Go East, Old Men

Boulder, Bender, Bushpig and I spent but a few days at Waihau Bay about this time last year. This was a trailer boat smash and grab which grabbed us nothing piscatorial but I was enchanted by the place. I said to Boulder that I was of the opinion that we must return and do it on a more serious basis. fast forward to August last year. Tagit, Boulder and Dead Ant are invited around to Obald Acres for a soiree of food and planning. Tagit the boat, as opposed to the Bloke (well, as well as the boat actually) will go to Waihau in February 2010.

Two weeks ago the Warwick 43 was on the hard at Pier 21 and I was invited to spend Anniversary Day in the lazarette imbibing diesel and removing my skin with bilge degreaser. Yum, yum. The Weasel chose to have a cardiac arrest on this fitting out day. Dead Ant failed with cardioversion and so off he went to the doctor. This meant Boulder would have to bring Pop Weasel. Would the geriatric gent be up to the task? Anyway, all haul work done and the boat is back on the water ready for the off.

Friday

Tagit arrives at Obald Acres at 0710 as arranged and we are off to Z Pier. The gamefishing machine looks like the garage from hell with no saloon floor, tools everywhere and a couple of refrigeration engineers in the noisy downstairs goey roundy department. We are going to leave at lunchtime in this? Obald is told to go abseiling off the flybridge roof with only RainX as a safety net and we await the arrival of Boulder, Moggy and the provisions. Noon sees the advent of two trucks and two cars. Truck one contains eighty wides, rods and jigs; these are measured in hundreds of kilograms. This is Boulder's truck. Truck two contains garlic; this is measured in hundreds of kilograms and is Moggy's truck. The cars contain the supervisors of the trucks. Simple. The Boss arrives after purchasing another couple of Bayliss Boatworks 60s for the Dreamboat fleet, the refrigeration engineers are evicted, the floor restored to the saloon and it is off to the fuel bowser. We buy lots of diesel: lots and lots. Fill the boat tanks (three) a 220 litre bladder and 20 litre jerry cans for Africa. At about 1500 we are off; destination East Cape. Tagit driving, Boulder counting fishing tackle, Obald Weaseling and Moggy peeling garlic. First night anchored in Home Bay (I think) in the Mercs next to Michael Hill the Jeweler/golfer/angler's ship. Evening spent assembling five 80 wides on bent butt rods, knitting doubles and choosing the run-on team for the morning. And still Moggy peels garlic.

Saturday

We have to be at White Island this evening. However for fuel and angling reasons we go everywhere at trolling speed. Starting line up is: SC black and purple Zucker 5.5, LC Hooker All American, SR Pakula Lumo Sprocket, LR Legend Enki Poo Brown and Shotgun (oh dear) Legend Chromed Brass Unicorn blue/silver. All single hook stiff rigs with the biggest hook being a 9/0. 6m south of the Hook in 130m we are on on the bloody shottie and Mogy is order out of the garlic factory and into the chair. A small (70ish) stripey is close in short order. He is obviously coming to the surface not thirty feet from the boat and none of us do anything about it. A jump with the leader almost, but not quite, in Boulder's grasp. The line is now slack when fishy shakes his head and it is all in the air; none of it in the water. This is going to end in tears and it duly does. Should have had this fish. More attention to detail (as always) from everyone of us required. No more strikes today and we get to White Island on dusk. Good anchorage selected by the skipper (one of his many strong suits, this) and post pork knuckles the evening fun begins. Tagit spends the time netting flying fish (relatively easy game) and Moggy fishes for things using garlic as bait. He tries to catch kingies with flying fish as bait and hooks a bronzie. Thinks it might be a good idea to get his hook back (which it wasn't) and whilst getting soaked doing this gets head butted square in the middle of the chest by yet another flying fish. Much amusement for those not already asleep (i.e. me)

Sunday

White Island to Waihau Bay. My first act of muppetry comes to light. I have a few vices, very few I would like to think. ONe is that when I eat stone fruit I eat the lot. This matters not a jot on shore. This is not the case when marine toilets are involved. The tell tale rattle in the macerator department meant not my last trip to retrieve cherry and plum stones. And speaking of muppetry the confusion over port and starboard doesn't count, OK?

Relatively quiet day on the fishing front. We are in big fish land now so we had better act accordingly. Z 5.5 retired to the bench and a blue/silver over black/purple Legend Andromeda goes to SC, the All American to LR, the Enki benched and a Legend Piper (white head, black nose, no eyes prototype) skirted purple/white over black purple goes to LC. We get a knockdown on the Sprocket just when we get to about 300m off Orete Point. Didn't see it but consensus was (on the basis of very little evidence ) that this was a chucker. Also had a strike on the Piper that was probably a stripey. Anchor in Waihau Bay for the first time and had garlic for tea.

