20 March 2005
It was decided that the Right Honourable Sir David Claxton, formerly of Counsel now upcoming property mogul, and Yours Truly should venture to New Zealand for Round 2 of the “Simie and Clacky Trophy Trout Trip to the South Island of New Zealand”.
On that basis, we touched down in Dunedin after catching a direct flight from Sydney at about 2 o’clock on 20 March.
On that basis, we touched down in Dunedin after catching a direct flight from Sydney at about 2 o’clock on 20 March.
Clacko had been calling me for a month prior to the trip (nothing unusual there) and informed me in one of those dramatic monologues that he was “going to take a lot more footage of the trip”. True to his word, before even touching down in Dunedin he had racked up about two and a half hours of video footage of scenery taken from the plane, scenery inside the plane (of which I feature prominently) and various other informative shots. Be that as it may I congratulated the old boy on taking some positive steps at first instance and provided some encouragement about keeping up his performance for the next two weeks. Time would tell whether he would or not.
Clacko had booked the hire car (and paid for it) as I had paid for the airfares and so we collected the car from the Dunedin International Airport (and I use the term “international” very loosely) and after signing the relevant forms with the bloke from the car hire company we drove from Dunedin towards the Pomahaka River.
We stopped at Milton along the way and bought some supplies and had a quick feed (just for the hell of it) and then jumped back in the car. It took us about two hours to reach the Pomahaka River near Rankleburn. This river is meant to have a large population of brown and rainbow trout (at least according to the guide book that we had on hand) and while we did do quite well it was not the sort of river you’d want to wade. This was unlike any river I had experienced in New Zealand before as there were sharp jagged rocks everywhere and it was very hard to walk up the stream. Be that as it may, I managed to catch two, one was about four pounds and the other just over three.
I was pretty happy as I was off to a fast start in that I had been in New Zealand approximately three hours and already caught two fish (last trip it took me about three days to catch one!).
The first trout took a pheasant tail bead head nymph tied by Yours Truly. I was fishing as a dropper below a size 10 cicada pattern. The second rose to the cicada dry. It was good to see a fish come up and take a dry this early in the trip. We fished on the river till about dark, then jumped in the car and drove through to Lumsden and spent the night in the camp ground there.
Clacko cooked up a big feed of scrambled eggs, sausages and baked bean (we had to stop again for more supplies at Gore on the way to Lumsden as we weren’t sure if our “initial” supplies would suffice). Good job on the tucker Clacko.
Progressive tally: SZ – 2, DC – 0.
Progressive tally: SZ – 2, DC – 0.
24 March 2005
Today, as per our discussions from our drive home last night from Te Anau we decided to fish a small creek near Lumsden.
Clacko and I hit the bridge where he decided to drop me off. He then drove up the river and the plan was I was to fish up to him. Now, I know what you’re thinking, judging from previous experience, whenever we have had a plan to meet up somewhere or rendezvous at a certain time the alarm bells should have been ringing. But Clacko had assured me, no in fact he had actually given me a guarantee, that this trip he was going to fish all the likely looking water and move slowly. Deciding to give Clacko the benefit of the doubt I took him at his word and decided not to take any “supplies” with me (noting that I had a vest full of chocolate just in case of an ‘emergency’).
It took me about four hours to make it up to where Clacko was (a distance of only about 1.5 kilometres as the crow flies). I twice set the hook on two decent fish but the hook came out. Not happy Jan.
We met at the car at about 12.30pm. Clacko hadn’t had any luck at that stage but had seen some nice fish. Oh, I forgot to mention that I had borrowed my brother’s walkie talkies (as you may remember he is the technologically advanced one in the family as last trip he leant me his digital camera, which I had in my vest this time around as well) and so the walkie talkies were given their initial debut. They performed really well and meant that we could be in contact with each other no matter where we were (within a certain range of course). So much for absence making the heart grow fonder, now I had Clacko talking to me non-stop for four hours while I was trying to enjoy the “solitude” of fishing. Be that as it may his voice can be quite melodious at times and put me in such a stupor that I think I even failed to respond on a few occasions (I must have been having asleep).
So we hopped in the car and drove up the river and parked in a pine plantation. We decided to do this because at the very edge of the pine plantation was a gate into a grass paddock which indicated that there was to be no fishing access to the river. So we therefore assumed that if we went back about 300 metres from that gate, parked in the pine plantation and bush bashed down a steep hill whereupon we could fish upstream and therefore not “see” this supposed “sign” on the gate then technically we weren’t trespassing. (I should point out that we used a lot of experience that David had garnished during his time as a criminal defence lawyer in Canberra to come up with this “plan”.)
