Woke up this morning in a beautiful campsite on one of the big lakes down by Tolhuin. Now I am in Rio Grande and have gotten a room for the night to clean up a bit. This is a terrible city, filthy and huge and industrial. Yet this is sea-run brown trout central. I didn’t time this right either, the fly shop that I wanted to visit here closed an hour before I got into town and won’t re-open until Monday. I am not going to wait around, but will instead try to make my way west tomorrow towards the Chilean border.
Walked back to Tolhuin today to fish the lake there. Camped in a beautiful spot the second night and caught this 18 inch brown. I am fishing with a guy from Ushuaia named Martin. It is fascinating to see some of these fly fishermen down here that are so passionate about their sport. This guy has a leaky set of rubber waders, a kids’ pup-tent, a mate cup, and a little steel grill. Cotton socks, no rain gear and no food; and he heads off on a week long fishing trip down the Ewan Brazo (where he runs into me in the middle of nowhere). What he does have is a nice 9 foot, eight weight and four boxes of the most beautiful flies (he tied them) that I have ever seen. And a passion for his sport. Made me feel a bit silly in my mountain of goretex and polartec when the wind was blowing thirty miles an hour and it was snowing and I couldn’t keep up with him. He cooked us up a huge asado that night too, which I was sorely (no pun intended) in need of after the death marches he had put me through. Amazing people down here.