What goes bump in the night

Big browns! I've always heard legends of massive browns that come out from their hidey holes at night to feast, but have never had a go at night fishing till now...

After spending a half day on the Travers, the most populated river I've yet come across, and not getting a single fish to strike nor encountering another fisherman that had any luck, I decided to try something new. I followed three other kiwi fly fishers out the door of our hut after dinner. We had all been skunked and, not willing to depart with tails between our legs, we headed our for that magic hour thats falls on both sides of the sunset. I spent a long time trying the usual flies on trout I had spotted earlier that day and although the fish were certainly interested in eating, they didn't even look at my flies. The sun went down and I decided to try a big, black streamer. I immediately saw a fish chase the fly across the river as it swung down stream. I kept at it and a few cast later had a fish on. not exactly a monster, it was my smallest fish yet at about 18", perfect for breakfast.

I moved down stream to another hole I knew had big fish in it and tried the same tactic. By now it was completely dark and I went from hole to hole by headlight and fished by the light of faint stars and a rising moon. A few casts in and I heard a huge splash somewhere behind my fly, but no pulls. Something was interested but couldn't grab on. A few more casts and I hear another splash just in front of me so I tossed the fly that way. Strip, strip, strip, and then the line came to a stop. I lifted the rod and felt a strong headshake and then the reel started to scream. After keeping the beast out of the down logs and undercut banks, I hauled it to shore 15 minutes later and hailed the nearby kiwis to take a picture.

"You've done well mate," they said, a bit dazed. "I think we'll all take a turn getting our picture taken as we still have had no luck." The kiwi's are a humerous bunch and always a joy to share the river with. The fish truely was a beast and I'd guess that it topped out at nearly 9 pounds and it fell to a 5 wt rod with 4x tippet. I was so excited I could barely sleep that night.

The good fishing continued upstream with a high light being a rest stop on trail with Aliyah at which we spotted a nice fish feeding on the opposite bank. Aliyah patiently watched as I made cast after cast, each one landing and drifting perfectly past without a glance. Evertime were both tensed up in anticipation and gasped in frustration when it wouldn't rise, only to eat something off the surface a moment later. After three fly changes it finally gained interested and gulped my tiny black ant. Aliyah was on it with the camera and hopefully the video is included below.

After finishing up with Nelson Lakes NP we hitched to the start of the Saint James Walkway and had a blast hiking through beautiful valleys ringed with epic mountains. And, 3 out of 4 huts were empty! Lots of fish stopped but none hooked. It seemed like every hut had a resident massive brown within 30 minutes that was impossible to catch.

We then hitched to Hanmer Springs on Christmas day and were greated by a BBQ spread and a quaint mountain house hostel. Hanmer Springs is known for its thermal resort and our muscles enjoyed that fact. With heavy rains on the forecast we had to wait out our next section (numerous large river crossings) so we decided to head to our first woof hosts early.

The night brown

The crystaline pools of the travers. Icy cold but always refreshing.



The brown that had an audience. Video response below for little Cam, were sending you the fish!

After talking too my dad I had to eat a fish, and damn was it tasty. The bright meat tasted as it looked; like salmon.

Traver's falls, also very refreshing.

 

Cannibal Gorge Hut, the first on the St James. It was empty and provided a nice hot stove which we kept well stoked as long as the rain fell. The morning skies shone bright the next morning as seen in this photo.

 

The first of many meadows and mountian views along the St. James.



Looking back out towards Cannibal Gorge, Aliyah in right center.

Aliyah Admires the Fairy Queen from the Ada River, one of the most beautiful mountains I've yet seen.

Fairy Queen with the Christopher River in the foreground. Our hut, Christopher Hut, was about 100 meters to the left.

Wild Horses of the Waiua River Valley

We rounded the range after Chritopher hut and were greeted by the typical dry Canterbury landscape. It was dreadfully hot and we took shelter under a nearby tree for almost an hour. Foretunately, a series of small creeks kept us cool all the way to Anne Hut.

Anne Hut. When we arrived, a herd of wild horse surrounded it and was basked on the sun soaked veranda.

Even more valleys! We saw two NZ falcons not far from here and Aliyah got a call response from one of them. We later learned from a truck driver with an environmental science degree (who picked us up on Christmas day despite company policy) that NZ falcons nest on the ground in priaries such as this. If the pair were nesting anywhere near the trail we would have been viciously attacked.

