Mossburn, close to some of the best known brown trout rivers in New Zealand like the Oreti and the Mataura, is our next destination. The cottage we found trough the AA guide proves to be even cosier then expected and we fall in love with it at first sight; a perfect base for our trips to the surrounding rivers.

As avid readers of Flylife magazine, we noticed Stu Tripney years ago, a Scotsman who made NZ and Athol his new home. He seemed to be a bit crazy, a very good and passionate fly fisher and fly tier and a pretty decent bloke. Stu’s fly patterns are already well known in NZ and Australia and the choice is impressive.  www.stusflyshop.com

When meeting Stu in person at his well stocked tackle shop in Athol, we are greeted by a friendly guy with a smile and a great sense of humor. Stu and his dad George are a real handful and we have sore tummy muscles from all the good laughs we have in their company. Later in the week Stu is guiding us on the Mataura. The water has just cleared enough to be fishable with a dry fly and despite the poor visibility our guide points out many fish; to our embarrassment we miss most of them. But, as Stu assures us, we have not broken the record for missed fish – we are very close though. We have an unforgettable day in great company and learn a lot and yes, some of us get wet balls as well.  Thanks for all Stu and George, we hope to see you again happy and healthy!

When travelling in New Zealand, one will come across possums sooner or later; the most likely encounter being road kill. The Australian brush tailed possum was introduced into NZ in the early 19th century to establish a fur trade. A lack of natural predators and bush fires and the abundance of food resulted in an explosion of the population and possums became a serious threat for many native plants and animals. The cute marsupial from OZ proofs to be a real nuisance and the Department of Conservation is doing everything possible to reduce its numbers and the impact possums have on the environment.

A trip to New Zealand is not complete without having been in Fiordland. We do not have to travel far from Mossburn and our next choice of accommodation proves to be a true winner. Finding a place to stay in Te Anau in high season is difficult and the only options are very expensive. After searching the internet for a while, we come across Mt Prospect Station, a mere 20 minutes from town. As it turnes out, it is the best thing that could have happened. We spend the next two weeks in the stations shearers’ quarters just a stone’s throw from the Whitestone River and with impressive Mt Prospect right behind the house. The quarters provide all we need for a very enjoyable stay indeed. Mt Prospect website

The fishing in the Whitestone River is outstanding and we have a ball catching Brown and Rainbow trout on dry flies. Lacking the pressure of Stu’s presence or more likely his positive impact, we get the timing right and hook-ups become common again. As always, we fish barbless and notice once more that very few fish are lost as a result of a missing barb. We spend many days on the Whitestone and neighboring rivers, enjoy our riverside lunches in the most scenic places and love the great feeling of being tired after a long day out on the water.

One memorable morning Béatrice spots a fish minutes after we have reached the river; the big Brown sitting in knee deep water in front of a rock. Her first cast is spot on, the fish does not hesitate and slowly pushes its large head with the jaws wide open out of the water and over the fly. And then all hell breakes loose! Feeling the sting of the hook, the trout zigzagges up and down the pool and jumpes high into the clear morning air several times. Bugger! The fish looks huge out of the water and I doubt that Béatrice will be able to land it. But after several minutes of good rod work the fish gives in and she lands a beauty of a Brown trout jack, the scales of the weight net showing just over 7lbs.

And we visit Milford Sound again of course. The drive to the sound alone is well worth doing, such diverse are the landscape and the natural features along the way. Watch out for Keas, when waiting for the green light in front of Homer tunnel. The cheeky mountain parrots seem to love the attention of people and they definitely love to play.

Rachel, Grant and Ellie, the young couple and their daughter owning the farm and our very friendly hosts, give us an interesting insight into a working back country station and make our stay become home away from home indeed. Many thanks to Peter and Sandy as well! We miss you, guys.

While staying on Mt Prospect Station, the second earthquake occurred in Christchurch; we were shocked and very sad when we heard the terrible news. Knowing the city and the places we saw in the news very well, we felt close with all the people affected by the catastrophe. Let’s just hope the worst is over now.