Monday

First full day at Wiahau Bay. Eric's 0915 sched reveals probably thirty boats out on the water and we are the only non trailer boat around. However three quarters of an hour before '...and you'll catch me on the next one' we had already dropped our first marlin of the day. Beeeeg fish 300m of Runaway on the All American on LR. Wearing a single hook for the last time in the week (as if that made a difference - well it might, I suppose) on for a minute and Moggy lets it go so he can carry on peeling garlic. Boulder calls it for a Blue but he was wrong. Tagit and your correspondent called it a large stripey and they are right. At 1330 the All American now sporting two hooks produces again and this time Moggy gets fed up with dropping fish and we have a short billed spearfish going burko in the cockpit after Tagit pissed it off by whacking it on the noggin with the back of a gaff; well that would get up your nose, whatever its length, wouldn't it? This fish goes 23.5kg. Not bad. Little bits made very yummy, if a little unusual (very firm), fish nibbles and the fillets have an appointment with Mr Bradley.

First contact on Channel 06 with Rick Pollock and he agrees to deliver 2 litres of milk to Lottin Point the next morning.

Tuesday

Ranfurly day. Weather slated for primo to the max and it is decided we will shadow Pusuit for the first trip to the Ranfurly Banks for three of us and the four hundred and twenty third for the fourth, I will confess to a warm glow of anticipation tinged with a little apprehension on the two and a half hour trip from Lottin; after all, this place eats people. The sides are every bit a steep as advertised with the sort of sea that goes with the topography; confused enough in five knots variable. The GPS says 178º 56E; hell, we are almost fishing yesterday.

Only a couple of hours on the Banks and where to go. To a novice it didn't really seem to matter; there is sign of fish absolutely everywhere. This is far and away the fishiest place I have ever been. Boulder is in his element. Wiggy whack the go for a while on top the mountain. Moggy and Boulder show off by catching 20 kilo plus kingfish almost at will.

Tagit chips in with a couple in the 8-10kg range and beginner Obie mops up the mice, rats and occasional possum. I kid you not, twenty one kingies under eight kilos in a couple of hours. More Channel 06 talk with the milkman and we are off to Jurassic Park.

Boulder takes sympathy with your scribe and hands me the Bitch teamed up with a big chunk of American aluminium and miles of serious looking braid. A (legal sized, of course) live trevally on a f. off circle hook above a sash weight and off we go into the depths. I will confess being a bit unprepared for the next bit. Strike drag for my stand up fishing is 12kg if I've eaten my Weetbix like a good boy. Boulder was a bit heavy handed when he set the drags on the lump of aluminium, surely? So we'll fisha sensible drag a tad off Boulders silly strike position. Wrong. A proper kingfish has me in the rocks in seconds. Bust off and we'll try again. Another (legal sized, of course) trevally on 14/0 recurve hooks, a couple of harden up tough pills, Boulder's strike drag and hold on.

An estimated 25kg kingfish is booted out of the transom door ten minutes later. Quite good fun - but don't tell any one.

Time marches on and we must make tracks. Wind coming up a bit. Troll off the peak along the North West ridge and not long before we have a solid stripey double on; Lumo sprocket on SR which is given to Moggy to drop so he can return to peeling garlic and All American on LR for Boulder which he has no trouble bringing to the boat three times. Your scribe has the gloves on and is in very unfamiliar territory. First time to the boat I never look like getting a good hold of the leader and fishy is off. Second attempt and i get a good enough wrap free grasp to get the tag in but the lack of wraps has the inevitable conclusion that fishy is off on its travels again. Tagit asks if I would like him to leader the fish. Bloody oath I would. I need my hands for other things (like earning a living) and I don't want them all bruised playing with stupid fish. Third time lucky (or more like he was being leadered properly and not wimpily) and a now quite bronzed fish easily has his hooks removed.

Called for 90kg. About four or five minutes being swum by the boat on the snooter sees him get his lilac and blue back nicely and he swims away strongly.

Snooter is a good thing. Get one.

Quite a bit more wind now and we still have to come down the mountan. Not nice and this is followed by a fairly uncomfortable trip back to anchor in Hicks Bay. Three of us are too knackered to eat and nibble on a few offcuts of hapuku (I din't mention that, didI? Well it didn't drop from the sky) but Moggy makes himself a garlic sandwich.

Wednesday

Only really rough day of the week and we bounce around back to Waihau Bay for an easily scored 0-0-0. Only strike free day of the trip. Tagit anchors with his usual skill in the only ten square metres of lee in the Bay and we dine on chicken flavoured garlic before Moggy puts the Shimano Hiab range of rods through its paces. Place butt of rod in left hand, place 5kg kingfish on short piece of line running through tip guide and lift. You can get the fish's eyes 5cm from the reel. Very impressive and Shimano are missing a marketing trick here.

