No, it wasn’t what you think. No arguments here.

He said, “This is great fly fishing country”. She said, “Is that really fun? Standing in the water trying to catch fish?”

And so we went our separate ways today.

From Ann…guess what I did? I went hiking! There was a hiking park on the way back to the “perfect fishing stream” so I had Bob drop me off and come back for me in two and a half hours.
Surprise…a completely different hike from the …okay I have lost count but at least seven …other hikes we have done. Firstly this was in a park-like setting. Which means that after wandering around on the hiking tracks in the hills I could then wander through the arboretum and play on the playground while waiting for Bob’s return.

The more "wild" side of the trail.

This hike also featured manicured lawns that gave way to wide paths that looked like tractors had used them…which were only well-marked at the beginning. Although I did manage to find the high ridge with wonderful views of the rural farmland with rolling green pastures dotted with sheep, I was unable to find the longest track that was a complete loop. Does getting disoriented, due to lack of good signage (an absolute first for New Zealand), and circling several times while scaring a small heard of sheep count? At least I found my way back and had time to wander through the arboretum which offered a huge selection of trees. So beautiful.

But my best find was the zip line on the playground. Although I could not convince myself to jump out and on to the small circular seat without Bob to pick me up if I missed, I was able to play on it when Bob retuned to pick me up. Only New Zealand would have a zip line in a playground. I think Lonely Planet missed this jewel. Sweet as!

(From Bob)  So…we’re in a place marketed as “The world capital of brown trout fishing!”.  Yipes, how could I resist, especially after seeing the two GIANT browns that another American caught back in Te Anau.  They looked more like small salmon than trout.

My casting arm started quivering at the sight of this sign.

I’ve been dying to get onto New Zealand’s trout streams and I finally couldn’t stand it any longer.  I bought a basic fly fishing rig (rod, reel, waders, flies and some assorted stuff to make it all work) and was just waiting for the right spot.  This seemed to be it since there’s little else to do in Gore.  Well, if you’re got the fishing mania, nothing else compares.  (It’s a disease you know, like golf only possibly worse).

Anyway, Ann was gracious enough to “go it alone” for an afternoon, so after dropping her off, I headed out to a recommended stream.  Down a gravel road (all “good” fly fishing goes down a gravel road), literally in this sense heading over hill and dale.  Just the drive was an adventure!

Heading out cross country before hitting the gravel road.

Once well out in the country I found the promised land.  A nice little river, about 20 yards across.  OK, enough detail about that fishing stuff.

After a little while “finding” my technique after not fly fishing for a couple years, I finally was targeting some holes when I cast into a riffle behind a rock and WHAM! A trout hit the line!  I jerked the pole back to set the hook and the trout exploded upward in a cascade of foaming white water, valiantly thrashing from side to side in mid-air as he threw the took out of his mouth.

What?   Bummer!

Guess I didn’t set the hook well enough.  Oh well, that’s what being out of practice brings. They say “almost” doesn’t count, but that’s not true.  Almost catching that trout was so exciting I think I’ll go out and try again.

This was a different spot where Ann came and read a book on the bank, but you get the picture. Nice.

Anyway, I had a great time back on the stream and am looking forward to a couple more tries as we move north.  My goal?  To catch a Kiwi trout so I can really know I’ve fly-fished New Zealand.