AN ANGLER'S GOLDEN DAY ON LAKE ROTORUA

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23269, 11 February 1939, Page 1 (Supplement)

AN ANGLER'S GOLDEN DAY ON LAKE ROTORUA

By KIA KAHA

the fly fishermen at Rotorua and Taupo, this season, so far as it has gone, has been a very great disappointment. In the first place, the trout spawned late and remained at the gravelly headwaters of. the streams longer than is usual, so that during the first; weeks of the season the fish taken iin the, lake on the fly were either small and immature, or, spent with spawning, in poor condition.

Then came the unseasonable and boisterous weather. Fishermen flogged the shallows in vain. But, like a sudden gleam of sunshine on a grey day, there comes to the angler tho memory of one golden day. Oh this morning the angler awoke, expecting, as usual, that the day would come "a pilgrim grey,-" with flying clouds and rufifled waters under the irritating and persistent westerly wind. Instead, the air was calm, and above the eastern hills the base of a long stratus cloud was flushed with pink, while above it the morning star blazed like a great crystal globe in the clear sky.

In the dim twilight of the dawn the lake lay deep and still, the flush in the east and the glittering star reflected as in another sky. The Stars Fail

As he watched, the outline of Mokoia and the far hills swam, almost imperceptibly, into his ken and a golden glow suffused the whole scene as the stars faded. Hut mundane thoughts obtruded upon the artistic, and so in the chill of the dawn (to use language reminiscent of Isaac Walton), tho piscator brewed him a dish of tea, and took sustenancci to fortify himself for the morning's sport.

When he emerged again into the morning air, the highest peak in the far range was crowned with golden light, and the flat top of Tarawera, usually so douj! and forbidding in appearance, looktid almost benign _as it glowed rosy piiik in tho clear air. As the sun cleared the hill it plunged into a fleecy cloud, turning it to the colour of crushed gold, while the outline of the wooded hills stood out clear and sharp against the delicate pink glow of the eastern nky.

Punctually at 5 a.m. (for before that hour no man may fish), the angler stepped into hin little boat, and rowed; out across the still lake to the end of the spit, anchoring just on the edge of the deeper water. As ho cast across the still, golden water, the line and the fly, splashing on the glassy surface, tended rather to frighten than to attract the fish, so the angler sat still, and watched tlie soft, delicate colours of the reluctant dawn harden into the gariab day. The Strike Little errant zephyrs, ruffling the placid surface into little wavelets, seemed to play hide and seek upon the lake., When onci of them came to him, to bo received with a gurgle of pleasure by the captive boat, the angler cast into the roughened water, just as the sun, freeing itself from the clinging cloud, smote a golden pathway across the rippling waters full in his face. Suddenly there came a double tug to the line, and the reel screamed as into the golden bar of sunlight leaped j a great trout, glittering in red and | silver, with th<:> lino hanging from its

Singing Reel and Resounding Splash

open jaws. Again and yet again it sprang into the air, shaking its head furiously.

After a great leap that made the reel sing and a resounding splash as he hit the water, the strain on tho rod suddenly ceased, and the angler reeled in the empty line. The great trout had won!

Then followed a long hour of fruitless casting, for, though the fish were rising all about him, they were not "taking," as anglers'say. He tried almost every fly in his book, but in vain; until a fish rose close to the boat, and the angler dropped his fly right in the middle of the disturbance.

The trout rushed at it with open mouth, and the hook went home as ho struck hard. Hither and thither rushed the fish, leaping into the air, turning somersaults, trying in every cunning way to get rid of the inexorable hook; but this time the skill of the angler prevailed, and this lively four-pounder was brought safely into the boat. Away from it All So, with intervals for meals, in tho sunlight on the lake, this golden day was passed. Casting became almost automatic, and served as a kind of rhythmic accompaniment to the contemplation of naturo. Tho hum-drum workaday world seemed far from him, and he took exquisite pleasuro in the changing manifestations of nature he saw about him. Occasionally his pleasant thoughts were interrupted by the music of tho reel as a fish rose to the fly, but tho trout were "biting short," as anglers say. and he missed many strikes.

However, when the sun came to its meridian the angler had landed three; but two of them, being out of condi-

tion, had gi\~en a poor fight, and the third, a lively little fellow, had to be treated tenderly and returned to the lake, as he was under the regulation fourteen inches.

During the afternoon the angler spent a pleasant two hours anchored alongside the "Skipper," who told many moving, but rather improbable, tales of hunting and fishing in other parts of the world. Whether it was that these yarns of the "Skipper's" were too much even for the fish, the fact remains that not a trout rose at either of the lines during the recital. In the Gloaming It was not until the "Skipper" was pulling up his anchor that the angler struck a fish, which, well hooked, tore many yards o£ the line from the screeching reel as he made for the open lake, but the pull of the rod and the weight of the line soon brought him up, and, though he made a gallant fight at short range, he was safely netted. From his fighting powers the angler expected a big fish, but he was three pounds only, but strong and in fine condition. When the sun set in golden glory over the Alamuku Hills, the angler joined the boats anchored round the "Hole" just outside the mouth of the stream. As the night crept over the lake many a merry jest wont round, sometimes interrupted by the whirr of a reel as a fish was hooked.

Suddenly the angler felt something touch his line, and he struck. He thought he was "snagged," but to his surprise the "snag" began to move, and he realised that he was on a brown trout. Here was no rushing, fighting rainbow. Slowly and steadily he went round and round the boat, the angler apparently unable to stop him. Suddenly be turned on his back, was drawn to the boat and netted without a struggle. He was a well-conditioned "Brownie" of seven pounds. About ten o'clock a chilly wind came from the south, and dark clouds presaged a return to boisterous conditions. And so it'turned out, and this perfect sunny day in a season of' many disappointments stands out as a golden day in the memory of the angler.