When I was a youth, those same walks were done in chest-high Skellerups over itchy Swanndri bush shirts, when our hands used to throb from the frigid air temperatures. Then in Magnum neoprenes, which were as humid as Singapore inside after a 30-minute walk along the bank. Thank the lord for whoever invented breathable waders and comfortable wading boots.

Many of the great Tongariro pools I knew in earlier fishing times (Breakaway, Neverfail, Honey Pot etc) are gone - while a lot of the others have shallowed considerably, even in the past 2-5 years. Not sure why that is, you'd think floods would scour out great new pools, but that doesn't seem to have been the case. But there's no sense dwelling on the lost pools - you just have to find where the fish sit now.

Even though it was school holidays, and there was overnight rain that brought a 60 cu mec dirty flush on the second day, the river was relatively un-crowded. And while the fish weren't all from the silver bullet band - with quite a few coloured-up jacks, and recovering spawners in the mix - it was a really enjoyable time with one cracking fish kept for the smoker each day.

I love my saltwater lure fishing, but there is something very special about the traditions, rhythms and mindfulness of fly fishing. I enjoy nymphing a large river, and that split second of when the indicator rips upstream and you feel the first bucking movements of a good trout on the other end of the line.

Several of the fresh hens I landed were very chunky, and the jacks thick shouldered. While not huge, they were back to the standard of fish I used to associate with the Tongariro. Hard pulling, and taking to the air, before using the powerful current to their advantage.

While many anglers have gone to 6 weight rods for the T, I still prefer the 'old school' 8 weight, with a size up large arbour reel, and a good nymph taper line. If I'm only going to be at the river for a few days every year, I'd rather have the gear to cast bombs with ease, and then deal with a solid rainbow relatively fast - rather than being led on a merry chase down into the fast water with comparatively little rod power. Each to their own, and admittedly I can't afford the top end rods gurus recommend. My 8 weight Orvis 4-pce is still quite light compared to the first generations of graphite that I cut my teeth on, and I like the 'fighting butt' on the 8-weight.

It was a family holiday, not like the full-on winter fishing missions of my younger days when I'd be up well before daylight and hyped about getting to a pool via torch light. My best outing was an afternoon session where I hooked 15 and landed 10 of them. All in one pool, with just a pair of blue ducks for company. Made me wonder how many fish there must have been stacked up in the holding lie.

The successful flies were the usual suspects - a small bead egg or a net building caddis pattern trailing behind a tungsten 'bomb'. I prefer to use a bomb that fish will take - either the Cadillac I tie, or a buggy UV dubbing and hare fur creation with a copper 4.6mm bead. As usual, I hooked about a quarter of the fish on the bomb. I still tie my own flies on the very cheap Indian-made vice I bought as a teenager, which gives me a significant sense of satisfaction. 

The coolest part of the trip was that my boys had a go at casting at the trout centre, and are now keen for Dad to take them out. I've got plenty of gear (don't we all!) so will dedicate some time to casting practise at the local primary this summer, and maybe plan a trip to somewhere they can learn line control on the water. I taught myself to cast as a teenager using an Kilwell fibreglass rod, referencing black and white pictures in a book by the late-great Greg Kelly. So it'll be great to give them the help I never had, and create new fly fishing memories together.

Delicious.