Patagonia 2018 fishing

     Our group of six seniors just returned from a fly fishing adventure into the back country of Patagonia, the part of Argentina that shares its western border on the Andes mountains with Chile. This location is many hundreds of miles south of the equator near the city of San Carlos de Bariloche. To get there, we had to begin our journey from various locations in the USA/Canada and then fly the penultimate leg from Atlanta Georgia to Buenos Aires (BA) (10 hours over night) followed by a final 2 hour flight to Bariloche the next day. The vistas in BA can be quite interesting as the city architecturally must have been a spectacular place 100 years ago. Many of the buildings are still ornate, the parks with giant old trees impressive, and BA has birthed some interesting souls (below).

Bariloche is small (~ 120,000) compared to BA (3 million at night and swelling to ~14 million in the day). Thus Bariloche still has the flavor of a 'small' town with many ecologically appealing venues. This town is at the head waters of the Limay river, which begins in the Andes seen below in the distance across Lake Nahuel Huapi at the edge of town. Much of the water forming that lake and Limay river system begins as snow pack and glaciers in the adjacent Andes.

Interestingly the melting glaciers at their source (below) are not clear water like the lake and river down stream, but the melting ice water clears with distance and time and soon looks the waters of the Caribbean.

All throughout the landscape of this water world, the vegetation is green and vibrant, with a plethora of trees unknown to us.

Others look more familiar like our spruces, which flailed steadily in the endless blustering wind.

After leaving Bariloche by car, we followed the Limay River downstream to the northeast as it heads steadily toward BA and the Atlantic Ocean many hundreds of miles away.

I fished the Limay 14 years ago when we were there with our daughter Jenifer. We fished the river just downstream from Bariloche but well above the first hydroelectric dam. There I hooked and caught a large female brown, who presumably enter the river from the lake, where they can get to be very large.

After 20 min I finally beached the fish 70 yards down stream, where the guide kept trying to get her into his little net. I kept yelling to him to tail the fish so I could get a picture. He ignored me, likely because he only spoke Spanish and Italian (and I didn't!), and the fish finally broke his net, dislodging the fly and losing my fish! He told my daughter, who speaks Spanish fluently, that the fish was the biggest he had seen that year and weighed about 7 kilos (~15 pounds) Very disappointing, but the event provided me with the impetus to return this year to again fish the river, albeit many miles down stream.

To reach the Limay River Lodge, we had to pass several giant lake reservoirs, which are major hydroelectric generators for BA so far away. The bad news of such dams is that they bury and destroy all the riverside communities and fertile land leaving only the higher elevation, which is largely desert. The good news is that the water released from the dammed lake to generate power is from the bottom of the lake, which normally is at a temperature favorable to trout (~55-65 Fahrenheit).

After several hours (~3) of driving on our present trip, we passed the third dam, and now drove near the river, ending at our residence at the Limay River Lodge. We hope that the river can remain in this state in the future, as our host and lodge owner, Jorge Trucco, has convinced the government and local communities to reject all future dam development (9 proposed), which will leave the river permanently in its native form.

As you can see, the area above the river through this area of Patagonia is very desert-like in nature.

At the road height above the river, the view of the river it is quite lovely. Note all the willows and a few tall poplars along the edge of the water.

When we arrived at the lodge, we were greeted by the staff, plus a lovely lodge with dory guide boats. Note also the large willows in the background on the left and the huge poplars that highlight most "ranches" in the area. Some of the ranches are 20,000 acres I am told.

The area is so dry that the sprinkler system at the lodge runs every day to maintain a small lawn. Outside of the lodge footprint, the area is largely desert. But even so, it supports a variety of wildlife, like wild llamas, alpacas, grouse, quail, 'ostriches'/rheas, some hawks, and thousands of ducks we have never before seen. The only birds from the north I recognized were great blue herons, great white egrets and cormorants.

Besides fishing, our favorite part of the day was a gorgeous dinner with our guides and owner.

This was accompanied by drinks of all kinds, especially a large collection of Argentinian wines, selected daily and served by our incomparable hostess Paola.

Every morning after breakfast, we would hit the river at about 9:30 am at a new location along the ~50 miles of river that 'belonged' to Jorge's lodge. There were 2 fisherman per boat, thus 3 boats for the six of us, and a guide per boat on each trip. We would finally get off the river at about 7 pm after a long sunny day. Great care was taken to prevent serious sun burn. Below is me with a solar mask and fishing gloves plus lots of sun screen to achieve that goal. Fisherman note the beautiful rapids at this river braid.

