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Gearing up to fish the arroyo |
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South American rainbow trout |
Jim, Jorge, and I spent five days exploring some of Jorge's favorite spots between his home in the small frontier town of Cholila and the city of Esquel, some 65 miles to the south. Among the most memorable of these incredible waters was the Arroyo Pescado.
We headed east from Cholila and soon left the mountains behind, rolling through countryside not unlike central Wyoming. After an hour's drive along a modern highway, we turned onto a gravel road and began to encounter a rolling relief punctuated by outcrops of ragged, black, volcanic rocks. We rounded a bend and found ourselves in front of a locked gate with a neatly lettered sign reading: Arroyo Pescado.
Behind the gate, a quarter-mile lane leading to the stream was bordered by tall poplars just beginning to turn color. The Arroyo Pescado lies on a private 20,000-acre ranch, but is open to the public for a $30-per-rod daily fee. The term spring "creek" takes on a whole new meaning here. The arroyo is about six miles long and it reaches 40 to 60 yards in width.
Except for a few holes, it's probably no more than three feet deep throughout its run, but it carries a lot of water. Cobalt blue in the fall sunshine, the arroyo was spectacular and inviting as it wandered lazily through the broad pasture.
Instant Gratification
Jorge parked the Suburban and began lunch preparations as Jim and I made straight for the water. The wind was blowing a bit and Jorge suggested our 5- or 6-weight outfits and some stout leaders, barely suppressing a sly chuckle.
As we left, Jorge hollered, "Look for the white sand spots on the bottom and don't bother wading, you'll do more harm than good."
Jim tied on his go-to fly, a #8 Jim's Green Caddis. I decided to cheat with a #10 hopper and a #16 Pheasant Tail dropper. Jim began waking his giant caddis across the riffled surface and was rewarded quickly. Almost as suddenly, a deliberate swirl beneath my hopper welcomed me to one of the pleasures of Patagonia.
Half a dozen fish later we felt we'd been introduced to something very special. The fish in Arroyo Pescado are brutes. They are both deep and broad. They were not at all subtle in their aggressiveness and when hooked they fought like bulldogs. The average fish was probably 16 inches, and heavy, but we hooked several in the 20-inch-plus range and landed one.
Just as we became totally engrossed in the fishing, we smelled smoke from the grill. Jorge called us for lunch and we reported our progress. He was only mildly impressed and muttered something about the wind being too heavy and the sky being too clear.
Where are you going?
What do you want to do?