We have been looking forward to seeing our friends Grace and Brent in Hokitika again for a very long time. Finally catching up feels great; everyone has a lot to tell and time goes by far too fast. Brent is showing us the paintings he has done recently while Grace is preparing yet another yummy dinner in no time. Sitting together outside on the large table in the evening sun makes us feel as we had never been away. Can’t wait to see the green flash again!

Grace and Brent love to meet people from all over the world and their place is busy with visitors coming and going all the time. Brent is exhibiting his paintings in the gallery at home and in town. It is fascinating to see how his way to look at things and how to paint them is changing over the years.  => www.brenttrolle.co.nz

The spring creeks are calling and we continue south to Hari Hari. We spend the next three weeks fishing the magnificent rivers and creeks right at our doorstep. Well known La Fontaine Stream and many other less frequented waters provide days of pleasure and – best of all – we have to share the fishing with very few other anglers. The Waitangitaona River fishes especially well and the regular disturbance by the passing jet boat on its way to the white heron colony cannot spoil the experience.

Daytrips to the glaciers are a welcome change and the busy townships of Franz Josef and Fox remind us of familiar places in the Swiss Alps. Roberts Point Walkway at Franz Josef, a walk we did years ago, is as scenic as we remembered it and we discover flowering native orchids and many other plants along the way.

We enjoy the stay in Hari Hari and our chats with Tracy and Duane, our very friendly hosts at Flaxbush Motel and we promise ourselves to return as soon as possible. Because the weather is deteriorating and the forecast promises heavy rain for several days, we decide to leave the coast and head straight for Wanaka, where it is supposed to be warm and dry.

When on the coast, one has to try whitebait patties. Catching whitebait is not only practiced in New Zealand, but it’s only here that is has become a passion for so many people with a special stronghold on the West Coast, where it has become an icon. Whitebait are the young of several species of native fish, most of them belonging to the Galaxiidae family. In autumn the adult fish lay their eggs and the larvae are carried out to sea or into the estuaries. They return in spring as transparent whitebait with a length of several centimeters and migrate up rivers and creeks to grow to adults. In the height of the whitebait season thousands of people take up station along a river mouth, many of them staying in basic huts and shelters so they don’t miss a good run. Big scoop nets are used to catch the small fish that swim upriver close to the banks. Last season has been very poor on the coast and therefore whitebait is scarce and even more expensive than usual. Many years ago whitebait was abundant and a small industry with canneries exported the delicacy and provided most needed income for the coasters.

The drive along the southern West Coast is probably one of the most spectacular in New Zealand and there are so many things to see along the way, from penguin colonies to beautiful remote beaches to remains of early settlements. Driving over Haast pass is always exciting and this time is no exception. Waterfalls and untamed rivers cut through native forest at its best. The high annual rainfall supports a lush green and dense plant cover unmatched elsewhere.

Wanaka, on the shore of Lake Wanaka, is a very pleasant place, situated in the western corner of Otago’s high country and surrounded by impressive mountain peaks. It’s great for skiing in winter and for hiking and fishing in summer. Wanaka has become pretty busy and accommodation is expensive. After searching for quite a while we are lucky to find an apartment on the upper floor of a small house. The view from the large terrace onto the lake and into the mountains is beautiful and we can’t get enough of it. The weather is sunny and warm and we do a lot of hiking. Roys Peak, Rob Roy Glacier and Aspiring Hut are just some of the places we walk to. Roys Peak is only a five minute drive from town and after a steep 1200m ascent one is rewarded with a breathtaking 360° view over the lake and into the Southern Alps.

Falling in love with the West Coast of the South Island is easy. The remote beaches are wild and beautiful, the vast forests appear almost untouched and glaciers and magnificent rivers take your breath away.

