How many days for a fly fishing trip to Patagonia?

It is the first question people ask me, before flies, before rods. Here is an honest answer, built on the trips I put together in northern Neuquén year after year.

The short answer

Plan on ten days in Argentina, with seven or eight of them spent fishing. That format lets the trip breathe: time to shake off the flight, to read the rivers, to get your day of grace. Below six fishing days, the travel-to-fishing ratio turns sour. Above that, up to twelve guided days, you enter the deep version of the trip, the one where nobody counts anymore.

About the journey itself

Europe to Buenos Aires runs around fourteen hours in the air. Then comes a domestic flight to Neuquén and five hours of road towards the north of the province, where the Patagonia Trashumante team takes over. Two days of travel out, two days back. Which is exactly why a very short stay makes no sense: you do not cross the Atlantic for three days of fishing.

The right calendar

The season runs from November to late April. The heart of it is December through late March. If you are the versatile kind, streamer, spey (see the gear guide for Patagonia), the fishing stays excellent on the edges of the season, with even fewer people around. One thing European anglers tend to forget: the time difference is small, four to five hours depending on the date. You recover fast, and the first fishing day is not a write-off.

What the length changes

Six fishing days: a fine trip, focused on two or three valleys. Seven or eight: what I would call the standard formula, with true roaming between rivers, lakes and big-trout water, and enough slack to sit out a windy day. Ten to twelve: the long version, for anglers who want to see different landscapes and different rivers, including water nobody fishes. The trip is itinerant, hotels, cabañas, sometimes a night in camp on field beds, and the programme adapts to the group, three to six rods. Tailor-made stays are possible on request: length, group size, other destinations.

Frequently asked questions

How many fishing days at a minimum?

Six. Below that, the trip is mostly transport. Seven or eight days remain a good base.

Can you fish on arrival?

Yes and no. The small time difference makes it easy, and fishing usually starts the day after pick-up in Neuquén, but it depends on arrival flight times and on where we start the trip given the weather.

When is the best time to go?

December to late March for the heart of the season; November and April offer fine windows to versatile anglers.

To size your own trip properly, start here: the northern Neuquén trip, rates, and let’s talk it through.

Gear for the giant rainbows of Jurassic Lake

On the shores of Lago Strobel, the question is not whether you will hook a big fish. It is whether your gear will hold when it happens. The rainbows of Jurassic Lake regularly pass the ten pound mark, the wind blows without warning, and the weakest link in your bag gets found out fast. Here is what I prepare with my anglers before each stay, based on the lodge’s recommendations and on what I have seen hold, or break, out there.

Two single-hand rods, not one

The base setup comes down to two rods. For the middle and upper sections of the Barrancoso river, a 4-5 weight with a floating line is enough: the fish run up from the lake and are fished close, sometimes on dries, in very little water. Bring a large arbor reel with backing, 9 foot leaders from 0X to 2X, and tippet from 0X to 3X.

For the lake and the lower river, step up to a 7-8: a WF floating line, an intermediate and a sink tip to cover every layer of water, and a large arbor loaded with 100 to 150 metres of 30 pound backing. That is not a luxury. A Strobel rainbow heading for open water does not stop out of politeness.

The two-handed rod, your answer to the wind

The wind is part of the scenery, to the point that a 7-8 two-handed rod changes the hard days: a scandi line, sink tips, 9 foot leaders in 0X or 1X. When the gusts shut down normal casting, the spey keeps laying it out cleanly. If you have been meaning to learn, this is the trip that justifies it.

Waders and boots: the felt rule

Lightweight breathable waders do the job. One absolute rule on these waters though: no felt soles. The lake and the river are didymo-free, and the lodge cleans every pair of waders and boots on arrival to keep them that way. Bring rubber soles, and arrive with clean, dry gear.

Flies: hooks that do not open

Strobel is fished with regular trout flies, simply bigger than usual, and above all tied on strong hooks. Cheap hooks open up, it is as simple as that.

On top: red or chartreuse Humpy in 10, white Wulff Irresistible in 10, Goddard Caddis in 10, black beetles in 12 on heavy hooks, rubber leg hoppers and chubbies in 10, and a few black midges in 14 for the quiet moments.

Under the surface: heavy nymphs first. Rubber leg Prince in 12, orange, pink, pearl or tan scuds in 10, San Juan Worm in 12, rubber leg Hare’s Ear in 12, all on reinforced hooks.

