Adventure Magazine

Covid changed the face of a lot of activities, instead of being
able to trek across the world or even New Zealand you had
to stay in one place. But sometimes, you are just lucky.
In July 2021 we decided that we would ski the whole season
as often as we could and moved family and business to
Turangi under the shadow of the mighty maunga and on the
banks of the Tongariro. We have owned a property in Turangi
for years and although the river has changed a few times
over the years with different flooding patterns, our house has
always been about 600m from the bank.
It was here I was taught to fly fish by the late John
Sommerville, who sadly passed away while I was in the
middle of writing this article. He not only taught me how to
fish, he showed me how to love it and it has been a passion
ever since.
When we arrived in July, I didn’t fish every day but did a
few times a week. Then lockdown came and at first you
were not allowed to fish. What was truly amazing was how
the river soon flourished with life; the trout were shallow
and there were a lot of them, even my dog started to try
and catch them. But absence makes the heart grow fonder
and not being able to fish fuelled into a passion. I heard a
rumour that you could fish in the river at level 4, but I wasn’t
sure, so I asked a local police officer who was checking on
the riverbank if it was ok or not? His reply in typical Turangi
fashion was, “you can fish but don’t be a dick and wade too
deep.” With the official nod of approval I was back into it.
Eighty days back to back without missing one, might be
some sort of a record. Some days were more fun that others,
I caught fish in a deluging raging storm and caught nothing
on windless perfect days.
As a rough calculation I have used over 150m of line; 10lbs,
8lbs, 6lbs and 4lbs. It is hard to calculate the number of lost
flies, but it must be in the region 100, particularly when I first
started, some local trees that are hard to get to over deepwater
pools look like Christmas trees (not just with my flies).
I broke two rods; one I slipped on the bank and snapped it at
the handle, the other broke on a large fish (I think a previous
cast that had hit the rod had caused a crack). I have been
through 5 pairs of thermal socks and bought three types of
waders to cope with the changing season.
How many fish? On average I lost about 5 fish per day so
that’s a loss of about 400 fish! Some days you land one,
some you land 10. I never kept a record, but I wish I had. I
didn’t always bring them home, but I would bring one home
from time to time. That is still a lot of trout to eat; fried, baked,
smoked, grilled, pate, Thai, Chinese, even raw. With noodles,
with vegetables, with rice or just on its own. I even tried to
cook the roe once, it looked great but I could not get that to
work, but I am open to suggestions.
In the central plateau you really see the change in seasons;
the paths you freely walked in winter, in summer are choked
with rapid growing everything; trees and shrubs go from
black bare branches to buds, to blossoms, to leaves. One
winters morning it was so cold, minus 8 and my fingers
were so frozen I could not tie on a fly and my rod eyes were
freezing over, and in summer it is so hot you have to stop
and climb out of all your gear to rest and cool down.
There is a real sense of a fishing community here, you meet
the same people on the river, everyone has time to stop
and chat, you find yourself happily helping novices because
others helped you and after eighty days you really don’t care
if you don’t fish every moment. But you do get to know every
nook, cranny, and ripple. Once, I arrived to see a guy and
his wife stand on a bank a quarter away across the river.
Fishing in a fast rapid. They saw me coming and waved. I
asked how the fishing was going they said terrible that they
had been there for an hour and nothing. So I told them there
are fish in the rapid, ‘there’ and pointed to a shallow ripple,
behind them is where I knew fish had been laying day after
day, (I had stopped fishing that spot as it as it was a bit like
shooting fish in a barrel). I could tell they didn’t believe me,
so I encouraged them to give it a try. One cast, one fish.
They were amazed and thrilled, it made my day.
Living in Turangi there are a lot of trout guides, in our street
alone there are four or five. As long as you have time to
spare, they are happy to pass over their years of expertise
because you are part of the community.
Eighty days fishing seems like a lot, and I guess it is,
when you look back through your phone images it’s been
a great way to spend the winter, it becomes almost a type
of meditation, the action, the calm, the sound of the river,
and as the world was pretty much in turmoil it was a great
escape. It really is not about catching the fish, it’s about the
experience.
Lastly, I have to give a shout out to the local fishing store
in Turangi, Sporting Life; Andrew, Jessie, and the team
have been great. Always helpful with real advice and their
knowledge of the area is complete (this is not a paid advert).
A good local store can take so much of the guess work out of
a region.
As we still try to come to terms with what has happened in
the world, it’s good to know that there can be a silver lining
and mine has been the opportunity to become extremely
intermate with a stretch of water that in normal circumstance
would have been a one night stand.
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