Alright, let me tell you about fishing up here in the South Island – and I don’t just mean any fishing. I mean the kind where you wake up with frost on your waders and end the day with that ache in your shoulders that only comes from fighting wild trout all afternoon. Funny thing is, people always focus on the fish (and yeah, we’ve got some beauties), but it’s the whole damn experience that gets under your skin.

I’m Aaron Ford – been guiding these waters since, oh, back in ’04? Maybe ’05? Time blurs when you’re knee-deep in a river watching mayflies hatch. Twenty years of learning where the big browns hide under cutbanks (hint: it’s never where you first cast), why rainbows go nuts after a light rain (something about the scent, I swear), and how to untangle a beginner’s line without laughing. Mostly without laughing.

The Water

Nelson Lakes, Marlborough Sounds – heck, even that little creek behind St. Arnaud (tourists always butcher the pronunciation – "Saint Ar-no" folks, not "Arnaud") – these aren’t just pretty postcard spots. They’re alive. Crystal currents so clear you’ll spot trout shadows before your fly hits. And the trout? Wild as the hills. Browns that’ll test your drag, rainbows that leap like they’ve got something to prove. Oh, and if you’re feeling salty, we’ll chase yellowtail kingfish on the flats – just don’t blame me when your forearm cramps.
Guiding? More Like Whispering Secrets

Here’s the truth: I don’t do "tours." I do conversations. You’ll learn why a size 16 Parachute Adams can save a slow morning (unless the wind’s howling – then we’re switching to weighted nymphs, no arguments). Why wading too fast spooks fish (they feel those vibrations, like a dinner bell ringing backwards). Beginners? I’ll have you casting decent loops before lunch. Experts? Let’s talk about why that one seam in the Motueka River holds monsters every October.

The Ugly Bits Too

Look, it’s not all hero shots and perfect drifts. Sometimes the weather turns, and we’re huddled under a tarp eating soggy sandwiches. Some clients forget to bring polarized glasses and spend the day squinting. And yeah, I’ve seen grown men cry over a lost fish. (Pro tip: always check your knots. Always.)
Conservation? Non-Negotiable
We’re guests here. That means barbless hooks, gentle releases, and leaving no trace – unless you count boot prints in the mud. The way I see it, if we don’t fight for these rivers, who will?

The Magic

It’s in the way the mist curls off the water at dawn. The plink of a rising trout when the hatch starts. That moment a first-timer lands a fish and their hands won’t stop shaking.
So yeah, come fish with me. But fair warning – you might leave with more than just trout stories. You’ll leave with the itch to come back.
Details:

Half-day to week-long trips (but honestly, take the extra days – you’ll regret it if you don’t)
Gear provided, but bring your lucky hat. I’m serious.
Best seasons? Spring for aggressive fish, autumn for trophies. Summer’s hot – but the evenings? Chef’s kiss.

(Oh, and if you book, mention this rambling write-up – I’ll throw in some flies tied by my kid. They’re ugly as sin, but fish love ‘em.)