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Patagonia Trip Log '08 The flight into Balmaceda airport in Patagonia gives you an aerial preview of the kind of terrain that you will be fishing over the next couple of weeks. Snow capped peaks and glaciers tucked into the folds of the mountains. River valleys, so many river valleys, are slicing their way westward carrying the snowmelt to the Pacific. The airport is small but efficient and our bags, even the one missing in Santiago, roll onto the carousel. Our host, Sebastian Galilea, was waiting for us at the gate and quickly whisked us into his Suburban for the 40-minute ride to Cinco Rios Lodge. The wear and tear of the long flight is forgotten as Sebastian makes small talk about the local area and points out landmarks on the flat pampas. As we near the lodge the rolling plains give way to rugged mountains and we are soon sliding through a gap in the foothills and turning off the blacktop road onto the lodge property. The local children’s riding club is holding a jumping contest on the property and the young enthusiasts wave to Sebastian as we make our way to the entrance of the lodge.
The first thing that strikes you about the lodge’s location are the views. Perched high above the banks of the Rio Simpson, the back of the lodge has a marvelous, unrestricted view of the Simpson and a panoramic view of the Simpson Valley with its surrounding mountains. Outside the front door the brooding foothills of the Andes mountain range confront you. Spectacular! We are greeted by the staff with warm hugs and handshakes and offered Pisco Sours (the signature local drink) and warm empanadas with a mild salsa. Both are a welcome treat after the limp airline food. Our room is large with two king size beds, two armchairs and a coffee table. The view is stunning! The dark wood floors contrast with the light wood furnishings and white bed linens. All in all a most comfortable place for Palma, my wife, and I to spend a much needed vacation. We meet Juan Andreas, Sebastian’s brother, the guides and other guests as they begin to arrive and a bottle of fine Chilean wine is opened and additional appetizers appear as if by magic. The tensions of the air travel begin to seep away and I feel my shoulders begin to loosen up.
The fish are eager to intercept our streamers and big dries. Almost any cast that gets within six inches of the bank side structure elicits an attack by browns and rainbows in the 14” – 22” range. Powerful, wild trout in superb condition that must be snubbed before they can dive back into their logjam homes. A fine shore lunch gives us a chance to stretch our legs and do a little walking and wading. The rest of the day is more of the same as we slip downstream enjoying the exquisite scenery and abundant birdlife. Hawks, Ibis, Eagles, Rheas, Andean Condors and myriad waterfowl provide an ever changing, brightly colored, moving canvas that adds to the pleasure of each day on the Chilean rivers. This is truly a birder’s paradise. The Rio Simpson provides good fishing close to the lodge and we decided to give it a try the next day because Palma was feeling under the weather and this is an easy walk and wade section of the river at this time of the season. This area is one of the few public access waters available in the area and when we arrived we spotted another angler further upstream. A few PMD mayflies were hatching as we rigged our 5wt rods and on the first cast a 12” brownie sucked in the fly. We spent the morning lazily flicking dries to eager risers all in the 12”-14” range. Scattered among the trout are 6”-8” king salmon smolt. Chile has vast fish farming operations throughout its fjords and bays and the escapees have begun to build a self-sustaining population in many of the rivers. We saw hundreds of smolt and even a huge (50 LB) spawned out male dying in a slow back eddy. Esteban, our guide for the day, said that in January the kings were thick in this part of the river. A new fishery is developing that could be very, very interesting in years to come.
Palma was developing a full blown ear infection and decided to take it easy in the afternoon. I elected to take a walk upstream on my own to see what I could find. Rather than fish, I walked the banks trying to spot fish and look for bigger specimens. About 400yds upstream the path climbed a high bank and as I scanned the water I saw a big (6LB) rainbow finning in a deeper slot. I froze! Leaning against a tree, I watched her as she picked nymphs out of the current and rose to an occasional PMD adult. There was no way to cast to her from my vantage point. Any movement would spook her and drive her to cover. I slipped carefully upstream and crossed to the opposite side. I watched the area were the trout was holding but could not see her and after a few futile casts decided that something (probably me) must have spooked her. Bummer! As I scanned the water looking for a different quarry I heard a whistle from downstream. Esteban was waving for me to join him and as I approached he called from the opposite bank that there was a nice rainbow feeding under a willow on his side of the river. I watched for a few moments and sure enough, tucked back into a little pocket between the trailing branches and the bank was a good 18” fish softly sucking in PMDs. It was a tough spot to cast to but I slowly waded as close as I dared and made my first cast. Too far left! Esteban was acting as a spotter and had a clear view of the fish. I could only see it when it rose to take the PMD duns. The fly had to be dropped right next to the over hanging branches and directly in the feeding lane with enough slack to get a drag free drift for about six inches. The gusting downstream breeze made the 50’ cast a serious challenge (for me). Esteban gave an expert commentary and critique, as cast after cast was just not right. The only redeeming factor was I had not spooked the fish and it continued to sip the duns steadily while I tried to get that fly to land exactly right. Too far left, too far right, behind him. Everywhere but where the fish would react to it. I finally crept a few feet closer and on the first cast I was able to land it exactly right, the rainbow rose confidently and exploded into the air when it felt the hook. After 30+ casts, an extremely satisfying end to another fine day. The following day we were offered a rare treat. Sebastian decided we should see and fish Estancia del Zorro so that we can have a better idea of the opportunities that are available at this world famous lodge. Our guide would be Esteban and he prepared us, mentally, for a day of technical casting and hunting trophy browns on a classic spring creek. Nine foot 2X leaders with three feet of tippet and small (size 8-10) hoppers and beetles are the standard weapons of choice. A large part of the diet for these browns is terrestrial as aquatic insect hatches are dwarfed by the availability of bugs in the meadow grasses that surround its meandering waters. The forty five minute drive from Coyhaique is punctuated by the sight of a large eagle in the middle of the dirt road trying to protect his rabbit breakfast from at least 6 CaraCara hawks who wanted it for themselves. Unfortunately my camera was stowed in my backpack and a classic photo-op was missed. While the eagle was staring us down one of the crested CaraCaras nipped in and stole his kill. Amazing!
