The Fish That Sent Me To The Hospital

Off To See TheWorld

Mt Taranaki Morning

One Tough Fish
Hey you try focussing with hooks in YOUR thumb.

Ouch

Stuff happens when you go fishing.
After seeing Ty and Meghan off we crossed back to the North Island and are now in New Plymouth with our wonderful friends The Spencers. It's Hot. As that Kiwi lady told us "it is so hot the sun could burn a hole in ya". So after lunch Mike and Lynn suggested we go for a swim in the Stony River swimming hole behind their house. What beautiful water. We had a lovely afternoon swimming around this big fishy looking hole that provided me with a nice brown 22 years ago.
In the evening I snuck down to the hole with my flyrod as it was getting dark and although I didn't catch anything I thought I saw a fish feeding at the bottom of the hole. This morning I was back at the hole with both my flyrod and spinning rod as the sun rose over breathtaking Mt. Taranaki. Wowser.
Due to a huge flood in 2008 there are no rainbows in the river anymore but Mike thought he had heard that a few of the sea run browns might be in the water. I started hucking one of Tyler's itty bitty pheasant tail nymphs through the pool and on my third or forth cast slammo, I had a fish on. Not for long as he popped off my leader then began leaping all around the swimming hole trying to shake the fly that was still connected to him, but not to me. Wow, I was THRILLED to have hooked another Stony trout but he had looked to me like a rainbow as he jumped in the early morning light. His antics had obviously ruined the hole for fishing and my flyrod needed retying so I just picked up my spinning rod and flicked this little Rapala lure out three or four times when WHAM, here we go again, another fish. As this Rapala has treble hooks all over it I felt that if I didn't screw it up I probably could land this nice fish. I worked him up into the headwaters of the hole and was really surprised when he revealed himself to be a rainbow. I needed a photo! I got him up on the bank and snapped a picture and then planned to put him back in the river while I set up my camera, tripod and self timer. I grabbed the fish, who still had the tailend treble hook in the bottom of his mouth, and was about to toss him in the river while I set up the photo when the fish went nuts.
Shit Happens.
The other treble hook was suddenly buried in my thumb. Deep. Two Barbs. I stared in horror as the fish thrashed wildly about, causing "discomfort" to my thumb.
Shit Happens.
Somehow I was lucky enough to unhook the fish and chuck him back in the river. I started to pull out those hooks. No Way. No way on earth, they were BURIED in my flesh.
I went back to the house, woke Sheryl who started to work them out. Bad idea.
So it was off 27km to the emergency room where they deadend my thumb, cut one hook free from the treble and could not push it through with hospital tools. I think someone went out to their car and got this huge, nastey, rusty, pullers and finally got out the "easy" hook. The second we feared was into the bone so next it was x-rays. Good news, no bone so the nice lady doc tried some more then called for her "boss" as she called him. Soon Rambo Doctor appeaerd, took one look at my impaled thumb and said, "I'm more aggressive", dark clouds began to roll over my life as he tied this heavy surgical string to the hook so he could get a grip on it. He told me to hold my hand still and press on the table. At that point I looked away and with a mighty yank he gave it his best and just like my first trout this morning, he broke me off. His surgical thread broke as I saw stars. I think this failure sorta pissed him off as he began to moan, grumble, and grunt as he got some other big tool from the tool box. I just couldn't watch as this time he grabbed it tight and tore it out. His last comment was, "I think that'l be sore as you now have a lot of tissue damage."
Ouch.
Tonight it really feels just fine, so I think the morning in the e-room was worth it.
Thank you New Zealand ACC. Cost = $0
And thanks again to the Stony River, sorry I couldn't fish you all morning.

