Well, it's the end.
An excellent time has been had over the last month. All my fishing tokens have been used up and prizes have been won. I've ticked off most of the commonly caught inshore species, Snapper, Trevally, Blue Maomao, Kawahai, Kingfish and Skipjack Tuna. Along with the various baitfish that are so abundant in these waters. It's been an eye opener to say the least.
A total of 7000 km have been travelled on both the south and north islands. I've fished a huge range of locations including massively long inlets to 22 nautical miles off shore. Targeting everything from four inch Yellow Eyed Mullet to the mighty Striped Marlin. I've met so many good people along the way who have been generous beyond their requirements!
My north island adventure saw me start in Paihia where I met the operator of the Alma G. If your not familiar with the vessel, she started it all off. Zane Grey started it all off here, introducing, writing and rewriting the book, literally, on big game fishing aboard her. I was unfortunate to receive an email, inviting me on a Marlin trip, half an hour after sailing. This would have been a mind blowing experience aboard a legendary vessel. Such is life, this was not to be. I was, however, given the opportunity to join a kayak tour of the local attractions as well as being treated to a dinner cruise in the Bay of Islands. This was, by far, the best meal I ate here. A starter of fresh mussels followed by a rack of New Zealand lamb. Delicious! These guys know how to cook and entertain, very impressive! All would have been made better with a trip on the Alma G, next time, I will follow in the steps of Zane Grey!
On returning to Auckland, a brief flurry of phone calls and emails saw me set for Tauranga to meet with Mick Forrest of The F-Spot Charters.
Mick runs a wide variety of guided fishing trips including salt water fly fishing, big game and land based tag and release shark fishing. I was to spend an undetermined number of days in his hospitality based a twenty minute drive from Tauranga itself. After rushing to arrive in time for the overnight trip on the 42 foot MG Sportsfisher, apprehension of seasickness kicked in. Twentyfour hours on a boat, twenty miles out to sea, how would I cope?
I was to be a deckie for the duration. As well as documenting the trip, which happened to be a stag do, I wanted to try to get some fishing in. This proved not to be a problem. As soon as we cleared the harbour, the trolling lures were set. At this point I had no idea what would be caught, I only knew the targeted species, skippies and Marlin. Within half an hour we were hooked up into some tuna. In New Zealand, skippies are mainly thought of as bait, 3-4 kg tuna, for bait! It mattered not what they were intended for, they give an amazing fight for their size. A sportsfish in their own right if caught on light gear. Not long before arriving at our intended fishing grounds, something bigger took one of the four lures we had out. FISH ON!! The other three fishless lures were quickly wound in, leaving the job of retrieving the hook up to the groom to be. Was it a Marlin? Five minutes in the line began to climb to the surface a distance off the rear of the boat, a sure sign of an impending breach. The fish was airborn. This time it was a Mako shark, not huge but still a sizeable fish. Another ten minutes of play and we had it at the rear. Approximately 80kg of angry shark, thrashing about, Mick made quick work of cutting it free. My first glimpse of what huge fish these waters hold. With it safely released, we reset the lures and carried on trolling.
Skippy after skippy followed skippy. Unfortunately, this was not our day to hook into a Marlin. With an increasing swell and decreasing light we headed for the relative shelter of Muir Island. As had another twenty boats. Into the darkness we continued fishing for mackerel, the intended live bait of the next day. Having filled the tanks with livebait, it was time to retire to my less-than-shoulder-width bunk. Sleeping was easier thought of than done. The winds changed direction and increased to an uncomfortable thirty knots. The pitching and tossing of the boat became too much, at five o'clock in the morning, we had to run to the other side of the island for shelter. The next day saw calmer seas thankfully. We set out, again on our way, trolling for Marlin. And again we hit shoal after shoal of skippies. Again, we set light gear to play them and have fun, we weren't disappointed. We arrived at a spot, we were assured, would produce Kingfish, and as promised, it produced Kingies. It's hard to get your head around how hard these fish fight. The legal limit is a staggering 750mm, approximately 6kg of pure pelagic muscle. Even on relatively heavy gear, it's still a struggle to stop them reaching the bottom and wrapping themselves, and the line, in a tangle of rocks. For their size, no UK fish comes close to the power of these silver bullets. After fun was had and a keepable fish was take, we headed to shore via a quick stop for a Paua dive. Paua are the famous native shellfish, prized for their iridescent shells and good eating. They have been heavily targeted in shallower coastal waters and, now, can be difficult to find keepable sizes. It was a perfect end to an, at times, rough trip.
