Winter escape
Peter Hayes is a legend in these parts of Tasmania. A fly-fishing maestro and casting champion, he sports the sort of grit and weathered grin you would expect from a man who spends his life on the water.
As we drift along one of the tributaries of Lake St Clair in Tasmania’s central wilderness, mist rising off a glassy horizon, Hayes hands me a leather-wrapped hip flask filled with the finest local whiskey. I sip it like it’s my mother’s milk.
“Fly-fishing is a real hunting activity,” he says with the seriousness of a
