After a pretty hectic few weeks, a mate and I decided we should go on a boys' fishing trip.
I drove down to a small rural hospital on Tuesday and did a locum shift there, and then my friend met me there in the evening and we set off to commune with nature. We headed off to a small spot on the banks of the Whanganui river, about 30 minutes out of Taumaranui, which the local fishing store owner had recommended.
We found a good spot near the river to pitch our tents. I had borrowed a tent from a camping friend, which did not come with instructions and didn't at all resemble the traditional tent shape that I was used to as a boy scout. Erecting it was like the Krypton factor, but after wrestling with it in the dark for half an hour it resembled something inhabitable...
After getting our bearings we hunkered down for a slap up meal on the camp fire and a bottle of scotch. The evening passed quickly and soon we hit the hay. I slept well, but my friend awoke during the night to find that our camp was being rummaged through by some marauding wild goats!
Above: We later found the pack of wild goats across the river, half way up a hill...
It was a cold night, getting down to a couple of degrees below zero, but the tents were surprisingly warm, which made outside rather bracing for breakfast.
Above: The early morning fog over the valley
Below: Getting up in the morning
Below: One of the many frosty-morning cobwebs..
We then set off for an early start fishing. It soon fined up into a lovely day for it...
Above: Wading out into the middle of the river
Below: The view up the river from the middle
I tried several flies: assorted nymphs, various variations on a Wooly Bugger, and some glow bugs...
Alas, we didn't get so much as a bite. So by lunch we headed back to camp and scoffed some bacon butties for lunch (I'm not much of a Bear Grylls when it comes to food, so it was lucky we packed a little F&M styled hamper for the eventuality that we didn't catch anything.
Unfortunately it is illegal to sell or buy trout in New Zealand, so the only way to taste one is to catch it yourself.
In the afternoon we packed up camp and headed down to National Park to another supposedly good fishing spot there, but again no luck. We packed up and came home empty handed, but it was good to get away from it all for a day or two.
This sounds to be an idyllic trip. Gorgeous surroundings, good friendship, and satisfying kit. Most of the (few) times I've gone fly fishing I haven't gotten a bite, either. Thank goodness for a good fish monger! Reggie
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