Streamers: balanced leeches in black, olive, chartreuse or claret in 6, black and peacock Wooly Bugger in 10, Yellow Yummy in 8, Buoface in black, olive or purple in 6.

One rule worth knowing: beads and egg rigs are not allowed on these waters. And if you would rather travel light, the lodge runs a fly shop with local patterns tied by the guides; ask me to reserve a kit of 24 to 48 flies before departure.

Dressing for the Strobel

The Strobel plateau earns its reputation: hard sun at altitude, wind, big temperature swings within a single day. The answer is three layers: a breathable base, a fleece or down jacket, and a waterproof windproof shell on top. Add a cap and a beanie, a neck gaiter, light gloves for cold mornings, polarised glasses to spot fish in the waves, and serious sunscreen: at this altitude, under this sky, the sun forgives no more than the trout do.

Frequently asked questions

If I bring only one rod, which one?

The 7-8 with a floating and an intermediate line. It covers the lake, the bay and the lower river, where the biggest fish are caught.

Are felt soles really banned?

Yes. The Strobel waters are didymo-free and the lodge intends to keep them that way. Rubber soles only, and clean gear on arrival.

Can you buy flies at the lodge?

Yes, the lodge fly shop carries local patterns tied by the guides that you will not find in any store. The simplest option is to ask me for a reserved kit before you arrive.

This list completes the preparation for the Jurassic Lake fishing trip. For the rest of the bag, the Patagonia gear guide still applies. And for a reserved fly kit or a spare rod, write to me before departure.

Wild Patagonia fly fishing: David’s rematch

There are rivers in Patagonia nobody knows. No lodge, no brochure, no Instagram picture. Just you, cold water coming down from the Cordillera, wild trout almost nobody has ever bothered, and ten days without meeting a soul apart from a gaucho passing far off on his horse. Places where the vastness grabs you by the gut, and where everything that once pushed you to pick up a fly rod finally makes sense.

The bad day

In the north of Neuquén province, fishing tourism barely exists. Nothing like the lodges of the south. Here you feel tiny, and that is exactly what you came for.

That day with David, we got nothing. Ten hours on the water, two fish. Nymphs, dries, droppers, streamers: we tried it all. Nothing. Days like that happen, I know. But when you are the guide, your angler’s bad day is your own. You walk back to camp with that weight in your legs, telling yourself it is fishing, that nobody controls anything, without really believing it.

Around the fire, the others tell their fish. The best of their lives, for some. I am glad for them, sincerely. But the guilt toward David will not let go.

And then the fire does its work. The cordero turning over the embers, a glass of Malbec in hand, stories running one into the next. Those moments hold something close to magic, as if the flames put life back into everything else. We end up laughing. Tired, spirits mended, I crawl into my sleeping bag. Tomorrow is another day.

The next morning

Waking up in the middle of that country is like nothing else. The sun slowly bursting over the snowed summits of the Cordillera, the cold air that grabs you the moment you leave the sleeping bag, the silence. That Patagonian silence that exists nowhere else. You drink your coffee, you look at the river below, and without quite noticing, yesterday fades away.

It is one of the things I love most deeply about fly fishing. It forces you to be there, truly there. To watch, to feel, to read the water before you even pull out a rod. Bad days exist, they are part of the game. But a river at first light has a way of setting everything back to zero, as if it handed you a blank page.

Today I stay with David. We have a score to settle, and I know exactly where we are going.

The rematch

We head for a place I am particularly fond of. It is really more of a spring creek than a river in the strict sense. It rises from a small lake at the heart of a glacial valley, crystal clear and cold all year round, sliding from slow meanders to short pockets of white water under snowed peaks. A place few people know. A place worth the walk.

Don Humberto greets us as always, the emblematic gaucho of the area, his face carved by years of Patagonian sun and wind. He never misses a chance to come over with his wide smile and his stories. Some people belong to a place as much as the place belongs to them.

The sun is with us and, with a little luck, the unnameable has not shown its face yet. That is the name we give the wind here. Local belief says that if you name it three times, it appears. We do not talk about it.

I start showing David the first spots on the meanders. Crystal water, hard light, slow currents: nothing is easy here. You watch, you crouch, you stalk. A few rings open here and there on the surface. The trout are in.