Rokby Hut. A cozy old hut with canvas hut that is still in use though no one had stayed there in over two months. It was a bit too much like a sauna for us this day.

Boyle Flats with the hut just visible to the left of the river. Again, empty and on Christmas eve. We enjoyed a can of peaches that Aliyah laboriously packed along with a heafty portion of coconut cream.

A Boyle River flood plain.

The hotel were are helping to restore near Greymouth. If you sent a package, this is where it met us, thanks so much for the socks and treats!

There is a VERY large dog there and it sleeps more than a cat.

She reminds us a bit of Queenie.

We'll be at this hotel through new years then we are heading down to Fox Glacier for more southern alps and a fabled hotspring. Hope everyone is enjoying the holidays.
 

Nelson Lakes National Park, Lake Rotoroa to Lake Rotoiti

Again, we are not exactly following a true path along our through hike and we have found ourselves wondering south in the general direction of Te Araroa. 

We hitched two easy rides from Westport to Lake Rotoroa, then shared a water taxi across the lake with two fellow fly fisherman. As we arrived at the lakefront hut, we quickly realized that we were heading out on a weekend and the place was crawling with locals. Well, not exactly crawling, but we were the only international trampers among about a half dozen kiwi hunters and fishermen.

The next few days were spent between huts and rivers, fishing and playing cards. Robin and Warren, two kiwi fly fisherman that shared the D'Urville with me, were a pleasure to enjoy the area with. We will never forget their kindness and generosity for shuttling us across part of the lake it their little boat, sharing beer, port, and "nibbles," and late nights of giggles and eucher. Thanks guys!

We departed Lake Rotoroa and headed out towards St. Arnaud via speargrass hut and Angelus hut. The next few days were drastically varied, changing from dense beach to subalpine bogs, tussock, and alpine lakes and ridges. Some of the days were very challenging and exposed but the views were well worth the effort.

Lake Rotoroa from D'Urville hut. Several days of heavy rain and snow put on a dazzling show as the clouds parted.

Meadow flowers

In the grassy plains of the D'Urville. Our next hut lies some 8km up the valley behind us.

First D'Urville brown taken on a dry emerger. ~6lbs and spanning nearly to the first guide on my rod.

An Ansel Adams moment as light rains began to fall.

First fish spotted the next morning and I was selected to make the first go (no pressure). A few casts later and my kiwi friend Warren brought this hog to shore is his net.

This accidental penis tree had one big ball, we thought of you, Trevor.

As we gained altitude along the Speargrass Route, we suddenly emerged into this alpine bog filled with stunted beech and amazing views. A well built board walk carried us over the sensitive habitat for nearly a mile and included this nice bench about halfway. We enjoyed the views and so will Aliyah's dad and my aunt.

Another board walk carried us to Speargrass hut situated in a tussock meadow. We climbed up the valley behind the hut to reach Angelus Hut.

Resting after a short, steep, and frightening ascent. Not a bad view looking back towards Speargrass hut.

Off trail through tussock!

After climbing to the top of the ridge we felt on top of the world.

Sunrise near Angelus Hut looking into the Travers valley. We first met this swiss girl on the first day of the Queen Charlotte track and three weeks later we arrive at the same place at the same time.

Sunrise

Lake Angelus

Lake Angelus and the hut (photo above and below), a 36 bunker with cozy fire place, benched and covered deck and views from every window.

Climbing Robert's Ridge away from Lake Angelus

Peering over the ridge into the valley towards speargrass. The ridge visible in the photos of the climb from spear grass is the one we are on.

A very exposed traverse along the ridge, the clouds aiding the dramatic approach.

Conquered: fears and ridges!

Time to relax and enjoy the view. We also enjoyed a hefty portion of cheese cake gifted to us by a guided tour group.

Theres gold in them hills

We caught a shuttle to the start of the Heaphy with grey skies surrounding the vibrantly green hills. Our driver was chatty and amiable as most bus drivers have been in NZ and tried to give us as much historical information on the region as possible. He explained the hills surrounding Golden Bay had once been heavily mined for gold and that the sleepy one block town of Collingwood had been slated to become the nations capital. However, alluvial gold sources were discovered further south and the main efforts to crush the gold out of the hard rock were abandoned, along with the plans for the capital. Today, the main industry of the area is dairy and the low lands are covered with a patchwork of pastoral dairy farms. The Arorere River threads its way between the pastures and as we ambled up the partially paved road, the driver explained that though it is an extremely volitle river and prone to flash floods, it harbors some of the best fishing in the area. The conversation quickly digressed into a discussion about the eels and their appearence on River Mosters...

