First of all apologies for the lack of posts over the past months, the combination of winter, university, and moving to a new city for summer work has meant that I haven’t had a lot of time for either fishing or writing recently. Thankfully the holiday season has sorted that out though and I once again find myself able to devote more time than is natural to the wild places of NZ.
One month into this fishing season (early November) I found myself finishing another year at university and setting sail for the Hawke’s Bay for a short term job. Having never been to the area before I was unsure of the fishing possibilities, but had heard a few whispers over the years, so I was fairly confident I’d be able to find some solid fishing somewhere in the area. Sure enough, five days into my new job and after a quick chat with the boss I was heading home from work early with orders to stuff a pack with supplies and head bush for the weekend. Obviously it didn’t take much to convince me of the plan and three hours later I was charging upriver bound for my first Hawke’s Bay campsite 7km into the forest park.
As soon as I arrived at the area I knew that even if the fishing was below par I would have a good trip as the quality of the river and its surroundings would ensure an exceptional experience. The river was a little larger than I had anticipated but it was low flows so all of the 30 or so river crossings I had to tackle for the evening were fairly straight forward. On the trip in I stopped at a few nice pools to capture the moment on photo and although I did see some good fish feeding aggressively, time was limited so onwards I trudged.
Three hours later and with darkness fast approaching I arrived at my campsite to be greeted by a young deer feeding on the front lawn, after a quick staring contest which I won the yearling flitted silently off into the surrounding bush leaving me to settle in for a night of rest before my fishing trip was to truly begin.
The next morning I awoke before dawn so as to insure that I could get a head start on any other fisherman who may have had plans to walk in early on the Saturday. The day looked perfect, clear skies and as yet very little wind so after a quick breakfast of muesli and tea, I was once again wandering off upriver fully laden with supplies intending to fish until late afternoon before making camp once more. This time progressing at a much slower pace and taking care to polaroid any likely holding water, it was not long before I spotted a pair of nice fish nestled up under a rock face in a long deep crystal clear pool. Stealthily sneaking back downstream a bit so as to leave the fish undisturbed, I assembled my rod and attached a large stimulator pattern with an equally large hair and copper as a dropper fly. Carefully moving into position behind the fish, my first cast made it painfully obvious that it had been too long since my last cast and the fish was spooked, perhaps I should have practiced on a rock first…
The morning progressed in a similar fashion for a start, plenty of quality holding water with perhaps fewer fish than I would expect from such a river and of those that were present all but one small 3 pounder proving a bit too wily for my unpolished techniques.
Un-phased I carried on, certain that I would begin to find my rhythm again if I just persevered. Sure enough around 11am something changed for the better, whether I had reached some relatively unfished water or my skills had finally returned, suddenly I was able to catch fish, and in quick succession. I had arrived at a long slow moving pool, the sun was high in the sky and the wind was nil making spotting conditions perfect.
Immediately at the tail of the pool I spied a small fish feeding aggressively in shallow water, “this will be simple” I muttered to myself as I unfastened my fly and began to cast with my pack still on my back. Sure enough one sloppy presentation was all it took and the naieve young fish snapped in both my dry and my nymph before I had a chance to strike. After a quick battle, being careful not to let the fish stray too far upstream, I landed and released another 3 lb rainbow.
Feeling like I had finally made a breakthrough, I continued on only to find another fish feeding a few meters further upstream. This fish looked a little bigger but proved to be equally as eager to take my offerings and a few minutes later I was releasing another nice rainbow, this time around 5 lb.
Carrying on I managed to pull another couple of fish out of the head of the pool making it a very productive 200m stretch of water.
The rest of the day continued in similar fashion until around 4pm when the breeze got up a bit much for spotting or casting and I decided to make camp. In total I landed over a dozen fish for the day, all of them in the 3 – 5 lb range, good fishing in anyone’s language.
Feeling like I’d had my share of fishing I decided to call it a trip and spent the rest of the evening relaxing at camp before the walk home in the morning.
I awoke on Sunday feeling a bit sore from spending the entire previous day with a pack on my back but content with the trip I'd had. Shouldering my pack for the last time I began the walk home, this time heading up a side stream for a half hour before climbing up onto the ridge and taking the high road home. En route up the side stream I spotted a decent sized fish feeding in a pool but decided to leave it be as it was a nice novelty to see a fish in such small water and I continued on uphill towards the open tops and views of the surrounding land.
In total the walk home took about 6 hours but due to my relatively out of shape body I was pretty worn out by the time I reached the car and was glad to finally be back to civilisation. It didn’t take long however, around ten minutes into the drive back to town, and I found my mind wandering, plotting and scheming my next expedition in search of peace, solitude, and fishing.
