The Trout Tragic's Diaries

[Ken Gargett]

Day 1 –

I was going to call this the Trout Whisperer's Diaries but these fish never listen.

Don't believe me? I actually managed to sneak up behind one of about two pounds and pick it up by the tail. It then took off like a politician asked to honour a promise, but you have to worry about a fish that doesn't hear me lumbering up behind it.

Had not tossed a fly line in all year so grabbed a brief window to head across to New Zealand and join Boris, a wonderful guide, for a few days round the Nelson Lakes. So many great rivers.

Flew out of Melbourne as had a tasting there on the Tuesday. And have to say, given I may have often suggested the contrary view, the stumbling wombat was excellent, from start to finish. They were actually a real pleasure to fly with, for a change. And the pointy end lounge in Melbourne is sensational – I only get into it because I have to do so many short cattle-class hops.

As I arrive, I'm asked if I would like a day spa and/or a massage. Apparently, “you're f... kidding!” is not the anticipated response but we moved on (of course, I didn't say any such thing). Had to get some stuff done before takeoff so forced to forgo the pleasures but did have a bite at the very impressive in-house restaurant and endless Bolly Pink.

Get in to Orcland around 1am but whizz through the airport and call for my transfer to a nearby hotel as fly south tomorrow morning. There is a reasonably elderly English couple also waiting for the transfer. I say hi. I may as well have been Jack the Ripper. Completely ignored. Turned away. For the sake of whatever divinity flicks your switch, it is 1am, there is no one else for miles, you are about to get on the same bus with a bloke who says hello and you carry on like talking to an Antipodean will give you rabies? Can you really blame a bloke for having so much fun when he lived there, so many years ago? And then they bitched about NZ the entire way in (which is fine for us Aussies to do but a bit rich coming from Poms). Petrol prices, the weather (seriously, the weather????? - you come from England), their friends who live there, the list went on. What is it like to be so miserable, so sour about life and yet ponce about as though you are so superior? No wonder these people lost an empire – no disrespect to our English members but there are times...

And when we arrive, the old dear literally treats me like we are in a roller derby to get to the counter first (unmanned, as the receptionist is still parking the van and counting the tyres). Check-in takes all of two seconds as it consists of being handed a key and told your room number – no credit card, details, confirmation, identification etc here!

The XXXXX's International Hotel (name withheld for what will become obvious reasons) might sound a touch salubrious but let me tell you, this is a bit like naming that small knob to the west of Brizzy, Mount Cootha. Talk about delusions of grandeur. I can see an “international” conference of cockroaches or rodents here but bugger all else. To be fair, the chap who picked us up (and three minutes from the airport? Not if you were Superman in a Lear jet) and then became our receptionist, is an very nice and helpful person.

In the room, I swear, if a jail cell is this spartan, then I promise to be good forever. Bed, small wooden table, old TV (one of those that are fatter in depth than they are wide) with the remote long lost, if it ever existed. Broken window, torn curtain. Granted I'm not paying top dollar but...

Am back here Sunday night before the early flight home Monday and have booked the upmarket room – an extra $3 – so keen to see what that gets me.

As I entered, I saw the fire hose arrangement down the hall was in use. Curious, in case I was about to be sautéed alive in bed, I followed the hose from its station on the wall out the door to see where it was going. The neighbour was filling his pool – I kid you not.

They have an info sheet for guests. It points out the new ownership and hopes we are enjoying the “refurbished” rooms. I nearly wet myself. What the hell was this place before? It apologises for the bar being unavailable but they found the staff, in 2008, unsatisfactory and have not been able to find anyone since – unemployment runs at about 50% in this part of Orcland so not sure what they are looking for). This is all on the info sheet. I nearly pinched it, as you would not believe it otherwise, I'm sure.

Further info for those who might intend dropping by –

Parking is free for the first 14 days and then they regret but they must charge $4 a day. It would be a miracle if any car lasted 14 days around here without being stolen.

For children, they are pleased to announce that they have a grassed area. It is what we would call a footpath.

For those interested, they do have several bars nearby, including the Toby Jug Bar, just three kms away by car (and how far by any other means of transport?) or the neighboring Baa Baa Bar (in New Zealand? You could not make this stuff up).

They have kindly provided a list of things to do for guests (people come here for any other reason than overnight between flights?). Number 2 on the list is the Dressmart Shopping Outlet. Number 4 is a creek. I presume you visit it??

Anyway, apparently the cockies want to get some sleep so signing off for the night.

[El Presidente]

Day 1 –

I was going to call this the Trout Whisperer's Diaries but these fish never listen.

Don't believe me? I actually managed to sneak up behind one of about two pounds and pick it up by the tail. It then took off like a politician asked to honour a promise, but you have to worry about a fish that doesn't hear me lumbering up behind it.

It was dead

Had not tossed a fly line in all year so grabbed a brief window to head across to New Zealand and join Boris, a wonderful guide, for a few days round the Nelson Lakes. So many great rivers.

Ken is a bludger

Flew out of Melbourne as had a tasting there on the Tuesday. And have to say, given I may have often suggested the contrary view, the stumbling wombat was excellent, from start to finish. They were actually a real pleasure to fly with, for a change. And the pointy end lounge in Melbourne is sensational – I only get into it because I have to do so many short cattle-class hops.

