FLYLIFE^69I tied on a big heavy Woolly Bugger
to try to cover every bit of water in
front of me and was rewarded with a
hit almost immediately. My dog Hebe
bounded over to see what I’d hooked
— a wee rainbow, probably not even
a pound in weight, but my word, it did
feel good. One more followed from
the same spot before it got too uncom-
fortable and we had to head home.
Feeling bad that I was getting Nicky
to carry all my tackle, seats and pil-
lows whilst I pointed at rising fish and
tried to chase them down on crutches,
I needed a spot that would benefit
us both. I wanted to teach her to fly
fish, preferably somewhere I could
sit and catch more than one fish, so
decided on a small local lake about
20 minutes drive from home. I chose
this lake for its fairly level grass edges.
Finding soft level ground is near
impossible in Twizel. At maybe 30
acres, it’s a lake that I had fished only
once before and disregarded as being
quite featureless, with a poor average
fish size, and usually busy with camp-
ers and swimming Labradors. Little
did I know that this little gem was
soon to become my sanctuary.
I knew about a feeder stream com-
ing in at the far end of the lake,
probably only a 5 minute walk away
from our car and other campers, but
it seemed like 20 km with a busted
leg wanting to explode every time it
dropped lower than my heart. Mul-
tiple rests on my back were needed,
with my purple toes waving in the air.
Nicky helped by digging out the rub-
ber ends of my crutches which were
constantly getting lost in the mud, and
my dog just stared at me wondering
why I was taking so goddamn long...
but eventually, we made it.
Hebe had already clocked a couple
of fish running up the stream so he
was happy! I sat on my seat, tack-
led up with a small damsel nymph,
flicked it across the stream mouth and
very first cast had a thump. A pristine
rainbow about 12 inches long, then
another, and another... I think every
fish in the lake was huddled around
the inlet. I gave Nicky a casting lesson
and sent her away with another rod.
We had an awesome afternoon, with
maybe 50 fish landed and Nicky add-
ing five to her tally. Not bad at all for
her first time with a fly rod!
When trout rise to your flies, indi-
cators are pulled under and savage
takes rip the fly-line from your hand,
you quickly forget about any worries
you previously had. I was annoyed at
myself that it had taken a serious inju-
ry for me to take proper note of this
lake. Small trout in NZ are often dis-
regarded, especially in the Twizel area
where a fish below 10 lb is a tiddler.
These little trout, though, were send-
ing me into the stratosphere. Every
single one was perfect, each different
from the last, and ultimately, they all
pulled as hard as their tiny bodies and
fins could possibly manage.
I could easily have sat and cried
at the end of that day... there aren’t
many moments in my fly fishing life
when I’ve been as happy as that. I
think Hebe had a fun afternoon too,never really moving from the stream.
A good five hours just staring intently,
waiting for fish to scurry up through
the shallow sections — a typical point-
er/fishing dog, he doesn’t miss a thing
when it comes to trout.
Well, that was my fishing spot sort-
ed for the next couple of months.
Once home, I jumped on Ebay — one
new 3-weight rod, old style clicker
reel and fly line later, I was ready for
another outing.
Unable to drive, I had to work
around Nicky and anyone else who
was willing to take me back there. I
managed several trips up to the lake
before warmer weather started to hit
and the fish spread about the lake a
little more. I could move around a bit
better now, using crutches, and stand
on my one good foot for about 10
minutes with my broken leg perched
on a seat. The evening rise here is
absolutely out of this world. As most
of the lake is shallow, fish hit the sur-
face constantly, giving the illusion of
heavy rain rather than a rise.
My flies of choice soon became
sparsely dressed hoppers — pulled
through a ripple or a wave, the trout
love them, and with a few rapid false
casts the fly sits up on the surface like
new. The only way to fish the lake
now was by patrolling up and down
A well used hopper after maybe 30 fish.
Two months of fishing from a seat. Worse things have happened.IT’S NOT ABOUT HOW MANY YOU CAUGHT
OR HOW MANY TROPHIES YOU LANDED
- IT’S WHERE YOUR LEGS TOOK YOU.