I’ve known Graeme and his wife Joan for a long, long time. Their lodge at Lake Aniwhenua has been a second home to me for the last eight or nine years, particularly during the period when the ‘hogs’ of yesteryear were around — and even now it remains a favourite destination, just because it’s a great place to go.

I almost had a Guideline with Graeme a few years ago. Viewers of TV3’s Gone Fishin’ might remember an episode on the Horomanga River, where I was lucky enough to catch a trout of 5.5kg — and Graeme Sinclair, under Graeme Ryder’s expert tutelage, managed a magnificent rainbow beast of 7kg. That was supposed to be my day — it’s a long story why it wasn’t.

But now that’s all in the past. Since then I’ve experienced an exhilarating 4WD fishing adventure in the upper Horomanga region with Graeme and my friend Ian MacDonald, but it still wasn’t the guided trip I so desired.

Finally it happened. My persistent nagging at NZF’s directory lady, Brenda Knight, paid off when an ‘invitation’ finally firmed for me to join Graeme at the start of the new season. The plan was to fish some of the smaller Urewera streams amongst the bush — excellent!

Between work at the lodge and other guiding commitments, Graeme was a very busy man, but we still managed to get together in the first week of October. Confident of a successful day, Graeme suggested we depart at his usual time of 8 o’clock the next morning. Although he will start earlier by special request, none was forthcoming from me. It was nice to have a little time to prepare.

As an extra challenge, Graeme suggested that I try fishing two small nymphs without an indicator. Although this would require a little more skill (which I might not turn out to have), it tends to be more effective in clear, small stream situations.

At the appointed time we jumped into Graeme’s wagon and headed down the road for six or seven minutes. During this time we passed over three other lovely looking streams — ‘spoiled for choice’ in this region is an understatement.

Prior to this trip I had emphasised to Graeme that he should take nothing for granted and treat me as a typical client. Fishing small, bush-lined streams without an indicator is hardly my strongest skill, so I was grateful for the procedural rundown that Graeme provided.

We began the expedition on near-pastoral land, the few low bushes, falling down fences and lush grasses bordering the creek suggesting minimal chance for aggravation on the back-cast. The only thing initially messing up the whole scenario was a total lack of fish in the first few pools and runs. Graeme was a little disappointed, believing it to be the result of opening weekend pressure — but remained optimistic things would ‘come right’. After 15 minutes of stealthy creeping, he suddenly froze and then slowly held up a warning hand. “There ...”, he whispered, eyes transfixed, “at the back of the run, just near the big white rock.”

Looking hard at the designated location through my polaroids, I could see the ghosting form of a nice rainbow drifting back and forth, the merest flick of its tail keeping it on station over the brown pebbly bottom. A brief reminder about keeping my fly line below the fish preceded three rather inaccurate but harmless casts from me. A somewhat bolder cast landed five feet up from the fish and well out to the side, so I was somewhat taken aback to see the trout immediately flash over to the offering. As it spun back around I whipped the rod up hopefully and was relieved to feel the satisfying weight of the rainbow pulsing on the end. As it splashed off upstream, I gave a whoop and my happy grin was mirrored by Graeme’s. It was the start of a very memorable day.

I don’t think that we spent more than twenty minutes without hooking a fish — except when walking back down from the two streams we visited. The rest of the time was a wonderful blur of raised hands and affirmative whispers from Graeme, generally followed up by stealthy positioning and then a splashing trout on a bucking rod.

I was in heaven. The warm spring sun successfully sneaked through thin leafy canopies, dappling the silver path of the stream, and sometimes everything seemed so quiet that it was deafening. Only the faint murmur of moving water and occasional bird song kept things real. Fresh deer hoof-prints were everywhere, and each time we saw them they made Graeme’s eyes sparkle — the only moments I ever saw his enthusiastic fishing focus waver.

Throughout the day, the quality of the fishing more than matched the constantly changing but gentle beauty of the bush. Early on in the piece Graeme helped me to pluck three fish from one small pool and was pretty happy with this — until we went on to the next stream and saw seven fish ahead of us, all finning about in the current with some actively feeding.

A slight attack of buck fever helped produce another slightly wayward cast, but this proved providential when a previously unseen fish flashed over and swirled on the little gold bead nymphs. It turned out to be a beauty, too, leaping repeatedly and scattering the other residents with its wild dashes.

By the time the silvery 2kg rainbow had finally been subdued, netted, photographed and released, the remaining fish had mostly calmed down and returned. The result was that another two fell to the carefully selected nymph combo before we ran out of feeding fish and had to move on.

Graeme was fantastic. His eagle eyes picked out plenty of possible candidates, and his advice and recommendations always proved spot-on. He added greatly to my small stream skills and helped to confirm the little I already knew. By the end of the day we’d gelled into a pretty fair team, racking up nearly twenty fish for our efforts. I think it’s fair to say that we enjoyed each other’s company, too.

What really put the icing on the cake though, was the great variety of terrain we encountered, from pastoral ramblings, to well-forested gullies, bouldery rapids and tumbling waterfalls. Every time a corner was turned, a new delight unfolded. Best of all, I enjoyed the simple pleasure of kneeling down and drinking whatever we happened to be standing in at the time. Until this trip, I never understood the meaning of ‘sweet’ water; it was pure nectar.

Graeme Ryder is your archetypal outdoor man and a handy bloke to have around: practical, tough, and full of information, as well as friendly and patient. His passion for nature, in all her guises, is obvious and as a result he knows how to make the most of what’s on offer. This enables him to provide a wide array of fishing options, from the wonderful wilderness fishing we experienced, to chopper trips, four-wheel-drive and drift-boat adventures, jet boating and lake fishing. Even better, many of the widely ranging destinations are close by, so the day is spent mostly fishing rather than travelling.

Accommodation is no problem, either before or after any guided trips. As previously mentioned, Graeme and his wife Joan own Lake Aniwhenua Lodge, which overlooks a particularly productive part of the lake. Some of my best-ever trout fishing has occurred right in front — and when everywhere else is flooded!

No fishing gear? No problem. Tackle, waders and boats are available for hire, so everyone can take advantage of the myriad of fishing scenarios, and the lodge shop has all the bits and pieces needed to make your fishing as successful as possible.

A wide assortment of cabins and units cater to varying customer needs and are available at very reasonable rates. The large recreation room proves popular with clubs, team-building groups, couples and individuals alike — probably due to the attractive combination of a log fire, pool table and television/video.

Although some cabins are self-contained, most lodge inhabitants prefer to meet up in the communal kitchen — it’s a great place to eat, drink and swap a yarn or two.

For those who would like to know more about the experiences and options offered by Graeme and Joan Ryder, please call 0-7-366 4777.

By Mark Kitteridge