Only have 5 mins? See the minnow version of Patience and persistence here.

“By the time it came to the edge of the Forest, the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, “There is no hurry. We shall get there some day.””  ― A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner

January 2020 – The taste

Sam: South Eastern Australia was burning. I was commuting to my desk job in Sydney like I did everyday, walking through the CBD and all I could smell was smoke. Some people were wearing a face mask. I have never worn one before. Where would I buy one? They look like the ones builders wear. Bunnings? I have only lived in Sydney for a year, I do not even know where my closest Bunnings is. I am sure I can last without a face mask. I am off to New Zealand in a few days to catch up with my partner Andrew. I don’t need one.  

A few days later I step out of Christchurch airport and it hits me quickly, the air is so clean. I take my first clear breath in weeks. Reunited with Andrew, I ask for a run down of his previous week in New Zealand fishing with his Dad. Not the most successful week, but New Zealand is tough. Andrew had realised fairly quickly that 9 foot leaders and size twelve Royal Wulffs were not likely to get the job done around the Nelson Lakes. 

***

Andrew: “I love fly fishing.  And I love New Zealand.  But holy shit, it can be an exercise in persistence.” 

We had an excellent trip. We explored the wonderful Queen Charlotte Sound, I fished the famous Owen River, we rafted the mighty Buller and relaxed on the West Coast. All good things come to an end, and we all too quickly found ourselves at Christchurch airport ready to board our flight back to Sydney.  Standing in line to check in, a suited gentleman from the airline approaches us.  

‘I’m sorry, but we’ve oversubscribed this flight.’

“Ok” I responded, “what does that mean?’

“Well, we need two people to not fly.”

“Ok?”

“If you two are prepared to give up your seats, I can offer you free accommodation tonight, dinner, and an early flight tomorrow morning”

This all sounded fine, but Sam had work in the morning, and landing at 7am Sydney time was going to be tough.  
I was halfway through expressing the “we’d really rather not” sentiment when the clincher was tabled: 

“I can offer you complimentary return flights to Christchurch at your convenience”.  

Did he say that?  

I proceeded to ask a series of daft questions trying to check if the offer was legitimate, which our suited friend answered with aplomb.  Looks like we are staying in Christchurch for another 12 hours. 

The next morning, we stepped off the plane in Sydney at the same time as a flight from China. Everyone was wearing face masks, not because of smoke. In the coming days we learnt the word ‘coronavirus’ and like the rest of the world, our lives were changed overnight. 

***

January 2023 - Persistence

Sam: We tried to use our free flights a few times, each time the airline cancelling them due to lockdowns and border restrictions. It was both a tease and also a beacon of hope through the time of lockdowns and working from home. It was a relief to finally land in Christchurch three years after we left. The world had changed, but Christchurch had continued to rebuild since the 2011 earthquake and looked more like a modern city with fewer vacant blocks. 

We headed up to Nelson, for a few days at Abel Tasman National Park. I  had been nursing a sore knee for a week and I needed my legs to carry me and my pack for 40kms over the next few days. I was hoping it would not be a problem if I just took it slow. 

2 kms in on the first day my knee starts to ache. 10 kms in and I can’t put weight on it walking down hill. This is bad, there is still 2 kms to go to camp and it is mostly downhill. I slowed to a shuffle and declined the offer of Andrew carrying my pack. I knew I could do it, even if it involved walking backwards on descents to take the strain off my quad. Andrew has patience in spades and although he voiced his concern at my injury, he did not complain about the slow pace or the fact we had been in New Zealand three days and he had yet to wet a line.

We finally arrived at the campsite and it was beautiful. Whilst keeping our eyes out for ambitious weka, we cooked our dinner and enjoyed the view. Later in the evening with some guidance from the ranger, it was decided that the next day I would take a water taxi to the next campsite and Andrew would meet me there. I was frustrated as I had been looking forward to this trip for so long, but I wasn’t going to let my dodgy knee stop me from enjoying this incredible National Park.

Cutting our trip short by a day because of my knee, we had an extra night of rest in Nelson before our next activity, 2 days guided fishing on the streams to the south.  

Andrew had warned me the fishing would be hard. I didn’t realise how hard it would be. Casting a rod with the leader 3 times the length I was used to absolutely shattered my confidence. The timing did not make sense to me, the rod was heavier than I was used to and the realisation that I had signed up for two full days of this was concerning. This all felt beyond me and I was going to let Andrew have more of the spotlight today. 

***

Andrew: To be fair, we both struggled hard on the first day.  Sam found it tough having not extended a leader into double figures before, and despite the kind conditions, my timing was way off.  I was rapidly becoming worried that this would be 2 from 2 in activities that hadn’t gone to plan.  We worked up a beautiful valley, the midsized river demanding a change of approaches as we progressed.  Deeper gutters and runs required installing the dreaded split shot, yet the broader riffles and glide water sections were adequately tackled with a light nymph and dry. 

There was one significant difference between this trip and the one three years prior:  We were seeing fish. Plenty of them.  They were also seeing us too, and were pretty quick to shut down with any cumbersome movements or casts, of which we were providing many.

Just before lunch, with the guide’s understanding of our abilities now clear, he found a fish on the soft edge of a riffle and was able to simplify the equation for me with a small dry and unweighted nymph, the lack of tungsten removing the potential failing point.  From the end of the fly line the arrangement was something like, 12 foot tapered leader, 4 or 5 feet of 3x, tippet ring, 5 feet of 4x, a few feet of 5x, dry fly, more 5x, nymph.  The leader alone was longer than many of the casts we’d make on the little creeks at home. 

