Wildside - Fishing Season Opening 2010

A man for all seasons.

Grim weather can't take the shine off a great opening to the trout season.

October 1 is opening day for the trout season, but after the diabolical wet and cold September, the rivers were big and ugly, ruling out a planned opening day trip with the kids.

My first real chance at fishing came a few days later when I picked up Joe, an angler from Northern California on a return trip here. We hit the road South, heading for the brown trout heaven of Murchison.

It was a road trip and I hadn't booked any accommodation or made any fixed plans. We'd follow our noses, take heed of the river conditions and hances and do the best wecould.

The rivers were high with the Motueka, Motupiko and buller looking unappealing, but the Owen was finally worth a go.

A friendly farmer was pleased to see us, and in the first pool Joe managed to drag out a beautiful trout of about 6lb(2.7kg). It was a great start to the season , but the next few hours reminded us that fishing is never easy as the trout ignored our flies, bolted for the depths, or just played possum.

Later on that afternoon as the sun shone low in the sky, the trout rewarded our perseverance, taking our offerings solidly, impaling themselves on the fly.

We headed back for civilisation making a late decision to go further south for the night.

The next day we caught up with some landowner friends, then embarked on a long walk. The fishing was a bit slow to start, but the trout came on through the day as the water temperatures warmed. The river was big - far too big to cross- but we picked away at the edges and every so often I'd see a fishy shape swinging side to side closeto shore.

Joe is a great angler and a gentle cast landing the weighted nymph upstream of the fish would generally see thefish move, lift and eat. A quick call from me, Joe would strike, and the fight would be on.

Great fish they were too, mostly over 7lb, many around the 8lb mark, with one big one pulling the scales down to 9lb. It was an epic day and it was two tired men who fished their way towards the truck.

On the way back I spied a pig grubbing around on a grassy flat and we rushed back to the truck for a rifle. We stalked opposite the pig, but could only see its back occasionally as it fed away under a bank.

Only 30 meters away the pig was very close, but we needed to sneak over the rim of a bank to get a clear shot when a rogue gust of wind came from behind. A grunt and a snort and it was all over as the wily pig galloped for the bush edge. It was probably for the best, because it saved us from having to cut the pig up.

We camped out that night and next morning stalked some river flats in search of deer, but no joy. It didn't matter- there was always fishing. In a repeat of the day before, the best fishing was later, with many beautiful brown trout coming to the net.

Joe and I had great days climbing down banks, fording large rivers, bashing through wet rainforest and catching lots of trout. For the end of the trip we headed to North Canterbury.

The weather was deteriorating and I went for a quick eveing hunt while Joe rested out of the rain back at the little motel. The wind howled and the rain came sideways. I never even looked like seeing a deer, but it was a great adventure and I did find a big trout we could go back for the next day.

That night the rain shook the roof and I had fears of finding any fishable water, but eventually wwe found a river worth fishing.

Big and bvrawling, murky and high, no-one in their right mind would be fishing it, but we were.

Every so often, I spotted a dark shape hugging the bacnk and Joe would cst as I gave directions. it was arguably our finest day, with fish to 9lb, as we walked miles upstream in bleak conditions in search of new targets.

It was after 11pm before I finally made it home after dropping Joe off. Aimee greeted me at our door. The first fishing trip of another season might have been over but another season had just begun.