Our first view of the classic creek was from the bridge on the way to the estancia building. I was struck by how much like Hot Creek and the Upper Owens River it was. Including the gusting wind. After a quick tour of the lodge buildings we drove down to the lower part of the creek and began fishing upstream. Palma had some fish rise but was having trouble hooking them and I was doing more spooking than fishing. This was the end of their season and these fish had been cast over every day of the season and were very spooky. Get too close, move too quickly or dump your cast (a common problem with 40-60 mile per hour side winds) and they just melted away. Palma’s persistence paid of and she began to land some 12”-14” fish. I finally started getting in sync and picked up a 12” brown and then as I eased around a bend in the river I saw a soft rise under the overhanging meadow grass and managed to get on target with a 35’ cast. The fly brushed the overhanging grasses and disappeared in a slow confident rise. The 20” fish tried to bore back under the bank but with the heavier tippet I was able to force it back into the small pool and quickly brought it to hand. A fine, fat brownie that probably weighed around 3LBs.
We continued working our way slowly upstream casting to sighted fish and likely holding areas without much success but Palma managed to land another fish on her own after the guide had headed back to get the truck. Soon, we headed up to the lodge for lunch out of the persistent wind and were met by Sebastian and Maria, his wife, in the dining area. The roaring fire and hot soup was a welcome break and Palma, who was still feeling under the weather, decided to take a nap in the comfort of the estancia. Esteban and I headed upstream for what was to be a very frustrating yet rewarding afternoon. The wind intensified as we worked our way upstream. The water was very low, thanks to an unusually dry summer, and some of the normal holding areas were not deep enough to hold fish. The wind made casting a guessing game. Casts could be blown ten to twenty feet from where they were intended to go and this stream demands accuracy if you are to be successful with these trout. I picked up another 18” fish but missed a bigger one. Eventually, half frozen and losing concentration we saw a massive fish, with its back out of the water, rooting in the weeds for crustaceans. From his dorsal fin to his tail was well over 20” but he was disinterested in the dries we tried to feed him and it was impossible, because of the heavy weed growth, to get a drift with a nymph. Eventually (30 casts later) I must have spooked him because he just disappeared. The guide estimated his length at 33” and about 14LBs. The light began to fade and we were running out of day. A long narrow pool up ahead had a weed choked opening that was perhaps a foot of open water at the inlet. Somehow the first cast landed exactly where it was supposed to and a big mouth slowly engulfed the fly. All hell broke lose when the fish felt the hook. He wallowed, throwing weed and water, and dove for the safety of the weed beds. Heavy pressure moved him out from under the mat of weeds and he ran straight at me but turned when he saw us on the shore. I finally saw how big he was and gasped, “My God! It’s a salmon”. Esteban was looking a little worried and admitted that he had left the net back at the truck. “Don’t worry I’ll go swimming for this fish” he grinned. I really wanted this fish! I started to feel like I was getting the upper hand as the fish began to tire and I put additional pressure to force him to the bank. I realized I was very tense as I drew the fish close to Esteban but he deftly tailed him on the first pass. Esteban hoisted the fish exultantly into the air and I think I yelled something but it’s all kind of a blur. We quickly measured him and took a few pictures and got him back in the water. He was 27” (my biggest brown to date) with a 18” girth. I didn’t realize until he swam away that I didn’t get a picture of me with the fish. Oh well! I just felt privileged to have caught such a beautiful wild fish. We walked slowly back to the truck and made the short trip back to Zorro lodge. I don’t remember much about the rest of the evening other than the blissful state of euphoria that was helped along by a few glasses of fine Chilean vino.
