Exploring the Tararua's for Trout

This is the story of the first trip Ed and I ever spent in the Tararua’s during last season.  We spent an overnight trip in an awesome river fishing our way upstream as we discovered all new water.

After a short drive from Wellington we arrived at our destination to find a beautiful pool below the car park which we both thought was perfect trout habitat.  Filled with energy from the good looking water I shouldered my pack and followed Ed down the track.  Three hours later we came to the point where we had planned to get into the river bed, the river didn’t have any good holding water so once again we walked a few hundred meters up to the first pool and bush bashed our way down to the riverbed.  Slowly we crept up the pool until in what looked like relatively insignificant water Ed spotted a nice trout nymphing steadily about 10m up.  So Ed set up his rod with a size #14 parachute adams and snuck up to his chosen casting spot which was obscured from my view.  After what seemed like eternity I saw the trout rise to Ed’s fly and him stumbling back downstream with a significant bend in his rod.  After a short fight Ed brought a nice 1.5kg brown to the net.

We moved upstream to the next pool where almost straight away Ed sighted another nice fish nymphing mid-stream about 15 meters upstream of us.  This time I went up with Ed and stood next to him as he cast to the unsuspecting fish which rose without thinking twice and sucked Ed’s dry under.  Ed struck and the trout rocketed upstream as he handed the rod to my shaking hands and after a short but close battle Ed netted my first back country trout.

The day carried on in that way with a trout in most likely pools until late in the day;

 by 4pm we hadn’t seen a trout for about an hour when we came to an unlikely looking run.  About halfway up the run on the opposite bank Ed spotted what looked like a small fish nymphing mid water.  He tied on a small pheasant tail nymph and made the short cast up to the fish and as we had watched many times that day the trout drifted to the side and engulfed the nymph.  Ed raised the rod and there was a solid weight on the end.  As he handed the rod to me the fish turned and sped downstream in the current, under Ed’s instruction I side strained the fish out of the current.  The fish turned and swam steadily upstream pulling line from the reel.  It continued like this for about ten minutes by which time the fish had weakened considerably and Ed easily netted the trout which weighed 3kg, the best for the trip.

Again we trudged up the river sighting no more fish. When we got to the hut we relaxed over our steak dinner and rested for our walk home the next day.  On our way out we saw a few fish but failed to catch any.  All in all it was one of my most memorable trips being the one which set off my obsession with fly fishing that will most likely last a lifetime.

Skin Diving - Makara

We nipped off to Makara to make the most of the flat seas yesterday afternoon.  

Tom headed out with his spear gun while I went in hunt of crayfish and jack stayed on shore with the fishing rod to try catch some kingi bait.  

After a slow start I saw a nice wee cray and after a bit of strategizing I wrenched him from his hole and into the chilly bin.  Turns out that was the only one I saw, serves me right for being lazy and diving so close to the beach.  Tom had mixed luck as well, after seeing lots of small moki he missed his opportunity at a big one and then saw a couple kingi's swimming away from him.  Luckily there were a few butters around and he speared a couple of them before he headed in to join us on shore.  When on shore we put a couple live baits out in search of kingfish, but it was to no avail so we were off home to cook up our small feast of sea-food. 

West Coast Trout, the one that got away

This is the story of a one week long trip I had on the South Islands West Coast.  I had walked in alone, over untracked, rough, and mountainous terrain for a day and a half to reach my chosen fishing grounds.  When I arrived I found a beautiful gin clear river, small enough to cross easily in most areas, yet large enough to offer plenty of cover to a healthy population of large trout.

On my first day I had found some superb fishing in the main river, catching around a dozen brown trout in the 2.5-3.5 kg range and in some of the most scenic surroundings I have found anywhere. 

My true goal for the trip however had been to fish a small feeder stream entering the main stem about half an hour walk below my camp.  I had chosen to hit it on my second day of fishing and so found myself arriving at the stream mouth in the early morning gloom awaiting the sun to bring a little more light to the sky.  As the stream was revealed by the rising sun I found that it was considerably smaller than I had expected, much narrower and swifter than the stretch I had fished the previous day, yet still very attractive trout water.  As I moved up around the first bend I approached a long, shallow glide which looked as good a place as any to find a trout. 

