New Horizons
Read the full version of New Horizons here.
Jeff Forsee, Aotearoa Anglers, operating out of the Wanaka and Queenstown regions, came highly recommended from fellow Aussies who had been lucky enough to spend time fishing with him. The two days Dad and I had were quite literally the best fishing experiences of our lives. Yes, the fishing itself was as good as we’d seen, but it was the experience, getting out to the farthest corners of New Zealand's fishing landscape, that resonated most. These spots didn't register a glance in my own research, and undoubtedly don't attract much of a look from those more in the know either. To fish and hike for two days without seeing a soul, fully immersing yourself into the landscape, is an incredibly unique and memorable experience.
Photo credit: Jeff Forsee, Aotearoa Anglers
The trip was bookended with the fish of our lives for both of us. Giving Dad the first pool on Day 1, he proceeded to lock down on a 5lb brown trout, unfortunately forgetting that the forgiving grace of a 2lb Tumut River rainbow doesn't follow you through Queenstown customs and onto NZ waters. No, when you hook into a good New Zealand fish it has to be respected, and unfortunately for Dad, this thing didn’t take kindly to being permitted fewer than two cartwheels upstream. The fish fast decided he was better off without a hook in the mouth, and busted Dad off savagely. “I might have gone a little hard on him there…” was followed by raucous laughter to mask the dreaded feeling that a fish in the first pool of the day can often mean no more from then on. But not to be. Swinging around the bend into the next run we were privileged enough to come up on a lazy 6 pounder feeding actively in the broken flow behind a boulder. On went one of Jeff’s favourite dry flies, and my first cast in New Zealand resulted in this beautiful brown, tricked off the top. You could have pinched me and I wouldn't have felt it. I was away in the clouds, and blacked out for a time. Why had it taken so long for me to get myself over here? God it was good.
Without wanting to ham it up too much, the fishing was lights out good for the next two days. Plenty of memorable, well fed fish that required a focused application of technical fly fishing to be enticed, came to the net. In the last run before the ‘exit point’ on the final day, in the dying moments of our time with Jeff, he spotted what he immediately christened a “mondo trout”. This was a term we hadn’t heard yet from Jeff, and in light of the fish we had accounted for already, all of which I would have happily labelled mondo, we realised this thing must have been a brute. Dad was up and granted the last cast of the trip. Anticipation was rife. 1, 2, 3 … 4 casts came and went without a reaction. All pretty good from our perspective, and so dawned the sinking feeling that this fish wasn't prepared to play ball. Dad offered Jeff the rod as it would be great to see how an expert gets it done. But Jeff flat out refused, convinced in the trout’s eventual willingness and Dad’s ability to catch the fish. A little unconvinced Dad gave it another cast, a little further upstream with a more exaggerated mend. Well, true to Jeff’s prediction, the trout engaged, down went the indicator and Dad was into the fish of his life. Perhaps haunted by his first experience of Day 1 busting off the first trout, he let this guy run. And boy did it take some line. It’s one thing to see line stripped off a reel, another thing entirely to hear it. Zzzzzzzzzzzzz. I don't know what the audible equivalent to a mind's eye is, but that noise is burnt into my psyche. The fly reel manufacturer should get this fish on the stress test production line, considering the blatant disregard it had for the presumably well engineered drag system. As the classic, albeit extended, to and fro between fish and angler ensued, Dad soon ended up with lashings of line at his feet. Testament to how much this trout ripped off the reel. But an excess of fly line wasn’t all Dad was left with, a picturesque brown trout cradled in the mesh of the net was the perfect crescendo to an unforgettable first trip to NZ.
Photo credit: Jeff Forsee, Aotearoa Anglers
Despite my standards of what constitutes ‘good fishing’ being blown out of the water, others in the know still infer that it does get better. How? I don’t know, and can’t really conceive at the moment. New Zealand’s fishing, the experience, the landscape, the people, it is all beautiful. The only question that remains is, where? Well I like to think this holy grail is simply coming up over the next horizon. Get on your tip toes and have a peek. Read the full version of New Horizons here.