So, we parked in the pine plantation and bush bashed down a very steep hill to get to a remote part of the river. This small stream generally flows through farmland. However, there is one section where it goes through a pine plantation. We later found out that this was because this area of land was owned by one of the native brethren who enjoyed ‘farming naturally’. I looked up the term ‘farming naturally’ in a local agricultural publication and the definition went something like this…”to farm without use of artificial substances like chemicals”.
Good I thought, this bloke wont be throwing around the 1080 poison or agent orange. Then I read on “…this includes no use of fences, tractors, in fact machinery of any kind, and the input of manual labour of any kind is usually severely restricted too.” I was starting to understand what this meant as we wondered down a very steep bank through thick un-kept bush. It was hard work and my legs ache just thinking about it.
When we got to the bottom we immediately saw a nice fish feeding in some shallow water. Clacko put the video on and first cast he came over and took the fly that I had presented. All hell erupted in the stream until the line snapped and then all hell erupted on the river bank! Actually I wasn’t that bad (there was only ten minutes of swearing where I think I broke the Guinness Book of World Records for the number of times I used the “f” word and I don’t mean “fun” or “fantastic” in a ten minute period).It was Clacko’s turn next.
We came to a beautiful big pool where we saw two massive fish. They looked at least five and a half to six pounds. I went and stood on a high bank overlooking the pool. I had the video camera with me and eventually, after a few casts Clacko put his fly out in front of one of the two fish. At this time both trout were stationary in the current of the river. But when Clacko’s fly came over I saw one of them move off its position about five inches and I yelled at the top of my voice “strike” indicating to Clacko to set the hook. He did on a great fish. Long story short (i.e. the Readers Digest condensed version) he landed a beautiful fish of about six pounds. You ripper Clacko!
So after some more video footage and obligatory photos Clacko released him.
So after some more video footage and obligatory photos Clacko released him.
If you ever see the footage, which I note is highly unlikely, but you will note that I ask Clacko whether catching that fish was better than getting married. He looked at me and laughed, but never answered. I will let you draw any inference you like from that, but it was an unfair question because, I mean, it was a bloody good fish.
We then moved up the river. I blind fished a couple of pools with no luck. We then came out of the pine plantation and crossed into some paddocks. Somewhere in my mind I had the thought that this paddock was called something (you know like how golf holes are named on some old golf courses) and if that was the case this one was called “trespassing” or something like that.
We then moved up the river. I blind fished a couple of pools with no luck. We then came out of the pine plantation and crossed into some paddocks. Somewhere in my mind I had the thought that this paddock was called something (you know like how golf holes are named on some old golf courses) and if that was the case this one was called “trespassing” or something like that.I suppose we may have technically been trespassing. I use the word “technically” because that would be the case if we had seen any “sign” indicating that we were on someone’s private property. So unconcerned with the status of the land we were on, we went looking for a good pool or two to fish. I saw some likely looking water and approached carefully. I made a few casts and saw my fly stop in the water and I tightened the line on a great beast of a fish!At that point, I let out the internationally angling term to indicate to other anglers in the vicinity that I had a nice fish on the line…it goes like this …………….”Fuck me!!!!”.
Clacko did the honours with the video camera and the camera and I have some lovely photos of a 7 1/2 pound trout.Afterwards we had a nice cup of tea (or coffee if your name is David Claxton) to recover. Clacko then fished another good looking pool. While he was doing that I leapfrogged him to a nice looking bend. Third cast later I straightened on another nice fish. This one went six and a half pounds. This to me was unbelievable and it rates as one of my best ever afternoons on a river. Two fish within half an hour, one seven pounds plus, the other six and a half pounds. I won’t forget that for a long time.
27 March 2005
Overnight back at the Lumsden camp ground we had met an American couple, Will Chism and his fiancée Blake Davis. They were on a two month trip driving around New Zealand and Will had been fishing at various times. In fact he had paid a guide for a day’s fishing (for NZ$600 per day - which is the going rate) and had ended up with a four and a half pound trout, which I reckon wasn’t a bad trade off given that I had fished in Australia for about 4 years and never even seen a 4 lbs trout let alone caught one.