Predictably, as I drew nearer I found two large black smudges swaying in the current as they fed quietly on nymphs.  Quickly assembling my rod with a small pheasant tail nymph, I flicked my fly upstream to the nearer and larger of the two fish.  Just as I had seen many times the fish swayed to the side without hesitation and gobbled my offerings, a quick raise of the rod and I was in.  Clearly a decent sized fish it seemed relatively unfazed by the hook in its mouth and rather than tearing up the pool, it dove straight to the bottom and sat doggedly shaking its head and not giving an inch.  However after about ten minutes the fish finally began to tire and I brought it to the surface and soon after, the net.  A quick weigh revealed a 3.5 kg brown, so I photographed it and slipped him back into the steam to fight another day. 

I carried on upstream catching three more nice fish when at around 11am I realised I had not seen a trout in over an hour and had been travelling through fairly poor habitat.  Beginning to think I had exhausted all the water this stream had to offer I was thinking of turning back, however I allowed my need to see around the next corner to take charge and so carried on.  Right on cue, around the very next corner I spied a pool which looked like it could hold a fish.  As I got closer I found that the pool was perhaps only about 6 meters long but so deep I could not even make out the bottom despite the near gin clear water.  Peering into the depths I caught a glimpses of a dark shape weaving around, perhaps a trick of the light or perhaps a fish I sat down on a boulder and ate a snack while casually watching the shape occasionally visible in the pool.  Finishing my rest and convinced that there was never a fish there at all I began to pack up, when from the depths the dark shape began to rise until it reached just below the surface and gulped in a morsel revealing itself as a very large fish before disappearing into the deep once more.  Suddenly on edge I crept back to the tail of the pool and changed my rig, removing the dry and adding another rod length to my leader I had a total leader length of over 7m.  I attached a heavily weighted bead head hair and copper to the end and began the difficult task of presenting my awkward rig to the fish hiding somewhere in the depths below me.  It took perhaps 5 attempts before I achieved an adequate drift though the pool, crouching in the knee deep water I watched carefully as my rig drifted through the swirling blue water.  Perhaps at the midpoint of the pool I spied the trout rising again but this time in the vicinity of my fly, it glided up until about a meter below the surface and then it was gone again.  Suddenly aware I could no longer see my indicator; I gave a significantly belated strike and was rewarded with solid resistance on the end of my line.  Knowing that this was possibly my largest ever trout I played it carefully for over five minutes during which time the trout remained on the bottom stubbornly shaking its head as it moved up and down the pool.  After what seemed like an eternity, during which time the fish refused to give an inch, the dreaded happened and the trout wedged itself under a rock.  Cursing to myself for allowing the fish too much freedom I proceeded to try every method I knew of to free my quarry from the snag but it was all to no avail, the fish was securely sulking in its hole.  In a last ditch effort to free my fish I began to use more and more pressure, tightening my line I once again began to feel the movements of the fishes body offering me a little hope, when I went too far and the unthinkable happened, I broke through the tippet which had been rubbing on the rocks and I lost my monster trout.  Cursing out loud to myself I collected my gear and sulked upstream in search of a consolation prize.  The river after that point began to open up considerably and I found a number of nice pools, I successfully landed two more fat trout in the region of 3kg as well as loosing another big one in a similar fashion.  

I walked back to camp that day somewhat disappointed that I had lost such a large fish but also in awe of the amazing experience I had just had.  I continued fishing in the catchment for another two days before making the trek home.  The fishing I had found was some of the best fishing I had ever had and the trip had been the biggest adventure of my fishing life.  This river is definitely one I hope to return to one day, however due to its isolation and the difficulty I went through to reach it I am not sure when that day will be.  I just hope it’s soon.

Mavora lakes to Greenstone, New Years Trip

Over a year ago my older brother came to us with the news that he was engaged and that the wedding was planned for Christmas time in Dunedin.  So tickets were booked and close to a month in Otago was locked in.  Leading up to the event I had a lot to think about but my mind would often wander to how I would fill the time after the wedding and Christmas had passed, as could be imagine it didn’t have to wander far before I stumbled upon the idea that a tramping/fishing trip into Central was in order.  So all mandatory celebrations came and went and we were off. 

