Fly Fishing New Zealand

By: Alfie

Fly fishing in Singapore is rather limited, or limiting. Opportunities for river or lake fishing are virtually non existent, unless one ventures into Malaysia or another neighbouring country. I’m sure that most fly fishers that get into this sport have at one time or another dream catching a trout or salmon on a fly. So whenever my job takes me somewhere I can catch a salmonid, I make full use of the chance.

February 9th , 2007 sees me landing in Christchurch, New Zealand. It’s mid summer and it’s trout season. I’ve been to Christchurch on numerous occasions and have caught some small rainbow before but nothing big. This time I was determined to get me a decent fish! New Zealand as we all know is famous for trout – BIG TROUT. Though the trout are not always available in huge numbers in the rivers, the number of trophy fish that can be caught are. My trip would only see me get a day and a half of fishing and the weather on arrival wasn’t at all great. It was overcast with drizzle and intermittent rain. Can’t complain right?

Undeterred, I sorted out the car rental the moment I stepped into the hotel room and went out to get the car. At NZ $69 a day, it wasn’t so bad considering it was Friday and during peak season. Then, it was off to Mike’s Fishing Tackle in the city to buy my fishing license for the next two days and of course, to find out where the current hot spots were. As usual, Mike was very helpful and laid out my options for rivers that were within 2 hours drive of Christchurch. There are many streams and rivers near the city and some of course had good runs of salmon, sea run trout, browns and rainbows….. Decisions…decisions!

What flies were the fish taking? Big bushy dries or small nymphs were the order of the week. A Size 14 or 12 Humpy with a small size 16 nymph tied to the bend of the dry would pretty much would do the job. As some of the runs in the rivers are quite deep, a twin nymph rig would be required. It was a good thing I tied a couple of Bead Head Hare n Coppers plus some Pheasant Tail Nymphs the afternoon of the day of my flight.

After everything was settled, it was almost 3:30 pm and I decided to go somewhere close by to fish the rest of the afternoon. Back to the hotel to grab all the gear and off I went.

The Waimakariri River (or the Waimak as the locals call it) is just on the outskirts of Christchurch. It is a big braided river that has salmon runs at its mouth. The river itself was too big for me to fish comfortably, and it’s mostly that light blue colouration with fine silt… I’d tried to fish it once…. not for me. So I ended up in the South Branch of the Waimak. This is a tributary that looks like a spring fed river/stream, I’m not sure. It has several pools, some quite deep and it runs through mostly paddocks.

There are, however, several points of access to the river as marked out by NZ Fish and Game signs. One has to contend with curious cows that sometimes come too close for comfort.

This time I used another point of access that I had not tried before. Walking through the paddocks, I got disoriented for awhile before I eventually made it to the stream. It was choked full of weed and I was a little disappointed to say the least.

“But what the heck, having trudged all the way here, might as well give it a shot”, I consoled myself.

So I rigged up my 4 wt and a 9 ft tapered 4X leader and tied on a size 14 Bead Head Pheasant Tail Nymph (PTN) and a size 14 PTN. The wind

was blowing pretty strong in my face and the whole rig was quite a handful (Fishing for Peacocks is so much less complicating). I was getting hung up in the weeds (as you can see in the photos) on nearly every drift. Trying to get a drift in the lane between the weeds was not an easy affair. After 4 or 5 drifts, the nymphs got stuck and I lost the tippet with the two flies. ShXX! And it was starting to rain! After 45 minutes of fruitless efforts, I went back to the car and tried another spot downstream where I had some luck on a previous trip – ZERO, ZIP... NADDA!

So, Day 1 ended with me - 0, fish and all the elements – 1.

Tomorrow, well, that's another story .................

Before Bamboo..

All right, one has to purge all sins before retreating into the pure black bamboo grove of Guan-Yin.. or so I think .

In this spirit, I will divulge 4 lessons via three and a (significant) half tales that have nothing to do with purist flyfishing views but plenty to do with the love of fishing. Got to get our fundamentals right!

Tall-tale Uno – Learning from Master Loh

Despite the present generous spare tire around my waist, I used to pound the pavements around the Taiping Lake Gardens in my salad days. Everyone, including my school’s headmaster thought I was a great sportsman, and assumed I was cross-country training during those ungodly pre-dawn hours. Unbeknownst to all, I was running from fishing spot to fishing spot searching for Master Loh.

The Master was probably in his 40’s when I first knew him. He was the town railway stationmaster. He always had two Abu rods rigged up with matching Abu eggbeaters. In the carrier basket of his Honda Cub was usually a clear plastic bag with a few geckos and a Brylcream container of nightcrawlers. I would wait patiently a few rod lengths away while he parked among the trees, remove his skull coloured helmet, grunt a greeting and begin setting up his gear. He would first rig up his float tackle with a chopped worm bait. This rig will be cast just a few feet away near the bank and left undisturbed. Then he would prepare his gecko bait by giving the creature a few sharp raps and impaling it with a mean-looking two inch hook weighted with coils of wire. The bait would be tightly secured with rubber bands and cast smoothly to the nearest banks and then the opposite bank. Each cast was measured for effect. It had to produce a ‘plop’ like a creature diving from the bank to attract feeding Haruans and also, according to the Master, produce a ‘scent trail’.

