Choice As Bro – New Zealand

Leave passes – Every angler with a better half needs them. Sometimes the passes are abused, sometimes the passes are few and far between and other times they are saved up and banked into a special account titled “HELL YES MOTHER-FLIPPING NEW ZEALAND”. Well that is what mine was called anyway…

More than six months in the making and I had a dose of the-day-before-I-leave jitters. Not in the sense that I was nervous or scared or anything, I was just amped to be heading into the unknown, where stories of giant trout have taunted my dreams and crystal clear water had adorned hundreds of pages of literature I’ve read over the years, firmly embedded into my cranium. I was at my workplace and I received a call from my manager that I will never forget. “We need to see you at 3:30pm….”. Had I done something wrong? No. Had I shagged the bosses wife? Hell no. Did they make me redundant on the spot? Yes they did. Times are tough, money is hard, here’s your bloody farewell card.

With the support of my amazing wife Ami and her persistent encouragement to plough on with the journey, I did indeed commit to the mission and flew to NZ that next day. On the plane, I sat next to a lass from the UK who was embarking on some sort of population forecasting role with NZ Government, consisting of employment rates and the economy and then the whole conversation morphed into a blur of contrast between our lives, our direction and our passion for completely different elements of life. Pretty sure she farted at some stage too.

After a quick overnight stay in Auckland I ran into a couple of dodgy looking Aussies at the domestic airport – It was my travelling companions Paul and Shaun. Seems they had taken a ‘long cut’ and instead of flying from Nelson-Wellington-Taupo they had to fly to Auckland as some crazy guy on helium tried to blow himself up. Actually that story is incorrect, I just thought that whole helium scenario sounded cool. They took me by surprise as I wasn’t meant to be seeing them for a few hours in Taupo. This gave us time to have a yarn and they easily whet my appetite with stories of rewarding fishing on their few days on the South Island with Mike Kirkpatrick from Latitude Guiding.

Image: Paul Anderson

Image: Paul Anderson

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Image: Paul Anderson

The boys stuffed their faces and we all boarded the 12 seat crop-duster bound for Taupo. I think this is where you are supposed to have already organised your hire car. At this point we stood around waiting to bargain with someone over some old beast that could lug our sorry arses around for a couple of weeks but there was no-one to talk to! A quick taxi ride into Taupo saw us sneaking around hire-car yards eyeing off potential candidates but being a Sunday, hardly anything was open. We had to settle for a more expensive but reliable option and set off in our jam-packed Corolla. *Tip: Book beforehand.

Around 40 minutes later we arrived at what would be our base camp – The Turangi Bridge Motel. Situated in the township of Turangi and right on the door-step of the world famous Tongariro River. (Highly recommended – Great service, great meals!). After Paul introduced us to the friendly Kent that runs the place, we quickly rigged up to explore some water a short drive downstream. Paul had been here a few times before so was quite familiar with a few pools but it seems flooding had changed the river dramatically, turning braided runs into channels and where machinery had shaped the river too. Still, Shaun and myself were wide-eyed and soaking up as much of this waterway as possible. We spotted a few fish but mostly under the cover of thick willows. Shaun and myself sighted two fish on a snaggy bend and one fish in particular was sitting high in the water column, just hanging for a dagwood. With the sound of cicadas filling the air, my line was already attached to a small commercially tied pattern so that it what I threw. After covering the fish a few times, it was clear that it my offering was not sufficient. I clipped it off and tried a small black spinner as we had seen a few earlier – This also drew no response. I went smaller again and tried a CDC caddis but… nothing. Oh well instead of going smaller I’ll go bigger! I tied on a gnarly size 8-ish black foam cicada pattern that I tied back at home – It was far from pretty but it was big and buggy looking and had legs. The first cast with this thing a metre in front of the fish and he spotted it (how could it not!), that’s when I realised that this fish was deeper that the clear water made me think, and that the fish was probably over 5lb. It rose from a couple of feet to wrap its big buck jaws around my fly. After seeing numerous films on New Zealand fly fishing and the emphasis on waiting, not to mention my striking-too-early spell, I did just that, waited. Probably enough time for me to mutter to myself “He took my manky home-made” and then I lifted. Not only was there nothing-ness but I actually saw my fly slide out of the gap in this fish’s jaws!! Missed it!! As you do when you miss a fish a instinctively threw my fly back out so as not to get hooked up behind me and subsequently spooked the fish. I was disappointed but far from gutted – It was awesome to see that take and this spurred me on for more. Just around the bend Pauly hooked onto a little one and by this stage we had to pack up shop and leg it back to our car.

