A chance to slip on the boots, don the pack and disappear into the wilderness. Scenes of harsh alpine scrub and boulder fields dotted with crystal clear trout waters have distracted me from work all week. For some, work is just a tool to gain money which allows them to fish. I am one of those.  Unfortunately this whole work thing means that we are forced to fish when we have time, not when the weather is optimal.

On the flip side, fishing gives us a chance to completely obliterate any thoughts of daily life. A chance to be in the moment and forget about that rates bill that just arrived in the mail, or that pile of dirty clothes in the washing basket from last weekends mission.

A chance to escape, discover and explore.

The Western Lakes is an addiction. Continually willing you to see what we have on offer just over the next ridge or up the next valley. To sit and study the maps of the area is overwhelming, creating a feeling of urgency as if time is running out to see each water personally.

Fishing out here is not about catch rates. Sometimes things come easy, sometimes you will be left wondering where the bloody hell they all go??? To have a reasonable shot at tempting one of these brutes is often considered to be a successful day.

My last three trips up top have been “where the bloody hell do they all go???” trips. The frogs were croaking, the water was up and the breeze was stiff. I only saw a handful of fish in over 60km of ground covered, had a chance at 3 and converted none.  If it was easy I probably wouldn’t bother going very often. I spotted my arch nemesis from last season patrolling the rocky shoreline while my rod was still in pieces in my day pack.

Next time I will be better prepared……….