The rest of the week was spent fishing different types of waters from small mountain streams to big slow moving rivers. We were not disappointed wherever we fished and we also took time to do some sight seeing and exploring of the local towns. The scenic beauty of this area is unrivalled and the friendly people are the icing on the cake. On FrIday morning we joined Sebastian in the Land Rover for a trip to his cousin Alejandro’s estancia, which is just up the road from Zorro. The 43,000-acre spread is a sanctuary for the magnificent Andean Condors and we were hoping to see them up close, perched on the cliffs overlooking The Valley of the Moon. Estancia Punta Del Monte is a sheep and alpaca ranch that is the quintessential Chilean estancia. Gauchos still tend their stock on horseback and the large shearing shed stands as a mute testimony to the frenetic activity that permeates it during shearing season.
The ranch house is like a museum with a giant wood burning cook stove, mate cups and pictures of the Galilea family as they began to settle the area. As we waited for Alejandro we watched two gauchos making horseshoes and wandered around looking at the various critters until he drove up. We all piled into the Land Rover for the bumpy ride up to the condor roosting area. The torturous route winds through multiple gates up to a high ridge with breathtaking views of the valley. The wind was whipping up dust and threatened to pluck us off the mountain. We made our way carefully out to the edge of the cliff hoping to spot some of the aerial giants but there was no one home. The views alone were worth the hike and an immature condor came by to check us out. On the way back down the mountain Sebastian spotted a group of condors spiraling lazily over a high meadow. Nine of the huge birds put on an aerial display using their 12’ wingspan to cruise the air currents with ease. What a wild and wonderful sight in the wild lands of Patagonia.
In addition to protecting the habitat of the condors Alejandro protects on his property an ancient Tehuelche Indian burial ground and a hidden cave with ancient hand paintings that the Chilean government is studying for clues to their origins. That evening we enjoyed the traditional assado barbeque. Friends and relatives of our hosts came to share in the festivities and the lodge echoed with the sound of laughter and live music. The chef laid on a prodigious spread of delicious, traditional foods, the wine glasses were filled, and in halting English and our pathetic attempts at Spanish we shared stories and tried to get to know each other. The people of Patagonia are the reason you will want to return again and again. On Sunday we packed the trucks for a four day expedition further south in search of some big, lake-run browns. Our trip would take us into Argentina then south and back into Chile to search some big glacial rivers for the bigger spawners. Unfortunately we were a little early and most of the bigger fish had not come into the rivers yet. This is very much like steelheading with 8wt rods standard and swinging big flies in searching patterns through the likely holding water. These browns are bright silver with a few black spots looking more like fresh run Atlantic salmon than brown trout. This area of Chile is famous for copper and gold mines but should be famous for its outstanding scenery and glaciers. We will be actively exploring this area over the next few seasons and we are excited about the prospects. The week flew by in a blur of beautiful snow capped peaks and big blue glacial rivers. Too soon, we were down to our last full day in Patagonia.
Claudio, our guide for the day, asked Palma where she wanted to fish and she picked Zorro. Her first day there had been cut short with the ear infection and she wanted another shot at a big spring creek brown. The day dawned cold and windy in Coyhaique with a dusting of snow around Cinco Rios Lodge that quickly burned off before we were finished with breakfast and it was noticeably colder as we rigged our rods by the spring creek. I walked downstream a few hundred yards began to work the banks with a small hopper picking off smaller (12”-14”) trout while trying to keep my fly out of the bushes. I was concentrating hard on my casting when I had the feeling that I was being watched. I slowly swiveled my head from side to side trying to locate the watcher. Nothing! I looked up and 40’ above my head huge condor tipped his head to stare at me. My camera was packed safely in its bag and, as I scrambled to get it out, the bird realized that I was not quite dead yet (even though I looked like it) and flew away. I sat back down on the bank and looked around me trying to absorb the vast beauty of the ranch and reflected on how lucky I was to be able to experience all of this.
Palma was having great success stalking and hooking fish and we spent a fine morning hop scotching our way up the creek. After lunch the wind picked up as we fished a braided section trying to get the flies tight to the bank. There were fewer fish but they were bigger (18”-19”) all taken on the “Fat Albert” (Gordo Alberto) fly. Palma finally stuck a nice fish that battled hard before coming to hand. It taped out at just over 21”. A gorgeous wild female brown trout that was the highlight of Palma’s trip. Put Patagonia high on your list of places to fish. There are few places still left on the planet that are as unspoiled and user friendly as this. The scenery, the wildlife, the food and wine and, of course, the people make it more than a fishing destination. There are more rivers to be explored, more fish to be caught and more wonderful meals to be eaten. We are going back next season. Click here if you would like more details.
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