Thredbo River – Part One

Nothing is more appealing than finding a new stretch of trout water with a trail that provides streamside access to its entire trouty goodness. The ultimate is when this access requires a degree of effort to explore, that limits the number of adventurous souls willing to commit to the proposition.

Many years ago, when I heard about the proposed extension of the Thredbo Valley Track (TVT) from Crackenback to Jindabyne, I could see the potential. I’ve fished the Thredbo for many years, across a combination of solo fishing frenzies and family holidays camped on the side of the river. I’m sure Dave Anderson’s article in FL#48 also ignited my enthusiasm for this magic river. When the upper TVT opened from Thredbo Village to Lake Crackenback, it was just as the latest mountain bike boom was getting underway. It was constructed with bikers and hikers in mind, providing an unexpected benefit to anglers with access to the entire river, a benefit I have exploited to great reward since.

Raising the prospect of a top-to-bottom fish/bike journey with my mate and lifelong ‘adventure partner’, our imaginations began to fire on the possibilities. Trained and schooled in the outdoors, Sean’s favourite mantra is ‘it’s only effort’ when putting ourselves out of our comfort zone and into our next pursuit. Riding a six thousand dollar, full suspension mountain bike with two grand of rod and reel strapped to it is not exactly in the category of extreme, but it would require some planning, commitment, good fortune and effort to pull the thing off. And it would fill us with a sense of accomplishment if we pulled it off.

The TVT 2.0 took a while to complete, and when you ride the bottom half, it’s not hard to see why. A fresh, hardened trail cut through native bush on the north side of the river is no mean feat and a resource to be celebrated.

We planned to stage the ride over four days and base camp at Thredbo Diggings campground, allowing us to fish and ride through the upper sections and then work out a shuttle, back up from the lower legs. Mid-December seemed like sensible timing. From experience, the fish would be looking up, water levels ideal, and the weather should be as kind as it can be in an alpine region.

Five days out, experimenting with rod holders on bikes and trying to find time to tie flies for the trip, the weather forecast looked ominous. La Niña was in full swing, and the East Coast was saturated. The current water levels looked OK on the Thredbo, but with several days of 20–40mm of rain forecast halfway through our window, it wouldn’t take much for the river to blow out. Screw it, it’s only weather.

Sean’s son Conor decided to join us at the last minute. At fifteen, he’s a very accomplished mountain biker, regularly posting videos of himself sailing 12 feet in the air across ‘gap jumps,’ making gravity look like an optional extra. He was keen to learn to fly fish but had a hankering to hit the tows on the mountain for a downhill day — better tack an extra day on the plan.

After an eight hour grind in the car, we arrived at 2am to a packed campground and scrounged up whatever spare piece of grass we could find in our torchlight. With barely enough shut-eye to justify calling sleep, we began gearing up for our first stage of the Thredbo headwaters.

HEADWATERS ABOVE DEAD HORSE

The origins of the Thredbo River begin above where the river crosses under the Alpine Way, just before Dead Horse Gap saddle. Access begins at the roadside car park, where the Cascade Trail follows the river up to a crossing, before heading toward Cascade Hut. From this point, continuing upstream, you’re on your own as far as tracks go, with the valley opening out into the origins of the river in an expansive snowgrass bowl.

The river is more of a creek in these reaches, with delightful twigwater and trout tucked into the little runs and undercuts separated by shallow gravel sections. The fishing is all close quarters, with barely any fly line out, and custom made for a 2–weight. The fish can be spooky, so add as much leader and tippet as you can manage while accepting that the constant alpine winds at this altitude will blow you regularly off course. It’s intimate fishing at its best, and with the crystal clear water, the fact that the fish are smaller is compensated by the visual fishing and proximity to the takes when they come.

Downstream the water continues similarly below Cascade Trail crossing, with slightly more depth, opening up the gravel glides as viable water if you fish carefully. About halfway between the crossing and the main road, the water distinctly changes into terraced pocket-water in an ongoing series of short run/pools that provide exciting fishing. The water is faster, and the trout have less time to take opportunities within the margins of their domain. With lots of overhanging scrub and tea tree on the banks, positioning yourself in the pool below is often the most productive approach, resulting in uninhibited eats right in front of your face in the pool above. It’s great fun and even more exciting when grasshopper season comes about.

THE JOURNEY BEGINS

Technically speaking, the Cascade Trail is not part of the TVT. We were keen to take a source to ‘lake’ approach exploring the entire length of the Thredbo though, and the friendly guy at the NSW Parks office confirmed we were OK to use bikes on the Cascade Trail and access the upper reaches on foot from the crossing.

The alpine breeze was blowing stiffly as we parked our bikes and meandered up the valley across the grass tussocks. Although there had been a lot of rain, the top of the river was already low, skinny and clear. With clear open banks, we took the opportunity to stick a rod in Conor’s hand straightaway, allowing him to wet his feet on his first serious go at fly. The conditions proved tricky, with narrow feeding lanes and current seams and the constant battle with the breeze. Conor was immediately in the zone, showing remarkable resilience as I crawled on hands and knees to unhook errant casts in order not to blow promising water. We couldn’t locate a trout to save ourselves, though, not even to spook, and were left scratching our heads to their whereabouts.