This was just the first day fishing with The F-spot, next up, we have some more fun!
Stay tuned, there are more tales of glory and woe to come!
Monday, 27 February 2012
Friday, 10 February 2012
Off to pastures blue.
After a successful trip to the Bay of Islands, today sees me off to Tauranga to meet Mick of The F Spot Fishing Charters. He has fished the waters of New Zealand since his emigration in 1995, so I have high hopes he can hook me up!
First off, we'll be on an overnight trip, what we'll catch, I have no idea but expect victory pictures (I'm feeling confident). The following day I'll be experiencing land based, tag and release shark fishing. This may be awesome. Truly awesome. Expect many, many photo's!
Some extra miles will take me to Rotorua, on to Taupo and a day on the lake. It would be a crime not to try to catch a specimen Trout on the world famous lake. So I will be looking for a guide to up me chances significantly, the dollars will be worth it I feel.
The final part of the saga will play out in the Coromandel. This is Kingfish country. This is where I will be berleying up the ocean, live baiting and throwing everything into reaching my goal. A 10kg Kingie from the rocks on 10kg line. A silver bullit of muscle, one if THE top sports fish around New Zealand. It's going to be a challenge so let's see what happens!
So all that is left to do is pack everything up, jump in the truck and head on down to Tauranga.
An update will be along shortly, keep on checking back!
Bon voyage.
Thursday, 2 February 2012
The South
So, what's aguan?
Well, the South Island is beautiful, even if it is full of sandflies. The blighters are, pretty much, everywhere! Is it strange that I'm starting to find the smell of insect repellent comforting, like a jumper that smells of memories or a freshly lit wood burner in the deepest winters nights? I'll think not and carry on.
We covered nearly 3500km's, visited all but two states. First stop on our clockwise tour of the isle were to be the Moeraki Boulders. Spherical, honeycomb centred creations of Mother Earth, thick with Moari myth, washed by sea, stood upon by tourists. With this sight stealing the cover of the 2008 edition of the Lonely Planet guide book, this was going to be a site to behold. What I beheld was approximately twelve boulders (there may have been more but the tide was high) of varying sizes on a beach. Next to a cliff. There was a cafe. And....um....yeah. Once you've visited once you probably won't take that turning again. It's actually taken longer to write the paragraph about the Moeraki Boulders than we spent looking at the Moeraki Boulders. Which aren't actually in Moeraki apparently. I'll move on.
Milford Sound is definitely somewhere you need to buy your way onto an organised trip. Without one of these, you get to see the end of the Sound, which, with it's mud flats (because the tide was low this time), isn't quite as impressive as I'd hoped. The drive there however was stunning, including the 1200 meter tunnel, which resembled more an old mine working than a roadway, boring it's way under millions of tons of mountain. It really is beautiful but you do need to splash the cash to see the best of it!
I thought it rude to not at least try my hand at fly fishing a river, seeing as we are in the mecca of trout fisheries. After consulting with an expert shop hand about which flies were catching, I purchased a day license from one of the numerous fishing and hunting and walking and biking shops in Queenstown. Whilst Lucy was walking a section of the Routeburn track, I was exploring the river running by the DOC site we camped at. I found a deep, shaded pool. Watched for no more than a couple of minutes and spotted my quarry. Two rainbow trout feeding in the eddies. Crystal clear water making "sight fishing" possible, without the need for polarised shades. As much as I tried, with my selection of flies, they would not bite. Unlike the sandflies, which followed me around, in a gnatty haze. This I didn't enjoy. But I can see the appeal of sight fishing, it keeps you on the edge when you can see your fly drift across the nose of a prime conditioned trout. Lake Taupo, here I come!
