In the realm of fly fishing, there’s more to the sport than just catching fish. It’s about the people you meet, the places you explore, and the adventures that unfold. For me, fly fishing isn’t just a hobby. It’s something I’ve strived to shape my life around, a medium through which some of my closest friendships are forged. How I connect and spend time with my father, and how I most prefer to experience the beauty of nature. And, as I’ve discovered, using various means to get there, whether it’s your own two feet or other means—like a raft—only further the experience.

Among the world’s treasures for fly fishing experiences, the South Island of New Zealand stands proudly at the forefront, offering an unparalleled quality fishery and the promise of something immeasurable. The New Zealand backcountry is everything people talk about and more. It embodies the quintessence of fly fishing with a mixture of some of the most incredible natural places on our planet, coupled with capricious weather and seemingly incomprehensible amounts of super fishy water.

While the adages about New Zealand fly fishing being super tough with spooky trout, requiring the use of long leaders and difficult casts often into the howling wind, can undoubtedly be true, it can also seem effortless. I have had days with all the makings of the former and where the fishing was so good that you’d be surprised not to catch a fish on your first cast into a new pool or riffle.

In part, fly fishing is about seeking out and pursuing unpressured fisheries and new experiences. But it’s not just the fish that lure me to these remote places—it’s the sense of adventure, achievement, and awe of the New Zealand landscape that comes with each trip.

I grew up in Sydney, Australia, and have always been an outdoors person at heart. I was fortunate to have beaches and bushland nearby and spent my childhood doing everything from surfing to rock climbing in the Blue Mountains. In 2010, I came to New Zealand as a 20-year-old looking for adventure. Little did I know I would find my forever home.

Nearly all of New Zealand is made up of extensive forests, never-ending lakes, wide rivers, tall mountains, and remote coastline. Canyoning, rock climbing, mountain biking, mountaineering, paragliding… From my home in Lake Hawea, I can access nearly every outdoor experience you could imagine within about an hour by car. Adventures with good people in immensely wild places are part of the social fabric here.

While fly fishing takes priority for me, the nearly endless ways to spend time in natural areas are a major draw. But it was the network of incredible people keen to share their deep connections to this country and its natural places that almost certainly sealed my love of this place.

One of my greatest joys is focusing and connecting further with the natural environment to achieve something greater. This is where fly fishing shines. While “match the hatch” may feel like a cliché term bandied around to drive people to think more about their fly choice, to me, it’s much more.

Focusing on the minutiae of fly fishing in immersive backcountry environments seems to bleed away the busyness of life and lets me tap back into a part of myself that is seemingly evaporated or diminished in the day-to-day. This is as simple as being cognisant of what’s occurring in a bug life cycle enough to replicate it with a fly choice, then present it to a point where a fish changes its behaviour to come look at your fly or, all things allowing, eat said fly.

I vividly remember fishing a remote lake in Fiordland National Park with two of my best mates. We spent hours in the freezing cold, catching trout after trout on dry flies that we’d submerged and stripped back aggressively, seemingly contradicting everything I thought I knew about trout behaviour.

As a fly fishing guide and business owner, I remind myself that I am an angler first and a guide second. Spending time in the backcountry, whether personally or professionally, always provides opportunities for quiet introspection, often restoring or rekindling my deep-felt enthusiasm for fly fishing, the backcountry and these extraordinary places. It’s like the blinders come off, and I have this widened view of what can be explored, tried and tested.

More recently, I’ve traded walking for less conventional methods, using packrafts and rafts to access new waters and regularly visited streams to fish them differently. These vessels aren’t just tools for fly fishing; they’re gateways to new ways of engaging with the sport. And while fly fishing and boats are not always mutually inclusive, they seem to enhance one another in many aspects—particularly when placed in the right environments.

I’ve spent most of my time over the past 12 months in my rafts, both for work and personal use. Fishing familiar places from a new perspective or embarking on journeys to new, remote locations seldom visited or inaccessible by foot has been nothing short of transformative for me as an angler and a guide.

I strive to avoid confusing experience and knowledge with complacency and habit. While learning the intricacies of our river systems, revisiting areas is essential. However, this can also lead to confirmation bias— “I go to the same fishery because I always catch fish.” As the rafts thrust us into new positions, even on the same waters, they help combat a narrowing mindset.

The lessons I’ve learned from using rafts are invaluable. We fish less from the bank, as we now have access to the middle of the river. We’re no longer limited by how far we can walk but by how far the river can take us.

This shift has opened my eyes wider to gain a new perspective of the entire fishery. Having spent the better part of a decade fishing in this part of the world, it brings me great joy to know there are still ways to expand my knowledge and explore new places.

The allure of outdoor gear plays a significant role in my pursuit of backcountry fly fishing, from rafts to lightweight tents crafted from fandangled materials like Dyneema and ultralight chairs that weigh less than your water bottle. And while these items aren’t critical to the experience, I spend hours perusing outdoor gear websites, envisioning how these innovations would elevate my next adventure. The stoke when they do only feeds my obsession.

I could wax poetic about gear for days. But in all honesty, the true magic of the backcountry lies in the unexpected. I have this deep-seated belief that when lots of things aren’t going to plan, it’s setting the experience up for some sort of miracle that will salvage the entire trip. Sometimes, those miracle moments are not abundantly obvious, evident only once the trip has been and gone. When you’re reminiscing over a beer with your mate that you dragged along, promising some sort of transcendental fly fishing experience, worried you stuffed the whole thing up.

Then there are the people who seek out and readily accompany you on these backcountry fly fishing journeys. They are not just fellow anglers. These are individuals who share your passion for the outdoors and your intrinsic need for this type of adventure. The friends who become lifelong companions, a bond formed from sharing an experience so grand that it might be beyond explanation or comprehension to others.

While these experiences and places may seem distant, and the required equipment might appear complex and expensive, the truth is, they’re not. Adventures don’t need to adhere to specific criteria; they can be as straightforward as dedicating a single day to a remote and peaceful location that requires a bit of extra effort to reach. The Clutha River, New Zealand’s biggest river, is just 20 minutes from my home. The banks of the river are largely inaccessible by foot and seldom visited by others. Yet, with a little extra effort they offer opportunities for both fishing and quiet introspection.  

In the world of fly fishing, where every cast is a connection to nature and every journey is an opportunity for discovery, the blend of people, places, and adventure becomes part of who we are as anglers. All elements of these backcountry adventures work in symbiosis to form something incredible.

My adventures in the New Zealand backcountry remind me that fly fishing isn’t merely about catching fish. Nor is it just a hobby. It’s about the life-altering experiences I’ve had in nature, all of which have shaped me as an individual. Spending time in these places is precisely what encouraged me to turn this passion into my profession in the first place. Hooking and landing fish are the catalysts rather than the only goal.

Whether it’s the opportunity to lay eyes on places long dreamed of, witnessing trout delicately sipping dry flies from the surface of gin-clear waters or an evening of quiet introspection on a nearby river, each trip is a reminder of why I shaped my life around this incredible sport.

The connections—to people, place, and myself—are what keep me coming back for more.

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Guest contributor Jack Scott takes every opportunity to explore and spend time in the great outdoors. Jack was introduced to fishing at a young age by his dad, Brian. A guide and co-owner at Aotearoa Anglers, Jack now lives on the edge of Lake Hāwea with his wife, Lexy, and their German short-haired pointer, Rue. You’ll normally find him on a river or conjuring the best fly fishing experiences he can imagine, immersed in immensely beautiful wild places with good people.

Editor’s Note: All images courtesy of Jeff Forsee. This essay was first published on Taleout.com.