Staring down through the break in the clouds my heart races as the spectacular New Zealand landscape reveals itself to me. This is the place that has occupied my dreams since I first picked up a fly rod and had my life change forever. About two-thirds the size of California, New Zealand boasts an astounding variety of landscape and climatic zones. Flying high above this amazing land, two of my closest friends Ben Knight, Tim Trevithick, and I remain quiet, fantasizing about the next six weeks together in trout heaven. Our plan is to spend roughly three weeks on the South Island and three on the North fishing, hiking, sea kayaking, camping, and oh yeah more fishing.

Packed like sardines in our little Nissan Bluebird we head out of Christchurch in search of the behemoth trout that have made New Zealand legendary among anglers. It’s the beginning of April and fall is just rolling into the South island. Driving on the opposite side of the road and shifting with my left hand requires devout concentration, but the lush green rolling hills outside of Christchurch are too beautiful not to admire and a few close calls ensue. Timmy is in the passenger seat pouring over the giant stack of magazines, books, and Internet printouts that I have compiled on anything and everything to do with New Zealand fishing. We spend the night outside of Tekapo dreaming of tight lines.

Early the next morning we visited a New Zealand landmark called the Church of the Sheppards. Feeling like we did our due diligence as tourists we were eager to hit a river. After inflicting some pain on our Bluebird traveling down a road made for a Hummer we change directions and headed to the Ohau River. As we dropped down into the river valley we saw what we had come here for, a shimmering turquoise river unlike anything we had seen in the states. With shaky hands we tied on some flies and made our way to the river. Glancing up and down the banks every inch of the river was perfectly suited for trout with deep runs, abundant boulders, and undercut banks. “This river must be loaded with trout, I’m heading up” I said to the boys and took off. We were equipped with two-way radios so we could report on the schools of trout we were catching. Every cast I made I felt like I was going to get a hit, but nothing. On and on I went with not even a flash of a spooked fish. After an hour of pounding the water and my frustration escalating, a frantic call came across the radio. It was Timmy and he had a fish on, judging from the high octave of his voice it was a big one. Ben and I arrived at the same time to see Timmy releasing a hefty 20+ inch Brown. We regrouped and headed down river and we all confessed to being frustrated. We had heard that the fishing in New Zealand is tough, but this was almost impossible!

April 13th, ten days into our trip and we are making our way towards the Southwest corner of New Zealand. While planning this trip Fiordland National park was my top priority to visit. The largest park in New Zealand, Fiordland is a mountainous, fjord ridden rugged land that has wildness to it. Were entering the east side of the park and had our eyes set on the mouth of the Eglinton river as it comes out of Lake Te Anu. The last ten days have been quite humbling but we were learning the intricacies of sight fishing and stalking large trout. It’s a clear sunny day with a slight breeze as we take the turnoff on a dirt road that will lead us to the river. As we near the lake near the mouth of the river, giant snow capped peaks loom in the background. We carefully park our car/home as to not get stuck in the quicksand like dirt and make our way to the river. As we near the mouth I start scanning the shoreline and spot a large dark shadow lingering in the current just before the lake turns to river. I carefully bend down 15 yards off the bank drawing on some hard lessons learned in the past ten days and start to cast towards the camlaflauged beast. My fly lands just out of sight to the fish and drifts into it’s view, it’s quickly on the move and I immediately think I spooked it before it turns and devours my offering and it’s on my reel stripping off line. Luck is on my side as it heads into the deeper lake and not towards the current of the river where it would shurley break me off. After a few long runs it slowly tires and with Timmy’s help me net a 25 inch beautiful New Zealand Brown Trout. We spend the rest of the day hiking up river catching and releasing a mix of Rainbows and Browns all alone on the turquoise river with banks lined with purple Lupine. On the hike back to the car we share stories of big strikes and the ones that got away and we all feel like were getting the hang of the subtle techniques imperative to fishing in this pristine country. We set up camp on the bank of the lake and take in a glorious fiery sunset while we pour over the maps in search of our next stop if trout heaven.