Fly Fishing for
Trout in Patagonia’s Chilean Andes
A much dreamed about adventure was becoming reality.
While boarding an American Airlines 777 in Dallas, bound for
Santiago, Chile, I noticed several passengers carrying fly rod
tubes, which helped confirm my belief that this trip would be
everything I had dreamed about, lush green mountains flowing
with pure clean water, filled with trout eager to accept my flies.
It was surprising viewing the dry, dusty brown landscape from
my window seat as the plane approached and descended into Santiago.
The surrounding mountains looked spectacularly naked of trees,
reminding me of the parched landscape back home in southern California.
Clearing customs and immigration was remarkably quick and uneventful
and now I needed to find the other six members of our group,
of which I only knew one, Jim Teeny. The airport was bustling
with crowds, taxi drivers insisting on taking my luggage and
providing my transportation, while my lack of Spanish translations
made communication difficult. Shortly thereafter I spotted Jim
accompanied by the others members of our party. We had time for
quick introductions, then all headed towards the Lan Chile airline
terminal for our flight to Puerto Montt.
The food served on Lan Chile Airlines was first class, even
in coach seating, and accompanied with fine Chilean wine. There
must have been at least twenty passengers with fly rod tubes,
including General Chuck Yeager who sat several rows behind us.
During the 600 mile flight south the landscape changed dramatically,
the mountains became taller and steeper, including snow capped
volcanoes and everything was green, a luxurious inviting landscape
that looked pristine, even from the air. The mountains, rivers
and fiords dramatically paint the coast and give themselves to
the sea, which is why the name Puerto Monnt, or Mountain Port
in English, is such a fitting name.
The air was fresh and cool, the airport was small and tranquil
and we immediately boarded two four wheel drive vehicles for
the ride to Victoria Lodge. The ground transportation took about
three hours, all the while driving through magnificently rugged
and spectacular scenery. We passed though a number of small towns
that had buildings with German and Swiss mountain chalet style
architecture, which was rather unexpected. Soon enough we were
driving through very remote countryside, along bumpy gravel roads
around the feet of volcanoes, mountains and fiords, crossing
emerald rivers all dropping together into azure blue salt water
bays. This is a wild, unspoiled and relatively unexplored area
with a bountiful richness of fish.
We pulled up to Victoria Lodge, a small comfortably rustic
fly fishing lodge on the bank of the Rio Puelo, a large turbulent
river that looked intimidating at first. The wide large water
flowed rapidly with tongues of grey, emerald and turquoise the
likes of which I had never seen before. The air was warm and
humid, the surroundings thickly cloaked with temperate rainforest
and the water was icy cold originating from glaciers higher up
in the Andes.
The rush to get into our gear and string fly lines was on
and several guides with Zodiac boats were waiting for us with
the motors warmed up.. We had several hours to fish before dinner
and we promptly headed up stream bouncing across powerful currents
towards slower wadeable waters with freestone bottoms. This surely
was not dry fly water so I tied a glass bead woolly bugger onto
my tippet and started casting a 6 wt floating line. Casting up
and across and allowing the fly to sink and drift resulted in
a couple of missed strikes. The flow was strong enough to quickly
pull my fly towards the shore down river. I decided to walk about
50 yards upstream and fished from a small rocky peninsula allowing
more time to drift each cast. I could drift my fly longer and
then strip it in while keeping it in deep water, a strategic
position giving me an advantage. This pocket of water graciously
gave up a four to five pound rainbow trout that was so silver
it almost looked white, except for the glowing pink stripe. The
fish was amazingly full bodied, bright and healthy looking, but
had a small worn looking tail. My guide thought the fish might
have escaped from one of the fish farms in the bay. While driving
earlier that day we passed a number of fish pens made of netting
in the salty bays where Chilean trout are raised. This rainbow
trout was not destined for the table, and was released.
That evening logs crackled in the fireplace, the sky was full
of stars, we enjoyed a delicious dinner, and contentment finally
began settling in. We had all caught at least one fish, Jim caught
a number of fish, which didn't surprise me; he's a living fish
magnet. Then it struck me, I had not called home to tell my wife
I had arrived safely. I borrowed a satellite phone and called
home from deep in the Andes Mountains, this also lent to the
thrill an exotic remote fly fishing trip.
Next morning we inhaled breakfast and headed back out on the
Zodiacs. We traveled much farther up river than yesterday, and
the first stop was a long rocky beach. My glass bead bugger enticed
a number of willing fish, including several rainbows and even
an Atlantic salmon. The salmon was not large, in fact the body
was rather slender, nevertheless this fish was wild, magnificent
and a welcomed unexpected bonus. While stripping my fly through
amazingly clear water, which looked barren of fish, the salmon
grabbed my fly about 5 feet from my feet, taking me by complete
surprise. Unlike some of the rainbows that fought half of the
battle out of the water jumping and dancing on their tails, this
salmon wanted to get back into the deep swift current. The struggle
was on and I had to be careful. The water was so clear it was
hard to gauge the depth so I backed up onto shore and did my
best to balance the pressure needed to hold the fish, without
breaking the tippet. Soon enough the silvery fish was in the
rocks by my feet, eager to be released.