Thursday

Weather back to normal and we get a full twelve hours trolling in doing the 'Orete-Hook-Backbone' circuit. 1330, 400m off Orete and its funtime. Good visual of a marlin swimming behind the Andromeda at SC. A nudge, a wee pull (5 metres) of line and nothing. I drop the lure back nowhere near enough and he's gone. Bugger. But all is not lost. Lumo Sprocket is knocked out of SR. Is that It? No Bloody shotgun is of again......and then stops. I decide to get serious about dropping the lure back this time and give fish heaps. So much so that the dacron backing is off the reel by the time I sit down in the play chair. Catching a 75kg stripey from a chair on 37kg with a good team around you is not difficult nad in short ordered Tagit had delivered the transom of the boat to the fish, Moggy had breathed garlic down my neck whilst accurately pointing the chair at the line and Boulder had done the nasty horrible leadering bit (and hurt his hand) Tag in, hooks out, game over.

Back to Waihau for the last night; anchored in the river. Roast pork tonight and as the skipper had hid the damned garlic it was wonderful. Moggy sulked.

Friday

It is home time and the Bay of Plenty is a big place. A 0510 start with Tauranga and all its lovely diesel as the destination. Just past Orete and it is still dark when I start to put the lures out for the day. Just get Lumo Sprocket into his armchair at SR and some bugger tips him out. As I'm the only one on deck (Tagit driving, Boulder in the dunny and Moggy asleep) I get the enormous pleasure of winding a foul hooked 50kg mako to the boat in the dark. Smashing - and I get to have to make up a new hook rig before breakfast. 0-0-0 for the rest of the day as we confirm that the Bay of PLenty is very big.

It is also empty on the tuna front. We reckon we covered close to 1000nm over the nine days a vast majority of it in excellent water trolling skippy type lures. Two skippies and one albie all week. NOt good. Two decent big eye were caught at Waihau when we were there but they were very much the exception and who remembers yellowfin?

Into Tauranga Bridge Marina (why would you put a marine where there is that much current?)and 550 lirtres of fuel just to get us home. An onshore shower nad the cahce to eat some plum stones. More roast pork sans garlic and we are almost done.

Saturday

Fish being caught from 50m (yeah right) to 150 all the way from Mayor to the Mercs. Hot between the Aldies and the Mercs. Oh well play the game. Time for a bit of alure change. The Lumo Sprocket has been under performing for eight days and he gets to stand in the naughty corner. Green and gold Merlin, thank you very much. Evil Legend Wowie at SC - very nice (I was a little surprise by this. Skipper designs a blue/silver/yellow lateral line over pink/gpld Legend black headed small Rasputin for shotgun and so, as he is the boss's choice, he gets a swim. Despite all this marlin candy we aren't going to get a hit in 74 metres of green murky crap south west of Mayor are we? Well yes we are. All American now at LR again (boring) gets hit. defnite stripey which jumps very early (like twenty seconds early) and is gone. And that's our lot. Wind slated for NW 25knots in the afternoon and they were right. Irritating but not overtly unpleasant trip through confused occasionally short seas to get us to New CHums bay hard on Boulderville. Last comfy garlic free nught.

Sunday

Due to vagaries of the Lunar calendar it is decided to back in AUckland as near lunchtime as we can make it. Despite the remnants of yesterday's wind the Colville Channel treats us kindly. We negotiate fifty fold more boats off Rangi than we have seen all week and we are safely tied up a Z Pier on Schedule.

This was the best fishing trip I have I done, bar none. Excellent company, as always, the key. Fishing waters we were fairly confident would produce helps, of course, but what marks this trip out was the added element of adventure. Uncharted waters.; well they were for me. Anchoring in Hicks Bay, the Ranfurly Banks, anchoring up to an active volcano. No bloody cellphones

Wouldn't be dead for quids.

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The annual pilgrimage to the Far North

Can't imagine why I am writing this as no one will want to read about three old buggers catching nothing whilst all and sundry are catching fish wholesale all around.

This was my tenth Houhora One Base having missed only last year since 1999. There were some things the same and some different. 'Smooth Torquer' from Kawhia (they caught a marlin this year - very good as it is a long time between drinks for them) was still our neighbour at the Houhora Heads campsite as were the retired couple from Whangarei with the quad and the small Stabi. The Servo was giving away chocolate fish instead of watermelons. The numbers were down bigtime. It still knows how to blow dogs off chains when it feels like it and it still lets you get few days fishing in. Kaitaia still does not rival Milan as a shopping destination and there is still crap cellphone reception in the Far North (although it is not as bad as East Cape - at least there is a bit).

No, I like going to Houhora in mid March - it is like a comfy pair of slippers. I am no longer fired up by the competition side of things (vide supra ad nauseam) but I like being up there for a few days. I like being abused by Paul Batten as I get on the boat and as I get off. It would not be the same coming ashore in the evening with a 0-0-0 and not being told you are useless. The truth is often hard to take. I like having a brief (mainly) yarn with people I haven't seen since last year. The place would not be the same without the three men in a boat from the Bay of Plenty. I was much amused to see they brought a fourth this year - to make up a fourball at golf I was told. Hard case blokes these who don't mind a cold beer on a hot day.