They're Off, We are Headed for Home

Queenstown

We are on our way home. Even though we won't reach Klamath until Feb. 4th we have definitely slid into the mindset that we are headed down the homestretch of this Southern Hemisphere snowbirding season. I left in mid-September and Sheryl about 3weeks later, not knowing how four and a half months on the road would agree with us as we approach elderhood. Well its worked just fine. We have thoroughly enjoyed both Australia and New Zealand but most of all the joy of this trip has been family and friends.
Friends of nearly 40 years are a treasure that has added so much richness to our lives. It's our wonderful friends in Oregon that keep us hanging in there when we scratch our heads and ask "Why are we living here?" But these friends of a lifetime cause us to pause and appreciate just what a fine trip this lifetime has been.
Australia was wonderful in we felt a leisure that I don't think either of us had ever felt before. We had no date to leave so we just wandered from the west coast to the east. Western Australia must be the most booming economy in the world. Building building building and minimum wage is about $17/hour. The place is dry, hot, and fly-ridden in the north but oh so interesting. We explored so many fascinating canyons, creeks and snakey places that I can't count em' all. The train ride across the Nullabohr was the fulfillment of a 40 year dream. Our house in Adelaide was just so disappointing, (as was my school) that we could only laugh and remember just why we left the place. The Reeders home in Melbourne was fun to visit and just visualize what their life had been like, and Melbourne and Sydney were both a great time, capping it all off with a night at the Sydney Opera House.
The Kiwi legs of this odyssey have been equally fascinating. Those September/October weeks fishing with The Guys were a hoot that I'm sure we will all remember forever. Plenty of fish, reasonable weather and great companionship, a good time all round. Then this return in December has just been a mad dash, mostly with Tyler and Meghan ( who are SO easy to travel with), but with liberal doses of old friends along the way. Meghan's sister Ellen came for three weeks and it was super getting to know her even better, and to see what great friends these two girls are. We had a lot of rain. Too much rain. But of course, things finally dried out and we have had some oooh and aaahhh weather traveling around this amazing Lord of the Rings country. Sheryl and Meghan had a great day for Milford Sound and we just saw Mount Cook in its summer glory (wow).
And the fish?
At "Stu's", the worst flyshop in the world, there is a sign that says, "If you can't catch fish in New Zealand, you just don't have the fly-fishing skills" How rude! But true. For years I have had trouble catching fish here but after this trip, especially with Tyler by my side I now believe that I can catch these Kiwi monsters, even if only occasionally. Ty and I have had some serious fun fishing together, truly treasured moments. Sheryl and Meghan have even fished together - what a hoot. It's all just been sooooo much fun, but now it's time to say goodbye and head off on our separate paths. Our attention will return to that wonderful family of ours in Beaverton. Tyler and Meghan are heading off on what surely will be a life altering odyssey around the world. They start in Oz and the Great Barrier Reef, then Bali, SE Asia, China and India and who knows where. They hope to be home for Thanksgiving. As parents it all worries us but we also couldn't be prouder of those two. It will be an eye-opening education of the highest order. As the Pines, Stouts and so many of you know, it's tough seeing the kids off to dark corners of this world, but what a ride. Tyler, Meghan and Sheryl all went on Queenstown's death defying thrill rides, but I am sure the REAL excitement lies ahead for Ty and Meghan. We said our wet-eyed goodbye yesterday in Nelson and they have been in our thoughts ever since. Tonight they are in Sydney and we are packing for the ferry trip to the North Island. A Quick stop in New Plymouth, a cast or two and we will be on the plane Feb.2
See Ya Soon.
GodSpeed Ty and Meghan.

I Lied. There is One More Fish Story

As you drive into New Zealand's jewel, Milford Sound, you head up the Eglington River. It's a river of spectaculr beauty as it meanders, brades and dances its way out of Fjordland. For thirty eight years I have longed to fish that beauty but I have heard it is tough to find its fish, only has a couple of fish per mile, and heck, we have always been in a hurry to get to or from Milford so I have never fished it. Until Yesterday.

Sheryl and Meghan were heading into Milford as the weather was finally going to be sunny (it was). That meant Ty and I had time to go fishing. We considered the Oreti again but somehow decided the Eglington would be the target of the day. We stopped a couple of places and tried the water but it didn't have the kind of flow we like to fish so we kept moving. Finally we found a stretch where we had to hike about a km to get to the river and we thought it might be a better choice. We hiked in and were disgusted to find a guide had driven in (illegeally) and was fishing a couple of clients where we wanted to be. Drat! Soon they left and we went to fish The Hole. While I fished Ty went exploring and came running back breathlessly with the news he had spotted a big rainbow up the river. Excitement. Soon we were crawling, commando style, up to the riverbank and sure enough this big redside was cruising around feeding like crazy. We were both intoxicated with excitement as Ty geared up and I lay in the grass as the spotter. Soon he was casting up there to the cruising fish but could not entice it to take a dry. As it was feeding on everthing coming down the river he decided to try his hare and copper nymph which is way too small for me to see from up on the bank. After a few casts where the fish showed no interest Ty shot his cast up the river and it came down toward the fish. As I was watching it closely I was amazed to see this big fish start yawning, or chomping rapidly. It was just so odd. Finally it hit me that the fish had taken his nymph and was trying to shake it loose so I screamed at Ty, he lifted his rod and the battle began. What fun. Father and son chasing this thing around the river handing the net back and forth, leading it into the rocks, then up stream, then down, it was a real circus. It got within reach and we could see it was five pounds plus but finally the hook pulled loose, Ty let out an unearthly groan and it was gone.