Jack and I had, after a lot of research, settled on the Mavora–Greenstone track which under usual circumstances would take us about three days but we planned a five night tramp with plenty of fishing along the way in the Mararoa, Greenstone and Caples rivers. 

On our day of departure it was clear but windy and so we were off and arrived at the base of North Mavora Lake at around 2pm.  Having never spent much time in Central Otago I wasn’t quite sure what to expect but what we found looked brilliant, the lake was clear and lined with bush and tussock, perfect for trout.  We resisted the urge to stalk the lake edge and shouldered our packs setting out for boundary hut a few km past the lake head on the Mararoa River.  Two hours later and we were arriving at the head of the lake and able to catch our first glimpses up the valley.  Completely different from anything I had fished before the valley was wide and flat with steep sides and barley a single tree in site.  The river, however unfamiliar, had instant appeal, crystal clear and snaking its way lazily through the valley floor, I knew we had made a good choice.  With fresh enthusiasm and laden with six days of supplies we trudged up the valley towards our first nights’ lodgings in Boundary hut.  Upon our arrival we found a lovely little six bunk hut completely empty alongside a beautiful pool, a quick snack and we were off with polaroids in tow to spot our quarry.

It didn’t take long and we had spotted a nice rainbow cruising in the shallows on the opposite bank so I sent jack inside to assemble his new rod.  He promptly obliged and returned to stand knee deep in the river casting under my direction.  Having only begun fly fishing in the last year Jack is still a novice angler and as a result found casting difficult in the light northerly that had crept into our evening.  First fish spooked we moved on upriver to the next pool with high hopes and slightly more aware of how the wind could put a major dampener on the trip if it doesn’t play ball.  It didn’t take long before we found another fish happily feeding away and the previous sequence of events repeated itself.  Slightly perturbed we moved again upriver and found a fish holding in a very fast, very shallow run nymphing heavily.  This time I took the rod from jack and quickly realised his frustrations that the wind made a good presentation almost impossible, I crept up in the tussock as far as I dared until I was almost horizontal to the fish and commenced with some extremely sloppy casting, six or so presentations later and the fish finally plucked my fly from the current as it whizzed past, perhaps too hasty on the strike or just unlucky I ripped the fly from its mouth leaving us coiled in line and dejected on the river bank.  Darkness now falling we decided to return to the hut with tails between our legs and hope for a better day tomorrow.

We awoke early and packed up our belongings with the intention of fishing our way up to Taipo hut in the headwaters of the Mararoa with packs on our backs, never the most relaxing way to fish but logistically necessary  in this case.  Ten minutes out the door and I found myself cursing the North-westerly which had gathered its forces overnight and was now constantly puffing down the valley making casting all but impossible.  The sequence of events which followed was spot trout, cast at trout, spook trout.  This continued until lunch time and although we had seen many trout and some beautiful water we had still failed to secure any fish and so took our rods apart and tramped straight to Taipo hut with the intention of fishing a section below the hut the next morning.  Once again we arrived at our hut to find it empty and on the banks of a beautiful pool with a resident trout.  By this stage the river had begun to change characteristics and was beginning to gorge up and increase in gradient, perhaps some shelter would be available should the wind persist.  After a quick swim and a feed we were fast asleep trying to forget the sorrows of a hard days fishing. 

Day three we awoke to see that the wind was still not playing ball.  However we set off with a day pack on and headed for a short gorge about three km downstream where we were sure to find some sheltered pools.  After an hour of walking through the tussock we arrived at the base of the gorge to find although still windy it had swung around to the south and was now a healthy tail wind, perhaps this would be the day.  The first pool was deep and narrow and I quickly spotted a trout actively feeding towards the head of it, Jack once again assembled his rod and with a dad’s favourite dry attached to the end begun casting.  It was now that I noticed his casting had come a long way with his first attempt resulting in a near perfect presentation and an enthusiastic rise from a medium sized rainbow which proceeded to rip up the entire pool with a fight more reminiscent of a 2kg kahawai. 

