Included in this post are stories about my first fishing trip of the season, the start of British influence on the herd breeding program and a party in a wool shed.
Last weekend, I went to break in my new gear on the Maerewhenua River at Dansey's Pass, one of the most beautiful places I have ever been (and my favourite and the most dangerous road I have ever driven on, see post 13). You will have to take my word for it that the name of the river is spelled correctly, I am about 75% sure it is. I have no idea how to pronounce it either, which made for some awkward moments when I was chatting to the bloke in the fishing shop.
The sun was out and it looked like perfect conditions for fly fishing, so after setting up my reel, choosing a likely looking fly (pheasant tail nymph) and saying good morning to a bloke who was panning for gold, I set off up river.
I clambered and scrambled my way over the rocks and shale that edge the water looking for pools, where the water slows down enough to allow a bit of control over the line and fly. It is also where Mr Trout is most likely to be sitting, waiting for a fly to drop right in front of his nose.
The stand out characteristic of NZ rivers is how clear they are, you can see the rocky bed and also any fish looking to eat a potentially fatal snack.
This is a picture of a fish. Good luck trying to find it, but you can see how clear the water is.
Not being a vastly experienced or skilled fly fisherman, it took me an hour or so to get my casting right. I also spent a bit of time messing around with my camera and assorted gadgets trying to take a picture of myself casting.
You will notice that I have not gone down the wader route of fishing, but down the shorts and 'prepare to jump in if I get a bite' route, hence barefoot.
I didn't see a cloud all day, but right after I had eaten the bacon sandwiches that were squashed at the bottom of my tackle bag, it did get a bit breezy. When I nearly pierced my own ear with the hook mid-cast, I decided to call it a day.
Here is a picture of me posing with the day's catch.
Yes I know, there are no fish. Disappointed as I am, I am not surprised that my efforts proved futile. It is actually all part of the plan, I don't want to catch any fish early on in the season. I am allowing them to grow into monsters, so that when I do catch a few they will put up a good fight and make a decent sized supper.
On the way home I took what in any other country would be called a 'scenic route'. Here on the South Island of NZ, every route is scenic. I took a different route home, and stopped on the top of a hill to take in some of the great views. I could see both the ocean and the Southern Alps from the same spot, and duly snapped away. It might sound strange but I love a good photograph of green fields and blue sky!
Last weekend I also went to my first ever party in a NZ wool shed. It was an early Christmas party and the farm owner, Grant's 60th birthday party combined. Held on his upland sheep and beef station, Glencoe, it was definitely the first party I have been to in an actual wool shed where you stood on the dirty shavings and put your drinks down on the shearing and wool bagging equipment. They had a bathtub full of Speight's, a few patio heaters and a top notch BBQ. They also had a hired jukebox which only seemed to have 70's music on and the soundtrack to Grease. The open sides of the shed meant that it got pretty cold, we stood around a massive gas heater slow-roasting ourselves, getting too warm on the side facing the heat and too cold on the other side. I knew it was a casual affair when upon asking someone if they knew of the whereabouts of a toilet, I was directed outside to a patch of nettles and told; 'Be quick or you'll freeze your nads off'.'
In the last few days I have AI'd one cow. There were twelve to be served on the morning when I had my camera. I managed one whilst at the same time Marlene / Usain Bolt, the AI technician had done the other eleven. I would say I am a bit out of practice, but I will be doing a few more in the next few days I think.
Here is a few pictures of me in action, AI-ing away.
Without going into too much detail (for those of you with a squeamish disposition), my arm was suitably achy afterwards, having been squeezed very tightly. The best way of me explaining what it feels like to AI a cow is for you to imagine trying to catch a live goldfish and put a straw in his mouth, in the dark, and with a very powerful blood pressure monitor around your forearm, which is inside a cow, who is not particularly comfortable.
Right I will leave you with that.
Until next time, over and out.
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