Fishing Under The Stars – Night Fishing Lake Ellesmere Tributaries

Fishing Under The Stars – Night Fishing Lake Ellesmere Tributaries

By Peter Langlands

Night fishing can be addictive. It is the awakening of an entirely different range of senses, to the haunting sounds of swans calling over the lake’s waters and the gentlest of touches as the trout tentatively taps the lure. Indeed, I would be out fishing tonight, but a howling nor-easterly is blowing and would make fishing unpleasant, so I decided to write an article about night fishing, reflecting upon the images of night fishing which capture my imagination.

For me, the excitement of night fishing is very much the awakening of senses, the chance of catching very large fish which sit inactively during the day underneath willows overhanging the water, and watching the sky-scape changing and being awed by the sight of the moon rising over the horizon, the sight of the Aurora Australis and of shooting stars.

During night fishing, there is also a strong sense of wilderness as other anglers depart from the stream mouth at midnight. It is not unusual to have the river to yourself, especially if you stay into the primal early morning hours.

Fishing Under The Stars

Over the last few weeks, Matuka Stream has been a favoured night fishing spot. The creek flows into the expansive waters of Lake Ellesmere – a lake set in local tradition for its night fishing and the large brown trout, which actively feed on the darkest of nights. Many creeks and streams flow into Lake Ellesmere, and these have an excellent trout fishing reputation, especially for night fishing. 

Several lure patterns, such as the Black Prince, were inspired by anglers such as the late Bob Bragg, who fished these waters. I was lucky that an angling friend introduced me to the creek and the techniques he used to successfully night fish.

My first visit to the stream was last year. The full moon illuminated the stream’s waters where it flows into the lake as a gentle nor-easterly wind blew across the expansive waters of Lake Ellesmere.

Bitterns (Matuka) could be heard booming in the distant raupo beds, creating an eerie atmosphere. While in the creek, the ghostly shapes of numerous eels disappeared sinuously from the touch light into the inky black depths of the river channel. The occasional substantial splash indicated the presence of several feeding trout.

Yet conditions were challenging; I was in an unfamiliar environment at night, using a new fishing technique. Somehow, I could not relax in the new surroundings, and my lures crashed into the raupo and willows on the far side of the river channel. On another night, I point-loaded my fly rod when the lure snagged in an overhanging willow. The crack of the rod tip breaking is a sound which still haunts me.

After several hours, I was beginning to become oriented, and I managed to control my excitement at hearing numerous splashes which could quite probably be double-figure brown trout. But now the moon had climbed high overhead, and my companions, with whom I had travelled to the creek, decided to head back into town. The fishing had been slow, with only one brown trout of about 6 pounds landed, yet I was hooked on night fishing. I returned to the creek several times that season, but found casting lures in the darkness difficult. Yet I felt the gentle tap, tap as the trout touched the lures. At last, I was managing to cast in the right way, and my confidence soared. Yet I was distracted by daytime fishing for the following months, and night fishing slipped away from my consciousness.

It was not until February of the following year that I visited a nearby stream. It was one of those nights when you can feel that the fishing was going to be good with a southerly wind and its accompanying drizzle subsiding as the sun set. I fished the river with a friend who knows the river well. We fished until midnight in the deep holes surrounded by shallow weedbeds where the trout congregate. At midnight, one of the anglers, the river came alive with splashing trout. On the next cast, I suddenly felt a tap tap and struck.

Over the next three hours, I landed 8 fish from 3-9 pounds, with many other takes missed as the fish only gently hit the tail of the black rabbit lure that I was using. After several nights of perseverance, I had finally landed a trout at night on the lure. Suddenly, I was in tune with night fishing as my casts flowed one another rhythmically with the lure splashing right on the edge of the overhanging willow trees where the trout were concentrated. I stayed at the river until the first flush of dawn softened the horizon through the willow trees. Unfortunately, due to work commitments, this was my last chance at night fishing for the season, but a magical experience I will not forget.

Night Fishing for Trout is a Whole Different Experience

Yet it is the atmosphere at Matuka Creek which captured my imagination. The creek mouth in the wilderness setting is amongst tangled willow trees and extensive reedbeds. Returning to the creek during the last days of spring with a new moon heightened my feeling of anticipation. Many other night anglers prefer the darkest of nights for fishing, and the new moon is a preferred time to fish. Yet the new moon was still several days away.

Arriving at the creek mouth, several other anglers were also fishing. The sound of the heavy sinking fly lines slicing through the air was deafening in the night’s stillness. I joined the other anglers, but could not relax as their flylines hit the water on the forward cast, dulling my senses to the occasional splash of a feeding trout, chasing the lively smelt. Many local anglers believe that night fishing does not require a subtle approach and will unnecessarily splash lines or shine touch lights on the water, yet the trout are highly tuned to the slightest movements as they chase smelt and bullies along the creek, so the noise created by a flyline hitting the water must alert the trout!

It was not until the other anglers left that I felt the subtle touch of a trout taking the lure short, that almost imperceptible, yet distinctively sharp tap. Despite the softness of the takes, it may have well been a double-figure brown, which are frequently caught in the cold water.

Rarely do the large trout smack the lures. So, fast reflexes when striking the fish are essential.

A gentle south-westerly breeze rippled the waters’ surface; the breeze would help to mask the splash of the cast hitting the water, and therefore spooking the trout less. Suddenly, I felt a tap tap before the line suddenly bolted. The line whistled upstream in the breeze. Moments later, I could see the ghostly shape of the trout as it swam around me in the shallows. The fish was only 3 pounds, but I was excited, as this was my first trout on the lure while night fishing for the season. It was now well after midnight, and the fish were on. All the other anglers had now departed, and I intended to fish until dawn.

It was at three in the morning when I felt a sudden tap on the lure and struck. The fish suddenly erupted on the surface with an almighty splash, which was deafening in the gentle breeze. The water glimmered as the trout splashed, illuminated by the crescent of the moon rising over the tangled branches of the willow trees on the far side of the creek.

I could feel the weight of the fly line as it shot through my hands. It was reassuring to have the line back on the reel, and minutes later, I dazzled the large trout as it swam powerfully in the creek’s current.

Suddenly, the trout turned and swam towards me, and I positioned the net underneath the fish. Suddenly lifting the net, my prize materialised. From the black river, a beautiful 9-pound jack. I was exhilarated.

The moon now rose into the sky, highlighting the distant profile of Banks Peninsula. Yet with the increased light on the water, the fish stopped hitting the lures. It was quarter past four in the morning when the eastern horizon started to light up. The call of a skylark lifting in the twilight signalled the end of the night fishing. It was now time to go home.