Moments later a fat bodied rainbow rose up from the rocks
to take my fly and was more than willing to jump and dance. As
far as I was concerned, I had made it to fly fishing paradise.
I was surrounded by mountains; the water was crystal clear, waterfalls
and feeder streams were everywhere, and no sign of other anglers
anywhere.
I asked my guide to take me to a decent sized feeder creek
a bit further down river, where I noticed long riffles dropping
into a deep pool. I walked a few hundred feet upstream and fished
my fly through the riffles and into the pool. My guide mentioned
that it was possible that no one had ever fly fished that stream
before. My first cast was rewarded with a 16" brown trout
that exploded out of the water most likely being as startled
as I was. This was intimate fishing at its best and I deeply
regretted leaving my boxes of dry flies back at the lodge. The
brownies in the pool were aggressive even with the sun high in
the sky. I would have been content spending the rest of the day
exploring this stream, but my guide suggested we mover further
up river, below some treacherously swift rapids, in search of
bigger fish. I didn't catch any fish over 5 pounds, and actually
caught many small trout, which were prettier than any piece of
jewelry or art I've seen back home. Nature at it's best.
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Darkness was enveloping the Andes and the shadows grew longer
across the darkening restless water of Rio Puelo, it was time
to move on, and we departed for another lodge by the Rio Petrohue.
This lodge was on the shores of Lake Llanquihue, (pronounced
Yan Kee Way) a family run establishment with a feeling reminiscent
of a bed and breakfast. The surrounding landscape is dominated
by Mount Osorno, a massive conical shaped volcano that looked
magnificent and menacing. We had all been looking forward to
this evening because a dinner at one of the finest restaurants
in Chile was planned and we would dine with General Chuck Yeager.
It was truly an honor meeting an American hero, especially in
such a remote setting. The meal was fabulous, one I'll never
forget, basically a well rounded special evening.
Early the next morning 4-wheel vehicles were waiting for us
and the trek through the rainforest began. We drove through seemingly
impenetrable forest, along an extremely rough bumpy muddy road,
all the while towing drift boats behind us. I think we were all
relived upon reaching the launch site, where General Yeager was
preparing to depart in a sizable craft with two large blue inflatable
pontoons.
Rio Petrohue was considerably larger than Rio Puelo, with
wide strong currents and I assumed fishing streamers would most
likely work best. After casting and drifting downstream for about
30 minutes we pulled into a side bay with a flat calm surface
disturbed only by rising trout. My guide, Roberto, positioned
the boat just inside the calm water and suggested fishing nymphs
along the edge where fast and slow waters kissed. This area was
loaded with rainbow trout eager to taste flies regardless of
size, shape and color. These willing fish were all about 16"
and readily inhaled caddis and mayfly nymphs. Roberto mentioned
that salmon, rainbows and browns had started migrating up from
the ocean and the larger fish were displacing the resident fish.
This presented a challenge but hooking a monster was possible.
I replaced my tippet with 10 pound fluorocarbon and tied my glass
woolly bugger back on. I caught a couple more small rainbows
on the bugger and Roberto kept telling me to "strip it faster".
It felt like I was flogging the water, eager to feel the pull
of a heavy muscular fish. Casting a and stripping as fast as
I could eventually resulted in one hookup, that seriously bent
my rod, an experience not to be forgotten, even though it only
lasted for several seconds, and the fish was gone. I spent much
of the morning drifting down river picking up a smaller fish
here and there on the bugger.
I had not seen the other boats and anglers from our party
until we pulled to shore where we all had lunch together. We
were all happy, had caught beautiful fish, and enjoyed a meal,
washed down with smooth Chilean wine, under the shade of the
rainforest canopy. The river was mesmerizing and relaxing as
well as wild, cold and invigorating. I knew it would take a lifetime
exploring and learning the numerous fly fishing opportunities
this part of the world has to offer. I had a feeling the guides
felt the same way, it was difficult to know where to start, and
unfortunately easy knowing when it had to end.
Wanting to relax and savor the scenery and experience I decided
to put away the bead bugger and nymph the shoreline as we drifted
downstream. This was the last day of a brief visit to the Andes
before traveling another 900 miles south to fish for monster
browns in the Rio Grande.
Overall my experience fly fishing the Andes was exceptional,
hopefully to be done again, with more time exploring smaller
feeder streams, casting dry flies to browns and rainbows that
have yet to taste the sting of steel.
For those who seek an exotic fly fishing trip, immersed and
surrounded by magnificent scenery, where mountains reach into
the sea, spilling emerald rivers of cold glacial waters, full
of trout and salmon, where locals are happy and smiling, northern
Patagonia in the Chilean Andes is the place to be.
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