By Louis Cahill

I don’t know of a more magical river than the Limay in Argentine Patagonia.

It’s a big river, full of big trout, and almost no one there. It’s a rare day when we see a boat that’s not part of our group. Llamas graze the banks and the air is sweet and clear. Gravel shoals pour off into deep drop-offs where twenty pound browns lurk. Some days she’s mild as a lamb, sippers feeding lazily in their lanes. Others she’s surly, big dark forms slashing violently at streamers.

It’s hard to beat sipping whisky around a camp fire and sleeping under the southern stars. Telling stories of the fish who ate, and the ones who did not. There is a place in my heart only Argentina can fill.

Here’s a short video to give you a taste of the Limay.