I have a friend in Palmerston North, actually an ex-colleague, and my family was staying with my friend's house for a few days.  Conrad (a.k.a. "the barbarian") picked me up at 7am, more in line with my normal habits than the 5 am pickup for the other trip.  We drove over to the other side of the Ruahine mountains, a pleasant enough trip up the one and only river that starts on the east side of the mountains and ends on the west side, and made our way towards the Makuri.  This is a small river, but it has some pretty deep holes, lots of cover, and gazillions of nice browns.  The concern was that recent rains may have turned the river to mud -- the day before we left Hamilton, it rained all night, and it rained harder than I have ever seen anywhere, anytime.  Upon arrival we hopped a barbed wire fence and made our way to the stream.  It wasn't that dirty but then it wasn't very clear either.  Conrad had hoped we would spot bunches of fish, and we did see a few, but they were tough to pick out and we spooked the ones we saw.  Deciding this wasn't the place we pulled out, and drove on upstream.  At the next spot the stream was crystal clear, a bit narrower, and seemed more intimate.  The valley was narrower, and we were above the last bridge so there was no road noise.  Almost immediately we tripped over a fish.  Ok, we'll find more.  Up a bit, with Conrad on true right bank and me on true left bank, I see a good one working at the back end of a deep hole.  I motion to Conrad to watch out, sneak up, and put out the cast.  Dry fly with a hare & copper dropper.  After a few casts the fish is gone.  Oops!  Maybe I spooked him by casting, maybe I should have gone straight to a nymph -- he was feeding subsurface.  Maybe he got big by being wise.  Oh well, there will be more.  Up ahead, we're both on my side now, we kick up a fish in the tail of a moderately long hole.  But then Conrad spies a fish at the back side of the belly of the hole.  And then another.  I sneak in behind, no longer using a dry/nymph rig, and have a go.  There seems to be little interest -- did I not get deep enough?  Were the fish tired of ducking hare & coppers?, so I shift to a hare's ear, tied below a bugeye hare & copper.  The latter is tied with a piece of weight that looks like a miniature dumbbell right behind the eye of the hook.  It's meant to serve as weight, but to offer the fish something interesting.  Sort of an analogy to using a dry in place of a strike detector.  Anyway, I run a cast through the main run of the hole, and when I lift to make the next cast a significantly larger brown appears from the depths.  Despite this interest, he never returned.  But what a treat to have him take a look!  A little bit farther we realize we've made it to the true headwaters.  The Makuri is a spring creek, and we have found a series of small creeks that come from small springs.  Time to head back.  So, we drive downstream to location number three.  The water is clear here too, and we start off in good spirits.  The stream is overgrown with willows, so it takes a while to find one.  Conrad takes a try at the first one we find, but to no avail.  Up a bit I spy one just behind a willow, in what turns out to be waist deep water.  (This water is so clear, I think he is (i) not too large, and (ii) only about one foot below the surface.  Ha!)  I can't get a good cast in, I'm either behind him or not deep enough, and I finally hook the brush.  While trying top break off I move the bush and the fish takes off downriver, and I don't mean leisurely.  He's no longer "not too big".  Then I wade over to free my fly, and the hole is no longer "not that deep".  Live and learn.  On ahead I mess up a modest size fish and am about to cut out when Conrad comes back to get me.

He's found one, and generously lets me have first crack.  We sneak up, peer around a tree, and there it is.  A very nice fish, lying in calm and shallow water, right in the middle of the stream.  Utterly unapproachable from our position.  And there are willows everywhere, so he looks like a hard fish to land anyway.  How to do this?  Well, I walk back the track fifty yards, beat my way through the bush to the stream, and wade up the middle until I see Conrad (he stayed in the viewing spot, about thirty feet below the fish).  Then I go to the other side, behind one of those willows surrounding the fish's hole until I get even with Conrad.  Then, using the tree as cover, I peer around and up the stream.  Yep, he's still there, and feeding happily.  My hare and copper is way to bulky and heavy for such quiet water, so I replace it with a size 14 hare's ear.  I strip off line, false cast over the bank between Conrad and the fish, and put out the cast.  Plip! about a yard above him.  It drifts back at a moderate pace, while I hold my breath.  Over he glides, up he tilts, then he goes back down.  I never saw his mouth open, but I tighten anyway and FISH ON!  He makes two amazing jumps, a couple of spirited attempts to reach the willows, and generally thrashes about.  But I hold fast -- no using the reel here, it's time to grasp that line tight -- and turn him towards the bank.  He's still a bit hot when I net him, and Conrad (remember, he's the barbarian) raps it over the head, promising to smoke it for my friend.

I could quit a happy man now, but wait -- there's more!  We spot lots of fish, spooking most but getting in a few shots at some, and up a ways the river pinches through some limestone, making a deep run.  It's quite like a Rocky Mountain plunge pool, so I blind nymph it (still with that hare's ear).  The first run next to a big rock the line tweaks, I set up, and another hot fish is on.  More silvery than the first, he's just as lively.  He also jumps twice, and since there are no willows here I play him from the reel.  It takes a while but ultimately he's in the net too.  He has earned his freedom, so off I gently release him, after measuring him against the rod.  Like the first one, he's a healthy brown, somewhere in the 18 to 20 inch range, easily over three pounds.

The catching is now done, but not the best fishing.  We head back down to the truck, and drive to spot number  4 for an hour's fishing.  It's not as aesthetically pleasing, located near a golf course, but the river is still gorgeous, and we head off upriver.  Conrad has found a fish to play with, and I'm moving up, when I see a fish run towards some willows.  Damn, I think, that was careless.  But he moves out, and takes up a spot just above a rock.  Then another comes nearby, and the two of them slide up into the pool above, which is just below an overhanging willow.  As Conrad joins me I hold up two fingers, and we silently watch.  They start feeding, and then things get eaten from the surface.  I duckwalk down a bit, put in well below them, and quietly wade up the middle of the stream, stopping about thirty feet below where I think they are.  I cannot see a thing, so I have to rely on Conrad's tips.  Conrad stays hidden in the grass, and calls out the action.  One has left, probably moved up into the willows, but the other is still happily chowing down.  And moving around, a lot.  Up, down, left, right.  Conrad calls it all out.  I try to time the cast, placing it where I think the fish is holding, with Conrad kibbitzing.  At one point I nearly hit him on the head with the hare's ear -- he rose just as the cast dropped -- and Conrad says "that was yours!"  So I set up.  Nothing.  Fearing the fish is on edge, I change files.  Mayfly, caddis, floating nymph, coch-y-bondu.  Nothing works.  Ultimately I settle on a LaFontaine diving caddis, more because it's the only smallish soft hackle fly I have than anything else, but the fish has faded away.  I cast anyway, to no avail, and then snag the brush.  When I go over to free the fly I kick the fish up.  Not a bad trout, probably not the equal of the other two but certainly over 2 pounds.  I couldn't fool him, but the time I spent trying -- the better part of an hour -- was thoroughly entertaining.  My biggest regret was keeping Conrad from fishing that long, especially since we have to leave pretty soon, but he says he really enjoyed it too.  As they say around here, it's not all in the catching.