After a few fruitless tries and several fly changes, a small brown CDC pattern, tied by a Breton friend, makes the difference. The first one is in the net. For all my years on these banks, I still marvel at these browns. Real little jewels.

David strings together some fine fish through the morning. And then there is that one: in a churning wave, two centimetres behind a rock, at the exact edge of a tangle of branches on the far side. I see her. David does not. I explain, he doubts. I beef up the tippet. The current is strong and the fish has real shoulders. It has to hold.

First cast: too far left. The trout does not flinch, but I am already shaking. Second cast: right down the feeding lane. She moves. She comes to look. “Stay calm,” I tell David. That sentence was meant for me as much as for him. My heart was pounding.

She follows the fly for a good metre. And refuses it.

We both fall apart. David turns around, eyes wide: “Damn. Beautiful fish.” I laugh without meaning it. I have him switch to what we call here una chancleta, the local nickname for big terrestrials of every kind.

“Schplof.” The chancleta slaps the current a good metre above the fish. There are moments when everything lines up: the right cast, an active fish downstream, that sixth sense fly fishers carry that tells you it is about to happen. The snout rises slowly, takes the enormous fly. Half a second. The line comes tight.

I scream.

David runs the fight like a master. The fish bolts under the branches, rides the current, drops downstream. The rod bends, tips over. Net in hand I move down the bank, terrified of ruining it all. She surges toward me, David turns her at the perfect moment. I stab the net in like a bear swiping a paw.

She is in.

No record. But her dress is extraordinary: a golden belly to shame the finest ceilings of the Vatican. The take, the fight, this setting… That is why we are here. That is why we come back.

The mark it leaves

Those rivers are on no fishing map. They have no famous name, no reputation to defend. They simply exist, cold, wild, indifferent to everything happening elsewhere. And that is exactly why we go back.

Patagonia is lived intensely and leaves a mark that does not fade. You never come home quite the same.

And if these rivers are calling you, everything starts on the fly fishing in Argentine Patagonia page, or with a message: write to me.

Gear: what you really need to fly fish for golden dorado

You do not fish for dorado the way you fish for trout, and you do not pack the same bag either. It is the first thing I tell the anglers who join me in northern Argentina: we are going after a fish that grinds steel, finesse can wait. Here is what I carry, and above all what changes from one river to the next, because the dorado of the Paraná and the dorado of the clear waters of Corrientes do not ask for quite the same gear.

Gear that follows the water

Before we talk rods and flies, one thing needs saying: “the dorado” covers several very different kinds of fishing. On the Paraná and its huge side channels, you hunt big fish in big water, often with sinking streamers and tackle built for power. In the province of Corrientes, on the río Corriente and its surprisingly clear waters, the fishing turns visual, sometimes sight fishing proper, and you can lighten up a little. Further north, in the small rivers of Salta like the río Dorado, you walk, you cast short, you look for more modest fish in mountain country wrapped in jungle. The bag adapts to each of these waters.

Rods

The do-everything dorado rod is a 9 foot 8 weight, fast action. It throws big streamers into the wind, absorbs the runs and lets you turn a fish bolting for the deadfalls. For the Paraná and its heavy fish, a 9 weight earns its keep on windy days or when the flies get bulky. On the clear waters of Corrientes, where you sometimes fish by sight, a lively 7 or 8 is enough and adds to the pleasure. For the clear water of the río Dorado, plan on a 6, maybe a 7, with adjusted leaders, because a little more discretion is needed there. Always bring a spare rod: a break on the banks of the Paraná, hours from the nearest shop, cannot be fixed.

Reels, lines and backing

The reel matters more here than in trout fishing. You want a large spool, a strong and well-sealed drag, and a real reserve of backing: a dorado takes the line and gets into the backing without warning. On the line side, a tropical floating line with an aggressive taper covers most of it, especially in clear water and on the surface; it carries big flies without strain. To reach the deep fish of the Paraná, add a sink-tip line of 300 to 350 grains. On very hot days, standard lines turn soft: the tropical versions keep their body.

Leaders: wire is not optional

This is the point nobody neglects twice. The dorado has a razor of a jaw and cuts nylon like sewing thread. So you always finish with a shock tippet of supple wire, 20 to 45 pounds, or heavy fluorocarbon when the fish grow wary in very clear water. The body of the leader stays nylon or fluoro of 30 to 40 pounds, short and strong, to turn over heavy flies. Perfect loops on every section, loop to loop between them. Plan to rebuild your leaders several times: you leave some in fish and some in the wood. To attach the flies, use strong streamer clips or a knot on the wire tip.

