The War on Trout

For each fish, there is a Mecca. The place that is considered the best in the world for that particular species that each angler hopes they are able to visit at least once In their life. For trout, that place is New Zealand. The reason for this is quite simple-the trout and particularly the brown trout, regularly reach lengths and weight that you just don’t see any where else with any type of comparable frequency. As an added bonus, it just so happens that New Zealand happens to be one of the most beautiful places in the world, creating a downright surreal adventure for any angler that is fortunate enough to make the pilgrimage.

After years of talking about it, I finally made the trip this year. I had gathered information from numerous trusted sources over the past 12-18 months to ensure I was going to the best area for large brown trout and also got some pointers on where to stay to shave a few bucks off the trip. Ultimately, this research brought me to the South Island where I fished 7 rivers in 7 Days in pursuit of large brown trout. What I saw on those 7 days was jaw dropping , and what I experienced is something that can’t quite be explained with words, but I will try.

THE WAR ON TROUT

No joke, the best way to describe fishing for trout in New Zealand is the word war. On day 1, I was the most excited I’ve been since a kid on Christmas as I anxiously awaited our guide’s arrival at the shop we were meeting him at. I had on a pair of Simms waders, a chest pack where I keep my flies, and had a Nikon camera with me I intended to bring along. Enter guide – who was a cross breed between Crocodile Dundee and the guy that played the dude that hunted valasa raptors in Jurassic Park. 30 seconds into the conversation ,the guide said I had to leave the camera , waders , and that I should lose the chest pack too since he had flies. I gave up the camera and waders but fought him on the chest pack, as any experienced fisherman can understand you don’t just give up your tried and true flies before getting to the water. The takeaway at the shop was that we were going to see some shit and it was going to be intense .

After a 45 min drive, we drove down a rocky path that brought us to a ravine and a beautiful aqua blue river about 200 feet wide. Conditions were cloudy which I assumed to be a good thing for trout. However, as we rigged up at the car the guide expressed concern that the cloudy weather was going to be an issue, due to the fact it would limit our ability to spot fish. Prior to this conversation- I had heard that NZ was known for its spotting approach to finding the fish, but didn’t realize how truly critical this method was to the day’s success or lack thereof . There are only maybe 100 fish or so a mile on most of these streams, therefore blind fishing rivers where every inch looks great just doesn’t work. You will never cover enough water and you will probably spook the fish that are around if you are casting before you spot the fish. Turning back to the first day, the guide had chosen that river and spot specifically because of the light blue color of the water that allowed us to see through to the bottom for spotting purposes even under cloudy conditions.

As we got to the river, we decided to split up where I crossed the river and covered the left bank while the guide and my fishing partner covered the right bank looking upstream . About two pools up, I saw something in the corner of my eye, and was brought to my knees literally laughing in amazement at the fish I had just spooked a foot to my right in 6” of water. The fish looked triple jointed and was near 30” long with dots the size of a quarter. Lesson learned. The fish aren’t where you would think they are. I continued walking upriver scaling up and down the mountain to try and get good vantage points to spot fish when I came up on new runs or pools. Finally- around mid day I spotted a large fish holding in the seam at the head of a riff where it met with a back eddy. This was a classic brown trout spot which probably helped me spot the fish. I called it to the guide across the river saying I see a big fish ahead and asked what i should put on. He said a beetle, which i tied on with shaky hands still In disbelief of the fish I was looking at. Right around the time I tightened the knot the fish came up and sipped something off the surface which provided some added confidence. In true New Zealand fashion, I crept into position below the fish where I was now at ground level and could not see him. Here, I was required to rely on the guide to instruct me on where to lay the fly, as we both identified a common rock from our respective vantage points that got us on the same page. Despite the nerves, I somehow laid the fly right on the rock, and a second or two later heard the guide scream “ he’s coming !”. Already scared shitless, my heart stopped when I saw this massive head grab my fly at which point I blacked out and set the hook. The weight of the fish confirmed I had hooked him and required an immediate shift in thinking as I now had to play this fish around a series of huge rocks that I had jumped on and casted from. Fortunately, the fish ran upstream and allowed me to control him in the direction I wanted him to go and I landed my first NZ Brown, which was 26” and 7lbs.