Overnight back at the Lumsden camp ground we had met an American couple, Will Chism and his fiancée Blake Davis. They were on a two month trip driving around New Zealand and Will had been fishing at various times. In fact he had paid a guide for a day’s fishing (for NZ$600 per day - which is the going rate) and had ended up with a four and a half pound trout, which I reckon wasn’t a bad trade off given that I had fished in Australia for about 4 years and never even seen a 4 lbs trout let alone caught one.
So after a bit of a chat in the camp ground that night (and a quick viewing of some footage we had taken with the video camera) we decided that may be they would like to tag along with us for a day’s fishing.
So we all got up promptly at about 7.30am, had some breakfast and left the camp ground about 8.15am. We decided to fish the Von River again. We took two cars and Blake and Will, who incidentally are from Texas, followed us in their car.
About an hour and a half later we came down into the valley. It was a magnificent day, beautiful clear skies with no wind at all. After scouting along the river we decided that we would drop one car down river and then take the other car back upstream so that we wouldn’t need to walk back to get the car after a day’s fishing. We parked on a high ridge with the river about 100 metres straight below us.
We had to bush bash down through a very steep bush and scrub covered hill to get to the river. In fact, it was so thick that DC caught his backpack on a branch and it pulled the zip open and he lost a jacket. Small price to pay though for a great day’s fishing. And that’s what it was.
We had a fantastic warm day fishing up through this tightly enclosed river. I managed to hook a few nice ones, two of the rainbows were over two pounds. They fought really well (in fact much harder than brown trout) but both of them spat the hook after long fights. So I wasn’t too happy about it, but then again as the river was so scenic and given that we were having fun with Blake and Will it was a small issue (hopefully I would address it soon!).
We all took turns fishing the good pools and the good bends as we came to them. I can’t remember if we have any good footage of this time in the valley because I have not yet seen the video footage (but hopefully we do).
We all took turns fishing the good pools and the good bends as we came to them. I can’t remember if we have any good footage of this time in the valley because I have not yet seen the video footage (but hopefully we do).
Will caught a beautiful rainbow. We have most of this fight and the landing on video and it really is nice to watch. All I can really say is that it was a team effort, you won’t really understand that until you see the video. For those of you that may never see it you will notice that Will’s playing the fish and Blake’s picking up the fly line all around him, I’m in the water trying to net it and Clacko’s taking the video footage. We could have done with a few extra people to help, but being little Aussie battlers we made do. Will eventually landed a beautiful 2 pound rainbow. Well done mate!
The fish put up a great fight and Will did well to land him given the speed and flow of the water and the precarious position we were in. All in all a good team effort and some great photos.
Blake and WillI know that Will and Blake enjoyed their day and Blake took a couple of good photos of the sunset and of the road leading out of the mountains. I have printed out this photo and have it on my wall at home. I use it to remind me of a great day on the river, beautiful weather, good fishing, fantastic company and lots of laughs. If everyday fly fishing was like that I would easily be a fly fishing bum and never work again.
Progressive tally: SZ – 14, DC – 5, Will – 1. (To show that we are trying to foster international relations we put it to a vote and decided that Will should be added to the progressive tally.)
28 March 2005
Today Clacko, Will, Blake and I did our favourite little stream again. Things started off a little slowly until DC hooked and landed a beautiful five pound brown trout on one of the bends in the grassed farmland section that may have (but only just) been inside the fence that may have (or may not have) been marked with “no fishing access” further up the fence line. Clacko had seen the fish right on the edge of the river and had put a fly in front of him which he took. A good piece of fishing there Clacky (check out the photo above). We all then leapfrogged each other for a couple of hours but didn’t have much luck.
Blake and Will before Blake took off due to the rain.Both Will and Blake were not wearing waders and did not have wet weather gear on and so it came as no surprise that as it had been raining for a while Blake decided to call it quits as she was cold and wet. Clacko and I were amazed that she had lasted that long and in fact I think we had even complimented her about how they were “tough in Texas”. Just as an aside we made no mention of things being bigger in Texas as we didn’t want to give Will any sort of head swell.
Will did the chivalrous thing and walked Blake back to the car. While he was away though I caught and landed a nice six pounder. I was pretty happy with my performance and showed Will a couple of photos when he eventually rejoined us. Here is a photo below.
We did note that he took quite a while to come back to us which we thought was strange as the walk was not that far. We both wondered why amongst ourselves but never asked the question.