Flies

The dorado strikes out of anger as much as hunger, and it likes big mouthfuls. The base is streamers in the Andino deceiver style, tied on strong saltwater hooks from 1/0 to 3/0, five to fifteen centimetres long, in black or in the fire and yellow tones that blaze in stained water. Streamers in black and red or black and purple, with volume and vibration, are a real plus. Most of the time they fish unweighted, the line does the sinking. Add a few poppers, big foam bugs in the Chernobyl style with rubber legs, and mouse patterns for the surface: a dorado attack on a mouse is not something you forget. In clear water, more sober and slightly smaller patterns work better on fish you can see. Bring plenty, you lose a lot. And if you would rather not think about it, the local team can tie a box matched to the season, just ask me before departure.

Clothing and accessories

In northern Argentina, heat and sun set the kit: a long-sleeved UV shirt, a cap with a neck flap, a neck gaiter, and polarised glasses I consider essential for spotting fish and reading the water. Good long-nosed pliers to unhook without getting close to that dentition, tie knots and cut heavy line and wire, a tool that counts for more than you would think. Sunscreen, a water bottle, a dry bag for the boat or a backpack for the walks, and something against the mosquitoes in the wetlands of the Esteros del Iberá or the jungle. One suitcase and one backpack per angler: everyone will thank you in the transfers.

Frequently asked questions

Which rod if I only bring one?

A 9 or 10 foot rod with an 8 weight line, fast action. It covers the Paraná as well as the clear waters of Corrientes, from sinking streamers to surface fishing.

Is the wire leader really mandatory?

Yes. Without it you will lose the fish of your trip to one clean cut. It is the one item in the bag that is not up for debate.

Can you buy flies over there?

Partly, depending on stock. The safest plan is to travel with your own boxes, or to ask me for a kit tied by the local team before departure.

This list goes with the anglers who join me to chase dorado in the province of Corrientes. The trip, the waters and the packages are laid out on the golden dorado fly fishing in Argentina page. And if you are still torn between the dorado of the north and the trout of Patagonia, the two combine very well: write to me and we will talk it over.

Patagonia Trashumante: the team that makes the trip

A fishing trip is more than a river and some fish. First of all it is a team. Mine, in Argentine Patagonia, is called Patagonia Trashumante, and if I introduce them here it is because I see them as friends before partners.

How we met

I came for the first time in February 2022, with friends, simply to try the destination. I fished, I posted photos, with no other intention than to share what I was seeing. That is when Gerardo came across me on social media. He wrote to me, then invited me back to fish several days with his team. I said yes.

On the ground I saw two things at once: the huge potential of this corner of northern Neuquén, and the potential of the team that knows it by heart. I have worked with these men ever since. The word is badly chosen, in fact. I do not work with colleagues, I go fishing with friends.

A team, not colleagues

What binds a team of guides cannot be decreed. It is built over days on the water, kilometres of dirt track, asados that run late, missed fish and fits of laughter. Trust, here, is not a sales pitch. It is what lets you hand an angler over to someone with your eyes closed.

When I design a trip with Patagonia Trashumante, I know exactly who takes you to the river, and I know you will be treated the way I would be. That is the whole point of travelling with a small local outfit rather than an anonymous machine: behind every day, there is a face and a first name.

The faces of the trip

Behind the name, there are men. Here are the ones you will meet, on the water, at camp or on the track.

What it changes for you

A fly fishing trip to Argentine Patagonia with Patagonia Trashumante is not an off-the-shelf package. It is a licensed local team guiding on the water, me designing the trip and staying with you from the first day to the last as interpreter and friend, and the certainty of travelling with people you can trust. The rest, the wild rivers, the trout that rise without a doubt, the table by the water, follows from that.

To discover the trip, everything is laid out on the fly fishing in Argentine Patagonia page. And to meet the team at home, visit Patagonia Trashumante. Fancy joining us? Write to me and we will talk.

The dorado forgives nothing: a fishing trip with friends in northern Argentina

The water had turned since morning, brown, heavy, the kind that makes even guides who have known the river for twenty years start doubting. Kévin and Félix had come for dorado, not to watch the level climb. We changed plans three times before noon.