After a short but intense struggle we netted our quarry and I instantly saw the look of accomplishment on Jacks face as it was the first time he had ever sight fished a decent sized fish and it was his new personal best fish!

After a quick photo and release we moved on to the next pool where once again I spotted a nice trout cruising around in the tail.  This time my turn, I attached a green humpy and flicked it upstream to the fish which once more instantly shot to the side and took my fly.  This time a much more lethargic battle, it didn’t take long before I netted my first fish, a 2.5kg brown which was accordingly photographed and released.

We continued the pattern of casting and catching until around lunch time by which stage  we had caught and released half a dozen fish, though nothing bigger than the brown I caught at the start of the gorge.  

We had almost fished our way all the way back to the hut when a small idea implanted itself in my head and before I knew it I had convinced jack that we would pack up our gear and head for the greenstone valley that afternoon, a day earlier than planned.  The walk down into the greenstone was a lot easier than expected and after about two and half hours we were strolling along the banks of the greenstone with renewed enthusiasm.  After a quick scramble through the scrub to the greenstone hut we were greeted with a completely new experience, a hut overflowing with tourist and kiwi tampers’ alike.  We quickly secured a bunk each and begun to make conversation for the evening with our fellow adventurers, most of whom were part way through their own 3-4 day trek.

After a fairly rough and cramped night’s sleep we awoke to find half the hut had already left so we had a leisurely breakfast and headed down to the river for what was sure to be a good day.  Upon arrival at the first access point to the streambed we found another angler assembling his rod and so after a quick chat we found ourselves once again trudging upriver another 5km to where we had agreed with him to begin fishing.  Finally by about 11am we had arrived at where we hoped to get some fishing done and were not disappointed.  The first pool had at least six fish actively rising in it so we raced each other to assemble our rods, I won and so cast to the first fish which after a couple presentations took my dry and I fought a healthy 1.5kg rainbow to the net.  Jacks turn now and once again he was in and another 1.5kg rainbow was in the net.  The day continued in this fashion for an hour or so during which time we caught another half a dozen rainbows though nothing of notable size.  By this time we were getting bored of fishing and possibly a case of heat stroke so we headed home to the greenstone hut for a swim and relax for the afternoon.  That night the hut was only half full so much more pleasant than the previous evening and we got a good night’s sleep as a result. 

The next morning we awoke early and once again packed our gear and got on the track, this time heading downriver to within 1km of the car park before branching off again and heading into the Caples valley for the Mid-Caples hut.  With much lighter and emptier of food packs we made good progress and made the hut by midday, after a quick chat to the hut warden who had caught a few trout below the hut in the morning we were off upstream for our final afternoon of fishing.  Setting off across the tussock I became aware that once again the wind was puffing downstream.  Whether pointless or not we moved upriver fishing for and spooking a number of fish until about 3pm when we found a nice fish feeding in a sheltered little run close into our bank.  I sent jack down to make his attempt and watched from my position sprawled out on the tussock bank as he cast and successfully hooked the fish.

It gave a solid fight and I eventually netted a 2.5kg rainbow, jacks new personal best! Wanting to finish on a good note we decided to head back to the hut and relax before our short walk out to the car park in the morning. 

In total we walked about 100km in search of trout over our tramp, we were plagued by the wind at times and the sandflies at others, however it was a completely new area and we both thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and learnt a lot.  I would definitely be interested in heading back to the area on another trip, although next time I will be sure to check the wind forecast more carefully first and I will be sure to get some amazing fishing.

                                                                                                                                                                   

Longlining, Kapiti Coast

We were in the mood for a bit of post-holiday kai moana the other day so assembled the long lining gear and headed for the fisherman’s table on the Kapiti coast.  Upon arrival the sea conditions were good with a slight cross wind blowing, so we began to assemble the gear.  However when it came to baiting up we found that we’d accidently packed only pilchards which are not the best bait for long lining in this area due to their softness and the fact they tend to catch a lot of non-target species.  Nevertheless we baited up and sent tom out on the kayak to make the first drop.  30 minutes later we brought the line in to find it loaded up with a number of kahawai and a gurnard.  We kept one kahawai for the table, gave one to the people fishing next to us and used the last one to bait most of our hooks for our second and final drop.  Once again Tom was sent seaward in the kayak and our final set was made.  This time due to tougher bait we let the line soak for a bit over an hour before beginning the procession of boys walking up the beach with the line thrown over their shoulders.

