Earlier in the week I flew to Sydney to talk at the Sydney Fly Rodders’ Christmas dinner. It was a great night at a great club. However the trip bonus was always going to be club member Josh Hutchins’ (aka Aussie Fly Fisher) offer of a day on his favourite rivers on the other side of the mountains. The evening with the Fly Rodders finished late, and it seemed I’d only just closed my eyes when the alarm went off. I soon dragged myself out on to a Parramatta street full of cars and striding office workers to jump in Josh’s 4WD and head west. Fortunately, Josh seemed just as bleary eyed as me – at least he’s only human!
Lake Oberon and surrounds on the other side of the Blue Mountains.There’s no denying that the drive from urban Sydney over the Blue Mountains is a long one, but with two keen flyfishers chatting away, a refuel at a beaut mountain-top bakery and landscapes to die for, it seemed no time at all before we’d crossed to the other side. Names like Lake Oberon, Fish River and Duckmaloi River flashed by as we passed through green hills I barely remembered from my teenage years. Then there was a turn, another turn, a rough track and an even rougher track. I swear at one stage we drove around in a great big circle – surely Josh wasn’t trying to confuse me?
Down to the river.At last we parked in the shade of an old gum, rigged up and made a steep descent to River One. (Josh did try to tell me what it was called, but his normally clear speech seemed to mumble and I didn’t quite catch it.) The news on reaching the water was good and bad. Good, Josh explained, because a week of rain after a hot, dry spell had the little stream flowing strongly again, thereby giving the trout a fighting chance of making it through summer. Bad, because the water was pretty murky – maybe a foot of viso at most. With no guarantees we’d find clearer water elsewhere, we pushed on anyway. Woolly Buggers replaced Josh’s usual nymphs and dries as we searched the pools for signs of life.
Josh hooked up.Ultimately it was tough going but fascinating, and it was easy to imagine the potential of the stream under favourable conditions. I saw four fish, three of which were 3 pounders give or take and Josh showed how it’s done by catching a great rainbow.
Rainbows and browns of this size and bigger were typical of those we encountered - good fish anywhere!
There’s a certain finality about having a plane to catch and the hours evaporated with alarming speed. Before we knew it, there was just enough time for a quick visit to another stream and Josh made the call. And what a call. This little river was in prime condition, flowing clear. We could literally see two fish rising as we got out of car. Even as I walked down the hill to the water, I sensed that the clock was going to be our enemy on this water: too many fish, too little time. Maybe I was feeling that pressure, maybe I was unlucky, or maybe I just fished badly and should stop making excuses! Anyway, we polaroided and cast to several fish, including two cracking rainbows that were feeding like maniacs. Only once before in my life (at Owen River in NZ) have I watched stream fish feed so fast and aggressively. This pair charged around the long, deep pool like two Kathy Freemans. You literally had to jog to get ahead for a cast. I had three hook ups and didn’t land one.
Please clock, just one more cast...As time ran out and I dragged myself back up the hill with 4 pounders rising behind me, the words of my Dad’s old fishing mate from years ago, rang in my head, “Yer goin’ when yer should be comin’!’ Next time Josh!