The dorado, Salminus brasiliensis, has none of a trout’s discretion. This is a fish that charges, that snaps wire leaders as if they were sewing thread, that leaps clear of the water with its mouth wide open to throw the hook. And often succeeds. So you fish differently: bulky streamers, aggressive retrieves, and when the water really clouds up, you switch to mouse patterns swimming on the surface. A dorado hitting a mouse is a brutal thing to watch. Nothing else looks like it.

Late in the afternoon we finally found a clearer seam, against a bank where the current slowed. Félix had the first take: a ten-second exchange, line tearing off, then nothing. Opened hook. He looked at his rod, then at us, without a word. We laughed anyway, because there was nothing else to do.

Kévin brought one to hand later, not huge, but enough to understand why this fish has the reputation it has. We watched it swim off and climbed back into the truck in silence, with that satisfied tiredness you only find on certain days.

Who is fly fishing for dorado for?

Fly fishing for golden dorado is not a game of precision, it is a game of commitment. You cast 8 or 9 weight lines and streamers that weigh their share, and you strip fast, sometimes violently, for hours if that is what it takes. A fly fisher used to trout finds the rhythm within a day: the movement is the same, the intention changes. You have to accept losing flies, missing fish, and starting again.

The people who come back from northern Argentina almost never talk about how many they landed. They talk about the first strike they saw, and what it did to them.

What to know if you want to try the dorado

The season generally sits between the austral spring and autumn, depending on water levels: it gets decided case by case, because the rivers of northern Argentina do not behave like the ones in Patagonia.

The gear differs too: heavier rods, wire leaders without exception, and a good reserve of flies, because you lose plenty.

These trips are built in partnership with specialised local operations in the province of Corrientes.

Each of these fishing trips to Argentina is built to measure: the dorado rivers of the north (Corrientes, Salta) pair very well with a trout stay in Patagonia for those who want to see both faces of the country.

I stay with the anglers from the first day to the last, and on site the guides of the local operations know these waters better than anyone.

If the idea of a fish that makes you doubt your own tackle speaks to you, write to me. The golden dorado trip page has the full picture.

Fly fishing Patagonia: a northern Neuquén nobody fishes

There are days on these rivers of northern Neuquén when we meet nobody at all between sunrise and sunset, apart from our own small team. Not one other angler, not another vehicle on the track. The region has none of the fame of the south and its plush lodges, the ones the magazines have been showing for twenty years. And that is exactly why the wild browns and rainbows still rise with that almost naive confidence, the confidence of fish that have never seen a badly presented fly.

That day we had walked a long way beside a river pinched between two extinct volcanoes, the water low, clear, almost still in places. I dropped a dry against a bank the current had chewed away, without much conviction: the kind of cast you make out of habit rather than calculation. The fish came up at once, clean, no hesitation. A brown trout of a size you rarely meet in France, holding there for years probably, protected by fishing pressure that remains close to zero.

She went back in a few seconds. A fish is a moment, not a number…

What stays from days like these is not so much the fish as the silence around it. The steppe changing colour with the hour, the peaks of the Andes that seem never to move while the light never stops moving. A kind of solitude you rarely find now on the rivers of France, unless you rise very early and walk very far.

Why the region stays quiet

The north of Neuquén province holds more than 400 kilometres of rivers, and almost nobody fishes them. No famous lodge, no international airport an hour away, no photos in the magazines. The anglers who cross the planet for Argentine Patagonia land further south, where everything has been organised for decades. So much the better. Here the pressure stays so light that the trout, browns and rainbows alike, still behave like fish that have learned very little. It was Patagonia Trashumante, my local partner, who opened these valleys to me years ago. Together we now design roaming fishing trips for small groups, and part of me keeps hoping the whole thing never changes scale.

The practical side

The fishing season in Argentine Patagonia runs from November to the end of April. Northern Neuquén fishes mostly dry fly and nymph through the heart of the season, with a switch to streamers when the levels come up. The rivers stay within reach of an intermediate angler, provided you are patient with the water and willing to walk.

Groups stay deliberately small, three to six rods. I design the trip and travel with you from the first day to the last, and the guiding on the water is handled by a licensed local team. The prime window runs from December to late March, and versatile anglers find fine days across the rest of the season. For lovers of very big fish, this trip also pairs well with a stay at Jurassic Lake, further south.