A slight oversight in the planning department saw us double back and take the long road back to the centre of the Island. We took in the magnificent peak of Mount Cook, for ten minutes, then rolled in the clouds. "It's ok though" we reasoned jovially, "there's always tomorrow!" Little did we know, that would be our only glimpse of New Zealand's highest point. "It's ok though" we reasoned ever more jovially, "there's always the glaciers!" Nope. Can't see those in clouds either it appears. Or doesn't as the case may be here.
It's a saddening thing to see such a behemoth in retreat, one glacier had retreated so far from the viewing point that it was quite difficult to view it from that point now, time to construct a new view point me thinks.
For Lucy's birthday, we decided that nice food and excellent wine were the order of the day. We eventually settled on heading to a place called The Wonky/Drunk/Something Dog. The restaurant lay on the grounds of a vineyard, or winery as known here, with a campsite across the road. Perfect! We can both have a drink and walk back to the van. When we arrived at the campsite, Lucy thought it best to enquire about said restaurant before booking in for the night, this, here, is where our plan fell flat. They had moved about twenty kilometres away, too far to drive after food. The owner of the camp (Richard) then suggested a few other places (I'd said in passing that it was Lucy's birthday earlier), then made a call and handed me the phone. I spoke with the American owner/manageress who saw no problem in staying open for us! Before leaving the site, Richard asked what the lady preferred, "Red or white?" then promptly handed me a bottle of his own making "For the birthday girl." generosity here, knows no bounds it seems.
A Drop of Red, with a selection of over 300(!) wines to choose from. It was the perfect choice! We had a very expensive red to go with our gourmet, giant lamb roll. We will be writing a review. Manifique!
Onwards.
Luckily though Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers are growing, which is astounding considering the volume of meltwater carving it's way to the sea! A constant torrent pours from the mouths of these beasts. Constantly. But then again, it's not too surprising I suppose, Mount Cook receives it's fair share of precipitation, 15 metres a year! I'll never complain about drizzle again.
Lucy booked her walk on Fox Glacier and off we set for a walk around the famous Lake Something, the one people take photos of the reflection of Mount Cook in.
"Oh no, a tree has fallen across our path at roughly chest height! There's only one thing that can get us through safely...LIMBO!"
Everything was going well until I hit my chin, which, through shock and surprise, made me drop to the floor on my short clad legs. Needless to say, the path was not smooth or soft and consequently, my left knee swelled up the next day. It's a good job I hadn't booked onto the glacier walk because I still would have thrown caution to the wind and limboed, had a sore knee and been $(a number)'s down!
Having driven passed many a sign extolling the whitebait pattie, I was hugely disappointed by my omelette garnished with whitebait. I advise you check these things before you buy. Enough said, move on.
Do we risk driving all the way to Able Tasman National Park for great walks which could be ruined by those damned sandflies? After all, so far, every place that has been forested and near water has been plagued. We decided, instead to make our way back towards the east coast, cut through Lewis Pass and spend a few days in and around Christchurch. Stopping in the middle of gold rush country at a place called Reefton. A DOC site that promised the chance of panning for gold, had you a gold panning urge. We arrived from the night, onto an eerie dirt road, saddled by bush, that seemed never to end. Until we got to the end, thankfully we weren't the only ones. Having sorted the van ready for sleeping, we looked up into the night sky to see the most amazing collection stars. The milky way clear and visible without obstruction from light polluting cities. Stunning.
The urge to find gold was strong in me the next day but, alas, no pan. After disturbing the river bed, gold flakes fluttered around in the water, mocking my panless self. I will learn, I will be back.
Heading toward the second largest city in New Zealand, we looked forward to some culture, good food, bars and people. Art galleries interspersed with beach hours, that was our aim. We set the satnav to take us to a camp site close to the centre of the city. We only realised our naivety when we pulled up at the address, having already been thrown off course by closed streets, to find nothing. This had been one of the victims of the earthquake less than a year previous. As we drove around looking for the next place to stay, the devastation that had happened here began to take root.