...there is free wine and champagne

As I arrive, I'm asked if I would like a day spa and/or a massage. Apparently, “you're f... kidding!” is not the anticipated response but we moved on (of course, I didn't say any such thing). Had to get some stuff done before takeoff so forced to forgo the pleasures but did have a bite at the very impressive in-house restaurant and endless Bolly Pink.

No happy ending..no massage. Ken's rules.

Get in to Orcland around 1am but whizz through the airport and call for my transfer to a nearby hotel as fly south tomorrow morning. There is a reasonably elderly English couple also waiting for the transfer. I say hi. I may as well have been Jack the Ripper. Completely ignored. Turned away. For the sake of whatever divinity flicks your switch, it is 1am, there is no one else for miles, you are about to get on the same bus with a bloke who says hello and you carry on like talking to an Antipodean will give you rabies? Can you really blame a bloke for having so much fun when he lived there, so many years ago? And then they bitched about NZ the entire way in (which is fine for us Aussies to do but a bit rich coming from Poms). Petrol prices, the weather (seriously, the weather????? - you come from England), their friends who live there, the list went on. What is it like to be so miserable, so sour about life and yet ponce about as though you are so superior? No wonder these people lost an empire – no disrespect to our English members but there are times...

...there goes my English market

And when we arrive, the old dear literally treats me like we are in a roller derby to get to the counter first (unmanned, as the receptionist is still parking the van and counting the tyres). Check-in takes all of two seconds as it consists of being handed a key and told your room number – no credit card, details, confirmation, identification etc here!

Brothel

The XXXXX's International Hotel (name withheld for what will become obvious reasons) might sound a touch salubrious but let me tell you, this is a bit like naming that small knob to the west of Brizzy, Mount Cootha. Talk about delusions of grandeur. I can see an “international” conference of cockroaches or rodents here but bugger all else. To be fair, the chap who picked us up (and three minutes from the airport? Not if you were Superman in a Lear jet) and then became our receptionist, is an very nice and helpful person.

In the room, I swear, if a jail cell is this spartan, then I promise to be good forever. Bed, small wooden table, old TV (one of those that are fatter in depth than they are wide) with the remote long lost, if it ever existed. Broken window, torn curtain. Granted I'm not paying top dollar but...

again...Brothel

Am back here Sunday night before the early flight home Monday and have booked the upmarket room – an extra $3 – so keen to see what that gets me.

The $3 is for the "company"l

As I entered, I saw the fire hose arrangement down the hall was in use. Curious, in case I was about to be sautéed alive in bed, I followed the hose from its station on the wall out the door to see where it was going. The neighbour was filling his pool – I kid you not.

Brothel Spa

They have an info sheet for guests. It points out the new ownership and hopes we are enjoying the “refurbished” rooms. I nearly wet myself. What the hell was this place before? It apologises for the bar being unavailable but they found the staff, in 2008, unsatisfactory and have not been able to find anyone since – unemployment runs at about 50% in this part of Orcland so not sure what they are looking for). This is all on the info sheet. I nearly pinched it, as you would not believe it otherwise, I'm sure.

Felt like home

Further info for those who might intend dropping by –

Parking is free for the first 14 days and then they regret but they must charge $4 a day. It would be a miracle if any car lasted 14 days around here without being stolen.

For children, they are pleased to announce that they have a grassed area. It is what we would call a footpath.

For those interested, they do have several bars nearby, including the Toby Jug Bar, just three kms away by car (and how far by any other means of transport?) or the neighboring Baa Baa Bar (in New Zealand? You could not make this stuff up).

They have kindly provided a list of things to do for guests (people come here for any other reason than overnight between flights?). Number 2 on the list is the Dressmart Shopping Outlet. Number 4 is a creek. I presume you visit it??

Anyway, apparently the cockies want to get some sleep so signing off for the night.

And he complains about the Poms whinging

[Ken Gargett]

as i pointed out, it is acceptable for aussies to bag kiwis but; no, i was wrong. it is acceptable for anyone to bag kiwis.

the fish was most certainly not dead. took off like you at your shout.

and the place aspired to being a brothel, it was that dire. the extra three bucks was for a couch. seriously. a flea-ridden, moth-eaten couch. never booking fancy sounding places over the internet again.

[FlyFishingDude]

Thanks for the translation Rob, I was beginning to wonder what Ken really meant...... When I read Ken snuck up on a fish and grabbed it, I figured it was either dead or soon to be dead. No wonder Ken hasn't picked up a fly line for a year, he can sneak up on fish and just wrestle them into the net...... You da man Ken.....

[Ken Gargett]

Thanks for the translation Rob, I was beginning to wonder what Ken really meant...... When I read Ken snuck up on a fish and grabbed it, I figured it was either dead or soon to be dead. No wonder Ken hasn't picked up a fly line for a year, he can sneak up on fish and just wrestle them into the net...... You da man Ken.....

must say i was surprised when i saw this thing in a pool, hiding behind a rock and then i realised it had no idea i was there. grabbed it by the tail. it bolted at a squillion miles an hour.

[laficion]

must say i was surprised when i saw this thing in a pool, hiding behind a rock and then i realised it had no idea i was there. grabbed it by the tail. it bolted at a squillion miles an hour.

Ken, great story about your fishing trip,

my cat is going crazy

[Leopolis Semper Fidelis]

as i pointed out, it is acceptable for aussies to bag kiwis but; no, i was wrong. it is acceptable for anyone to bag kiwis.

Just as it is acceptable - and expected - for Kiwis to bag Aussies, and they're good at it too. Of course, both have to take the mickey out of whingeing Poms!