We finally unpacked our gear and made a bee-line directly for the lodge for a beer or twelve. Who should we see plonked up at the bar but one Mike Hughes (Tongariro Fishing Guide). Paul had experienced some amazing fishing with Mike in the past and as the area was generally fishing tough due to the lack of rain, Mike was only too happy to share some info about spots and flies. If that wasn’t generous enough, Mike escorted us the next day to a productive stretch on the Tongariro and told us the best spot to cross. What a nice bloke!

Keen to get something on the board we carefully crossed a dicey section to access the sweet spot. It was a nice open section that gave Shaun and myself a good chance to flip a few bombs around. Before long, Shauno hooked his first North Island fish – A nice little rainbow. I followed suit soon after further up!

Before long the drizzle had turned into pelting with rain – It wasn’t really what I had dreamt of but with the amazing clarity in the rivers over here, you could still polaroid quite effectively. Pauly eyed off a couple of fish in a tasty looking run and basically threw the whole box at them. I tried my luck and was reject too. When times are tough, you have no option but to either throw the old rock fly or a stinkin’ old glow bug. The fish finally spotted the glowing yarn of doom and accepted!

We encountered a few tough fish along the way, some appeared to be feeding and others were not doing a thing. Pauly was doing a marvellous job at hooking random items in the water, including stocks and logs. In a run further up we were just about to pack up shop but I spotted a small fish slashing on the edge. I cast in the vicinity and had a very small fish attempt to take my chunky foam fly three or four times before it gave up. I continued to search the area while perched up on a big rock and eventually launched out a long cast straight into the honey hole. A nice fish grabbed the dry and I’m onto my first NZ fish on dry! Getting fish to eat the dry in the Tongariro region seemed to be the exception rather than the norm, so most of the time we persisted with indicator nymphing. I’d never done it this heavy and on this scale but one tool that simplified the process was the Strike Indicator Tool. It was a no-brainer for tying on new yarn or changing the depth of your nypmhs. Anyone thinking of fishing heavy bombs in NZ or indeed anywhere in the world should invest in this sweet little innnovation. Click the video for more!

After a bite to eat we headed to the Bridge Pool and some runs not far away to see out the day before settling into some NZ brews. Well, that was the plan for me and Shaun – Paul isn’t really into beer. What a weirdo. Our staple beer for the trip seemed to be Macs Gold – It was easy to drink, tasty and refreshing and we could buy it from the local supermarket. Kent sold it at the lodge for a bargain rate too!

Most mornings were spent grabbing a choice-as brew from a coffee van that pulls up in the lodge car park each morning. She was a top bird and handled a good stir from us Aussie yobbos at regular intervals. We would then polaroid a few fish from the highway bridge before trying to catch them. This was to be my curse. Despite my best efforts over the trip, I couldn’t seem to hook a fish at the bridge pool. Pauly was smacking them, Shauno was molesting them and I could barely flirt with them. The more I became frustrated, the more my casting action fell from mediocre to abysmal. The more crap my casting became, the more I thought… shit, I have to find a job when I get back home. Funny how negativity spawns more negativity. It was awesome to see the boys towel a few up here though, especially Shauno who quickly named a small shallow run after himself and cursed anyone who dared to set foot in the place. In a desperate time of need I snuck into Shauno’s run while he slept in one morning and whimpered away with my tail between my legs. Pretty sure Shauno caught one after I’d been there. Bastard!

The Back Country

We had been looking forward to our chopper mission into the wilderness. We hooked up with a crowd called Heli-Sika who dropped us to a remote river, chartered our gear further upstream to a hut and would then collect us further upstream the following day at a pre-arranged rendezvous point on the river. It was pretty wild in the chopper as the wind was howling through the endless valleys. The fishing opportunities must also be infinite around here! When they dropped us off, I couldn’t help but feel a little at home with a variety of beech trees bearing a striking resemblance to our myrtles back home. One species in particular must be very closely related.

