we had been doing it hard.

The skies blackened and the rain poured heavily all through the night and as the clouds lifted their veil in the early morning light, the surrounding mountains had donned a snow cover. Thankfully nature favoured us today with some calm, hot weather and clear skies.

Fish could be seen cruising the shoreline. After several refusals for both of us, Bill was first to show the way, when he changed the nymph dropper to a small caddis pupa. Previously we had both been using a small pheasant tail dropper.

"Another falls to the caddis".

Bill managed to catch four fish, each time carefully marking the fishes beat, and setting a trap, the trout eagerly taking his nymph suspended under the tiny dry, in classic fashion.
I managed to snare one or two myself in a similar manner, before we decided on an early lunch.

I got the idea Bill was not keen on leaving this little lagoon, and he stayed fishing for a while, as I drove to town for supplies, but we were nearing the end of our stay and agreed to keep moving north.

Just how much rain had fallen overnight became plainly obvious, when we found the roadway used the previous day was under almost a metre of water forcing us to find an alternate route.
All rivers and creeks were now definitely out of the question, so the last couple of days would be spent concentrating on the lakes.

Lake Alexandrina is another picturesque lake, lying in a tussock basin.
On arrival a strong nor’westerly was again blowing, polaroiding along the margins it was difficult to spot fish, but we could spot an odd trout amongst the waves. Wading downwind, as the waves roll over, the trout can be seen through the "window" created by the wave, a skill I learned in Tasmania’s remote highland lakes.
Side by side, we waded for a long distance before we spotted the first fish.

The trout duly kicked his tail and headed upwards to take my dry fly as he cruised unaware toward us.

An odd trout in the margins.

Bill’s turn, and he soon got the hang of it and with a quick cast, the fish came up for his dry and with a deliberate "clomp" the fish took off with a long run. We had several casts each; we caught, dropped and spooked fish. Bill was pleased with his newly learned skill, and became quite adept in this polaroiding art.

Sadly we were nearing the end of our stay so we headed off once again, towards the Ashburton Valley. The rivers and surrounding streams were still off limits. The valley however contains several lakes and though often windblown and relatively open to the elements, can be fished providing you can handle casting into strong winds. (We’ve already had plenty of practice on this trip!)

Arriving on dusk in howling winds, Bill navigated his way down to the marshy lee shoreline where was he was duly broken off first cast. It was the only fish he saw. His feedback stated that the boggy ground was almost too hard to navigate and that we should find somewhere easier in the morning.

The next morning we followed the track to the opposite shoreline. The day started as a fine warm, sunny morning; we polaroided several kilometres of shoreline, taking turns at casting to fish seen cruising among the rocky shore and sandy beaches, not quite as easy as it sounds as the fish were very selective and quite spooky in the bright sunshine. Tiny flies and long leaders were called for.

I discovered a new phenomenon on this trip; it is called the Bourbon rise. I had noticed that whenever we were within easy walking distance of the camper, Bill would miraculously see a trout rise, always right in front of it, he would go over to investigate and took this opportunity to pour a bourbon, or grab a can of beer. (Of course it would have been impolite of me to decline his offer to bring me back a drink!)

As afternoon neared, the temperature rose and the now predictable wind blew up. It was time once again to fish the rolling waves parallel to the shore.

"The bourbon rise".

Bill spotted two large cruising browns within inches of the bank that were too good to let pass, even if it meant making our way through the thick prickly Gorse bushes and scaling down the cliff.
He was right, as we waded along the shore the first fish came up and took my blowfly imitation with no hesitation.
Once again we waded together and took turns casting to the trout as they cruised into range; most fish came up eagerly for the dry in classic fashion. I really enjoy fishing in this way as you get to share each other’s enjoyment, have a chat and a laugh when things don’t quite go right.

The Canterbury Plain winds were true to their reputation and gathered strength significantly. Whilst mere mortals may give up it was time to show Bill how to fish the surf!
As the wind crashes the waves into the shore, it’s a matter of spotting the fish that often tend to work the shoreline for any food that is being washed in. This is no "pussy foot" fishing; quick casts with heavily weighted flies are required.

Accuracy can largely be determined by what the wind does at the time of casting, and its not unusual to have the odd cast almost blown back at your feet, long casts are out of the question. I would recommend you load up your rod with a higher line weight, keep your leaders relatively heavy and short. When you spot the fish (and spotting them does take a lot of practice) it often necessitates running along the shoreline making several casts in front of the fish in the hope of landing your fly close enough for it to be spotted. Seeing the take is difficult and at times near impossible, fortunately some of the fish managed to hook themselves.

We had to head back to Australia the next day so we had a reasonably early finish and it was party time. We had to polish off what was left of our duty free bourbon.

"Another fish takes the blowfly imitation".

The last morning was a glorious day, with a light breeze; we had an hour or two to spare before we needed to be at the airport so we wandered down to the shoreline.
We soon spotted fish rising. The fish were cooperative for us with Bill and I hooking up simultaneously, we both caught two fish and missed a couple of takes. It was now time to pack up and go, however a good rise some distance out was too tempting to resist, just one last cast, I thought.

As the fly disappeared under the surface I lifted the rod and got more than I had bargained for, the Hardy reel screamed as the line was peeled effortlessly by what was obviously something big, in one run the fish took close to 100 metres of backing! Fearing I was about to be spooled, I managed to put as much pressure as I dare and turn the fish. With Bill watching eagerly, I was slowly gathering back some of my backing when the fish had obviously had enough of a breather, and took off again like a rocket, this time however, straight toward me! Stripping the line as fast as I could I was unable to keep the line tight and the fish threw the hook. I have caught some very large fish before, but this was certainly one out of the box.
According to the locals there are some very large landlocked salmon in this lake and I’m quite sure it must have been one of them.
It would have been great end to our journey, had I been able to land the fish, but I guess it’s the one that gets away that keeps you coming back.

Time to pack up and head off home.
Currently there is a lot of debate in the South Island regarding the degradation of rivers by increasing dairy conversions, the use of DDT’s and other poisons, effluent from new development and other matters of environmental concern. I am hopeful that all parties will work as one, and the necessary efforts will be put in place to protect this beautiful fishing paradise for our future generations.

"Even the tiny creeks were flooded".

For our part, as visitors, I strongly urge you to catch and release, in doing so, I believe it’s very important to put the fish under the minimum amount of stress. Use of a soft mesh landing net, forceps to remove your fly, and the strongest practical tippets. Please keep the fish out of the water for a minimum amount of time if you need to take a photograph.

Well, I did prove to Bill that it is possible to sightfish New Zealand early season regardless of the weather. Mother Nature appeared to do her best to test my theory to the limit, often throwing four seasons upon us in the one day, but I think we managed to achieve the goal.

The camper was certainly the way to go, it enabled us to cover large distances, maximizing our fishing time, and leisure time. It’s a great way for a couple of fishing buddies to travel.

Tight lines
Dave Edwards

Footnote: Dave Edwards has been an avid flyfisherman for over 20years
& was taught much of his skills from the late & great Bill Ricketts. Dave has visited NZ
on numerous occasions as well as flyfished Tasmania & the lakes of Victoria's Western Districts.