The fish was invisible from my point in the river, so I was relying on instruction from the bank.  Whilst the instructions had been clear all morning, this time I was able to actually follow them.  The dry dipped under, and a lovely little brown trout careered away, leaping as it charted a course for the deeper bank opposite.  It produced numerous acrobatic displays in the following minutes, which definitely had me worried that my (potentially) one shot would be undone by a pulled hook.  Thankfully, it was eventually engulfed by the gargantuan net, which looked more adept at protecting the coast from submarines than scooping up trout, and brought ashore.  Initially a little disappointed by the fish in the context of the net, I was delighted to find it tipped the scales at close to 4 pounds.  Given my performance for the morning, no complaints here.  

Closer examination revealed that both my initial side-on impression and the scales were compatible, as this fish was short, stocky, and in ripping condition.  After a couple of photos it went back, happy to be liberated, and shot off towards the deeper water.

Sam: I was happy that Andrew had caught a fish but I was flat  that I was struggling to cast well. I let Andrew have the guide’s attention and I followed along, practicing my casts downstream and taking photos of the stunning scenery. 

***

Andrew: The rest of day 1 continued to be difficult, with fish becoming more challenging as the sun rose higher in the sky.  Little did we know, the slightly overcast morning and lower sun had been an ally prior to lunch.  Our guide was still finding us fish to take shots at, but our inadequacies of the morning persisted in increasingly difficult conditions.  The rows of hop vine on the river edge were an omen, and we decided to wrap up at about 4:00pm, a little earlier than planned.  

Bundled back into the car we drove back the way we had come before turning onto a bush track for camp.  About an hour’s drive later we arrived in a large open valley, with just one other car load calling it home for the night. 

Sam: The guide had mentioned that our campsite was scenic but I had no idea what to expect. A grassy plain in the valley enclosed by mountains, it was stunning. I was still baffled that remote camps had flushing toilets and our campsite felt luxurious with a picnic table as well! As our guide prepared dinner and dusk settled in, we were lucky enough to witness a breeding pair of Kea flying over us. Maybe this was a good sign for tomorrow?  

Andrew: Despite the challenges of the day prior, we woke up enthusiastic the next morning.  Coffee was made extra strong to increase interest further.  We headed to a different spot on the same river.  It was a little more open, and offered amazing vistas of the range to the west.  It looked like we had walked for two days to get into this place by ourselves.  Without the local expertise, I probably would have done something silly like that.  Each corner we turned offered a different vista and the everchanging vegetation was enough to be a constant distraction.  

The first fish was found and I was up.  The jitters of yesterday seemed to have disappeared, helped by a conscious effort to slow down my action.  Regardless a couple of good drifts, it wasn’t playing ball.  Clearly surprised by my ability to follow instructions I was asked “what happened with my client from yesterday?”.  I wonder how many times that line has been rinsed.  That set something of a pattern for the morning, with both if us in better form than before.  Regardless, the browns proved picky, and we had no success.  

Coming across a lovely run, we spied a small fish readily rising to something in the surface film.  

“Want to play with the little guy, or move on”?  

“Are you serious?  That’s a Canberran trophy”

A couple of drifts and fly changes saw the ‘little’ guy’ come up and sip a small terrestrial pattern.  It also turned out to be the other side of two pounds, which again revealed that both the guides’ statement and mine could be correct.  

Lunch followed, where we huddled under the shelter of some bank side scrub to escape the now considerable sun.  I mentioned to our guide, who was impressed by our identification of the most sheltered spot, that ‘in Australia, all first year students have to complete ‘Finding Shade 1001’.  He believed me, making it one all in the shit-talk tally. 

Wandering back down to where we had concluded, a fish was spotted in deep fast water, a black splodge behind a large boulder.  Sam graciously let me have another go despite the recent success.  The lead balls came back out along with a couple of slender nymphs, but absent was the usual woolly indicator.  Doing as instructed, I dumped the flies in the head of the run, mended hard, and waited.  The moment the dark shape shifted from its position, I was instructed to lift, and which point the relatively calm run exploded into life.  Another aerialist, taking to the skies several times over the course of a five minute scuffle.  Eventually the fish of the trip was netted, both in terms of size and the totally new way (for me) which that it was caught.  My day made, attention turned to Sam. 

Sam: I knew it was time to step up and bring it all back to basics. The guide had found a pod of sea-run browns and with half a dozen fish feeding in the one run my chances of catching a fish sky rocketed. I had a significantly shortened cast and with clear instructions from the guide, my nymph was landing in sight of the fish. After a few drifts the hook was taken and I was taken for a ride. The brown headed downstream and I couldn’t keep hold of it. Well it was progress, although small. The pod was still there, time to try again. 

Again it took a few drifts but the nymph was gulped. I had clarified with the guide that I wanted to be talked through how to bring the fish to the net. I was instructed clearly and concisely and the guide scooped a four pound brown into the net. I had never seen a fish like that in Australia. It had shoulders! After a couple of photos we released it back into the river.  I thought I was going to end on a high and was ready to call it a day. The guide and Andrew had other ideas. There were still fish in the pod and I was to keep trying. I caught a second beautiful brown trout and declared I was done and needed to get out of the sun. Patience and persistence does pay off in the end. 

Fishing in New Zealand’s rivers was nothing like the Australian fishing I am used to, and my ego took a belting. I still have a thing or two to learn about patience and persistence and many hours of practice ahead of me if I want to be able to catch fish again in New Zealand.  

“It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” — Confucius.