Dean Bell, one of New Zealand’s premiere guides, is filmed fishing Fiordland of New Zealand’s South Island. If you aren’t familiar with this part of the world, it is truly beautiful: fjords with their lush landscape and plunging waterfalls; glaciers; the towering mountains of the Southern Alps; and lacing their way through it all are clear, pristine rivers bearing large trout.

If you are interested in a travel DVD, or in any way hope to see the natural wonders of New Zealand (with the exception of beautiful rivers), this is not the DVD for you. I was slightly disappointed because it has been over 20 years since I lived in New Zealand, and visited these places, and I really wanted to revisit them through the DVD—but that is not the purpose of this DVD. If you are planning a trip to NZ to fish, and you want that kind of DVD, there are lots of others out there for that purpose.

If you like watching large brown and rainbow trout caught on large dry flies in incredibly clear water, then pop this DVD in, turn off the volume, and watch 65 minutes of High Definition footage as Dean catches and releases over 20 of these big boys. It looked great on my 50” widescreen, putting me right into the action as if I were there, at Dean’s side.

If, however, you are interested in learning some (mostly) dry fly tactics suitable for not only New Zealand, but anywhere with clear water and picky trout, then turn up the volume and listen in as Dean instructs on not only the “dead drift,” but pre-casting analysis of the conditions of the lie, the cast, and playing the fish to bring it to hand.

He revolves each of these aspects around reading the structure of the water: the rocks and the hydrology of the water caused by those rocks. The lies created by the hydrology dictating where to cast to get the drift that is needed to 1) get the fly to the fish and 2) present the fly in the most natural way possible. And then how to best use the current to play the fish and bring it in.

Dean does an excellent job talking through his immediate thoughts right there on the water. There is the occasional voice-over done in post-processing where some additional analysis goes on as he talks through the different aspects of fishing for a particular fish he caught. (I’m not sure why, but this voice-over was done in Dean’s best “golf commentator” voice. I found this slightly bothersome because when he was on the water, he typically used his regular voice and the fish certainly would hear him better there than in post-processing. It’s not a huge issue, but a non-modulated voice would work a little better for me.)

Steve Couper’s Stealth Films Ltd. did a fine job in filming and editing the audio and video of the DVD. The only suggestions I have for future DVD’s is to change the voice-overs and to add a little extra content at the end. Dean does a nice job summarizing at the end of the DVD, but maybe another section of the DVD accessed through the menu with these points in text format (a bulleted list kind of thing), as well as some of the other salient points made throughout the DVD, would be nice.

This is an enjoyable DVD to just sit back and watch to get your fishing fix (especially during the off season). It also has excellent information to help you improve your sight-fishing skills. Dean is a delightful host who keeps things interesting and exciting without showboating his successes or haranguing his failures.

Purchase the DVD through Stealth Films http://www.stealthfilms.co.nz (go to this link to purchase directly) for $25 + shipping (I thought well worth the price). Check out the 1 minute 16 second trailer here. Steve Couper of Stealth Films was prompt in answering a couple of my questions (see previous post here). The DVD was shipped promptly and arrived quickly.

I do have to apologize to Steve: I wrote the review last August, but never typed it up (I do many of my first drafts on a yellow legal pad, and there it sat). So here it is, a bit belatedly.

I’m eager to be in the mountains this morning, wading the chilly river in search of rising browns and cutthroats. The cool, moist autumn air hanging over the river lifts my soul and stimulates my mind as nothing else can. Being outdoors invigorates me, but fly fishing itself is exhilarating. I guess it satisfies a need I have to compete and overcome, although I don’t really think of myself as all that competitive (except maybe at Scrabble). I’m not competitive with other people when fishing, just with myself and the fish.

Fly fishing is not a battle to death, but to victory—a fish eluding my fly or shaking himself loose if caught. Me reeling a fish in then releasing it. One is conquered, one is conqueror. Both compete again.

Fly fishing does something to me that bait or lure fishing does not. With these other methods of fishing it’s not as important to discern the appropriate bait or time of day, just skewer a wriggling worm with a number ten hook and chuck it in the river—any time, any place. As a fly fisherman I must delicately balance the variables of the proper stage of the insect’s life, and the proper type and size of insect I am trying to imitate for the time of year, time of day, and specific body of water I am fishing in.

The best time to dry fly often fish coincides with the best times to be in the mountains—when shadows are long and the air is cool. Late afternoons and evenings I can often find fish rising for flying insects. Those are the times when dry flies work their magic on the river. And the river casts a spell on me.

The Logan River can have finicky fish as it is, and with no hatch on yet this morning, these are two reasons why dry flies are an unlikely choice. At such a time a more likely choice would be a nymph, a fly that imitates a water-born insect in its larval stage.

Being a hard core dry fly fisherman I give no thought to the more practical nymph. The only two things I need to decide this morning is fly size and kind. I have several dry flies in my box (Royal Wulff, Blue Wing Olive, Yellow Humpy and Adams). Most of them are in the relatively small sizes of 16 and 18. I’ve learned that on this river, the smaller the fly, the better my chances of success.

What is success to the fly fisherman? I don’t bring fish home, so my father-in-law often thinks I’m a failure because he never sees the fish—the fish stories are just that to him, stories. I use a barbless hook (the choice for many fly fishermen) and release all fish who manage not to release themselves. Part of my success is the manner in which the fish is caught. It’s a battle of wits and deception-can I cast an imitation fly which I have tied, in such a manner that it really imitates the insect? And will the fish be fooled into thinking that a hook entwined with thread and feathers is an insect? If I can, and it does, I’ve been successful in part.

Reaching the shores of the river I make my first cast as the first faint rays of yellow dapple the sky. The Royal Wulff ripples the water only slightly as it lands just upstream of a rising trout. Such a fly is almost an anachronism today, but I learned to fish using the flies out of an old tin fly box my father had kicking around for 30 years. My first fish were caught on a gaudy pattern much like the Royal Wulff, so I started learning to tie flies by tying the Royal Wulff.

Skill is a necessary requirement for the fly fisherman as well as deceit. The imitation fly weighs little more than an actual insect and is of insufficient weight to be cast in the same manner as bait or lure fishing. What propels the fly is the weight of the line (which isn’t much) and the skill of the fly fisherman “shooting” that line off the end of the rod. This action is learned over many hours of practice, tangled line and hooked vegetation. To watch a skilled fly fisherman in the act of casting is to see a delicately precise artistic form-a fluidity of movement is seen as angler, rod, line and fly flow like the river.

The physical activity of casting is rewarded by placing the fly in the desired location, which my first cast does this morning. It’s not enough to just get the fly on the water, it must be placed in front of a fish-not a school of fish, but a single fish. One-on-one.

I cast many times—some good, others not. I use six different dry flies, nothing else. Not a bite.

Conquered?

It takes me 15 minutes to clamber up the “shortcut” of shifting rocks. Brushing the mud and dirt from my waders I look over the side one last time. The fish remain in the river for next time. Maybe then I won’t climb the loose rocks again. Next time.