Impressions of a Part - Time Kiwi
A Family of Yanks in Kiwi Paradise by John E. Murphy
The Murphy's (John the dad; Deb the mom; and Liz, Cullen, and Patrick the kids) began coming to New Zealand in the summer of 1990, thanks to a chance meeting with the Dean of the University of Otago School of Pharmacy in Dunedin, who needed a lecturer on topics that John could cover.
Cullen, the older son, was in kindergarten at the time and our fishing adventures consisted of throwing spinners in the Otago Harbour.
We were not flyfishers then, so missed out on the wonderful opportunities that New Zealand offers on this first trip. I was invited back to teach at the School in 2003 and have been returning twice every year since. In July of 2003 the family arrived on a brisk winter day, one day after the Dunedin airport had been closed due to snow.
The dean gathered us up at the airport and took us to the St. Clair house we would occupy for the next four months. Here we quickly learned about the hearty nature of Kiwis and their ability to laugh cold weather in the face.
The temperature in the early 1900s vintage house was below freezing and the one tiny coal and wood burning stove didn't do much to change that. Thanks to loans of space heaters from various School staff, the frozen family from Tucson, Arizona, where usual temperatures are 20-40oC degrees, managed to survive.
We remain incredulous to this day at the ability of scarfies at the Uni and the cattle and sheep farmers to walk around in shorts and T -shirts in weather below freezing.
My first trout was landed that winter on the upper Clutha River, in Wanaka. It was hooked blind fishing because, at that time, I was pretty well blind to spotting; but more about that later.
The bulk of the family returned to Tucson in late August for the start of school for the kids, while I continued my sabbatical. This is where the real story of the Yanks and their New Zealand flyfishing adventures begins.
Fortunately for our New Zealand fishing skill development, one of my colleagues at the School of Pharmacy knew someone who was a keen flyfisher. Armed with a phone number, I rang up the chap, Simon Chu, the day the family left for Tucson. It turned out that Simon lived two blocks away in St. Clair and was willing to come by and chat about flyfishing.
He arrived 10 minutes later with his fly tying gear and a great friendship was started over a couple of hours' recounting fishing adventures. Simon was to become the Murphy's Obi- Wan Kenobi and mentor us through the intricacies of New Zealand flyfishing.
In early September I left to go on my annual fishing trip to Alaska (where Cullen was guiding), but returned to New Zealand in early October for the remaining two months of sabbatical. During the time away, Simon had purchased a bach in Lumsden that he appropriately named 'Trout Cottage' which was to become headquarters for every moment we could escape from work. Lumsden reportedly has 70 rivers within 50 miles (~ 80 kilometres) and we have been attempting to fish most of them ever since.
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