I am an old bugger and I find change hard to deal with and so despite the tourney being reduced to four days I was going to fish the Saturday anyway 'cos that's wot I do. It also looked as Saturday was going to be the best day weather wise by the length of the straight. Thus I arrived on Friday afternoon to find Boulder sorting out more rods than Tazee has in his shop. So I added eight more to help him along. Driver Paul wasn't arriving until Saturday arvo and so Bouldie and I decided to have a go at this silly string nonsense.

We had worked out the mechanics of running lures and hookless lures in our heads and we just had to see if it would work in practice. A calm day was essential for our first foray into this we thought. I think we were right. Before we culd get all this sorted we had to go and catch a bait. Dead bait we thought because it would be easier for starters. All we could manage was a blue maomao; not blue maomaos - just the one. Well its may not be a koheru but it's a fish isn't it? She'll be right.

Right. Port teaser. What's missing in this picture?



We are fishing with Boulder, don't forget, so our teaser reels are top class. Big F. off Avet loaded with 130lb braid on a bent Unibutt. No messing about here. Line up to a roller troller at the lower halyard anchor point and out to a hookless Cleopatra skirted 'Rocket'. Big splashy lure that will stay on the surface.

Next rod is a TLD 25 spooled 15kg with a hooked Enki to LR.



Then the Tiagra 16 loaded with 10kg and a rigged maomao - well it's all we've got, innit - all ready to be thrown at something.



Continuing anticlockwise we have Boulder's Stella 20000 loaded with a jig (this is getting weirder and weirder) also to be thrown at things.



Something I understand next, a Piper on a 15kg to a TLD 30 at SR



And finally Boulder, smoking, smiling (all normal) and guarding an Avet T Rex running a very big articulated hookless Roddy Kona head without a hook (not normal)

Well we started dragging this lot around off Cape Karikari and it was a bit like walking down Queen Street with your flies undone. I'm sure everyone was looking and giggling. The lures ran like lures. The teasers made a hell of a kerfuffle on the surface (Boulder reckoned the Kona head looked like the fountain on Marine Parade in Napier). I practiced throwing the maomao at the teasers and got OK at it. Whether I could do it when in headless chicken mode was yet to be seen.

Right we're ready. Fish comes into the gear, he lights up, looks pretty, we say 'Look there's a marlin', stroke our chins and decide to wind the teasers up to the outriggers , clear the lures, then throw something attached to a line at the marlin. Or do we throw things then wind? Or do we shout at each other? Or do we both throw things (me the increasingly unappetizing dead fish and Bouldie the purple jig) at the same marlin at the same time as we haven't worked out who does what when. Who drives and where does he go? I don't think either of us really know what needs doing let alone in what order and who does what. She'll be right. Oh no she won't. We haven't got a clue.

All this remains academic as we fail to find a fish. But still, baby steps. The mechanics of running teasers seemed to work. I think we need at least two more pairs of arms and legs. Work in progress.

This was Saturday and we failed to find a fish. Come Wednesday and we still hadn't found a fish. Everyone else had but not us. We Weaseled, we thought, we asked questions, we went where people who caught fish went, we went where we thought we should go and found the top catching boat there, we went to good places and saw birds working and felt pleased with ourselves, we went close (100m off Karikari close) and we went wide (1000m outside the Garden Patch wide), we fished green water, we fished the best cobalt blue, we fished warm water, we fished Frostie the Snowman water. Still no bloody fish. We rang our 'unclean' bell as boats all around us hooked up. Driver Paul drove, Boulder and I made suggestions, some polite and some not. Still no fish.

Not strictly true we did catch fish. There was the blue maomao, a 2kg albie, two coke bottle skippies (the free sample coke bottle size), the world's smallest kingfish and a mahimahi. We looked up the comp weight limit for mahimahi. 4kg. This (taken on shotgun - bloody shotgun- on the Unicorn that last accounted for a 96kg stripey) would have done well to go 400gms. And there were marlin being caught all around us.

Oh and we bought things, I bought a new battery for the Jeep ('cos I had to) and a new pair of Crocs (this was on the 40 knot day) and Boulder bought a battery for his car key so he now has remote central locking (come to think of it I think I paid for that) and a another new rod. Well Kieron Olsen was there, and he was in our caravan for a couple of hours and the rod was red, and had a bent butt and was spiral wrapped and it was windy and what was Boulder supposed to do, tell him to take it away?

And still we caught no marloons whilst all around us were hooking up. Batten is right, I'm useless.

Not the point of course. I had a great time in the best possible company and I don't care if I'm useless.

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Waihau Bay

Bushie and Bender arrived at Obald Acres simultaneously in time for a planned departure for Whaihau Bay at 0515 on Waitangi Day. Boulder was to drive direct from Matarangi so no 'pick me up at Onehunga-it's on your way' required. Easy drive (especially if you weren't doing it) to Whakatane to provision in Countdown. Much lambasting from Bushie at the surfeit of apricots and lack of biscuits after Bendy and I arrived in the car park to awaken His Worship the Mayor from his slumbers in the Hilux cab.