15 minutes later and the first five hooks appeared (all of which had been baited with pilchard) and four of them had caught a kahawai which we quickly released.  Onto the final twenty hooks which had been baited with kahawai and we found most baits had been left untouched bar a couple of gurnard towards the end.  Not an overly successful trip but as is usually the case we went home with a good feed of fish which we have found isn’t so easily achieved line fishing from the shore in the Welly region.

Trout Season Opening day 2011: Tararuas

After a long cold Wellington winter Jack, Tom and I were itching to get out for a substantial fishing trip into the Tararuas.  Our chosen destination was a small side stream entering the main river in the middle of an impenetrable gorge.  The shear inaccessibility of the stream was what appealed to me as I was sure it would hold some solid trout. 

September 31^st dawned clear and cool so we were off into the hills with our packs and rods in tow.  After a short drive and a slightly longer walk we arrived to the bottom of the gorge where we made camp and rested for our big opening day mission. 

October 1^st and the opening of the trout season dawned clear and windless, ideal conditions.  We had chosen our path into the side stream by climbing a ridge at the base of the gorge for a couple of kilometres and then dropping down a spur into the stream.  Three hours of bush bashing after leaving camp we finally caught our first glimpse of the creek and instantly from the hillside spotted a nice fish feeding in the tail of the first pool.  We all stumbled out onto the riverbed and I assembled my rod attaching a green humpy with a pheasant tail dropper, Tom and Jack waited on the other side of the river while I snuck in closer for the cast. 

First cast, although a little sloppy, the fish darted across the current and took the nymph, I let out a whoop and after a short fight netted a well-conditioned 2kg brown.  A quick fish on the board is always nice, this time being no exception, at least the massive walk was not in vain.  Our attention now turned to moving upstream and we quickly realised the rough going was about to get either rougher or wetter. 

Perhaps 30m up stream and we were gorged, despite the streams small size further progress meant either a swim or a climb high on the hill around a bluff.  Being early spring and not yet tropical we opted for the climb and an hour later were once again stumbling out onto the creek bed to be met by a beautiful pool and a feeding trout.  This time I removed the nymph as the fish was holding in fairly shallow water, a quick cast and once again the fish was hooked.  I handed the rod to jack who fought it to the Net and another 2kg brown was photographed and released.  

Thankfully this time upstream progression looked a little easier and we moved on upstream relatively unhindered.  After catching a few more fish, many of which were poorly conditioned we came to our final pool which contained three feeding fish.  The first cast was a bit sloppy and the back fish rocketed upstream causing the other two to disappear from sight as well.  I let the boys know the day was over and began to wind in when I felt a surge on the line and a strong fish took off upstream with my fly in its mouth.  Once again I handed the rod to Jack and he wound in a somewhat skinny looking trout.  

By this stage it was about 3pm and still a 3-4 hour walk back to camp so we quickly scoffed a few tins of tuna with some crackers and we were off. 

October 2^nd we awoke late to find the day windy and showery yet still decided to head out for a few hours of fishing in the main stem before breakfast and the walk home.  We saw a good number of fish, but with a strong head wind a good presentation was hard to come by.  Nevertheless we eventually found a sheltered spot and scored a nice fish to cap off a good opening day trip.  

By 3pm we were back at the car and heading home to Wellington to make some devious plans for our next trip. All up the fishing was nothing to rave about but we got to explore new territory and saw some of New Zealand’s wild bush at its best, so really the fishing was just a bonus.

Welcome

Kia ora and welcome to Savage Kiwi.  Like many kiwis we take advantage of New Zealand’s fantastic outdoor recreation activities and along the way enjoy some amazing adventures.  Our exploits are many and varied but more often than not involve some sort of fishing trip and regular extended trips into the bush.  This blog is not only meant as a way of sharing our experiences but also as a way to catalogue them for our own personal enjoyment.   So please take what you can from our posts and feel free to leave your thoughts.

Kief