That's fishing.

So here we go again as we sneak along the bank doing what is called sight fishing. Ty has become pretty good at recognizing which gray smudges in the river are fish.

Within 100 yards he found another and here we go again. This one is a brown and it is NOT feeding so chances are slim, but ohmygod on about his fifth cast it races over grabs his fly and this time we wrestle the 4 pound beauty into the net. High Fives all around. WE had caught this fish as I had been guiding his casts, being the spotter.

Next it was my turn and sure enough within another 100 yards he spots another big brown and Dad heads to the water while Ty plays the spotter role. I was just about to give up after making a lot of casts when down goes my indicator, up goes my rod and we are both screaming all over the river. The brownie is off with us in hot pursuit. He seemed well hooked so we coaxed him down river to the shallows but I couldn't net him, Ty couldn't net him, he was back and forth, up, down, all over the place when finally Ty lunged into the river and simply grabbed him by the tail. BINGO! Whoopin' hollerin' huggin' smiles all around.

Sight fishing with my son was as good as it gets. it was just SOOOOOOO much fun. I think it was the best fishing trip of my life. The only thing that could have made it better would have been if Andy had been there too. Maybe someday.

One More Fish Story...

When I was a kid I heard a story from my dad that he had once caught a trout that weighed 6 pounds, and I believe it was from June Lakes up in the Sierras. I fished through my youth and never caught a trout over a pound, but David caught some in Utah that I remember going around 2 pounds. But nevertheless 6 pounds was a number that subconsciously had stuck with me as the minimum size to be a real fisherman like my dad.
When we came to New Zealand in the 70s I caught some 3 and 4 pounders but never the elusive 6 pounder. Finally one day on the Williamson, north of Klamath I finally caught the 6 pounder and joined Dad's mythical fraternity of real fisherman.
I had never realized that Tyler had somehow absorbed this fantasy in his fishing youth and here in New Zealand his goal was a 6 pound trophy like his Father and Grandfather (and Great Grandfather Hilton too), had managed.
He has caught a LOT of trout here but mostly around 3 pounds. I think he has a couple of 4+ fish but his dream was that magical 6 pound number. (For some odd reason that I will never understand, the legendary 24 pound brown he caught in Tierra del Fuego, he says doesn't count as it was a sea run fish).
In October we hired a guide and amazingly I caught a 6 pound brown on my first cast but alas, he was skunked. And I should add that at the time I didn't realize he was carrying this 6 pound monkey on his back.
WELL...This week we were back south and he went off to fish the Oreti river where I had caught that fish in October. BINGO! His first day out he caught an 8 pound brown but his camera was wacked and he got no photo and was crushed!
Next day he returned to a new area on that river where it was a 2 hour hike to just begin fishing. That night when he returned to the motel in Lumsden his smile was as wide as the 6 pound fish he had landed, as wide as the 7.5 pound fish he landed and as wide as the probable 10 pounder that got away.
RELIEF. He only has a couple of fishing days left, so this was the Holy Grail he had been seeking. Last night he explained to me that he had been carrying this Van Fleet 6 pound curse for a while, a surprise to me. Last night he slept very soundly.

Tyler's Idea Of Fun

We are now in Queenstown, the adventure tourism center of the world, where bungy jumping was invented. So when not fishing this seems to be what Ty does for fun, so this afternoon we joined him (as observers) at the Nevis Bungy Jump. I don't now how high it is but its the highest in New Zealand, maybe the world, I don't know but take a look...