Not long after Will had rejoined us we saw a bloke on a tractor come down one of the fence lines and then along the fence that paralleled the river. He was going like a bull at a gate and it was clear that there may have been some “anger management” issues at play. As an aside, we had been warned about a fiery redhead who owned the land which we were on and to be careful of him.
He roared his tractor right down to the river edge, put it in park and jumped out. Before his feet had even hit the ground he said “Have you guys got permission to be here?” I was the closest to old mate and said “I beg your pardon?”. He then asked the question again “Have you guys got permission to be here?”. At this point I thought that it was better to play dumb and appear stupid than to be offensive so I said “Yes I fucking do, what’s your problem blood nut?”.
Actually I didn’t, I said “No mate we don’t have permission to be here, we didn’t think we needed it”. At that point Clacko piped up and indicated that we thought that this river was subject to Queen’s chain (meaning that an angler has access to the river if they stay within a Queen’s chain or 30 metres of the highest point of the river at all times).
At that point the owner (who turned out to be called Pete Turner) told us that this stream was actually not Queen’s chain and we were technically trespassing. At which point we all apologised profusely and indicated that we would be happy to leave (which was true since I’d caught a six pound trout already today, and a six and a half and seven pounder the previous day, and Clacko had caught two 6 pounders previously too).
By about that stage though Pete was realising that we weren’t New Zealanders as he had heard Will talk as well and once he realised that we had caught a couple of fish but put them all back his attitude changed quite dramatically and he was happy for us to have a bit of a fish. He had told us about how his biggest problem was New Zealanders who came onto his land and had what they called “fishing competitions”, sorry that should be “fushin competitions”, where the object was simply to catch and kill as many big fish as they could. Once he realised that we had not and nor would we kill any big fish then he was happy for us to have a fish.
So after a bit more of a chat he told us where a couple of good pools were and where some big fish were and how to approach a couple of them. He was actually most generous with his advice and Clacko and I later dropped off a slab of beer to him at his property Gayle Hills.
Not five minutes after he had left Will hooked a 6 pound trout from the run right behind where we had been standing. It was a beautiful fish and we have a good photo of Will with this trout. I mentioned to Will later that I was not sure if my scales were right (as they were fairly cheap) and that I would check them on my return home. Well mate I have checked them and …. they were out.. by about 650 grams, so this fish was over 6.5lbs!
I think it may have even slipped out about how we should charge him a fee as we had put him onto a bigger fish than his professional fly fishing guide had. We were seriously considering enforcing this “obligation” until he told us that Blake had gone to the shop (or was in the process of going to the shop) where she was going to buy some vegetables and a chicken and do a roast dinner for us.
Not long after that we all walked downstream and went home. It was a cold and wet very satisfying day. In fact, as we were walking out along the dirt road towards the car it would have been a perfect setting for one of those American bourbon ads. There we were the three of us trudging along the road in the pouring rain heading home after a day’s fishing. Clacko and I were nice and dry in our high tech fishing gear but old Will, well, let’s just say that he was a bit wet.
When we got back to the car we found on the ground right near the boot Blake’s pants. Obviously these had been “misplaced” in the process of “changing” or some other activity (which may explain Will’s delay in getting back to us on the river).
We all had a good day but I think Will had a particularly good day. I mean, any day where you have a ‘car park incident’ (and I don’t mean a fender bender) and catch a six pound plus trout is a pretty good day to me.
We got back to the camp ground and Blake had cooked up a sensational roast chicken with vegetables. We had a great time that night having a chat and a couple of drinks over a beautiful dinner. It was a top day and Simie’s attitude was 9 out of 10.
Progressive tally: SZ – 15, DC 6, Will – 2, Blake – ½ (we decided to give Blake half a “fish” given her performance in the kitchen and potentially the “car park”I can assure you that this is like getting a Michelin Star (if you are in the restaurant game you will know what I mean. )
29 March 2005
Today DC, Will, Blake and I took off once again up to the Von River. We drove down to where we had finished fishing the Von River the other day for two reasons. Firstly, Will thought he may have left his sunglasses there the other day and secondly, the farmer that we had met the other day Pete Turner, had said that there were some good pools upstream from the bridge where we had finished fishing the other day. So we arrived down there and Blake found Will’s sunglasses, so he was a very happy lad (at least he hadn’t left his pants behind as well - or there could have been another car park incident!). While we were there looking for the sunglasses we met the owner of the sheep station through whose land the Von River flowed. He told us that he owned 100,000 acres on both sides of the river, he ran 26,000 sheep and he also ran a hunting business for red deer, thar, chamois and fallow deer. Lucky bastard!
