My first trip to the south island yesterday was a physically demanding tramp (the kiwi term for backpacking) on the Traver/Sabine circuit.  This is an absolutely beautiful hike through widely varying terrain. One starts at Lake Rotoiti, at an elevation of perhaps 500 meters.  The circuit starts off up the Travers river -- the major source for the lake.  This takes you to a basin immediately below Travers saddle, which you climb over.  The elevation here is around 2,000 metres.  The route then descends to the valley of the Sabine river, dropping well over 1,000 metres along the way.  One then walks down the Sabine to Lake Rotorua, and then traverses a long ridge back to Lake Rotoiti.  A solid five day walk, more than likely of about 60 miles, with a good part of it lacking a well-defined trail.

I started my tramp on February 19th, taking a water taxi from St. Arnaud to the head of Rotoiti.  That evening I fished some in Coldwater creek, devoting a solid twenty minutes to pursuing one mighty nice cruiser in a large bend pool.  Alas, all in vain.  I could never get a clean drift over him, and when I leaned farther out into the stream to improve my chances he spotted me, and that was that.  I did get a solid 18 inch brown at the inlet to the Lake near on to dusk.  He was roaming around in what looked like an old defunct beaver pond, snatching up goodies along the way.  I put a size 16 LaFontaine sparkle caddis pupa out there, and he sucked it right in.  I hadn't really expected much of size in this little backwater, so this was a pleasant surprise.

The next day I moved up the river, spending a bit of time fishing along the way.  Here and there I spotted fish, but I couldn't get many to take.  However, I did have one BIG brown inhale my dry, and pulled the fly from him in a fit of excitement.  I spotted him from the bank, just in front of a midstream rock; snuck into position (immediately behind him!), put a decent cast out (ok, so it took me a few tries to make a good cast).  He came to the fly -- a size ten red humpy  - like a baby to the bottle, like a dog to the bone, like...you get the idea.  And what did I do?  Why, I pulled the fly right out of his mouth.  He didn't quite spook, but he moved up, or at least I think he did.  I waded out, stalked the other side, spotted a fish towards the head of the rifle, and returned to position.  A bit later he slid down while feeding; I ducked so low my shorts and shirt both got wet.  I had a real good look at him when he turned back up, and he was way over twenty inches.  But I didn't get another chance.

As the sun was sinking low in the sky,  I had to move on.  I had perhaps two hours walk yet to the John Tait hut, my destination for that night.  These huts are a remarkable part of backcountry travel in New Zealand.  Although the sandflies can be thick, and the rain pouring down, you can be safe and warm, free from insect annoyance, in these solid wooden shelters erected by the NZ Department of Conservation.  This evening, I had the entire hut to myself -- and it would sleep at least 24.  All for $8 NZ, roughly $5 U.S.

The next day I walked back down the river, perhaps four miles, and started fishing up.  Almost immediately I spotted a nice fish, feeding in shallow riffles near the edge of the stream.  I stalked him, put the cast out (again the red humpy), and he ate it.  Just like that.  While I was congratulating myself on getting better at this Kiwi fishing, I noticed that my knees were shaking like jello.  Fun, yes, but more than that.  The adrenalin is flowing, your heart is pounding.  There must be something almost primeval about this -- hunting for fish, seeing one, sneaking up, making your arms deliver this bit of feather and fur to an alert, savvy creature that is almost close enough to reach out and touch.  This particluar critter was a brown trout of at least 20 inches.  I played him for about three or four minutes, and then the fly pulled out.  Just like that, the adrenaline balloon burst.  The fishing here isn't easy but it is very entertaining.

I fished without much to show for the next three hours.  Then, just before I had to quit so I could make it to the next hut that evening I
spotted a fish nymphing in a small slot in reasonably deep water, where the stream had become fairly narrow.  I put on a hare & copper, but it wouldn't get down.  So I added one piece of shot.  I apparently tried to hook an overhanging branch, but when that failed I put a decent cast out in front of the fish.  Up she rose, about six or ten inches, down she slid.  I set up, and ... fish on!  Good fight, dancing around some boulders, but eventually I brought her to shore.  An absolutely beautiful 20 inch hen brownie, powerfully muscled across the back.  I would think she weighed between four and five pounds.  On shore, she seemed much larger than in the water.

As much fun as this was, I needed to head on.  The day's hike was only about three hours, but it included a solid 1500 foot climb up to the basin below Travers saddle.  Plus, I had perhaps an hour's hike just to get back to the hut where I'd left my pack.  Sadly, then, I bade goodbye to the Travers River.

The following day was surely the easiest.  A nice, gradual, five hour walk down the Sabine to Lake Rotorua.  En route, near the lake, one crosses a bridge about fifty feet above the river.  From here you can look down on some of the largest trout on the face of the earth.  Of course, they see you too, so they are nearly impossible to catch.  But looking can still be fun.

The last day was a 9.5 hour hike over three ridges, surely 15 miles or more.  In many places the "trail" is a mass of tree roots.  At one spot, where the trail hasn't really been cut yet, a huge tree had fallen over the track, and it took ten minutes to come to the realization that the track didn't go either down or up, so it must go straight into this tree.  I climbed the hill around the tree and sure enough, there was a marker (orange metal tags nailed to the trees are often the only indication of the route to follow).  Mighty scary!  But I got out ok, and felt like I had really accomplished something.  The bad news was: while I had all day Tuesday to fish the waters near my start, it poured buckets of rain through mid afternoon.  I was just about to quit (it gets cold wet wading when it rains that much) when the rain stopped and the sun showed up.  Even so, the river was a bit too crowded for my taste, so I worked the lake near the outlet.  Saw a few fish, had one look at my fly (a poor choice -- a mayfly imitation called "Dad's Favourite", which is a standard Catskill style and ill-suited to lake fishing I would think), but didn't have any action.  Went down to the lake at dusk, had a wonderful view, stalked a fish working the super shallows (less that one foot from shore), got into range, and six Kiwis jumped in the lake about 50 yards away.  Goodbye fish.  But even so, the fishing was quite good overall; the catching was ok at times too.