Waihau Bay is a long way away, even if you start in Opotiki. It is a bloody long way if you start in Auckland (even bloody further if you start in Kaiwaka I suppose). Straight to the ramp to get the lie of the land. The ramp looked good (it was),



the pub looked good (it was)



and they appear to like big boats down these parts.



Eventually find our billet after a lack of confidence from the Pig who assured us he was not lost.



The excellent Haywards had been teed up by Tzer and we arrived to find Craig and his mates 'quiet' Tim and 'you really ought to get that thyrotoxicosis treated' Mike. Excellent house companions for a few days. Nothing left but to check out the interior of pub and contemplate that our only contact with the outside word was the Payphone outside the general store. Credit cards worked sometimes and especially if they hadn't maxed out or so someone told us. Nearest Payphone to this one is in Hick's Bay the sign on the phone booth informed us and that is twenty minutes drive away. Nearest reliable cellphone reception 100km down the road in Opotiki.

On the water first day at a respectable 0815. Now this is alright even for the crack of dawn merchants as all the rumours of put your lures in ten minutes from the ramp are absolutely true. Craig had given us the drop on tactics at Waihau and without these we would have been even more at sea (pun intended) than we were. Troll back back and forward between Orete Point and Cape Runaway first at 200m, then at 140m and then at 300m. If bored do zig zags. Now if this seems a little simplistic it is because it probably is. A look at the bathy's reveals a lot more subtlety than this and application of anything approaching Weasel grade subtlety was a little hampered by not knowing water temperature, having only a rough idea of boat speed and, most importantly, a negligible feel for the place.

Still we soldier on with 16 Black headed Vulcan in 'Skipjack ' at SC, a Lumo™ 16 Krakatoa at LC, SR a Shell Andromeda 'Bermuda' and an Ascension Shell Enki at LR. Oh yes, there was a bloody shotgun as well. Saurie Unicorn or a black/purple Zucker 5.5 depending on whether Boulder or Bushie won that particular round of the Shottie debate.





Note the Master's careful positioning that he misses nothing going on in the spread

Trolled for a few hours and it was suggested that we go and do something else. This is a quaint Waihau custom it would appear. The something else often is going ashore for a cup of tea and a lie down to return to the trolling a couple of hours later. You can do this if the ramp is ten minutes away. Our 'something else' was to be wiggly waggly, mechanical jigging, technical jerk - well there's a surprise. On our way to partake of this we witnessed Tzer trying to wreck his new boat in search of a snapper.



Right, into the wiggly waggly. I hooked and played with masterful prowess (well I don't think it was that bad - only called a pussy on the winding every minute) a kingy which I thought was a jolly strong little chap. He was going to come to the boat and then be given his freedom to grow into a big strong boy. I later find out that Bushie wanted him to meet a friend of his, a Mr Bradley. No idea what this was all about. However, all this became immaterial when my jolly strong little chap developed acute wimpness after a visit from a man in a brown suit.



I found it a little disturbing that my shortened kingfish was still moving his mouth when I bought him into the boat to recover Boulder's jig. Boulder said that if I had signed up for the rest of the fish it might have gone 18-20kg. I thought that sounded OK. Mr Large Stone then shortened two more kingfish and Bender shortened his rod. Another rather half hearted troll and back to Hayward's for Bender's chillie con carne. Call that chillie? Pffft. I had to add neat chillie from the jar to wake myself up.

We're getting the hang of this' ten minutes from the ramp stuff' by day two and saunter onto the ramp at 0915. The plan today was, well, I'm not really sure. Tzer calls in a short billed spearfish and we are at Lottin Point before you know what is happening. An hour to get there and four hours bashing into a short chop on a long rolling swell to get back. This area has serious currents. Going west back from Lottin and I thought we were never going to get past Runaway. We might have had a knock down on the shottie today (or was it yesterday). I'm not sure, Bushie is and I don't care. Get back to the delightful pub and hear that ten marlin were caught on this day and one released was estimated at 400kg. Serious animal.

Weather slated to go tits up for day three and it didn't disappoint. On the water early (0715 - hellfire) for a trip to the kingfish mark to see if we could beat the taxmen to work. No kingfish in sight. Ineffectual trolling for a couple of hours and the fishing part of the trip is over. The day remarkable for the amount of Bostik applied to the previous night's plan. Weather closes in and, although we never seemed to get that much wind (15 - 18 knots maybe) the sea gets very uncomfortable very quickly. This gives the impression of being a stretch of water with more to it than at first meets the eye.

Back to Haywards for a lounge about and I suggest we take Boulder's truck for a look over the hill at the back of the property. Serious bit of four wheel driving in search of a new, and as yet, uncaptured species leads to a spectacular view of the coast.





Boulder, I think quite sensibly, decides not to drive down the other side of the ridge to the coast - the Cape in the near distance is Cape Runaway.



