FlyFishing New England - Destination: New Zealand (page 3)
Tongariro Lodge, North Island
After four short days, we tore ourselves away from our new home and headed off to the North Island and Tongariro River Lodge. I was worried that Tongariro would be a disappointment after the treatment we had received at Rotoroa. Tongariro was certainly a different experience, but no less special.
Tongariro River Lodge consists of a main lodge surrounded by individual homes owned and/or managed by the lodge. It is managed by Wayne and Mandy Enoka, two people who have permanently affixed smiles. Their friendliness permeates the whole establishment. Stephen and I entered the lodge for the first time while the social hour was in full swing. There was a group of people occupying the couches and chairs of one area of the lodge and we headed off to another area which was unoccupied. Wayne would not hear of that and dragged another couch into the first area. What a great act of hospitality! It was Wayne who said "people come here as guests and leave as friends." It was this way in which we met Mike and Tara McDonald who were on their first fishing trip.
Our humble abode on the North Island was a beautiful little three bedroom house right on the river. In front of our house the river is about 300 yards wide but could be waded all the way across. Although I saw some great fish taken by anglers, I never found the time to try it out.
Ready to roll
We met with guide Tim McCarthy who would be our eyes for the next three days. Quiet and reserved, Tim’s concentration while on the water reminded me of an eagle looking for a meal. Tim informed us the North Island did receive some rain - but not like the South Island. The water was up but would only take a day to be back at normal levels. So tomorrow we would fish one of the lakes and the next day we would hit the rivers.
We fished Lake Kuratau and landed about a dozen nice rainbows. A recently spawned fish weighed five pounds and, according to Tim, would weigh seven when it worked itself back into
its pre-spawning condition. I appreciated the success of the day, but this was not the fishing for which I had come to New Zealand. Besides, it was our first day of really nice weather and I left my hat in the truck, leaving my follicly-challenged scalp frying in the southern sun.
Finally!
It was not a long wait for the fishing I anticipated. The next day we drove to the Whakapapa River. We descended down the stairs, following Tim into what we thought was the giant aviary scene from Jurassic Park 3. The vertical gorge walls were thick with the vegetation of the rainforest. The steep stairs cut through the jungle, leading to a narrow footbridge which afforded us our first glimpse of the pristine river. "THIS", I thought, "is what I have been looking for." We descended more stairs to the river bank. I found my rock here. Absolutely, the perfect place for fish, but we walked up the stream for half the day without seeing a single fish.
Fishing for the big browns of New Zealand is technical on the one hand, not so technical on the other. I went armed with boxes of flies of all varieties. What I found is that the guides rely mostly on beadhead nymphs. Tungsten beads are prefered because of their density, enabling them to get down deep and fast where big browns like to lie. Other than that, fly selection is not much different than any other trout excursion. It seems that even when a trout gets to enormous sizes, their food taste does not change much.
On the other hand, there can not usually be more than one big brown in a hole. A big predator needs to a lot of space for his own. So approaching a hole which looks like it might hold a fish requires stealth. Spooking the one fish in the hole means moving on to the next one. And with such amazing water clarity (usually), the trout sees the angler long before the angler sees him. Tim told us a joke about an angler and a big brown trout having a drink and discussing who is better at what they do. The trout says "I have a pea-sized brain. Do you still like your chances?" It is instinct that makes a trout a survivor.
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