Shining a Light on Fragile Fisheries

By Michael Gregg from Southflyfisher

"When they’re intact, our backcountry rivers shine like a beacon. But disturb them with constant pressure and the light goes out."

The Fragile Mantle of Our Backcountry Fisheries

If you know me, you know I love to fly fish. Heck, I live to fly fish. My greatest joy is chasing sighted, wild brown trout in the South Island’s rugged backcountry — those vast, isolated places where every fish is well-earned.

Last year (2020), I spent more time in those rivers than in any other year over the past decade. It was a strange blessing — the world fell silent, skies cleared, and for a moment, the rivers felt pleasantly empty again.

Nights in the Backcountry

Wilderness fishing means tent nights with freeze-dried meals cooked by headlamp, backcountry huts glowing under candlelight, and long conversations over tattered fishing magazines.

Those evenings give the mind space to wander — to think about what matters, beyond the day-to-day bustle. For me, those thoughtful pauses under starry skies always circle back to the same realisation: how vital these places are for the soul, and how grateful I am to have discovered fly fishing as a kid.

Forty years after my first cast with a pheasant tail nymph, I still marvel that world-class water lies just a short drive away. Yet I worry more each year about its future — about pressure, degradation, and just how fragile it all is.

The Lantern Metaphor

When I was a boy scout, our camps were lit by big blue Gaz-branded lanterns. Each had a fine silk mantle fitted over the burner — a delicate fabric that, when lit, burned away to leave a fragile lattice of ash that glowed white-hot.

It cast a brilliant light. But nudge it — even lightly — and that glowing mantle would crumble to dust.

New Zealand’s backcountry fisheries are much the same. When they’re healthy, they radiate — across social media, in tourism campaigns, within guiding businesses. They burn bright, illuminating everything around them.

But they’re as delicate as that mantle. Damage them, and the light dies instantly.

A Quiet Season — For Now

The new fishing season is about to begin, and once again it’ll start quietly. With few non-resident licenses issued, angling pressure will remain low.

But this peace won’t last. It’s a temporary aberration — a lull before the flood. When borders reopen, perhaps by October 2022, expect a surge of inbound anglers led by a religious belief of New Zealand as the ultimate wild brown trout paradise.

And in this metaphor, pressure does not make diamonds.

The Resident Boom

The strain doesn’t come from visiting anglers alone. In 2020/21, resident licence sales jumped 13.2% nationally, despite border closures. On the West Coast, resident sales surged by 35%. Every South Island region saw increases — Otago 13%, Southland 13%, Central South Island 14%, North Canterbury nearly 9%.

For Fish & Game, the organisation charged with managing trout and salmon, this was a lifeline. Despite the loss of non-resident revenue, total income actually rose. So well done, New Zealand anglers — you kept the system afloat when it mattered most.

But more resident anglers also means more boots on river gravels. Not all head into the backcountry, but some do. And in regions like Nelson/Marlborough, where about a quarter of licence revenue once came from overseas anglers, the sudden shift was stark — just 61 non-resident licences sold last season.

If that domestic growth continues, and international anglers return, our rivers may soon face the heaviest angler pressure in living memory — just as climate change and habitat loss are biting harder than ever.

Protecting the Mantle Before It Breaks

Fish & Game knows it must act. Regional strategies to protect backcountry fisheries need to be debated, finalised, and implemented before October 2022. Thankfully, we’re not starting from scratch. Controlled Fisheries and beat systems are already being trialled with some success.

Of course, change brings noise — heckling from the usual balcony seats (yes, Statler and Waldorf*, aka NZFFA, I’m looking at you). But let’s be honest: expecting to have kilometres of pristine river entirely to yourself is fantasy.

Limiting access may sting, but it’s a fair price to pay for preserving what we love most.

What Needs to Happen

We should start by opening up the data. Fish & Game’s Backcountry Fisheries Programme holds valuable information — angler pressure, catch rates, size data — that should be made public. Only then can we have an informed discussion about which rivers are approaching critical thresholds.

The Controlled Fisheries, ballots, and beat systems work — but they can be refined and expanded. My one caveat: let’s not rush to publicly name every high-country river. Once a name is out, it’s rarely forgotten. Save that for rivers already in intensive care, not just showing symptoms.

Other tools are available too: limiting consecutive fishing days by catchment, restricting guided days per river section (especially in some over-loved North Canterbury rivers), and working with DOC to expand Wilderness Areas — no tracks, no helicopters.

Any new rules should be applied fairly across both resident and non-resident anglers. There’s logic in giving resident full-season licence holders increased access through limited-entry ballots for parts of the season — not out of xenophobia, but fairness.

* Statler and Waldorf are a pair of elderly Muppet characters best known on The Muppet Show for their cantankerous opinions and shared penchant for heckling. They are referenced here because of their self righteous jeering of the entirety of the cast (regardless of intent, ability or effort) and their performances from their balcony seats.

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