MY NEW SAGE No5

We were 30km from Coyhaique on the Simpson river. From the height of the road, we looked on in amazement at the beauty of the afternoon, the high mountains, and obviously, the hundreds of perfect places for the premiere of my brand new aquisition, a SAGE No 5 SP rod of nine .........  This brought us to discuss all types of techniques with ........... and the art of deception (an essential characteristic for all good fishermen.) 

The conversation left us all animated, but at our destination we found the gates chained and the access fenced in, all our enthusiasm and tranquility was turned into tension inside the cars.

After some kilometers with Nicollo and Marcelo (both college friends of mine), Marcelo saw a boat with which we crossed the river. Eager, each one of us looked around for the perfect spot. At the car park

A poor presentation

When I arrived, I made my way to a tree trunk which had fallen into the river, creating a whirpool. It was a pretty big pool; this I was reflecting on, if there are trout, this is where they will be. My friends weren't far. I proposed to myself to demostrate how to get a good trout with style and grace. I decided to put a submergible line with heavy, black fly, well known as Wolly Bugger (my father would question my idea of style and grace.)

I took my time. I positioned myself and studied the trajectory of the fly. I began to throw the first meters, feeling the rod take the line well, and throwing more each time. Forgetting where I had to put the fly, I was throwing practically all the line ¿...? losing the control I had over her. The rod was delicious, the action rapid and very powerful. To start, the fly got caught on the only branch there was. And to finish my work to form, I frightened all the fish from the pool, and brought short the leader, losing all opportunity in this place.

I distanced myself from my friends and began again in the next place which was the strongest current point in the river (riffles). It showed some action on the surface (trout eating), which animated me much. The distance there was between the trout and me was considerable, but my rod and I were prepared for this. I decided to change my line for a floater; putting a leader of 3 - 4 meters. As to the fly, I opted for an Adams 14 (one of the most illusory it had been said in the car).

As I started to throw, it encouraged me to try to reach the other bank,  ...As a result, I frightened everything which was living and had fins in the pool. Siendo bien franco conmigo, I didn't distinguish with the distance of the fly or if the leader (nylon) was tight enough. I insisted on some more equal throws, but to no result. I was frustrated with the situation. I had a new rod but no success or fish, the only result was I frightened them; I decided to sit down and relax with my unfaltable cigar.

After a little entertainment with the knots on the line of the leader, there started an "act", a large appearance and with this, it seems to me that the river seemed to be boiling. They were all around, never have I seen anything like it. They were everywhere, I went crazy, never before had I seen anything similar and without losing time, I started to throw, this time reducing the distance by half, but neither did this give me a result. The fly arrived where the trout were but the presentation of the line began to feel blunt and sudden in the water.

Why didn't it bite?

I was almost ready to break the rod with anger, but really I didn't understand what had happened. To rectify the situation I started to ... and now the problem was not the fly but the line, it lost, or it lost view, I felt it is the last help that I had to successfully distinguish the fly and lastly, if it stopped me if i

Estaba que rompía la caña de rabia, realmente no entendía que pasaba. Para empeorar mi situación comenzó a oscurecer y ahora el problema no era la mosca sino la línea, se perdía, o sea yo la perdía de vista, siendo esta la última ayuda que tenía para lograr distinguir la mosca o por último, si se detenía me daba la esperanza de que había picado.

Los escuchaba burlándose de mí y yo no sabía si iban a mi mosca o no. Era desesperante lanzaba para todos lados y no pasaba nada. Comencé a sentir que estaba perdiendo mi tiempo y que me había dedicado a lavar la línea toda la tarde. Comencé a lanzar muy cortito a uno 10 metros logrando así un mejor contacto visual con mi mosca, inmediatamente logré resultados, pescando una pequeña pero preciosa arco iris; al fin y al cabo era lo mejor del día. Logré ensartar a dos truchitas más una farillo la otra arcoiris. La noche comenzaba a caer y yo estaba satisfecho por que no había quedado zapatero.

Almost resigned because of the little light that was left, I start to throw the line to order the a casi resignado por la poca luz que quedaba, comienzo a lanzar toda la línea para ordenarla en el carrete. Sigo la línea con la vista y a lo lejos escucho una trucha caer al agua (según yo). Tiro de la línea, al fin y al cabo la esperanza es lo último que se pierde, y al instante siento la presión de la trucha en la caña. En un comienzo no le di mucha importancia... seguramente era otra truchita, me dije.

Tranquilly, I begun to take back the line. Suddenly, I felt a great pull, which I missed greatly, but quickly gave in to, making the work of the line very easy. With a couple of metres left of the line, surprisingly the fish was frightened to see me and started to escape. I, impressed by the intensity with which my reel sounded, started to feel the adrenalin in my body.  I removed up to the backing. When 

Tranquilamente, seguí recogiendo la línea. De repente sentí un buen tirón, lo que me extraño mucho, pero cedió rápidamente, haciéndome la tarea de recoger la línea muy fácil. Con un par de metros para terminar enrollar la línea, sorpresivamente el pez se asustó al verme y comenzó a escapar. Yo, impresionado por la intensidad con que mi carrete sonaba, comencé a sentir la adrenalina en mi cuerpo. Me sacó hasta el backing. Cuando paró, yo estaba totalmente atónito, pero comencé a enrollar rápidamente. La pelea duró unos 10 minutos. Para mi sorpresa, era un arco iris de 16 pulgadas (45 a 50 cm). Pensé que iba hacer más grande por la forma que peleó, pero no me quejo, ya que habría sido imposible terminar mejor la jornada. 

While walking back, I was thinking; I had forgotten that I was in this place to fish and not only to throw the rod. And the second though was: how fragil is the memory. Only one trout was enough for me to forget my anger, the which didn't worry me in the slightest. 

Text : Andrés González