Plop! The big brown immediately turns itself and heads toward my little nymph; although not in a hurry, it shows some evident bad intent. A whitish blink from its mouth marks the instant in which the fish stops where —I suspect— my imitation is. When softly tightening the line I activate a mechanism that, at once, gets the fish performing some acrobatics a couple of meters above the water. After the big splash I feel that there is nothing pulling on the end of the line anymore. I smile, though; doubts about our election of this tiny spring creek —nothing but a very short and thin line on a map in a phone— dissipate themselves immediately.
Visiting New Zealand is in the dreams of every fly fisher. Traveling there for the first time doesn’t relieve the itch. In fact, you can’t wait to get back!
Not an easy feat, to be honest, as money and spare time are hurdles difficult to overcome.
But, when more than a year ago I received an invitation from Chris Dore for some fishing in the South Island, I decided that it was time to jump those hurdles. So almost two years after my first trip to the sight-fishing paradise, I was there again.
We are all entitled to our bragging rights, it is part of the fly fishing heritage. However, balancing those “the really big one got away” and “my smaller one was 50 cm” with some objectivity doesn’t hurt either.
Lo suelo ver a menudo. Me refiero al hecho de embarcarse en un viaje de pesca pobremente preparado, especialmente en lo que se refiere a estar a la altura de las circunstancias en cuanto a técnica de lanzado. Yo mismo he sido culpable de ello más veces de las que me gustaría admitir. La frustración —agravada por una cuenta bancaria seriamente mermada— aguarda impaciente.
I see it all the time. I mean being ill-prepared for your upcoming trip abroad, specially regarding the proper casting skills to match the challenge ahead. I myself have been guilty of it more times than I would like to admit. Frustration —highly aggravated by a depleted bank account— awaits ahead.