Beneath the Southern Cross ~ Part III

Sixty-eight trips around the sun have often seen me celebrating this anniversary with a fly rod in hand somewhere. The Metolius, Deschutes, and Sandy Rivers usually played host to a collection of friends brought together to mark the occasion. Still, trips to Belize, Mexico, and the Bahamas helped push away the February chill, and it has become easier to accept the pain of aging in warmer climates.

When our outfitter suggested a week encompassing my birthday as an optimum dry fly opportunity for the suggested rivers, I knew where I would be celebrating this year: the Limay River in Argentine Patagonia.

Of the three rivers we visited on our Patagonian adventure, the Limay is the largest and most impressive. During peak run-off, the river flows up to 50,000 cfs and, according to our young guide, starts fishing well at 40,000. Summer flows are regulated, and a minimum flow of 9,000 cfs maintains the fishery and water requirements of the area. While the river sticks to the braids and channels cut through the landscape, nearby residents can tap into its bounty with a relatively shallow well providing clean, cold water in a desert-like landscape.

The Limay River flows from the Emblase Alicura (Alicura reservoir) to the Embalse Ezequiel Ramos Mexía, providing roughly thirty miles of private waters to the guests of the Limay River Ranch. Even this number is misleading, as the river has many fishable side channels and braids that provide excellent habitat for Trout. On one occasion, we shared the beat with one other boat; they took the side channel to avoid the wind while we took the main channel. We never saw them until we arrived where the channels merged near the takeout after a very long day.

With plenty of water, there are plenty of Trout. Like the Chimehuin and Collon Cura, Brown Trout and Rainbow trout inhabit the same clear water, with "lake-run Browns" adding to the mix during their migration. There was a noticeable clarity to the Limay, undoubtedly due to the tailwater aspect, and it was common to spot large fish holding on the bottom in fifteen feet of water.

Fishing in such a large river can be intimidating, but we soon discovered that the fish were very aggressive and rose from the depths to crush our flies. Our guide, Hernán Hiralde, was like a quarterback, calling out the plays on the fly as we drifted down the river; "Skater in the front and Streamer in the back," "Try twitching on the left and right," "We'll dead drift this, both to the left." Jennifer and I followed directions, switching rigged rods from our collection stored neatly along the gunnel on the sides of the boat. We both had 6wts rigged with a Rio Bank Robber line for casting the big dries and a Streamer rod with a short sink-tip. For the Limay, we had left our five wt. rods hanging on the rack outside our cabin. There's no sense in bringing a knife to a gunfight. Even the 6wt rods seemed light when a big "laker" grabbed on.

Fishing from a drift boat is a relatively new concept for me. I have spent most of my life drifting the Deschutes, where boats are transportation only, with just a few days casting from a boat on Montana waters. The Limay was an angling workout because you fished all the time, with only a pleasant lunch break and short siesta to recharge for the final push of the day. By day's end, we were happy to toast the sunset with a cold G&T and prop our feet up before dinner.

Describing the food in Argentina or even at individual lodges is pointless because fantastic, incredible, and delicious don't do it justice. We've been home for four weeks, and I'm just returning to my pre-trip fighting weight. The Chocolate Moose Birthday Cake made by the charming young pastry chef highlighted the downhill slide. Her creations alone are reason enough to return next year! I'll start a training regiment months in advance to avoid the same predicament.

The cabins on the Limay River Ranch offered a peaceful base of operations for this remarkable fishery. Custom-made for comfort and aesthetically pleasing, the little cabins provided plenty of room to relax and recharge between days on the river. Our hosts, Ron and Vanessa Sorensen, were incredibly gracious, making everyone feel at home and accommodating all special dietary or personal needs.

Regardless of the hospitality, food, or accommodations, we will mainly return to the Limay because of the big fish that call the river home. The heavy flows breed strong, big fish, and they love to crush flies on the surface. Skating a fly takes on a new meaning here, with a noticeable rooster tail streaming behind your presentation when a huge Trout comes in pursuit. Watching is just as fun as hooking up, with ferocious grabs sending up shouts from both ends of the boat. Hernán was impressed with our Northwest Steelheader nerves, allowing the fish to take the fly and not freak out, pulling it away before it could connect. The images of those surface grabs are still vivid, bringing a smile each time the movie plays in my mind.

All trips eventually end, and while we would spend time in San Martín and Buenos Aires before flying home, the last day of fishing arrived, and we made the best of it. Our beat for the day was long, which required us to keep covering the water if we were to get to the takeout before dark. Fish came early, and often as again, Hernán called out the plays from the rower's seat. I scored a nice laker on a steamer, and then Jennifer went small to a pod of surface feeders on the edge of the current. Her small Mayfly seemed odd after tossing big, foamy things all week, but the results were impressive, with a couple of monster Rainbows falling to her presentation.

The day passed far too quickly, with fish brought to the net without much fanfare. We mixed it up, combining skating presentations with twitching, but almost everything worked. With the sun slowing dipping, I glanced at my watch, knowing our time was short. I fired a cast towards the left bank and mended the line when a sizable Trout engulfed the fly in a splashy rise. Setting up, the rod dipped heavily as the laker cleared the water and walked on his tail behind the boat. Hernán and Jennifer missed the aerial show but heard the reentry as the Trout splashed down.

With the fish somewhat under control, Hernán worked the boat into the shallows and dropped the anchor. I slipped into my flip-flops and stepped ashore to finish the battle. Soon, the net flashed, Jennifer took a few photos, and the big fish was carefully released to continue his journey, but for us, our time on the Limay had come to a close.

It's not often that a place works its way into your heart after such a brief visit, but the Limay and this part of Patagonia cast a spell on us that has drawn us to return next year. You may want to join us. Check out the details of Patagonia 2026 here.