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Fishing for lake trout in New Zealand’s South Island Heritage Foods director Mike Bradstock is also an accomplished trout angler. Here he offers his advice on how to fish successfully for trout in South Island lakes – a great activity for the modern hunter/gatherer For the beginner in particular, lake fishing offers some advantages over most rivers. There is more and deeper water, so fish don't feel so confined, are not as easily scared. Someone else can't stuff it up for you so easily by coming along beforehand: you still have a good chance of catching fish in a spot that's already been fished over. You can even give the water a fair thrashing yourself without totally turning off the fish as would happen in a river. Casting skills like mending line and accurate placement of the fly aren't so crucial. Lakes often have better populations of trout, and the fish probably tend to range widely rather than settle in one spot. Most lakes also give you more scope to find a spot where wind is from the right direction and the light conditions suit your method. Flies I'll take are: My other tackle is a no-brand 4-piece 2-metre soft-actioned spinning rod with an Abu Cardinal 654GT spooled with 200 metres of 3-kg line. I'll take multi-coloured Tasmanian Devils and Perch Rapalas -- rainbows and browns, in lake or river, jump all over them. By day I prefer to fish in shorts and track shoes. Fishing vests are great, I'm sure, but I use a bum-bag to hold my bits and pieces, and wear a large loose-fitting shirt over a teeshirt. A camo parka goes over the whole outfit if it's windy, cold, or rainy. I take two hats -- a wide-brimmed green canvas one for sunny conditions and a splendid fleecy-lined, oiled japara hat made by Camsys in Christchurch -- the finest cold-weather hat I've ever had, really keeps the ears warm. For the evening and night, tracksuit pants, jersey, and chest waders. I also take a complete change of clothing, because according to Sod's Law this means I'm less likely to fall in the lake. Into the bum-bag go: suntan lotion, scissors, knife, spare tippet nylon, fly box, fly dressing, stick-on indicators, and both reels so I can change tactics quickly when necessary. Also essential: a bit of detergent-impregnated sponge in a pill bottle, for cleaning leaders. And polarised clip-ons rather than sunglasses, because I'm a four-eyes already. No landing net. So let's say I've arrived at one of my favourite lakes and the wind's northwest -- typical Canterbury. Even if there are no fish rising, I'll usually start with the dry fly, and fish a spot where I can get the wind behind me or over one shoulder. A Black Gnat or Green Beetle is a good first fly to use. On a bright day the Royal Wulff will be a good bet. Whatever I choose, it must be a fly that's easy to see in the prevailing light conditions. With the sun behind or up high, and the water bright, most flies are easy to see. But in failing light or heavy overcast, the Black Gnat is number one choice every time. Whether casting blind or to sighted fish, I always try to make the first cast really count. Be optimistic and ready. Anglers so often aren't really concentrating right from the very start. But there are places where, even fishing blind, the best chance is on the first cast. Never shirk on it. I will make short casts over the drop-off or weed beds, and gradually increase the distance. It's extremely important, and a lesson that has taken years to sink in with me, to realise that you don't need to cast far. Experience has finally taught me to accept the need to have faith that the fish are there, and in close, even if you can't see them. With the dry fly there isn't the same need to knit or coil line as when lure fishing, but still it's important to ensure the line doesn't lie in big loose loops on the water. I keep the line almost tight, but not quite. If the wind carries the fly along the shore or outwards, that's fine just as long as it doesn't reduce your contact with the fly. I'll move around a fair bit doing this, covering the water and not flogging any one spot for too long. Occasionally I'll sit down quietly for a while just watching the fly as it drifts along, ready to tighten instantly the moment a big green snout snatches it. Yes: tighten instantly. My experience is that if you pause, you'll probably miss out. In fact many fish just hook themselves. Maybe in other fisheries there's a need for the traditional count of "one-two-three-STRIKE", but not fishing Canterbury in daylight. I like to take frequent short rests, for two reasons. One is that it gives you time to contemplate nature and cogitate about how lucky you are, or to share the companionship of fellow anglers. Another reason, and here I realise I'm not being very scientific, is the "law of the first cast": so often you seem to get action on the first cast after a rest. This seems to be true whatever method you use. Also, it's a good time to change flies or to dry out a bedraggled one. Wham! A fish strikes ... typical rainbow, running and jumping so wildly for the first few seconds that things are completely out of control. To my mind, there is only one rule when playing a trout:keep in close contact with it -- never let that line go loose, but otherwise basically let the fish go where it will. It'll tire soon enough. It is a matter of individual preference whether you play it from the reel or by hand-stripping line -- nobody can say one way is right and the other wrong. Stripping in great lengths of line while standing on the shore, there is a risk of tangles among stones or vegetation at your feet; but when playing off the reel there is more chance that the fish can make a sudden lunge and either break you or pull the hook out. Take your pick. I also don't subscribe to the rule that you must always keep the rod up. Especially when playing a fish in close to you on very light line, dropping the rod tip suddenly can help you control any wild lunges made by the fish. Of course you don't keep the rod down, but bring it back up as soon as you can. When finally beaching the fish, the advantage of the needle knot for attaching the leader becomes obvious. It streamlines the connection between leader and fly line. I can wind the leader inside the rod tip without the risk of its snagging on the way out again if the fish makes a last lunge. If keeping the fish I bang it on the head and gut it straight away, doing a quick autopsy to find out what it's been eating. Good luck! And when you get a fish on the bank, don't let the catch-and-release purists intimidate you into putting it back. If you'd like to eat it and it's legal size, then do so! By all means only select the best eating fish to keep -- remembering that doesn't always mean the biggest ones -- and put the rest back. But in my view it's decadent and depraved to continue fishing if you haven't the slightest intention of keeping any more fish. When you've taken what you need -- what you can and will use, without wasting anything -- up to the legal limit bag, then how about putting the rod away and doing something else? Go fish-spotting, suss out possies for next time, turn over a few stones and look at the aquatic life; or even just sit down and contemplate the big picture for a while. There's more to fishing than catching fish, but you should never lose sight of the fact that, ultimately, fishing is about getting food. Gavin's Cicada Wish I could say this fly was my own creation, but I cannot tell a lie. It is the work of Gavin James, fisheries biologist and angling friend. In rivers and lakes alike, it is unbelievably deadly in summer and autumn, and a further advantage is that it floats high and is easy to see in most light conditions. It's also very easy for the beginner to tie. Hook: Kamasan B405, sizes 10 to 16. Variation: tie in a strip of green metallised plastic film along the back of the fly for a green beetle-type version. Feedback? Comments? Any questions: info@heritagefoods.co.nz
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