He somehow caught plenty of fish everyday, every time, even in seemingly barren waters. The little red/white foam float will emit rings of vibrations on the mirror surface of the lake before finally going under and viola! a sebbie, belida , terubol, lampam or tilapia. The slapping gecko would hook up Haruan and even the occasional Marbled Goby. He never spoke much but through observation it was clear that he totally believed in his tackle and the fact that fish do go hungry. Coupled with a smooth bait delivery style, he took fish from touching distance.

We anglers tend to get too technical, get worried and loose instinct along the way. I learnt from the Master that fish never run and hide all the time and can even be tempted to take after feeding hours. It only takes quiet persistence. The first few years I fished with a license (instead of poaching) at the Lakes I still carried that glow of confidence he left in me. Armed with just a mauled Abu spoon, I would haul in many haruan for grandma to cook porridge. I believed in that spoon!

Translated to flyfishing, I believe in my tackle from canerod to fly even though the total strength of the set-up is only a 4lb tippet. The best fishing is always when I cast with confidence and many cases fish were taken just a few feet away!


Tall-tale Duo – Feeling for fish

Fish are hard to catch. We complain that hooking those fishy mouths are way too tough. In those teenage days doing tough things seem so important and so a few of us rebels took this challenge a notch higher by going hand-fishing in the streams. Armed with snorkels and goggles, we would start downriver and slowly wade upstream. Schools of tengas and seluang will be spotted and they would suddenly disappear in a deep hole or a rocky patch. We would then use our fingers to slowly feel under rocks and ledges. Fish are cornered in this situation and will usually remain absolutely still until cupped in our hands. Woe is the unlucky one who grabbed at catfish. I did it once and thank goodness the spines just missed my palm.

We caught more than just fish this way and picked up observation skills of aquatic life under the rocks normally hidden from view. We also saw more local species than one would normal notice while fishing. The mysterious Kenderap was one ‘shark-like’ fish we found at the rapids that blew everyone’s imagination away.

In flyfishing, we literally turn over rocks and are sensitive to the 'hatches' whether insect, finned, annelidean or crustacean. Even growth of weeds and flowering of bankside trees become fascinating.


Tall-tale Trio – Time and Tide

Michelle and I used to camp overnight at Ubin at the jetty beside the quarry facing the Ketam straits. There were two concrete jetties located in parallel there but one had finally collapsed. We used to hook loads of sembilang ( catfish eel) from those spots and could never figure out where the other fish species went. So one session I started charting the types of bites at different locations around the jetty, times and tides, and noticed that the sembilang only occurred when currents were slow and hits from snappers, gelama and barra only occurred when the current was running 2 hours into or after high tide. The big hits were actually occurring at the collapsed jetty pylons just a few meters away and not out in the straits where the ‘grass seem greener’.

Armed with this information, we made a calculated trip to the spot one weekend and found our camping spot at the jetty taken by a bunch of army boys. They had buckets of life prawns and plenty of gear but had caught nothing. I told them to stay up to 2.00am and watch for action. Come 2.00am, the tide was running strong and I drifted a lugworm bait into the pylons… wham! The rod bent double and line was cutting through the water dragged by a very mad golden snapper. The boys’ mouths dropped and I was really pleased. I believed in my tackle, knew where fish disappeared to, knew time and tide.

In flyfishing terms, this niche of knowledge is called 'reading the water'. It is not surprising that many experienced fly anglers do not stomp into a new spot and flay away but spend some time understanding the water before dropping a fly.


The Other Half

Many anglers face pressure from their significant other to stop fishing and spend more time shopping and more dough on shoes. I’m no different but I’m armed with a special story that keeps me fishing while shopping.

My first ever blind date was actually followed up with a quick plan to go fishing and camping together at the very spot in Ubin mentioned. My date and I arrived there one Saturday evening whereby it started to drizzle and light was fading quickly. I was out to impress but was faced with a real washout! To my surprise my date seem unfazed and quickly helped me set up camp. Then, armed with a torch light each, we scoured among the lalang for firewood. We took more than an hour and garnered only damp sticks and a fallen Albissia trunk. I started a small fire using scraps of newsprint and both of us slowly piled on the small sticks and gradually the larger pieces. There was smoke everywhere but not a squeak of complaint or expression of doubt came from my date. Soon, smoke melted into fire and we had a blazing conflagration. In the now bright light I saw a face, a smile, and I saw pride and hope. As if to celebrate the spark the Albissia started to catch fire and pop like fireworks! Amazing coincidence.

We caught fish that night but that was beside the point since my date during that fishing trip was Michelle and we have been building our little fires of hope ever since… This is why I always consider myself to be on a fishing trip even while gazing at yet another pair of shoes. Metaphorically speaking, I married my biggest catch!

Fishing and it follows that flyfishing is both a solitary and shared sport. Solitary because it is an intense dancing duel between you and the fish. Strangely 'shared' because the experience only takes on meaning in the telling of it between friends and loved ones. Having a slightly warped mind that takes every random occurance as 'meaningful' or even godsent is also a great way for one to maintain interest in flyfishing. Once the various 'meanings' are entwined with one's passions, flyfishing becomes a steady fire without need for much kindling.


There it is, all I know about fishing in a few paragraphs. Not much in the eyes of more experienced practitioners but something to share with people who do not know what angling is about. My flyfishing years are only moments in this lifetime in pursuit of the finned ones. We are getting close to bamboo now…

Happy fishing until the next tale!