The open valley here is stunning, and we continued exploring the upper reaches before moving further down to the pocket water running beside the Cascade Trail. With over 45km of river left to explore, it would be challenging to alter our regular fishing habits of spending half a day on any given stretch if we were to sample a reasonable amount of the varied water along the river’s length.

Dropping in through the overhanging scrub, it wasn’t long before our faith was restored. Tabanas Parachute Caddis or Royal Humpies were the flies of choice, often with a small tungsten Pheasant Tail suspended below to anchor the short casts. Positioning ourselves in the pocket below gave us a direct line of sight to manage high-stick deliveries, keeping as much line off the water as possible and avoiding drag in all the chaos of the turbulent water. If a pocket was going to yield a fish, it would happen early, with small rainbows and browns all too eager to explode from the turquoise froth and devour our offerings.

THREDBO VILLAGE

The water between the Deadhorse Gap bridge and the Thredbo ski village holds plenty of fish, and a walking track runs directly beside most of its length, however, biking is not permitted here. The fishing gets very bony with large, densely stacked boulders and overhanging scrub in all the wrong places.

Moving through to the alpine village, the contrast couldn’t be more different, with shops, ski lodges, chairlifts and loads of holidaymakers. The river flows directly through the heart of the village, with manicured lawn spilling onto the river’s edge and regular windows of access between overhanging bankside tea tree.

The water is a lovely gradient and ideal wading depth for novices, with a pleasant sequence of bubbly runs that hold a surprising number of willing rainbows, despite the distraction of picnickers on the banks.

The village in summer is an excellent location for a family holiday with mixed interests in outdoor activities, from walking to the top of Kosciuszko to downhill mountain biking. If fishing time is limited, you can casually drop in anywhere you like for a quick fish and then pop back to the pub to catch up with the family for dinner.

BEER & PARMA FISHING

Rolling down the main road and into Thredbo Village, we were confronted by a hatch in full swing. Not of alpine insects, but downhill mountain bikers and holiday makers swarming around the chairlift entries and the numerous eateries. As hungry as we were, we resisted the temptation of a frosty beverage and headed to the water.

The river level was perfect, and ideal for Conor to be able to fish manageable water, with simple pickup and put-downs progressing to a couple of false casts as he got his confidence up. With the bobsled ride rumbling down the hill beside us, drift after drift floated down current seams begging to be eaten. But Conor was learning the hard lessons of having to pay the piper before the water will give up her rewards, which only made him hungrier to catch his quarry.

Between his father and me shouting instructions, I decided to give Conor and Sean space to let the river impart its lessons without my micro-managing tendencies. Dropping into an idyllic little run, the sun had just broken through a dull start to the day, and the river glowed with the bright orange of the bedrock below the surface. Bobbing a Parachute Caddis down through a honey hole, a vibrant rainbow sprang from the heart of the flow to devour the fly. I felt conflicted. I’d have traded a hundred hookups for Conor’s first on the Thredbo. The subtleties of drag-free drifts, line management and numerous other incrementally hard-earned skills would seem to make a difference in this moment. My assessment became less self-absorbed to conclusions of luck and weather as several other eager trout took my fly in quick succession, with no real evidence of skill being a factor.

Hunger got the better of us, and we headed to the pub for a well-earned beverage and a parma. With daylight saving at its peak, we figured we had another six hours or more to tackle the next part of the river.

BOMBS & Barometers Before heading off, we decided to give the village one more go, given my purple patch. Perched on the bridge to observe and take photos, the energy of the pedestrian traffic behind me noticeably changed, akin to ants scurrying about when a storm is imminent. As this feeling grew, I heard someone behind me.

‘Look at it. It’s full red and about to explode.’

They were referring to a ‘rain bomb’ materialising on the radar behind the peak of Kosciuszko and headed straight for us! It was far more intense than the passing shower forecast.

‘Sean, Conor, I think we need to make a move,’ I shouted as I waved my weather app at them. ‘I think we’re about to get a bit wet!’

By the time we scrambled onto the bikes and secured our gear for the ride, huge black clouds were looming over the mountain. Deciding to ride straight back to camp at Diggings, it began to feel like some hideous meteorological beast was chasing us. The hunt was on as we blasted down the TVT, barely keeping pace with the fast-moving front. Ideal water was left for another day as we zoomed straight past.

Rolling into the campground, the splats on our shoulders rapidly turned to a constant downpour that lasted well into the next day. About 120mm of rain fell on the mountain over the next 36 hours. Even the Jindabyne dam began spilling for the first time in years.

After seeking relief in the Jindabyne bakery, the extent of the rainfall became evident as we waded back through a flooded Alpine Way in our 4WD. Returning to our campsite, all that remained were a bunch of wilted bundles of abandoned nylon. The river had indeed exploded and grassy flats were now torrential flood plains of chocolate water, some of which had already consumed several campsites, tents and all.

We tried fishing the margins and backwaters the next day, but the fishing, for this trip at least, was at an end. On the long drive home, thoughts began to formulate for our return. After synchronising calendars and family priorities in the ensuing months, a plan evolved for our return a year later.

To be continued…