SELF GUIDING ON DAY ONE!

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The mountain night proved to be cooler then I expected.  I woke up early chilled and started the car to warm up a bit.  With the crack of daylight, I thought the best way to get warm was to walk and so I geared up in my waders, grabbed the Trident, and headed to the river.  The Buller River is a better river to fish because there is a great lake at its headwaters, Lake Rotoiri.  This shields the upper part of the river from the cloudy water brought on by rain.  It also means it gets more fishing pressure.  The Buller descends 7200 feet over a distance of about 150 km to the Pacific Ocean on the west coast.  There are numerous gorges but no significant waterfalls and no dams.  The watershed area is so large that at the mouth, the river can rise over 30 meters vertically with heavy rains in the mountain basin!  This is not a river to camp out on lower down.

The morning started slow and I blind fished a couple of good runs without success.  I managed to loose the obligatory double fly with weight set up and so decided to walk along the river and sight fish.  Before long I managed to come to a confluence with a beautiful pool.  I could see some reasonable sized fish dropping back in the pool and obviously feeding on something.  After running through the nymph box without success and developing some discouragement. I decided to drive up river a little further to try my luck.

I soon learned that most of the valley had restricted access to the river and the gates had their "Please Close Gate" sign replaced with "Private Property, No Trespassing!" sign.  I found a couple of "Anglers Access" points but they both required descending a bank through burrs and a pitch that suggested a rope and harness might come in handy.  If I slipped and rolled into that thick underbrush, I'd probably never be found.  I could see the headlines, "Surgeon fails to return from fishing trip, abandoned vehicle found alongside Buller River bank!"  Before I knew it, I was up to Lake Rotoiri.  This is a beautiful mountain lake tourist resort type of village with the typical mountain vistas.  I saw some small fish cruising around the outlet but didn't think they were worthy of a fly.  Besides, I didn't want anyone to see me catch such a small fish!

On my way back through the valley to the lower reaches of the Buller, I passed a small grass airstrip.  There was quite the gathering there and I noticed a tent with a grill and so I stopped in search of a cup of java.  Turns out there was a gathering of pilots from all over.  There were fixed wing planes, gliders and rotorcrafts there.  I was standing there looking around the field enjoying a hot cup of coffee when all of a sudden, one of the gliders instantly and silently launched from it's spot and shot up into the air like a rocket. 

I could hear nothing and the wind wasn't blowing strong enough for a powerless takeoff and so I wandered over to find out how this thing defied gravity.  The Kiwi's had rigged up a giant wench at the far end of the field and hooked a rope onto the glider about one mile down the field.  When the signal was given, the wench was turned on and pulled the plane forward.  They could reach an altitude of about 2000 feet above the ground in about 90 seconds!  I thought this was ingenious.  On a day like the one we had, they could stay up about 17 minutes.

I also noticed an interesting water heater.  It was composed of a small fire box about 12 inches in diameter.  On top of this sat a 5 gallon stainless steel water container.  Through the water reservoir ran the smoke stack for the fire box.  This boiled the water in a matter of minutes with a few small pieces of wood.  I thought this would be the perfect way to heat water at The Stone Duck!  Bag of Donuts needs to build me a larger scale model of this!  The Kiwi's have many interesting inventions.  Barb wire, Jet boats and more.  I'm looking for a book called "8-Gage Wire" that is about New Zealand Inventions!

After watching the gliders and rotorcrafts for a while, I remembered the reason I traveled half way around the world and thought I should head back to the river.  I took a side trip up along a tributary, the Howard River, and was planning to take a 4 wheel drive road over the Purika Mountain into the next valley and check out the Gowan River.  This river is a little less famous and I thought it might get a little less pressure.  Low and behold, I got to the top of the mountain and the rancher had locked the gate!  The public was no longer welcome to transverse his property. 

I turned around and drove along the Howard river back to wards the Buller when I noticed a huge fish sitting in a crystal clear pool.  I stopped the vehicle and walked back to confirm the sighting and sure enough, there was a large brown just sitting at the edge of a run basking in the sun.  I knew this was my fish!!  I had spotted him on my own, albeit from the vehicle driving down a dirt road, but still I knew he was mine.  Now, what to throw at him?  Stanton's caddis?  A nymph?  A combination?  I thought I'd just get to the river first.  Down over the bank I went about 75 meters downriver.  Through the prickle's that seemed to grab your clothing like a Jamaican beggar that refuse to let go.  Once across the river to the gravel bank, I got down on all fours and slowly edged my way up the bank.  Scenes from "Enemy At The Gates" were going through my mind and I chuckled at the thought of what any passing by rancher might think about me.  But, I was heading for my trophy brown.  About thirty feet down river from the unsuspecting monster, I stopped and decided to go for a Royal Wullf with a Hare & Copper dropper.  The fish looked like he was feeding and I needed some type of strike indicator.  I wet my finger, judged the wind and let the proper amount of line out trailing down the river from my position.  This would allow me to present the fly without a false cast that could alert the fish to my presence.  OK, everything ready, I made my presentation. . . . perfect gentle drop about 8 feet upstream from his lie and a good drift adjacent to his position.  As soon and the fly passed his nose, . . . off he shot to the depths. of the pool and my strike indicator didn't budge!  I couldn't even spot him in the crystal clear water.  This thoroughly frustrated me.  I thought I had played the situation perfectly.  I could see no drag on the line, only clear monofilament lay on the water anywhere around the fish.  I guess they don't get big by being dumb.  Question is, would I ever manage to outsmart one of these guys?  BUT; "Never Give UP, , , Never Surrender!!"  Off to the Gowan.

The Gowan is a little smaller but was just as clear.  I couldn't manage to sight any big fish and only managed to catch some small guys not worthy of a picture in some beautiful pools.  After working through several pools, I headed over to yet another river in the adjacent valley, The Mangles.  This river is mainly gorges and is only fishable on the lower reaches.  It was hitting around 7:00 and by now I felt that I needed help to learn how to fish this area.  I'd have to break down and hire a guide!  I thought I'd better get to town and see if I can find one still sober on Saturday night and willing to guide on Sunday at a moments notice.  Off to Murchison!!

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