Not much left now. Tzer's mates leave with their spearfish in chunks destined for a smoker



and the remaining five repair to the pub for a meal as all the Whakatane provisions had been ingested. As a culinary footnote Bender and I had a pork chop. Nothing remarkable in that you may say but this was a proper old fashioned pork chop with fat and crispy skin and a bone. Nothing like the reprocessed trampoline mat they sell in Auckland.

The promised rain has started now, we have a power cut and go to bed. Get up and there is still no power and still lots of rain - and the country at the East Cape really needs it. Drive home. All done.

Excellent four days and I couldn't give a rat's arse as to what has been going on in Toots. I am very glad that Bushie was persuaded to stick to the original plan and go to Waihau. The East Cape is a part of the world I had not been to before and I would not have missed this trip for anything. A bonus was meeting up with Tzer and his mates. Fishing.net throws up another gem of a bloke. I will definitely return. I think it will take a lot of trips to know how to fish this place properly - I felt very lost. The Weasel needs to come on a trip and be used for all his cunning. Various suggestions have been made to the Mayor as to how the Gay Munter/ Ultimate Mongrel can be made into an even meaner fighting machine and the response to some of these was even printable - but not to others.

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An unexpected hiatus

A couple of weeks back Tagit mentioned he was taking the boat 'up North' for a five day trip at the end of January and would I care to join him. 'No chance at short notice, but thanks for the offer'. Last Sunday my facial shingles was getting the better of me and I toodled into the hospital for some anti virals and the prescriber also gave me a sick note with the explicit instruction that I was NOT to go to work for ten days. On the blower to Tagit and the trip North was on.

Day 1

Mr Tagit arrives at Obald acres bright and early on Tuesday morning and transports self, one 50W, The Weasel, a lure or two, my rigging box and a few vestments to Westhaven. Spent the morning preparing the boat which for my part entailed making my fingers sore splicing new safety lanyards for the goldies. Mid afternoon sees the rest of the crew assembled - Tagit, Boulder, myself, a couple of Norms and Mark/Skippy/Oompah-Loompah. That'll do. Leave Westhaven at about 1700 for an easy steam to a bay on Great Barrier who's name I've forgotten.Prepare for the morrow with Tagit running through a few gamefishing basics for the neophytes and laying a few ground rules. Democracy is a wonderful thing on boats as well as in countries (well sort of - I'm quite keen on dictators) and it was decided that we would take (OK, kill) the first marlin and subsequent fish were to be treated properly.

Then we had the thorny problem of the strike roster. Five anglers (Dave was going to drive) and four rods. Then Boulder comes up with a genius idea - not. We would run a shotgun. Brilliant. Not only would we run a shotgun it would have a Unicorn on it. Even better. We will run a lure that doesn't catch marlin in a useless position on the boat. Top stuff. OK, Two anglers per side changing every half hour on the real rods and some poor muggins on shotgun all the time. Cunning plan time. I volunteer to take the damned shottie as it will catch nothing and I won't get landed with this marlin killing business. Off to the land of nod a contented soul.

Day 2

This is what running 46 foot gameboat is all about

And you spend a lot of time with an excellent view of the ocean with a bank of electronic gizmos twixt you and the view to help you with your mental gymnastics. You even get to use a laptop - can't go fishing without a computer.

What pelagic teleost would not want to swim around in here snacking on bits of plastic?

Still not feeling a hundie as I will find out later in the day. Off to the Barrier Knolls, Bank and the Achilles (sic) Canyon. SC BIg T African Queen re-skirted black and purple in some barn in Dairy Flat, LC 12 ProRange Enki in blue/pink/silver, SR Shell Enki in green and gold, LR Green/lumo Hydra and a bloody chromed Brass Unicorn in blue/silver over black/purple on the damned shotgun. Water warmish, a good colour but absolutely devoid of life. This to be the theme of the week. Water on the Barrier Knoll OK but a little bird (OK, Malcolm Pollard) tells me that the Bank is better. Head off over there and an easterly appears. And appears and appears. In a short time becomes very sloppy indeed even in a heavy 46 foot boat and we head back the Barrier in a nasty beam sea. Mal de mer hits Obald with a vengeance I have not known for many a year. All gone as soon as we are inside the Needles. Off to another anonymous bay where we fail to dredge any scollops and are witness to the most amazing phosphorescence I have ever seen.

Day 3

Wind all gone and off north. Spent some time in the Bream Knolls where we stopped to try and snare some hapuku. These fish do not take lures trolled on the surface. Boulder tells me it is mechanical jigging time. Now this is very odd. The rod is about three foot long, the guides are all on wonky (and you pay $900 for this piece of shocking workmanship) and the line on the reels is all different colours. Well you get this odd kit and wave it around a lot. I was told I was doing it well (well good enough not to get rubbished by Bushpig) but it caught me no fish. Boulder and Tagit got a small hapuku each and they were lined up for tea. After all this acrobatic nonsense some semblance of sanity prevailed and a Merlin in Koheru is put on LR, a 22 Krakatoa skirted black purple is put on SC and we are off to Toots via the Sugar Loaf in a much more seemly manner. Good colour water, good temp but no bait. We saw no bait for a day - well it was a day and a half now. And you spend a lot of time doing this, sitting down, watching, watching, watching and supping on the occasional ginger beer.