On this day, brother Dave and I with our guide had just sneaked up on a school of rainbow trout that were feeding on the morning egg-laying mayflies in the calm water behind the rock outcropping.

We had some success. Our guide for this day, Fabian, presents one of Dave's rainbow trout.

And Dave himself with another nice rainbow.

Routinely in the early afternoon we would stop for a lavish lunch on a grassy beach area with tables set up under a large shady willow, orchestrated by the guides. After lunch, the 3 boats would be repacked for the remainder of the float as below.

At the end of each days float, we would gather for our return drive to the lodge. Here we have brother Dave, George Hilton and Bill Kastler heading to one of the 3 trucks.

Back at the lodge would have a drink, and change of clothes, usually a shower, and, in Fred Schwaibold's case, the addition of a cigar, while sitting around the fire pit.

 At the same time, our host, Jorge could not resist the varied  h'ordervese served by our chef every evening before dinner.

Meanwhile Alex Kliros and our guide Gustovo were putting the rods away at the end of the day.

Perhaps the most memorable event in the trip was when Bill and I were wade-fishing with Gustovo, and he spotted a large brown trout resting on the other side of a creek. Notice the large dark fish and its shadow at ~7 o'clock near the center of the picture.

Gustovo had me cast to the fish several times, and although I had good floats over its head, it did not respond. Since the fly was well presented, Gustovo said "the fish is blind". I chuckled at the thought and believed he was pulling my leg as usual, and then said he was going across the stream to net him! Yet another joke. What are the odds?

Well damn if he didn't do just that!! My apologies for the following video capturing the event, as I nearly fell in the river twice trying to record the netting.

The next video shows the head of the netted brown trout where you can clearly see its blind opaqued eye, its strange colored white mouth and its dark, blackish skin. Yet it seemed remarkable healthy. We suspect that it was surviving for now on the small crayfish and nymphs that were evident everywhere, which it likely could smell. Presumably its lateral line system also would help it navigate in the river and avoid obstacles, but not forever. We did see another 3 such fish over the week, but one was dead.



The reason for the blindness is speculative, but I suspect that it is because of the clarity of the water and the age of the fish; i.e., such a fish might become blind from too many years of ultraviolet exposure -- just as the guide fisherman I used to fish with in Mexico who did not wear sunglasses against UV. The guides now, everywhere I have been (even in Mexico), use wrap around sun glass to prevent the problem. Further, why the black skin? To my mind this one is a no-brainer. The trout adjust their skin color to blend into the background, much like an octopus. The octopus does it neurally based on vision, which is very fast. The fish does it chemically based on vision, which is much slower. What color to you think the fish 'sees' when it is blind? Most certainly blackness (night), and its skin adjusts accordingly to a dark color. Take a look at the trout below with normal vision that David caught and returned in the water. You see that it is well-camouflaged as its color blends into its surroundings.

At the ended of most evenings, the day would conclude with a color show in the clouds the likes of which I have never before seen. Absolutely stunning.

Note the huge poplars defining the edge of the ranch.

And lastly,

A final comment on the fishing experience this year. We did not do as well this year as Dave, Fred and Bill did last year. The question was why. The fish just did not seem to be there as they usually are. Before we got there, and the whole time we were there, is was hot! The day time highs were between 90-100 degrees F. This resulted in our crazy guides diving into the river at our noon break 'cause they were working far harder than we were. In our case, we all went from wearing waders on arrival to wet wading (without waders) very soon after arrival. In doing so, the water was barely cool, actually very comfortable. We didn't take the water temperature, but I am guessing it was in the high 60's. When the water gets that warm in the north country (at home), the trout move to find cooler water. On the Limay, this movement could be back up stream closer to colder water at the dam (~35 miles). Certainly that cool dam water would take on heat over that distance under the blazing sun, resulting in us wet-wading and our guides swimming. Here Lalo just got out of the river after lunch.

But also working presenting one of my rainbow trout we got earlier.

And so we returned to the USA. Most of us to Dewees Island in South Carolina. Since I had two more days there before returning to Canada, I went to my favorite fishing pond on the island to see if one of the exceptionally large spot tail bass would pay me a visit. Sure enough, soon ~ a 12 pounder challenged me for a time before I released it unharmed.

The next day I returned to the great white north to endure more of mother nature's vagaries for another few months, but with very pleasant memories on board.