We reached the coast in Westport, after an interesting drive with great views up the Wairau and down the Buller valley. Cape Foulwind, named by Captain Cook due to difficult conditions when sailing and situated just south of Westport, is an important breeding colony of NZ fur seals. The cape lives up to its name in a different way when the rather unpleasant smell of rotten fish greets the
approaching visitor. At the time of our visit the seals were having their pups and the entire colony seemed to be busy and nervous. Seagulls were looking for a feed of seal pup and cheeky wekas tried to get their share when we had our cliff top lunch.

Next stop Punakaiki. The pancake rocks at Punakaiki are a feature not to be missed when driving along the coast. Despite being a very busy place, the pancake rocks are well worth a visit. Layers of hard limestone and softer sandstone have been eroded over thousands of years, forming an impressive maze of what looks like fossilized stacks of pancakes. In some places, erosion has created vertical shafts and at high tide water gets pressed up through these narrow blow holes and shoots up high into the air, sounding like a blowing whale.

After travelling another 40 km further south, we made Greymouth our base for the next two weeks. Fishing was on the schedule again and we spent memorable days on some of our favorite rivers.

Leaving early one morning, a beautiful sunrise is greeting us while we are driving up the Grey valley. Mist is hovering just off the ground and turning the landscape into a land of fairies.  We leave the car on the stop bank along the river and have to fight off the sand flies while putting on our fishing gear. The water is running low and clear and after about ¾ of an hour we spot the first fish of the day in the shallows of a long pool. The big brown is slowly patrolling its territory and disappears into the depths every few minutes. We wait till the fish is out of sight and I sneak up to where it used to reappear. After several minutes kneeling in the shallow water and keeping a low profile, the fish comes back and takes station again. The first cast works out well and the dry fly lands slightly above the fish.  A close look is the only response though before the trout starts cruising along again. Another pattern is tied on and the same procedure repeats itself 3 times.

After more than half an hour my knees are getting numb in the cold water and I am getting desperate. One more try! I tie on a size 12 Royal PMX and place the fly in front of the fish once again.  And this time my fly gets nailed immediately. After a strong battle up and down the pool, Béatrice is able to net a beautiful 7lbs Brown trout. What a start! We get several more fish that day and when we return to the car late in the afternoon, we come across two wild deer drinking water out of the river.

After having had such a great time, we decide to return to the same river a week later. We are lucky and pick a great day with brilliant blue skies again. We start fishing further up then on our previous visit and spot a good fish after may be half an hour of walking. It’s pretty windy by now and we have to wait several minutes until we can make a decent cast. The fly lands spot on, the fish is approaching its prey, but refusing our offering. The next cast brings the same result. What about a fly change? We decide to try it one more time. No reaction!? But hold on. The big Brown is turning, follows the drifting fly very slowly and inhales what’s supposed to be a tasty morsel in slow motion. As slowly and relaxed as it took the fly, the fish turns again and wants to swim back to its spot. Suddenly feeling the weight of the tightening line, the fish becomes very much alive and with an outburst of speed heads for the opposite bank which is full of driftwood and tree roots. I desperately try to stop the rampaging fish, but it is only when I start applying serious side pressure that the fish slows down. But it is not over now! The Brown suddenly turns around and starts swimming downstream.

Not down the rapids please! My knees are trembling and I apply as much pressure as I dare. To no avail! There is no holding back now and with the rod held high I try to follow the fish. Crossing the river in a hurry, I am more than close to falling in several times. The trout has reached the pool below the rapids by now and, because I am that much higher up, the leader is pulled over the rocks. And within seconds the inevitable happens: the line goes slack! For a couple of seconds a terrible feeling of total emptiness takes over and I have to sit down on the nearest rock. After pulling myself together I reel in the fly line. My remaining leader looks utterly shredded and I am able to pull the butt section apart without much effort.

We land 6 fish that day, all of them Brown trout between 4 and 7lbs. On the way back to the car we get another surge of adrenalin. A herd of water buffalos is feeding right along the river; we got to know the aggressive bull on our last visit and are very scared indeed. The water is too deep to cross to the other side and we sneak along the bank in the water, keeping a low profile all the time. The farmer gives us a smile as we recount our ordeal and tells us that the bull took down three fences and killed another buffalo not long ago.