Damien was staying at Dan's for the weekend. He lives down south and does a road show buying stuff for resale around the country. He is a fly fisherman for most of his life but never seemed to have time to join us when visiting. You can't say we did not offer. Well yesterday was different. Dan had planned it a few days in advance and said he would sit in the middle of the canoe and paddle all day. This took some of my best negotiation skills as I was not really keen to have three adults in my canoe at once. After I told him to get stuffed, he reluctantly agreed to be paddle B(****)oy for the day.
Dan and Damien get together and all hell usually breaks out. So come yesterday morning I set out to dig some compost into the garden assuming they would be under the weather and not up for it. Then they showed up and I tried to convince them to go on their own. I mean like how many times has Dan been out with me? Here is my truck, canoe and gear, "have fun boys and I will sort the garden out."
Dave did not want to go fishing this day. He has a new friend and had plans for later that afternoon. Besides, it was duck season with so little time to go jump shooting left. The garden needs some serious work done, dammit. So I said, "screw you guys, I am staying home." They were having none of it so I reluctantly agreed as I accepted the hot pie they brought along.
Dave threw his gear together and off we went. My mind turned to fishing and nothing else mattered. I discussed the options and methods we should use. Dan would paddle, Damien would use a floating fly line in the bow and I would use a sink tip fly line in the stern. The day was all about Damien and the edge technique and I thought I would try a little deeper in case the surface strikes did not eventuate.
Driving along my brain turned to plan B options. If Matahina did not look good we could hit the Aniwhenua flats. That depended on little or no wind of course. The river was not an option with three grown blokes in one canoe. The Predator is built for stability, but that would be pushing it.
Damien made the call to go to Matahina after I said it was one or the other; it was not going to be both as Dan suggested. We arrived and the water level was as high as I remember seeing it. So much that there were trees floating around along with the brown algae (Phaeophyta). The high water lifted it and the wind and current dispersed it. The water was otherwise clear enough,
Dave does recall difficult fishing in high water at Matahina. Dave fishes the edge and Dave reckons the legless bastards have more places to hide in higher water. But seriously, if the water is a metre deeper, the fish are still cruising and feeding where the food is. If that is a metre deeper than normal, the trout are not going to see your presentation if it is not where they are hunting.
Damien to a lot of casts before he landed his first fish. He did have a couple of missed takes and lost fish but we are talking a good thousand casts first. It was so hard that I reckoned we should paddle to the other end of the lake and try some shallow weed beds. They were not shallow. Damien did finally hook and land a good rainbow on a bead head olive wooly bugger. I had not had a touch at this point.
Da boys were having a lot of fun and banter though. While there was a southerly to start, the wind had virtually disappeared and it was so nice in the sun. It was chilly in the shade though boy howdy. How could you complain about being in a perfect place in nature making fun of your mates?
During the return voyage, Damien continued to fish non-stop. He was rewarded with another rainbow on a bead head black woolly bugger. I still had not had a touch but neither did Dan as he was paddling boy. I was starting to think my sink sink tip line was not helping. 1. It is not mendable as we are moving along, and 2. It takes so much work to get a new cast out. So I changed back to the floater when we stopped.
Dorothy, epoxy-eyed silver, nailed an approximately 1.5-year-old rainbow next to a weed bed, bang. Then we wound up in the middle of the lake chasing to odd, little riser. I managed to catch one on a short shank epoxy eyed Ginger Mick. It does not matter that the line was just dragging behind the canoe.
Darkness approached. Overwhelmed by thirst, we made our way back to the truck then the beer store and home to Dan's. Wendy somehow understood why I cancelled our date. I am wondering what the catch is.
Den all hell broke loose!