The relief in getting one of these fish to the net was real, and for a moment I thought the pressure was off. But what I came to find was the pressure is never off when you are throwing at 25-30+” fish. You want every single one you see and you are just as scared as the last time you saw one. Following that first fish, I had a shot at maybe 3/4 other fish that I did not convert on. Regardless, the first day taught me a lot about what was needed to catch these fish.

Now back to the war part. For the next 6 days, I don’t think I’ve done anything that was this physically demanding since high school wrestling. In total, we hiked about 50 miles of steep terrain hunting these fish in places suitably named “cardiac hill” and other nick names that put you on notice the walk in was no joke. There is never a grassy path, and each pool requires you to look around and scheme as to how you can get to higher ground to survey the water and locate fish that may be holding there. The adrenaline of looking into a sweet new pool and the real potential for a 8-10lb fish to be holding there gets your ass up that hill. And if you don’t take the time to get into position to look into the pool, you simply aren’t going to have success.

The real war begins when you spot the fish. Once spotted, you creep on your knees or even sometimes downright crawl military style into position with your guide above telling you when and where to stop. From there, you do your best to get into a somewhat comfortable position where you can physically deliver the fly and also make a cast without getting caught up on your back cast. Many fish were a one cast deal, with some fish offering 5-10 shots before they bolted or sensed something was up. Our guide was a nymph first guy, which we hated, however we compromised and said we would throw the dry first to each fish but if they didn’t eat it on the first good drift we would take it off and put on the nymph. While dry fly is admittedly my preferred method for fishing to trout, I’ll be the first to admit the nymph game in NZ is actually very fun, as you set up a very small yarn Indy and fish one small nymph which often you can see the fish slide and take. At a minimum, the rig was enjoyable to cast and not clumsy like the thingamabobber rigs you commonly see used in the US. I imagine euro-nymphing would be difficult, due to the fact you often need to present the fly from far away to avoid spooking these hypersensitive fish. An example of how sensitive these fish are is one day we were on a cliff where a creek ran past us and down into the river . After spotting the fish – I went to go creep down the hill when the guide goes “forget it that fish is done “. I said “what do you mean?” – and he said “the fish is going to smell us you stepped in the creek.” I called bullshit, but sure enough a minute or so later the fish that had previously been rising high in the water column dropped back to the deepest part of the pool and went to the bottom where we couldn’t present a fly effectively. Lesson learned.

In all, the 7 days encompassed everything from large water the size of the Delaware river to small 50-75 foot wide streams that still held huge fish . The size of the water does not at all dictate the size of the fish in NZ. When I asked how the fish can get so big to various guides and people in the know, I never got an answer that really explained it to me. I get it- less fish allows for bigger fish. But why isn’t that the case on similarly low populated streams in the U.S. ? There is something unique and un-explainable about why trout in NZ can get so big, in water that has no business holding fish of that size .

Over the course of the trip, I was fortunate to land somewhere around 25 fish , most being between 20-25” with a couple freaks in the 25+” size class. Of course, the largest fish of the trip, a 30” brown that the guide estimated at 10-12lbs was the one that got away, after a 20 minute stalk and crawl effort that nearly killed me, but which resulted in the fish taking on the first cast. Heartbreaking but the type of thing that brings you back, and causes you to snap your fly rod over your leg like a gentleman.

Coming back now, I’m truly beat to shit. I have conservatively 250 bug bites on my body , slashes all over me from prickers from hell, unknown rashes , and just generally am shot.

That said- I’m already rebooked to come back next November into the first week of December . New Zealand was everything I hoped it would be. A true adventure . Large beautiful fish as you often hear and read about. A unique experience. There are not many places left in the world that offer all of the above, and that’s worth the price of admission