More stories are on the way. Meanwhile, the Patagonia page explains how these trips come together, with Patagonia Trashumante on the ground.

Gear: what you really need to fly fish Patagonia

It is the question that turns up in nearly every message before a departure: what goes in the bag? After years of fishing the rivers of northern Argentine Patagonia, this is the list I send to the anglers who travel with me. It is not exhaustive, everyone adjusts it to their own comfort, but it avoids the two classic mistakes: packing too much, and finding out on the water that the one thing you need is missing. Out there the country is remote, and finding tackle can be complicated, sometimes impossible.

Download the full list as a PDF (in French) →

Rods

The all-round rod for this destination is a 10-foot 4 or 5 weight, or a 9’4 to 9’9 in the same range. It does everything: dry fly, European nymphing, sight nymphing, small streamers. Dedicated nymph anglers can bring a 10’4 to 11-foot 3 or 4 weight, deadly on medium rivers though sometimes light on the big currents against strong fish. An 8’6 or 9-foot 4/5 earns its keep on the clear-water stretches, dry fly or sight fishing. For streamer lovers, a 9’6 or 10-foot 6 weight handles the powerful rivers; spey fans can slip in a trout spey of 10’6 to 12 feet in 3/4 or 4/5 to comb the big runs. In every case, pack a spare rod. A breakage ten hours from the nearest shop cannot be fixed.

Reels, lines and leaders

One reel for the all-round rod in 5/6 with a floating line covers most situations; polyleaders save you from carrying several lines. The one point that is not negotiable: a good drag. For European nymphing, bring a dedicated reel loaded with a highly visible coloured nylon in 0.20 or 0.25 mm. For tippet, 0.14 to 0.20 mm covers the essentials, with 0.20 to 0.27 fluorocarbon for streamers. Pack several spare leaders: 9-footers ending in 0.18 or 0.20 mm suit most of the rivers.

Flies

Good news: your box of European dries works very well in Argentina. The classics are enough, one or two of each: yellow-bodied grey duns, CDC patterns, sedges, ants, parachutes. Add the local staples, bulkier, tied on foam or deer hair with silicone legs: Chubby Chernobyl, PMX, Royal Wulff, Adams parachute, crickets and hoppers. For nymphs, your usual perdigons and hare’s ear style patterns do the job, with tungsten beads from 2.5 to 4.5 mm: some rivers push hard and you need weight to get down. Round it out with a few worms, princes and stoneflies. For streamers, marabou and rabbit patterns on long-shank hooks from 8 to 2, unweighted, with a small box of split shot to work them near the bottom in fast water. If you prefer an indicator to the tight line, the New Zealand kit with a bright yarn does the work perfectly. And if you would rather not think about it at all, a fly kit selected by the local team can be prepared before you arrive; just ask me in advance.

Clothing: the wind, the sun, and everything else

In Patagonia the UV is fierce and the wind almost always plays. The rule is versatility: long-sleeved sun shirts, quick-dry stretch trousers, a cap with a neck flap, a neck gaiter, a waterproof and windproof jacket, warm base layers for wading in the cool hours. For the nights under canvas, a spare set of thermals makes the difference between a good night and a bad one.

Waders and accessories

Waders and wading boots with rubber soles, studded if you like: felt is strictly forbidden in Argentina. The vegetation is hostile and full of thorns, so there are two schools: a very good, tough pair of waders, or a budget pair you can afford to sacrifice. On hot days, neoprene socks with the wading boots and quick-dry walking trousers are enough. Add polarised glasses in category 3 or 4, a vest or chest pack with room for water, a filtering bottle, a dry bag, sunscreen, and repellent if you react to bites, though Patagonia has few mosquitoes. One travel bag per angler plus a backpack: come the transfers, everyone will thank you.

Frequently asked questions

Which rod should I bring if I only take one?

A 10-foot 4/5 weight. It is the do-everything rod of this trip: dry fly, tight-line nymphing, sight nymphing and small streamers.

Can I buy flies over there?

Partly, depending on stock. The safe play is to travel with your own boxes and, if needed, ask me for a fly kit tied by the local team before departure.

This list goes out to the anglers who join my fly fishing trips to Argentine Patagonia. For Jurassic Lake the gear differs quite a bit, heavier rods first of all: everything is detailed on the dedicated page. A question about your own setup before booking? Write to me.