The fourth time the tiny nymph got hooked in my newly acquired Composite Developments hat, I began to wonder whether this fly fishing lark was really for me.

The same nymph had already found itself lodged in my jumper, my finger, several bushes lining the river, a couple of logs in the rushing, clear water and, excitedly, ever so briefly in the corner of the mouth of a red-flanked rainbow trout.

It was that brief rush of adrenaline as I actually felt the pressure of the fish on the hook that ultimately redeemed fly fishing in the eyes of this committed salt water fisherman.

Until then, the best efforts of Taupo fishing guide Craig Farrar, one of the country's foremost fly fishermen and a member of the New Zealand team in 2006 and 2008, had largely come to nought.

He'd expressed some level of happiness at my amateurish casting technique and eagerly called out "strike" every time the indicator on my line dipped under the water for even the briefest of moments.

But the time it took for my brain to register what he was saying and tell my arm to lift the rod was longer than the time it took the fish to realise the apparently tempting morsel it had just bitten into came with a hook attached.

Farrar, 34, says it can take several trips before a novice fly fisher successfully hooks their first fish and many more before they manage to actually land one.

He specialises in teaching people the fine art of fly fishing and guiding them to some of the best locations in the world to catch trout.

Many of those places are close to his Taupo home and while the quality of trout being caught in the Taupo area has been declining in recent years, Farrar says it's "still better than most places in the world".

The Hinemaiaia River at Hatepe, about 15 kilometres south of Taupo, is a case in point. The bush-lined, shallow river is fed with clear waters from the western boundary of the Kaimanawa Forest Park.

It has three hydroelectric power stations on it, meaning winter fishing for spawning trout is restricted to the meandering, kilometre-long stretch of water below the bridge across State Highway 1.

Trout find the gravel and sandy bottomed river ideal for laying their eggs in and Farrar says the fish will wait in the lake until fresh rains boost the river levels before heading upstream to spawn.

"Most make it back to the lake," Farrar says.

A couple of other vehicles are already parked in the layby beside the Hinemaiaia when Farrar pulls in and the first person we encounter is a Conservation Department ranger, who checks our licences ($21 for a day) and reminds us of the importance of washing all our equipment to ensure the invasive didymo doesn't spread to the North Island.
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"I'm pretty pro-active about that," Farrar says.

When we're all kitted up in waders and boots for a day on the river, Farrar glances at the clear, fresh water and casually mentions there are half a dozen trout sitting in the current, right there, just beside where we've parked.

Thanks to the polarised glasses he supplies, it doesn't take long to distinguish the fish from the rocks and logs that lie on the bottom of the river, their presence given away by their languid movements back and forth across the current.

A bit further downstream, on a well- formed track kept clear by DOC workers, we enter the water below where several other trout are holding and Farrar shows me how to cast the line so the fly - a bright orange glow bug nymph - lands upstream of the trout, sinks to the bottom and drifts with the current in front of them. Striking the fish when the cloth indicator ducks under the water sounds simple enough but successfully putting the theory into practice is something that has occupied fly fishermen for centuries.

As far back as 1653, English writer Izaak Walton - author of The Compleat Angler - wrote that angling "may be said to be so like the mathematics, that it can never be fully learnt".

Farrar agrees and says every day on every river is different and he never stops learning the craft.

"Just when you think you know it all is when you have one of those days where you learn a pretty hard lesson."

This could be one of those days, with lunch coming and going and nothing to show for our efforts other than the satisfaction of being out in the peaceful bush on a beautiful early spring day.

Farrar says you can't always catch fish and "a lot of what we do is teaching people where to go and different techniques".

Getting the technique right is huge, he adds. "I take people out who have been fishing for years but still have no idea how to cast properly. Everyone wants to catch fish but the conditions do play a big part." The biggest factor is what the weather has been up to.

"Our expectations are often higher than the clients'."

Farrar says it's "not the Kiwi way" to employ a guide to teach them where and how to successfully catch trout but after a few hours in his company, the benefits of doing so are as clear as the Hinemaiaia.

I'm able to identify likely parts of rivers where trout could be found and have enough basic skill to rig a fly fishing set up and get a fly on to the river.

In short, I would be confident enough to head out on my own to have another go, whereas before meeting Farrar, I would have been wasting both time and money with little likelihood I'd ever catch anything.

Like all fishing, experience counts for plenty and Farrar has more than 25 years of it that he's happy to pass on. Just don't expect him to come up with any recipes to cook your catch. "I don't actually like eating it," he says.

SOURCE: By TRACEY COOPER - Waikato Times