He recommended we fish further upstream high into a steep gorge where he said there were some good pools and some even better fish. So we drove back up the road and parked almost at the bottom of the descent from the plateau that we had driven along to get down to the Von. We put on our fishing gear and made our way up river towards the gorge. Before we got there though I gave Blake a bit of a lesson with my fly rod and she actually hooked herself a couple of little tiddlers.
Click on the photo to see photos for this trip.
Today DC, Will, Blake and I took off once again up to the Von River. We drove down to where we had finished fishing the Von River the other day for two reasons. Firstly, Will thought he may have left his sunglasses there the other day and secondly, the farmer that we had met the other day Pete Turner, had said that there were some good pools upstream from the bridge where we had finished fishing the other day. So we arrived down there and Blake found Will’s sunglasses, so he was a very happy lad (at least he hadn’t left his pants behind as well - or there could have been another car park incident!). While we were there looking for the sunglasses we met the owner of the sheep station through whose land the Von River flowed. He told us that he owned 100,000 acres on both sides of the river, he ran 26,000 sheep and he also ran a hunting business for red deer, thar, chamois and fallow deer. Lucky bastard!
He recommended we fish further upstream high into a steep gorge where he said there were some good pools and some even better fish. So we drove back up the road and parked almost at the bottom of the descent from the plateau that we had driven along to get down to the Von. We put on our fishing gear and made our way up river towards the gorge. Before we got there though I gave Blake a bit of a lesson with my fly rod and she actually hooked herself a couple of little tiddlers.
Click on the photo to see photos for this trip.
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| NZ March 2005 |
We made our way into the gorge and it was very beautiful. You can imagine steep rock walls coming straight down into the water. Luckily the water wasn’t too deep and we could get through as it was impossible to go around the river as the walls were just too steep. A couple of times I had to carry Blake across as she didn’t have any waders on and if she spent the whole day being wet she could get quite cold. On one occasion I nearly fell in with her on my back which gave her quite a fright (I thought it was a little amusing too). We took turns fishing pools. When it came to DC’s second turn he was in a nice pool and I was standing on a rock wall spotting for him. I saw a fish in a run just upstream and told him roughly where it was. He approached the river cautiously and cast upstream. His first cast was a bit offline and I told him that from my vantage point. Before he pulled the fly out of the water to have another cast it actually got taken by a tiddler and so he quickly had to play that and get it off the line before having another cast at the bigger fish. DC quickly unhooked the smaller one and I gave him a bit more of a read on where the bigger fish was and with his first cast the trout cam over and took the nymph. He put up quite a fight and when it came to the net it was a beautiful two pound rainbow.
This was a very good fish in such small water. It appeared that our efforts to keep Blake from getting wet were working and her motivation to continue was quite high. However, there seemed to be quite a few deepish pools ahead and after having a bit of a discussion it was decided that we should turn around and head back down. It took us about an hour to walk back to the car. Don’t forget either that Will was wading wet and so he was starting to get a bit cool too as there wasn’t much sun reaching the bottom of the river due to the steep rock walls. After we took off all our gear we hopped back in the car and drove back up towards Mavora Lakes and stopped and fished a small lake on the way called the Von Lake
We had to get to it through some paddocks which we had only just found out about from talking to the land owner down on the Von River. This was a really secluded little lake only about three or four hundred metres across at its widest point. Clacky caught one with a nymph, it went about one pound. I couldn’t really be bothered fishing and so did bugger all. I sat on the bank talking to Blake with a dry fly in the water. I did have a take three times as I was sitting there but didn’t manage to set the hook as I wasn’t really concentrating.
That night we cooked up a massive feed for all of us. We had an entree of tomato soup then Indian chicken with vegetables for the main, it was sensational and full congratulations go out to the Right Sir Honourable David Claxton for his efforts.
Progressive tally: SZ – 15 (plus a couple of tiddlers which we won’t count), DC – 8, Will – 2, Blake – 1 ½
31 March 2005
Last night, after driving into Mossburn, our car blew up. Well actually it didn’t really blow up per se but it started making some horrible noises. We had just hit the 60 km per hour sign into Mossburn and then were slowing down to turn right at a T-junction towards the chicken shop when the car started sounding very dodgy. We were at a loss as to what had caused this noise, and after stopping at the chicken shop and buying some chicken and chips we worked out that driving the car at 160 km per hour was not terribly conducive to its long life.