Coming in past the pinnacles and bang, we are on.

Out of the blue completely and its on the damned shotgun. Now this was not in the plan at all. Fight my first fish from a chair (not hard as long as Tagit goes easy on an old man in the backing down department). Pleasing amount of the aerial stuff, a bit stubborn just short of the double but no dramas. Boulder does a sterling job on the trace and then it is 'do as you had said you would' time. Lots of unpleasant stuff with baseball bats, ropes and gaffs sees me sitting next to a dead marlin. Not pleased at all but tried not to look too grumpy. In to Toots to have it weighed. If the bit earlier was not to my taste I found this bit hideous. Getting a weight was OK (ish) but having the chalk board filled and having it announced on the Tannoy I hated. I refused to have a picture taken. We motored back to our berth with all sorts of mixed feelings running through what I pass off as a brain. Small Norm did an excellent job of cutting the beast up - no waste at all. If it is dead at least it will all get eaten. I think Boulder took the bill.

Not a picture I'm proud of - but fishee is currently in a smoker in Kelston and at least she will get eaten. But putting her on crackers as an hors d'oeuvre is hardly subsistence fishing, is it?

Day 4

Out reasonably early after we drank the Toots diesel tanks dry a couple of hundred litres shy of what we wanted. Another day of good looking warmish water with no bait in it. How can such a large portion of the ocean contain no bait at all? Didn't even look like getting a strike. But still cruising past Cape Brett on a summer's Friday morning isn't all bad.

Motored into another bay whose name I can't remember this time in the Cavallis. Anchored up next to Te Arik Nui who caused no trouble. Customary roast dinner (thanks to Big Norm who cooked superbly all week) and off to beddy bye byes a little later than usual - might have even been tomorrow when we got to sleep.

Day 5

Back to Toots. Generally same as before - blue, warm water containing nothing. Got round the Brett by mid afternoon and things change dramatically. Big temperature breaks and at last some signs of life in the water. This is 250 metres off Whangamumu. Managed to get a tailer to have three rather disinterested looks at the Merlin on LR, but no cigar. The two hours in this bit of water was the only time in the whole trip I thought we were about to do something. Big Norm and the Ooompah-loompah spent the day pulling the lips off skippies.

Day 6

The good oil from Mozz via Boulder was that the action was to be had behind the Hen and Chicks. Yeah right. Passed through that and had a mechanical jig off Groper Island in the Mokes. Well Boulder, Big Norm and the Ooompah-loompah did; I had a cup of tea and watched. Bit wobbly here as was the first hour of the passage across to the mainland. Quietened down considerably before we snuck behind Kawau for a scollop dredge which produced only a handful of keepers and then it was game over and back to Z Pier.

Great few days - as always good company is the key. Thoughts? I like big-boat fishing. I like the height of eye, the shower, the big-boat motion, the tea, the height of eye, the room. I like. I will not run wind ons if I get on a big boat again - no point and I wasn't aware of what a bubble trail a swivel six foot from a lure puts out. The Weasel likes being on a big boat but would like a bit more input. I like going away for five days or so at a time. This is the first time I have been proper fishing for nearly two years and I didn't realise how much I missed it. I really enjoy gamefishing.

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Gamefishing with a laptop

A couple of winters ago myself and a good friend, Dead Ant, thought we would try and develop a system that would put realtime GPS, depth and temperature readings on to bathymetric charts as we were fishing. We also wanted to put realtime GPS information into georeferenced Sea Surface Temperature (SST) charts. This was the 'Cunning Plan'.

Some of you may be interested to see how all this Cunning Plan stuff works in practice (and then again you may not). I was very aware during the winter when Dead Ant and I were beavering away that this might just be a techo wheeze that didn't in the end do anything. Far from it - this works. This is just the chart plotting bit - there is the SST bit as well. Maybe later.

This is what we generated last week at Houhora. It is taken off a scungy old laptop that was lying around at home and DA breathed over it to give it a new lease of life before it became 'El Boat Computer'. It is running a fairly old version of Maxsea as the machine doesn't have enough grunt to support the graphics of the newest versions. In all these screen shots the 'Nav Data' window shows loads of noughts as there is no GPS connected in my office. All the fields are filled on the boat via NMEA output from the Raymarine C120.




This an overall summary of the weeks trolling. The track changes colour as the temperature changes (blue cooler, green to yellow warmer) and is set on a rasterised bathy chart. I only connect the guessing machine up after the lures are set and pack it up before we steam home so that is why we appear to have been teleported into the area off Cape Karikari. It is obvious that we were a bit obsessive about one area with a wander off to Berghans on Day 4 - more of that later. Also notice the one short track going North out of the mess. This was going off for another bit of topography but we only went on the proviso that the water didn't go tits up on us. The SSTs predicted it would and the track colour changes true to form so we came back. Right, let's zoom in on the place that held our attention for so long.



