Trophy Weekend Photo Essay
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The beginning of February is marked by Paul’s birthday, and as has become somewhat of a tradition, we headed out for a birthday fishing mission. Friends were called, and a plan was hatched for an extended weekend of exploring some North Island rivers.
Three of us arrived on Friday night and quickly decided on which section of water to check out on the following day. Alarms went off well before 6am, ensuring that we were on the river shortly after sunrise. The day kicked off with a 2-3 hour hike along the bouldery river, which had us all salivating for what lie ahead. Little did I know, this would come to be one of the most memorable days of my fishing life.
The day started off with high hopes. The sun broke through the clouds, warming the air and water. Mayflies started to show themselves, and combined with a few cicadas riding like battleships on the water, we were all giddy with anticipation of a potential banner dry fly day. Unfortunately, the weather soon cooled markedly, and the fishing was slow, although Sven did pick up a nice fish to kick the day off:
We continued to push onwards, and in one of the likeliest pools I managed to connect with an absolute torpedo of a rainbow. My indicator jumped about 6 feet across the current with the take, and the fish absolutely exploded…first downstream at me, then straight back upstream at breakneck pace. A silver and red shape launched from the water, and my nymphs flew dishearteningly back in my face. Honestly though, sometimes its fun to absolutely get your ass kicked by a fish. That being said, it would have been nice to get that fish to hand…
Pool after pool, and run after run, we pushed on with nothing to show for it aside from the occasional spotted fish that inevitably gave us the fin. By mid-afternoon, the bugs picked up again, and our hopes were renewed with the dreams of rising fish:
Ultimately, Paul made a fatal error in decided to switch to a nymph rig right before we reached the best pool. As a result, I went to a dry to cover our bases. Now I must have had some karma coming my way because we hadn’t covered more than half a km of river before I spotted a rising fish. We were standing in the tail of the quintessential pool, the kind of water we all dream about, when a nose broke the surface about 30 meter upstream, right in the guts of the pool. I stared, hoping it would rise again. Sure enough, the head broke through the water again, feeding off the surface, and followed by a very large tail as it descended back to its lie. I pointed out the location of the fish, and just for good measure added, “it’s big.”
Since I had the lone dry on, the shot was mine, so I quickly swapped a generic parachute for a Dad’s Favorite and moved into position. During this time, the fish had risen a couple more times, and I had a good position on its approximate location, although it was moving quite a bit. I made my cast, and stared at the fly as it floated through the zone. Sure enough, a very large shape appeared under the fly. My heart beat faster. The surface tension broke, and a large snout appeared. My heart beat faster yet. I knew I had to keep my cool, and for what seems like the one time I actually did something right, I managed to wait. The fish closed on my fly…dropped down under the surface…turned…and I struck. There is nothing to describe that feeling of anticipation between when you start raising your rod and you actually tension, and there is also nothing to describe the disappointment when that tension doesn’t appear. This time, it worked, and the tension felt like it was coming from a submerged 55 gallon drum. The fight was on.
Relatively tame at first, the headshakes soon came…then the cross-current run…then the downstream run. 10 meters and continuing on at pace…I gave chase…20 meters and no signs of slowing down…I’m hoping I don’t break an ankle as I weave my way along the boulders…soon, I get it turned and gained line back. I’m back on top of the fish, now in the tail of the pool. It looks like a good shape, but not too spectacular. It also doesn’t stick around for long. Another cross current run, and then it turns on the jets and heads upstream. Again, I give chase, trying to keep on top of the fish. More runs, more tug-of-war. It looks like a good fish. I claim at one point that it may be the biggest rainbow I’ve caught. More tug-of-war. I get it toward the bank, and I think we have a shot. Sven is on the net, and as the fish swings in he says, “this is a double.” I say something along the lines of, “bullshit.” As expected, the fish bolts from the net, but is quickly guided back toward it. Sven again claims its a double. I again tell him to get his head out of [s:33s4pafa]his ass[/s:33s4pafa] the clouds.
Sven nets the fish. I start to wonder what he’s doing, as only half the fish is in the net. It soon becomes apparent that the fish’s head is in the bottom of the net…and his body is still sticking halfway out. A bit of yelling ensues…something along the lines of “grab it, grab it, GRAB IT!!!” Like the trout ninja that he is, Sven locks tight on the neck of the tail. I begin to scream…and don’t stop for about 15 straight minutes. It becomes apparent that what I thought was “a decent fish” and “maybe the biggest rainbow I’ve caught” is actually the largest trout of my life, and a trophy by almost anyone’s definition.
Paul mans the camera, and we get some quick photos:
Before returning it home:
I thanked my lucky stars that that Dad’s Favorite was tied on what appeared to be the thickest, strongest dry fly hook I have ever seen:
I thought it only right to shout a round of whiskey doubles on the way back to the cottage, and a few celebratory txts were sent to mates around the country. Another good mate joined us that night, with a couple of visitors from BC. We fished hard for the next 4 days, of which I was more-or-less just along for the ride. I played with a new switch rod for a bit, took in the scenery, enjoyed the company, and snapped some photos. For me, the trip was already one of the best of my life. Here are some of the remaining scenes from along the way:
And thankfully, Paul got his birthday fish:
Turns out his birthday treated me alright too:
Between getting my first cover…
And landing this fish…
It has been a pretty damn good month!
Wow. Congrats. That is a phenomenal story and what a beautiful specimen. Way to go on the cover as well!
Nicely done Tim and congrats on the cover shot!
It’s snowing here on the banks of the Tuckasegee River in NC and you guys are wet-wading in February….ha…ha.
Thanks for sharing…..Steve
How much is it going to suck when you PhD program ends by the way? I’m guessing you’re trying your best to find employment down there.
Employment/marriage… 😉
It all ends in residency and unlimited troutbumming in NZChur bro!
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