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It didn’t take us long to rig up and make our way into the crystal clear water and Pauly soon spotted one. This would be the first of several fish behaving badly – Some would ignore everything and others were quite happy to take the fly. In any case, it was an amazing location and we encountered a few fish in the 8lb range that we couldn’t get a fly to due to the vertical cliff faces with dense rainforest from which we spotted them!

A Paul Anderson Image

A Paul Anderson Image

Can you spot the fish?

Can you spot the fish?

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A Paul Anderson image

A Paul Anderson image

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It seems so long ago now but we all managed a few good fish in the 2-4lb mark and Shauno was on fire with lots of fish coming to hand. Paul managed to tempt a couple of fish that would have been over 5lb and displayed amazing colours. One fish in particular came to hand as we could almost hear the echoes of the chopper on its way to collect us – Good timing Paulos! The lads were towelling them up using their Tonic Eyewear and after trying them on, I was very impressed. My personal highlight was just being in this amazing location, days’ walk from anywhere and surrounded by true beauty. Snaring some great fish was a bonus and the whole mission was my favourite aspect to our NZ mission. We certainly didn’t encounter huge numbers of fish out the back but the quality of these rainbows was more than sufficient. We were told that monster browns lurk in the right locations but we didn’t see any. Both dries and nymphs scored fish fairly evenly between them but landing a couple on my home-tied dries was satisfying!

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A Paul Anderson image

A Paul Anderson image

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A Paul Anderson image

A Paul Anderson image

Below is a larger gallery of the Backcounty journey… too many to choose from!

Of course after returning from such an epic journey, all we wanted to do was get drunk and find a titty bar or something. We didn’t do that, but it sounded tough. Instead we opted for some dirty take-away on the way home at some ridiculous hour and managed to slide a beer or two in before falling in a heap for many hours.

You would think that we might go and check out some hot springs or do some general sightseeing by this stage but no, we just went fishing instead. We weren’t exactly here to procreate with arachnids or skinny dip in the warmest water you could find – I’ve seen Paul’s man-back and it aint my cup of coffee! We kept ploughing away on the big T river and checked out some rivers during spells of enthusiasm. One such river was a full days’ mission and we snuck off, keen as ever. It was kind of back country, but also quite accessible for those who know how to get there. We stomped off downstream to walk as far as we could to then fish our way back before dark. There was some very cool fishing here and most of our fish came to dries but we still encountered tricky fish that would only eat the nymph and sometimes after many presentations. At one stage, I gave up on a school of 7 or 8 fish only to have Shauno come through and catch two of them in quick succession – The kid has gills.

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We all scored a few fish and spent around 4o minutes trying to tempt a really great fish on the edge of the main flow. This fish was probably between 8-10lb and has become way bigger with every person I tell! Paul reckons it ate my fly at one stage but I’m a stubborn bastard and refuse to admit it. I managed to catch one fish that took me into the backing twice and I thought it must have been huge, only to learn that I foul hooked the thing, still fun though! We finally encountered a couple of browns paired up and Paul converted his target. Shaun had a crack at the next one and got it to eat after a few attempts. He played it well but the fish busted him off, only to jump clear out of the water 2 or 3 times trying to throw the hook. It was pretty cool to watch and I think Paul filmed that bit. It’s in the film I’ll embed below.

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a Paul Anderson image

a Paul Anderson image

On the way back to the car it was starting to get dark but we couldn’t resist smacking a few pools, it would be a crying shame to leave them out. Paul blamed the fading light but I reckon it was his casting that caused this…

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The next day we fished a very low ‘TT’ River – It needed rain but it was beautifully clear and a pleasure to fish. Some sections were far to low to hold fish but due to the masses  of water that often rush through here, holding water was a plenty and that holding water is what we aimed for. We caught a few fish here and there but it was pretty tough going and the fish were exceptionally spooky. Not helped by the fact that we encountered a family swimming, some rafters coming downstream and a guy who’d been fishing upstream of us all day. Still, I was happy to get a couple more on Stu’s Deadly Cicada which along with my own patterns, had been pretty good to me.