We decided to take a bus into the centre, after standing in the wrong bus stop for a while, a bloke on a bike pointed us to where we should wait. After standing in the right bus stop for less of a while, a "Not in service" bus pulled up, the driver asking where we wanted to go and then taking us (for free!) to the outskirts of the centre. Along the way giving us a rundown of what has and is happening in Christchurch. He advised that there really wasn't much open, bar a few coffee shops. We eventually found somewhere to eat. The next day we drove in. It was so sad to see what the people of Christchurch have and are still going through. The centre is completely closed off, resembling a the opening from a zombie apocalypse movie. It felt wrong and awkward to be taking any photos. I took two.
Right in the middle of all this destruction lay the blossoming seed of the new city centre, Container Street as it's become known. Businesses temporarily shifted into brightly coloured, modified shipping containers. Giving the area a bohemian, Camden Lock feel. A ray of hope breaking through the demolition dust clouds.
An absolutely amazing trip. We came, we saw, we toured. And still there is more to tell.
Then we flew back to Auckland.
That was The South.
Well, the South Island is beautiful, even if it is full of sandflies. The blighters are, pretty much, everywhere! Is it strange that I'm starting to find the smell of insect repellent comforting, like a jumper that smells of memories or a freshly lit wood burner in the deepest winters nights? I'll think not and carry on.
We covered nearly 3500km's, visited all but two states. First stop on our clockwise tour of the isle were to be the Moeraki Boulders. Spherical, honeycomb centred creations of Mother Earth, thick with Moari myth, washed by sea, stood upon by tourists. With this sight stealing the cover of the 2008 edition of the Lonely Planet guide book, this was going to be a site to behold. What I beheld was approximately twelve boulders (there may have been more but the tide was high) of varying sizes on a beach. Next to a cliff. There was a cafe. And....um....yeah. Once you've visited once you probably won't take that turning again. It's actually taken longer to write the paragraph about the Moeraki Boulders than we spent looking at the Moeraki Boulders. Which aren't actually in Moeraki apparently. I'll move on.
Milford Sound is definitely somewhere you need to buy your way onto an organised trip. Without one of these, you get to see the end of the Sound, which, with it's mud flats (because the tide was low this time), isn't quite as impressive as I'd hoped. The drive there however was stunning, including the 1200 meter tunnel, which resembled more an old mine working than a roadway, boring it's way under millions of tons of mountain. It really is beautiful but you do need to splash the cash to see the best of it!
I thought it rude to not at least try my hand at fly fishing a river, seeing as we are in the mecca of trout fisheries. After consulting with an expert shop hand about which flies were catching, I purchased a day license from one of the numerous fishing and hunting and walking and biking shops in Queenstown. Whilst Lucy was walking a section of the Routeburn track, I was exploring the river running by the DOC site we camped at. I found a deep, shaded pool. Watched for no more than a couple of minutes and spotted my quarry. Two rainbow trout feeding in the eddies. Crystal clear water making "sight fishing" possible, without the need for polarised shades. As much as I tried, with my selection of flies, they would not bite. Unlike the sandflies, which followed me around, in a gnatty haze. This I didn't enjoy. But I can see the appeal of sight fishing, it keeps you on the edge when you can see your fly drift across the nose of a prime conditioned trout. Lake Taupo, here I come!
A slight oversight in the planning department saw us double back and take the long road back to the centre of the Island. We took in the magnificent peak of Mount Cook, for ten minutes, then rolled in the clouds. "It's ok though" we reasoned jovially, "there's always tomorrow!" Little did we know, that would be our only glimpse of New Zealand's highest point. "It's ok though" we reasoned ever more jovially, "there's always the glaciers!" Nope. Can't see those in clouds either it appears. Or doesn't as the case may be here.
It's a saddening thing to see such a behemoth in retreat, one glacier had retreated so far from the viewing point that it was quite difficult to view it from that point now, time to construct a new view point me thinks.