The road lead to a dead end and the trail head after about 30 km and several small river crossings. We dawned our packs and hit the trail with the lightest of rain cooling our initial ascent. The Heaphy Track, like most of the great walks, is well built with good drainage, wide, smooth trails, and a consistent grade making walking very easy, almost monotonous. We quickly gained the intersection of a small side trail the branches off down to the Arorere, a one hour detour. The trail marker indicated there was fishing access. After some brief deliberation, we decided to split up, Aliyah we press on to camp (not more than 2 hours furhter up trail) while I descended to fish. It was well worth the detour. The first hole I came upon, a massive emerald pool visible from the Heaphy track some 600 meters above, had several large browns cruising around. A few minutes later and I had already hooked into the first fish of the day. It instantly darted for the depths, taking me well into my backing. Not wanting to break off again, I slowly coaxed this fish back, easing it to shore for a quick pic. I was shaking with excitement as and ready my rod for another cast.

I worked the upstreams sections and found another large brown in some fast water. This fish was holding in one spot lazily picking up anything that looked tastey. I tried a few attractor dries with nymph droppers... no takes. I went down in scale trying the timeless Adams... not interested. On one cast, my line got pulled down stream by a swift current and my fly began to drag across the lie. I thought that would be the end of my efforts for this fish as this same scenario had played out so many times on the Pelorus. To my surprise, instead of darting to the nearest hiding place this fish picked up chase and followed the fly all the way across the river, though never quite taking it. It tried the same fly several times, this time making it dance a bit. The fish was enticed several times but never took. Eventually it became disinterested. Since the fish seemed aggressive enough, why not try the mouse? I sent the mouse out and wiggled it back across the river. It looked desperate and adorable, treading water and trying to escape the rivers pull. As the mouse swung across the current in front of the trout, a large wake appeared behind the mouse, following it closely to the edge of the river. Then the fish dissappeared and my heart started pumping again. Next time...

I caught one more large brown and started back up the trail. I found Aliyah curled up in an empty shelter, reading. The next day we crossed the downs, an incredible alpine "meadow." I'm not really sure what else to call downs. They aren't above tree line but are alpine plains donimated by tussock and tend to be a bit boggy. Small hills within the downs and tree-covered and look like islands in a sea of tussock. We stayed at a quaint and empty hut with an antique stone fireplace. Since we've been on the trail we have seen about 5 people and stay the night with zero. For a great walk, this place is deserted.

The nest day we awoke to grey skys, a steady but light rain, and driving wind. Portions of the trail were reduced to small rivers and dryness was a bad joke. Our conversations lead our minds to other things this day, warm places, comfort foods, etc. One of the main foods we craved were hot, fresh dougnuts and we shared childhood memories of such food. Upon reaching our hut we found place had been kept piping hot my an older couple from the Neatherlands who were taking a rest day. Like wet rats we huddled around the stove, stinky dripping clothes hung from every corners. Soon more wet rats poured in and hut started to feel full. The following morning we were greated by blue skies and a view that reached all the way to the beach and the Heaphy lagoon that awaited us 20 km away.

The Heaphy hut, a brand new hut opened just days before we arrived, felt more like a remote hotel than a "hut." The porch and veranda overlooked the lagoon and river mouth, granting beautiful views of palm-lined sun sets. Ah, paradise.

The last day was again sunny again. All that was left was a 16 km trail following the beaches. Pounding surf was our constant companion on this stint. After leaving the trail and booking a bed in the nearest town, we hit the pub. To our disbelief, it had a doughnut on the menu! Along with fish and chips, potato wedges, calamari, and other grease soaked food, the fryers also produced a hot, fresh doughnut rolled in suger and cinnamon with a little scoop of icecream. Life is too good sometimes.

Sunset on Rocks Hut (End of Pelorus Track)

Alpine crossing in the Richmond mineral belt (Pelorus End to Nelson)

The smaller of the two Arorere browns caught on the Heaphy Track

Heaphy Track views

The downs behind us

Downs hut

Morning weather through hut window

A newly built swing bridge

A massive tree dwarfing the Nikau palms

Heaphy hut view

Heaphy hut

We came from up there! There is a tiny dot on the farthest hill, that was our previous day's hut.

Aliyah was ecstatic when we got to the beach.

Powelliphanta snail found on the track. It retracted in fear.

The last 16 km of the Heaphy track.