Round one goes to the elusive Mr. Brown
Fly fishing for brown trout takes both patience and luck
As we cut through the clouds in the small Bay Heliwork chopper, the sky opens to a stunning view of Hawkes Bay and the legendary Ruakituri River, where the elusive “Mr. Brown” awaits with his own ideas of how the day will unfold.
This fly-fishing trip was arranged by John Dick, who, along with his wife, Christine, operates the magnificent Greenhill Lodge, a boutique luxury property that sits on 30 lush hectares of farmland on the North Island of New Zealand.
The lack of rain has made the rivers low, so the Dicks want to get me to an area where my odds will be better.
Known for its trophy trout, the best bet seems to be a 45-minute chopper ride to this world-class fishing destination, which is pronounced “Rooahkitoory.”
Pilot Matt Wilson negotiates a smooth landing on a small patch of grass next to a remote area of the river. There are a few sheep that scatter but no other sign of life.
Once on the ground, I put on waisthigh waders that turn out to be both a curse and a blessing.
“Do you mind crossing the river here?” asks my guide Morris Hill.
I don’t like the odds of making it across without avoiding an unplanned swim, but I nod in agreement.
After several hours of teetering on slippery rocks, and some near falls, I feel my legs start to tire from the weight of these waders.
“On our way back, we will try casting from here as well,” he keeps saying every few minutes, pointing to certain vantage points in the stream.
“And when will that be?” I finally ask a bit testily. Picking up that I am ready to go from hiking in this rushing stream to actual fishing, he quickly finds a place to stop.
I figure this is a good time to remind him that I haven’t been fly fishing in years. I can cast a hula popper into a northern Ontario lake, but catching bass is an entirely different kettle of fish than using a fly rod to land a trout, especially while balancing on mossy rocks in a rushing river.
Just the method of casting is an art — well, perhaps not in my case. I manage to clear a few branches from nearby trees with my first few casts. Despite my less-than-graceful style, I still manage to hook a fish. But it isn’t going to be that easy and, after a few minutes, the line goes slack and the fish is gone.
A short while later, I am back in the game. I scream at Morris and he yells back at me.
“Keep the rod bent, give it line, don’t do this, don’t do that,” he shouts, peppering me with instructions. Not known for my patience, I quickly learn that the art of fly fishing requires an abundance of this attribute.
The fish must tire, the line could easily break and the small fly can easily be spit out.
But I finally reel it in and Morris nets the fish. It’s a beautiful rainbow trout weighing about two and a half pounds. Not huge but a victory nonetheless. Morris makes sure the fish is slowly and gently released back into the water. We both agree that catch and release is the best policy.
We make our way back to the chopper to take a break and enjoy the delicious picnic lunch that Christine had packed.
I decide to see what may be lurking in the waters next to our resting area. The first cast is made and I am adjusting my footing while Morris is looking at me to make sure I am OK. We both look up just a little too late. A gigantic brown trout emerges. We open our mouths in awe and even the helicopter pilot who was watching from the shore is now on his feet.
But “Mr. Brown,” as I will call him, spits out the fly before I can set the hook.
Morris is frantic. He thinks it must be at least eight pounds. This fish must be caught. He uses his own rod and starts casting.
I turn away heartsick at what I had lost. The fish must be long gone by now. Then Morris shouts “I’ve got him!” The battle begins.
But this fishing tale becomes just that. The guide loses him, too. Brown trout have a way of making you work and this one was clearly a pro.
Back at Greenhill, I regale other guests with the day’s adventure over some fabulous lamb and local wine. While I feel great about the trout I did catch, I have convinced myself that Mr. Brown had a purpose. He rose above the water to show me what I was missing. He was daring me to come back and try again.
And so I shall, Mr. Brown. Follow Sherri Haigh @fishgal30 or email her at sherrihaigh2@gmail.com. Accommodation and meals provided by Greenhill Lodge, travel supported by Hawkes Bay Tourism.