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They say all good things come to an end but I wasn’t too deterred, we had experienced some unreal fishing in tough conditions and the scenery was to die for. The people were friendly, the country has their act together in terms of their fishery, their tourism and their amazing environment. We fished hard to end the trip and I was happy to finally trick some fussy feeders on the evening rise with the trusty old F-Fly the night before I flew home. The boys stayed on a few more days where they had some rad fishing with Fishy Steve and Shauno landed a beauty. Thanks for the run fellas and thank you to everyone who helped us along the way. I’ll see you next time New Zealand, you really are fully sick eh bro.

Below is another clip and some more photos – Enjoy!

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Tourists in waders!

Tourists in waders!

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a Paul Anderson image

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a Paul Anderson image

a Paul Anderson image

a Paul Anderson image

a Paul Anderson image

The Last Sneaky Session

At this time of year I like to sneak out to a little river that is still open to rainbow fishing…

It was blowing dogs off chains when I left town and I knew that it was going to be cold and miserable. Still, kicking back inside on my day off didn’t sound that hardcore. Twenty minutes into the drive and it’s pissing with rain. Awesome. The last time the weather was like this on a solo session I drowned my DSLR Camera!

My waders were hastily thrown on, along with beanie and gloves. I tucked my phone in a dry spot, just in case. Even with the cold conditions at this time of year, on this type of water, I generally don’t need anything but a dry-fly, so this it what was thrown for the first hour, without success. I persisted on and fished a likely looking fast-water and I was sure that a fish bumped my fly. I repeated the cast numerous times, methodically working this run but drew no response. Must be seeing things again. “One more for the road”, I thought so I cast again… Slurrp! There he is!! A colourful little bow came to hand and then quickly slipped out again. I’m on the board.

While it’s great being out there doing your thing, surrounded by fresh air, critters and wildlife, it’s nice to come away with at least some element of success, you know. Otherwise you just feel like a bit of a dick.

Things were very quiet from here on in but I did fool another on the dry and one more on a dropper nymph. Doesn’t sound too bad in the end, but I was fishing for over four hours! In any case, it’s nearly winter and I’m out there amongst the elements catching fish on dries prior to the season close. Happy as a pig in shit.

Penstock Pickers

It’s great when you’re at an age that all your mates are getting hitched and holding random bucks events when really, it’s just another chance to get away and do what we love doing while tipping in a hundred beers or so.

My mate Chenzo decided to hold a pre-bucks outing in the highlands and given the balmy, overcast conditions – Penstock Lagoon was chosen as a likely location for action.

This is Chenzo - We call him Chenzo

Five blokes, two boats, zero strippers and one very sick outboard engine. Mine began playing up so after the umpteenth pull we voted that the other boat could simply tow us into position and we’ll just drift with the wind. This worked well, as the angle of our dangle saw us only having to perform two tow-sessions. Rad.

Laneo and Woodley

There were mayfly duns popping fairly consistently, but the fish were only up on them heavily on two occasions. The rest of the time they were just picking off the odd suspect and disappearing, making it difficult to track them - Especially the rainbows!

The duns were popping...

Me and Baldy could hear dirty old Laneo hooting on the odd occasion, clearly indicating success. Well that, and we could hear almost every word he said travel across the water! There were a few ‘Your mum…’ references.

This is Baldy - We call him Baldy

Meanwhile on our boat, we had missed a few takes on Emergers. The fish started to go a little nuts and I found myself hooked up near the boat. This fish stayed deep and just slugged away for a bit until it decided to run…. and run…. and run! Suddenly I feel the backing knot slip through my fingers as this fish starts to pick up speed. I started to palm the spool and had great delight in yelling out “I’m palmin’ him, I’m palmin’ him” (It doesn’t happen often!). I grabbed hold of the backing which started to burn my fingers when I thought I best start to put some hurt on this seven weight rod – It was already buckled over when I must have given too much and pulled the hook from the fish’s mouth. Silence…. and then optimistic words of some sort that I don’t recall. Upon reflection, they should have been swear words. Another good fish lost that I’ll continue to fight when I lay my head to rest each night.