Just as an aside, Clacko and I had hopped in the car at 7.22 and noted that the chicken shop in Mossburn shut at 7.30. This gave us eight minutes to travel about 16 km which would not be particular onerous in Australia on straight roads, however this was not quite the case around Mossburn.
So the next day we had to ring up the hire car people, Reliable Rentals, and while the cars were not necessarily ‘reliable’, the people were, and they dropped off another car to us in the Lumsden camp ground while we went off fishing.
Luckily Will and Blake had decided to spend another day with us so we all piled into their car and drove to the Braxton Burn.
The weather was gorgeous but made fishing tough. Clacko had one take during the day late in the afternoon whereupon he set the hook but it came loose about five seconds later. I only realised this (because I couldn’t actually see him when it occurred) because he let fly with the international angling term (used quite incorrectly I might add) after the fish had spat the hook. Please see Part 1 to clarify what that term is.
Poor Will put in a great day’s fishing with some good casting and a lot of effort but he had no luck either. Yours Truly fared a little better. I landed a five pounder and was broken off twice with two other nice fish.
Last night, after driving into Mossburn, our car blew up. Well actually it didn’t really blow up per se but it started making some horrible noises. We had just hit the 60 km per hour sign into Mossburn and then were slowing down to turn right at a T-junction towards the chicken shop when the car started sounding very dodgy. We were at a loss as to what had caused this noise, and after stopping at the chicken shop and buying some chicken and chips we worked out that driving the car at 160 km per hour was not terribly conducive to its long life.
Just as an aside, Clacko and I had hopped in the car at 7.22 and noted that the chicken shop in Mossburn shut at 7.30. This gave us eight minutes to travel about 16 km which would not be particular onerous in Australia on straight roads, however this was not quite the case around Mossburn.
So the next day we had to ring up the hire car people, Reliable Rentals, and while the cars were not necessarily ‘reliable’, the people were, and they dropped off another car to us in the Lumsden camp ground while we went off fishing.
Luckily Will and Blake had decided to spend another day with us so we all piled into their car and drove to the Braxton Burn.
The weather was gorgeous but made fishing tough. Clacko had one take during the day late in the afternoon whereupon he set the hook but it came loose about five seconds later. I only realised this (because I couldn’t actually see him when it occurred) because he let fly with the international angling term (used quite incorrectly I might add) after the fish had spat the hook. Please see Part 1 to clarify what that term is.
Poor Will put in a great day’s fishing with some good casting and a lot of effort but he had no luck either. Yours Truly fared a little better. I landed a five pounder and was broken off twice with two other nice fish.
1 April 2005
Clacko and I rolling a big one... as we pack up from the Lumsden camp ground.
We said our goodbyes to Will and Blake and exchanged numbers as they were going to come and stay with me in Sydney next week. It was quite sad to say goodbye to them but I was looking forward to seeing them both in Sydney.It took us two and a half hours to get to Dunedin from Lumsden.
Will packing up...
Clacko and I rolling a big one... as we pack up from the Lumsden camp ground.We said our goodbyes to Will and Blake and exchanged numbers as they were going to come and stay with me in Sydney next week. It was quite sad to say goodbye to them but I was looking forward to seeing them both in Sydney.It took us two and a half hours to get to Dunedin from Lumsden.
Will packing up...I left Clacko to do some shopping and wandered around the shops when who should I bump into but….Will and Blake. So I said hello again and we sat down and had a cup of coffee and then I walked them around to the car so they could see Clacko and promptly say another goodbye. We had to get to the airport for a 3.15 flight. I felt sad seeing them walk away.
We got back to Sydney and were picked up by one of my friends Lisa Johnson who is a Canadian friend who lives near me in Manly. It was very kind of her to pick me up. She then actually stopped en route home and we dropped her in town as she was going to a bar to meet some of her friends and I drove her car back to Manly.
And so ends Clacko and Simie’s Second Fishing Expedition to the South Island of New Zealand. I must admit that even now writing this, I feel more than a slight touch of melancholy thinking about and longing for the companionship and the beauty of the river and the thrill of tightening the line.
Blake and Will came to stay with me in Sydney for a week after our fishing trip. This is a photo of us all standing on the head land at Mona Vale on the Northern Beaches.