Ennie Schwiebert recorded his trip to Torees del Paine and the Rio Serrano in his 1988, “A River For Christmas”. I swung past in the later 1990s, took some pretty heavy weather (as you do at times down there), saw some lovely Buff-necked Ibis, Guanaco, Condor and, once, the tan-coloured hill-cresting rear of a disappearing Puma, had some fish (pretty average resident rainbows and ‘small’ sea-trout in the Serrano, not the recently farm-escaped Kings back then), then moved on a mile or a hundred with a then Argentine-based Welsh fishing buddy to other sea-trout and steelhead waters. When a Spey-caster of the international quality of Eoin Fairgrieve finds “challenging”, you rather more than suspect that mere mortals are going to be something rather than just crucified.
Reminds me of the time that I was double-Speying in the Chilean west for big steelhead and finding that a near-hurricane Westerly was dumping my extending and actually landing casts twenty- to thirty-odd yards upstream of me, sometimes then ripping the things up air-ward and turning them into a Twister-fangled, five-minute birdsnet. Oh, but when the occasional cast got through…..
Ennie Schwiebert recorded his trip to Torees del Paine and the Rio Serrano in his 1988, “A River For Christmas”. I swung past in the later 1990s, took some pretty heavy weather (as you do at times down there), saw some lovely Buff-necked Ibis, Guanaco, Condor and, once, the tan-coloured hill-cresting rear of a disappearing Puma, had some fish (pretty average resident rainbows and ‘small’ sea-trout in the Serrano, not the recently farm-escaped Kings back then), then moved on a mile or a hundred with a then Argentine-based Welsh fishing buddy to other sea-trout and steelhead waters. When a Spey-caster of the international quality of Eoin Fairgrieve finds “challenging”, you rather more than suspect that mere mortals are going to be something rather than just crucified.
Reminds me of the time that I was double-Speying in the Chilean west for big steelhead and finding that a near-hurricane Westerly was dumping my extending and actually landing casts twenty- to thirty-odd yards upstream of me, sometimes then ripping the things up air-ward and turning them into a Twister-fangled, five-minute birdsnet. Oh, but when the occasional cast got through…..
Ernie for “Ennie”, Torres for “Torees”, you get my un-edited gist.