Down the Warnow.

Four figures sit relaxed in the shade of a willow as our car rolls over the crunching gravel path on the banks of the Warnow. One of them is wearing a huge sombrero and tinkering around with the lens of his camera, the others are sitting in the shadow of their camper. If it isn’t the guys from WALDEN!

Following the Track of a River

The welcome is accompanied by the pleasant tension of the uncertainty in the air. After a short equipment check, we remain on land and figure out who will be in which boat and how we will divide the route. We’ll take the rest as it comes. Harald inquires which fish are biting, if they are biting at all. A legitimate question, since two weeks prior there was no sign of the chub which we are setting our sights on here today. After everything is stored on board and Matthias’ fly rod — which he fetched from the attic fittingly for the occasion — is ready for use, we start off downstream with the caravan of the three Canadians.

In sunny weather we see the first big fish in the crystal clear water, the excitement rises! Matthias calls out: “That fallen tree trunk in the water is the ideal spot … check out if there is something there.” We make our first casts into shallow water where the plants bend lithely with the flow. Malte is steadying his camera. Suddenly a chub shoots out of the cover, snatches the mayfly, and shows how spectacular a round can be with the likes of this fish. I must admit that this specimen was not really the biggest, but it had a very relaxing effect on us and the further course of the tour.

At the next big meadow we take a break to goad the guys from WALDEN into taking a fly rod and giving it a try. Of course, they’re all natural talents … that much is self-evident! In the shade of the opposite riverbank the occasional fish let’s itself get caught during the beginners course.

Harald suggests having a small picnic at the next opportunity. His picnic basket delivers what he promises. Italian country bread and various salami and cheese varieties appear. Add a cool beer and the day belongs to us!

We propose to build the camp in a small woodland nearby. In the late afternoon hours we pass by sheep pastures and beaver dens. Red Kites circle about us as we reach our destination at dusk. After a bath, we get to work re-energized. Matthias instructs us how to sensibly set up the new sleeping hammocks, and Markus builds a fire pit while Harald prepares the ingredients for the evening cookout. As the sausages sizzle, a bottle of red wine is uncorked, and there’s a bit of fishing .

While the participants’ ambitions are flaring, we fine-tune our casting and are driven by the immediate possiblity of catching a bigger fish. We wind up with a few perches that went hunting in the last light of the day. Around the fire we share some more stories about fly fishing and life. Hoping for a good night’s sleep, we crawl into our hammocks.

The Spirit of a New Day

We wake up amazingly fresh to meet the next morning. The smell of fresh espresso and burnt wood fills the air. The sun creeps over the tops of the pines and makes you want a new fishing day. While we sip our coffee, Harald asks us a few questions about fly fishing and scribbles down our answers on his notepad. Besides the great joy of being outdoors, the biggest attraction of fly fishing for us is looking for the fish and approaching them as quietly as possible. Since the super-light flies have almost no spooking effect on the fish — and, in the ideal case, are homemade — fly fishing is, indeed, a very fulfilling and delicate undertaking. It is a very unique feeling to be able to outfox a trout with a hook, a piece of string, and a duck-feather.

Fly fishing is, furthermore, the most ancient kind of fishing next to net fishing. The idea of ??experiencing nature together with good friends is, of course, first and foremost; the fly rod is the means which gladly and aptly lends itself to this purpose. Naturally, it is also a delight to spend a few hours alone in the water after an exhausting day. The meditative side of fly fishing, coupled with a bit of survival instinct, is met with real enthusiasm by more and more friends.

Make it Yourself!

Today, the powerful rapids are on the agenda, with the goal of avoiding rocks and bridge pillars. We decide to keep the camp set up so we can travel light and have a few dry things at hand if someone capsizes. The photo equipment is packed in waterproof bags. The boats are put into the water and we’re off into the green hell…

The first cool breeze blew ominously through the valley at dusk when we decided to change the diesel pump on our pickup. We parked on the roadside and shook the inner workings under the hood as if trying to pull the last tooth of an old man.

When the first twinkling stars appeared in the sky, the car started under protest again and we drove with the windows open through a night which rewarded us with the sight of the moon reflecting in the waves of the Petrohué River. We built our camp on the banks,collected firewood and crowned the evening with grilled meat and a bottle of whiskey.

The next morning I woke up to clouds of smoke billowing over me as one of our guys was taking up the task of restoking the last night’s embers to brew his first coffee. The clear, gincolored, blue-green springwater of Lago Santo flowed steadily and the yellow deciduous foliage announced the imminent arrival of autumn. The sun’s first warm rays topped the mountain peaks and began to play with the morning waves. We were at the entrance to the world of volcanoes, rivers, forests and mountains and in the background the enthroned white summit of the Osorno Volcano accompanied us like a constant companion.

After a leisurely breakfast, we assembled our rods and explored the stony riverbed. I let an olive pancora-fly drift along the flow’s edge and after a handful of casts the first brown trout jumped artfully into the still-steaming morning air. This day would be perfect. We decided to follow the lower reaches upstream, filled our backpacks with supplies and stepped unexpectantly through the covered underbrush of the dense river deltas. We fished at bubbling stretches of pebbled benches and mysterious pools, but all was quiet.We took a short break and enjoyed the views of the forested mountains and listened to the sound of nature. I cast a large streamer into the shadow of a bush-lined shore, which promised a deeply flushed gap and thus ideal conditions for bigger fish.

On the 18th of April two guides of our team set off from Berlin for the beginning of the sea trout season in southern Denmark. After a 4.5 hours drive we welcomed our very friendly guests from Austria. With some cool beers at the stove fire we set a plan for the next day, prepared our tackle and splurged a look in our fly boxes.

The previous week was marked by shifting winds, fluctuating air pressure and temperatures between 10 and 13 degrees Celsius, so we initially chose the bays of the inner fjords. With an overcast sky, east wind force 3, high water levels and inconspicuous currents the first spring trouts could not resist the shrimp fly!

The next morning the wind shifted to the southeast and brought a slight wave, followed by a 48 " and a 52" sea trout, which was topped by a 54“ in the afternoon.

It was a nice start to the season and we can not expect the next day!

We hope to see you soon on the water!