For Lucy's birthday, we decided that nice food and excellent wine were the order of the day. We eventually settled on heading to a place called The Wonky/Drunk/Something Dog. The restaurant lay on the grounds of a vineyard, or winery as known here, with a campsite across the road. Perfect! We can both have a drink and walk back to the van. When we arrived at the campsite, Lucy thought it best to enquire about said restaurant before booking in for the night, this, here, is where our plan fell flat. They had moved about twenty kilometres away, too far to drive after food. The owner of the camp (Richard) then suggested a few other places (I'd said in passing that it was Lucy's birthday earlier), then made a call and handed me the phone. I spoke with the American owner/manageress who saw no problem in staying open for us! Before leaving the site, Richard asked what the lady preferred, "Red or white?" then promptly handed me a bottle of his own making "For the birthday girl." generosity here, knows no bounds it seems.
A Drop of Red, with a selection of over 300(!) wines to choose from. It was the perfect choice! We had a very expensive red to go with our gourmet, giant lamb roll. We will be writing a review. Manifique!
Onwards.
Luckily though Franz Josef and Fox Glaciers are growing, which is astounding considering the volume of meltwater carving it's way to the sea! A constant torrent pours from the mouths of these beasts. Constantly. But then again, it's not too surprising I suppose, Mount Cook receives it's fair share of precipitation, 15 metres a year! I'll never complain about drizzle again.
Lucy booked her walk on Fox Glacier and off we set for a walk around the famous Lake Something, the one people take photos of the reflection of Mount Cook in.
"Oh no, a tree has fallen across our path at roughly chest height! There's only one thing that can get us through safely...LIMBO!"
Everything was going well until I hit my chin, which, through shock and surprise, made me drop to the floor on my short clad legs. Needless to say, the path was not smooth or soft and consequently, my left knee swelled up the next day. It's a good job I hadn't booked onto the glacier walk because I still would have thrown caution to the wind and limboed, had a sore knee and been $(a number)'s down!
Having driven passed many a sign extolling the whitebait pattie, I was hugely disappointed by my omelette garnished with whitebait. I advise you check these things before you buy. Enough said, move on.
Do we risk driving all the way to Able Tasman National Park for great walks which could be ruined by those damned sandflies? After all, so far, every place that has been forested and near water has been plagued. We decided, instead to make our way back towards the east coast, cut through Lewis Pass and spend a few days in and around Christchurch. Stopping in the middle of gold rush country at a place called Reefton. A DOC site that promised the chance of panning for gold, had you a gold panning urge. We arrived from the night, onto an eerie dirt road, saddled by bush, that seemed never to end. Until we got to the end, thankfully we weren't the only ones. Having sorted the van ready for sleeping, we looked up into the night sky to see the most amazing collection stars. The milky way clear and visible without obstruction from light polluting cities. Stunning.
The urge to find gold was strong in me the next day but, alas, no pan. After disturbing the river bed, gold flakes fluttered around in the water, mocking my panless self. I will learn, I will be back.
Heading toward the second largest city in New Zealand, we looked forward to some culture, good food, bars and people. Art galleries interspersed with beach hours, that was our aim. We set the satnav to take us to a camp site close to the centre of the city. We only realised our naivety when we pulled up at the address, having already been thrown off course by closed streets, to find nothing. This had been one of the victims of the earthquake less than a year previous. As we drove around looking for the next place to stay, the devastation that had happened here began to take root.
We decided to take a bus into the centre, after standing in the wrong bus stop for a while, a bloke on a bike pointed us to where we should wait. After standing in the right bus stop for less of a while, a "Not in service" bus pulled up, the driver asking where we wanted to go and then taking us (for free!) to the outskirts of the centre. Along the way giving us a rundown of what has and is happening in Christchurch. He advised that there really wasn't much open, bar a few coffee shops. We eventually found somewhere to eat. The next day we drove in. It was so sad to see what the people of Christchurch have and are still going through. The centre is completely closed off, resembling a the opening from a zombie apocalypse movie. It felt wrong and awkward to be taking any photos. I took two.
Right in the middle of all this destruction lay the blossoming seed of the new city centre, Container Street as it's become known. Businesses temporarily shifted into brightly coloured, modified shipping containers. Giving the area a bohemian, Camden Lock feel. A ray of hope breaking through the demolition dust clouds.
An absolutely amazing trip. We came, we saw, we toured. And still there is more to tell.
Then we flew back to Auckland.
That was The South.
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