With the eye of faith you can see that the depth contours come together a bit here but it is not really striking. Turn on Maxsea's 2D feature with range set to 70-250 metres and the contours set at 2 metre intervals and it all becomes a little clearer.



This depth info comes from a built in database that is in Maxsea and is taken from C-Map charts. Over this is superimposed actual depth readings taken off 'Surprise Surprise' as it traverses the territory (these are the bright red crosses). If you now turn on the 3D function it becomes even more obvious why this, with all other things (bottom composition, bait, bird signs, hook-ups etc) might be worth giving a right royal thrashing.



We had the structure (the fishfinder shows that this is all foul ground and a rocky drop off with sand on either plateau - it was also covered in bait all week) and we had all the other ingredients - except temperature. This was not the warmest water around at all. On Day 3 we downloaded a new SST and it showed a good temperature break heading out off the Berghans/Cone area. Maxsea would have us believe that this bottom structure was also there:





How can we go wrong? Day 4 sees us toodle down to Berghans (see track on first screen) and the water was warmer as we had predicted. It was also a great colour. It also had no bait or fish in it. However once we had taken some real soundings off the bottom the predicted structure looks nothing like we were led to believe:





Creating this picture was terribly amusing. Drive over a mythical Maxsea hill and it just vanishes in front of your eyes. It's a good feeling moving bits of the planet around. The last two pictures represent what is really there.

However all this techo nonsense is a guide only. There were no fish (for us anyway) at the sure fire spot off Berghans. We caught our last fish by looking at the sea and seeing some abnormal dolphin behaviour and thinking we saw some non dolphin fins in amongst the mammals. But at least the new toys put us in the right place to be able to see that.

It works for me and it is huge fun.

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Killing your first marlin

The famous 'first fish'.

I first visited the Bay of Islands in 1977 on the way back home to the UK after having spent in two years in Papua New Guinea where I first got bitten by the gamefish bug. I had a copy of Goadby's 'Big Fish and Blue Water' which I had read a squillion times. It was my bible and I taught myself what little I knew from it. Going to the Bay was like a Muslim going to Mecca. I arrived in July and was a little nasally dislocated to find out that there were no marlin within a 1000 miles of Russell in July - I thought you tripped over them going to the dairy all year round. No matter, I chartered a boat for a day and went livebaiting for something called a kingfish, listened to a rugby test on the radio (which I thought was a very bizarre thing to do) and caught nothing. I came back and spent a couple of hours in the Swordy Clubrooms in Russell (don't think there were Paihia ones then) absolutely gobsmacked at what I was in the middle of. One day, one day I would be back standing by a blackboard with the light blue surround, a smile as wide as a mile on my face with a dead marlin at my side.

Fast forward twenty two years. I was determined to do this by myself. I was going to catch a marlin from my boat, by my native cunning (or lack thereof). I'm into my fourth season of trying and nix. I'm trolling off Red Head and we get a strike (had those before) but after a short while it is obvious that I have actually hooked a marlin. Now this is the real deal, it is jumping and tail walking and it is seemingly well attached to my line. Where is Tudor Collins when you need him? We fight it from a book and after about 50 minutes we have it at the side of the boat. It is quite quiet but no where near in the terminal stages of anything and I have the flying gaff ready. I am about to pull a marlin into my boat and the light blue edged blackboard of my youth is only forty minutes away. Couldn't do it. Couldn't see the point - then or now. I realised at that moment in time why I wanted to catch a marlin and it had all already happened. I told Paul to put the gaff away, reached over the side, grabbed the bill without gloves (told you it was the first one), took the hook out and felt the feeling I still feel as it swam away.

Perhaps this may explain a bit why I am so against what appears to be happening around our coast at the moment. It just does not fit, in any way shape or form, into the big picture of why I go game fishing. I try and see things from the perspective of the 'kill and grill' brigade, but I can't. That doesn't mean they are wrong, of course, - I just can't see it. I can't even see the 'first fish' thing.

( Written in February 2005)

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Work at breakfast time

Running late this morning as I had an emergency lure (an Andromeda as it happens) to make so my wife could get it into the Post first thing. I, therefore, had to enjoy my Marmite soldiers with a tube of cyanoacrylate as opposed to the Herald. I have not seen past the front page today so I did not have the opportunity to pursue something that has been worrying me for days.

Who is Brendan Sheehan? This very non Samoan Muliaga family spokesman has me worried. Who the hell is he? I hear on the wireless that he is now asking the Prime Minister to regulate the power industry and look into the SOE's profits. This is not your usual grieving family spokesman talk is it? Keep an eye on our Brendan, there is a lot more to him than a superficial glance would reveal. Who is Brendan Sheehan?

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