A Proper Canterbury Fly Fishing Tale – With Dean Harrison

Right, so picture this—you’re knee-deep in one of those braided Canterbury rivers, the Southern Alps looming behind you, and the only sound’s the rush of water and the occasional plink of your line. That’s the sort of morning I live for, mate. Been at this since I could hold a rod, honestly—20-odd years now—and I still get that same thrill watching a first-timer land a rainbow trout.

Now, about me—Dean Harrison. Some guides’ll give you the polished spiel, but here’s the truth: I’ve slept in more riverbank tents and dodged more cheeky kea birds stealing lures than I can count. What really gets me, though? Tailoring trips for folks who just get it. Hardcore anglers chasing remote spots near the Rakaia? Done. Families wanting a lazy evening by Lake Coleridge with the kids? Even better.

Canterbury’s the sort of place that gets under your skin. You’ve got those alpine forests—smells like wet earth and beech leaves—and rivers so clear you’d swear the trout are laughing at you. Saw a bloke pull a 10-pound brown out of the Waimakariri last season, hands shaking like a leaf. And the wildlife? More than just fish. We’ve had stags eyeballing us from the treeline, harriers skimming the water… heck, once even a fur seal pup wandered upriver.

Gear’s no stress. I’ve got Sage rods that’ve seen more action than a pub on Saturday night, and if you forget your waders? No drama—I’ll sort you. Beginners, experts, doesn’t matter. Had a 70-year-old grandmother outfish her grandsons last summer—that’s the beauty of it.

So yeah, whether it’s stalking the edges of Lake Tekapo at dusk or wrestling a rainbow in the Hurunui’s rapids… well, let’s just say I know a few spots. And the coffee’s always on me.
(Browns, rainbows—you name it. They’re here. And they’re proper cunning.)