Still I managed a little rainbow after this, and collectively we caught around nine between us with Laneo landing an impressive haul of browns and bows. He was essentially just trying to make for the last time that I kicked his arse. But it’s not about numbers is it? It’s about love and marriage…. or something. I guess a bit like the mayfly to the trout, eternally matched until the very world we live in ceases to exist.

Rainbow Pickers...

Soulfish 2 – Trailer

One of the featured films at this years RISE Fly Fishing Flim Festival (see last past) is Soulfish 2. I’ve just watched the trailer and afterward, I had to watch the trailer, then I watched the trailer went and took a piss and sat down again to watch the trailer. Then….

Somewhere Over the Rainbows…

Eventually, the work day ends and you kick yourself in the arse once again.

Not that I need any arse-kicking incentive, as the thought of wading up a river on a warm sunny afternoon is more than enough to whet my appetite. It was still and the insects were buzzing. I made my way to the Macquarie River, all the while smashing thousands of butterflies, grasshoppers, moths and bugs into the front of my car. Why they decide to hang out on a bitumen road I will never know. The amount of cabbage moths in particular was astounding. I guess-timate that I saw tens of thousands, but I will admit that not one was on the river – nor have I witnessed a trout hammer one. I wonder if they are regular trout tucker?

The river was low but clear and the faster riffles were just loud enough to surpass the hum of the insects. Dragonflies in the dozens dipped in the water while wayward ‘hoppers kamikazied themselves into the drink. I had been prospecting likely lies and trying to spot where I could for some time but nothing, no interest. In fact, no trout. None spooked, none sighted, none pricked or missed. I was beginning to think that this stretch was void of life when I finally spooked a tiny little brown trout, which gave me a glimmer of hope. I began fishing a deeper bubble line with purpose, almost convincing myself that a fish would be stupid not to take up station there. After covering all the water available I had one more cast with a dry, balls-deep up into the tiny waterfall. The fly drifted for a few metres but the fly line, however,  had wrapped around a rock causing a very un-natural drag on the fly. I stripped it quickly across the surface in attempt to wind in and head further upstream. An almighty bow-wave ensued and giant jaws snapped at the fly like it was the only meal available! Stunned, I missed the lot. In fact, it took me a few moments to collect my jaw from the ground and re-discover reality.

I had a few more casts in the area but failed to produce any reaction, so sat down and looked for something big and ugly in the box. While searching for a hideous beast, I noticed a dragonfly caught in the surface film, struggling to free its wings from the sticky substance. I stood up to get a good view of the expected drama and then noticed a massive shape underneath the insect. It was wary of the dragonfly and followed it for several metres before bowing down to its desire for a feed and hastily inhaling the meal. This was a good fish, and looked to be a brown of maybe 5lb. Shaky and unable to find something suitable in an appropriate time frame, I tied on a deer hair red tag. First cast grabbed the fish’s attention and it followed – it had a good look and followed some more. It almost nosed my fly and then followed even more…. nope, no commitment! I waited a few moments for the fish to work back upstream and cast again. This time it didn’t move but a smaller 2lb model darted out and grabbed my fly, which I subsequently dropped. I thought to myself… “Come on mate, you’re being a bit of a dick” in the hope that I could regain some sort of talent. I changed flies a few times, stripped them, drifted them and drowned them – but the fish was clearly sulking now.

Further up, I still had not seen any more fish… maybe this section only holds larger specimens? I began blind-drifting dries down a fast-water bubble line when a shape appeared from the depths and accepted my offering. I lifted into some power and solid head shakes. I saw some colour and noticed it was a rainbow! WTF? The fish sped upstream and then down, jumped a few times and the 3lb specimen eventually slid up onto the shore. Relieved, I took a few pictorials and released the bow back into the bubble line.

Soon after I hooked and dropped a similar sized rainbow from the same run. I recall catching a small rainbow a few years back near Woolmers Estate which I called for a fish-farm escapee, but I was surprised to see at least two (no doubt more) substantially larger ‘bows at my current location!

Anyhow, it’s always good to mix it up a bit with an unexpected species. I’ll be back for that big brown.

Triple Penno

That’s Penno as in Penstock Lagoon, just to clear a ‘few’ things up.

