One distinctive characteristic of
Argentinian Patagonia is its minimum demographic density, perfect condition for our
fishing trips to be optimum.
A morning of March seven anglers with
float tubes were getting into the Rivadavia lake.
The 120 ft high trees, the snowed peaks
and the pristine waters, witnessed our fishing journey. We floated until the mouth of the
Rivadavia river where a hatch of Mayflies wrapped us up. What a pleasure!!
The rainbows broke the water surface to
take our dry flies. The reels played their music along the runs of the bigger ones. The
river pushed us slowly to the first rapid. Each one picked up the line, and waited for the
water shaking. Some of them didnt know what to expect but they trusted me. One by
one we went trough the run, without troubles but excited with adrenaline.
The sun was shining and gave the water a
turquoise appear. There were plenty of trout. We could see them clearly against the sandy
bottom. We fished some of them and afterwards stopped on the shore. We took our supplies
out of the tubes pockets and placed the wine bottles, beers and roasted meat over a
huge laying tree. The stories telling first experiences adorned the lunch. The sound of
the river, the solitude, our happiness, everything made that one the perfect moment.
An hour later, we got again into the
water to continue our trip. Those dense forests, inaccessible ,make you feel a tremendous
affinity with nature. Some rainbows took nymphs and some others took dry-flies. The echoes
of our happy yellings traveled through the brook full of trees.
By dawn the river spitted us into the
Verde lake. We were ready to wait for the caddies hatch that took place those days around
7,30 at the mouth of the Arrayanes river.
All of a sudden, splashhhhhh......!!, the
frenzy started. A four pound trout jumped and sunk right in front of our noses. The water
started to explode and the rainbows showed their entire bodies; the sparkling went on and
on. At a certain time, five of us had one hooked in our rods.
Muellecito del Pichi Traful
They were 25 minutes of madness, and then
quietness again. The mountains showed their profiles that had already hidden the sun. It
was time for us to return to our camp at Arrayanes river, back where weve started.
Tremendous "asado" (BBQ) awaited us.
Stories, anecdotes, lies and
exaggerations. That night we slept with the taste of having lived an unforgettable fishing
day and a great adventure in Patagonia.
Hector Claverie © 2003