The forecast was set and it was looking bloody cold. We had planned this for more than a week though, so not even the prospect of frostbite could sway us from the mission. Andy picks me up at 5:30am with boat in tow. It’s off to one of the coldest places in Tassie – Liawenee, well near it anyway.

Our plan was to hit Little Pine Lagoon early and hopefully see some tailers. As soon as we hit the top of the mountain there was snow, quite a bit actually and the most I have ever seen in this area. Luckily there was a snow plough (read: Tractor) clearing the road in the Miena stretch which helped our cause but the road was too hardcore from the Great Lake shop onward. We turned around and snuck back to Penstock Lagoon.

There’ s something very cool about the snow, and I’m not trying to be a smart-arse. It just adds another visual element to what you would normally absorb, and such a contrast. Everything looks soo….. um…. white. Well except for the blue Honda CRV that we saw stacked down an embankment, causing some initial concern that there maybe someone still trapped inside. It was at this point that I discovered that Ugg Boots don’t make ideal snow joggers. Luckily there was no-one in the car and it appeared that they had crashed and abandonded the car some hours or maybe even the night before.

Numb fingers aside and we rigged up the rods, loaded the boat smashed a warm milo and headed balls-deep onto Pennerz. Now Pennerz, also known as The ‘Goon and Penno (insert appropriate number if required) is not very large, about the same size as Four Springs-ish. The bonus of fishing this time of year is if there is bugger-all warmth, there is bugger-all weed. Handy. I was all set to go with a home-tied black and gold Zonker and Andy with Yeti. Before I had a chance to get any sort of rythym into my casting, Andy says… ‘It’s all in the hang, Neil reckons you gotta hang ‘em out here’. I had visions of Andy desperately trying to tea-bag the icy cold water, nuts swinging in the breeze like a pirates flag! He did actually mean the flies, so hang them I did. It was about my third cast and I performed a purposeful hang at the boat when I saw a flash charge up and smash my fly off the surface, a typical dry fly strike was all that was required and we were on like donkey kong! It was only small, under two pound but very fat and very fit. I don’t personally eat many trout, but this one looked like it would eat up ok so gave it to Andy.

My confidence was up, the first real trout of the season. My thoughts start to wander away while I’m casting and stripping away, almost automatically. Replaying the take in my mind and thinking of how rad it looked… then TUG TUG! Oooh we’re away again. ‘Yep, yep, yep’ was the call. It’s funny how some people react when they hook a fish and need to let their companion know. I tend to let my excitement turn into consecutive ‘yeps’ while others might casually hook a fish, play it for a few seconds then decide to grab their companions attention by saying, ‘Oh it’s not too bad’. (Singers comes to mind here!). More often than not though, there’s a lot of ooohs and aaahs.

I bought this fish to hand and noticed its munted head immediately. Not sure what the hell was going on, but it sort of had two bottom jaws. A typical Tassie trout you may say? Yeah well pipe down ya parrot, I’m talking. It was a brownie of only 2.5lbs or so but pretty slabby condition and just a hideous looking beast. Still I was quite happy to catch it, and its freaky exterior obviously doesn’t impede on it’s function to chase down a feed, so I slipped him back in the drink.

While it’s all coming together for me and warming my hands, Andy hasn’t quite hit his straps. I give him the Eddy-style treatment, ‘You right, you right mate, you want a roll, wanna get up the front, you want a milo…’. There’s no doubt about it, he’s got that glimmer of confidence in his eyes, maybe it’s the retrieve, maybe it’s the fly? Who knows, sometimes you just have ‘them days’. My day was cruising like a Hybrid Prius with no sound. Until I heard that next fish splash on the surface. ‘It’s a rainbow!!!’. A healthy ‘bow begins to drag some line about and perform some acrobatic work for our viewing pleasure.

Size-wise, it was a carbon copy of the first brown trout so I decided to give that one to Andy for a feed also. The scrawny little Pakistani looked like he could do with a cut-lunch or four. We flogged about for another couple of hours for very little action, well apart from a few dents in the prop and a potential collision-induced-gearing problem with Andy’s Yammy, forcing us to row ashore. Nevertheless, we got off our asses fished in the snow and I caught a Triple Penno. Sorted.