2 coasts, precious resources & the matter of discretion

Imagine that you're an avid shallow water angler and for most of your life you've persisted to learn the habits of your prey. You work hard, you suss it out. You treat the area and fish with respect. Then one day, a social media post lifts the lid on your spot. Overnight, its inundated with anglers local and foreign, some wanting to make a name, some with commercial interests, most just taking advantage of NZ's free access to resources... and your spot is standing room only. Freedom campers dot the landscape. The idea of solitude is just that, an idea. The fishery is hammered. That's the power of social media.

This has happened. Recently my mate Jase was in our local fly sore when some Australians walked in and bemoaned the sheer hectic and frantic nature of the Collingwood fishery. There're 2 sides to the  arguments here, one is covered above - what was a hard discovered kingfish phenomenon was made very public and overnight everything changed forever, much to the chagrin of the locals who worked had to figure the fish out. The other argument is that it has improved the economy of a sleepy South Island town, and that economic betterment of rural NZ is a good thing. I don't buy that. I'd bet that most of the anglers who get in there live in old vans and survive on a can of beans a day, and that's hardly putting anything back into the economy. I could go on about value propositions and pricing for value, licenses etc but that's not really my concern. It would be fair to say that I've seen and heard enough to know that place isn't for me.

Personally I'd rather put in the hard yards, chase down leads, pore over Google Earth, talk to locals and figure out angles. Success is so much sweeter that way. And that's why I'll crop the hell out of photos to obfuscate backdrops where I think its necessary. Despite living in a city of 1.6 M people with ~150,000 registered boats of which a huge number are dedicated to fishing pursuits, there are still spots that are simply mind blowing. They probably wont stay that way in the long term, but I'm not willing to accelerate degradation via social media.

Rant over, cropped photos to come...

A couple of weeks ago, we had the opportunity to go on a voyage of discovery. I'd hunted pheasants and deer on the heads of this harbour and studied the flats and banks that I could see from high ground.... the place oozed potential. Google Earth showed some of the largest flats that you could hope to find and I am willing to bet that very few fly fishermen had spent much time here. I'd been thinking about this place for a long time and with both settled weather and a morning building tide, the time felt right. The trip north is always nice, before the crowds rise and block the roads. At the ramp only one other boat trailer was in residence. The tide was at its lowest ebb which is a really good way to get the feel of new waters, because banks and channels are obvious on low water. We ran out to near the harbour entrance, where the tide would flood onto exposed banks bringing in prey and predators alike... it felt fishy from the get go. What became obvious early was the extreme current, best described as a torrent. The Minn Kota quietly thrummed and we traversed a large flat between 2 banks... it looked an obvious place for a patrolling kingi.

As it happened we saw 3 fish over the next couple of hours, but none in casting range; they seemed to be motoring across the flat as opposed to cruising for food. As the banks flooded we were able to cruise vast flats which we did, getting right among the mangrove fringe.

Eventually a splash and massive wake alerted us to a nearby skirmish, which after a stalk revealed a nice king smashing a mullet. The mullet was stunned and the kingi circled, allowing us a few fly shots to no avail, as the beast was set on his dinner which he swallowed and cruised off, leaving a sizable wake. Soon after, we called it a day. I'll be back - there's still too much to discover in this spot.

The weekend gone, the boys all had plans. Tim was going out on Rene Vaz's new boat , Karl was heading out on a West Coast harbour and Jase was off after big browns. I had no real plans except at some stage to get out on the boat. Jase eventually changed his mind so would join me on a flats mission.

I picked him up at 05.30 from the ramp where Tim and Rene were launching and we headed off on our different courses. First stop for us would be a marker to get some 'blood letting' out of our systems... just a term for getting runs on the board before the more intense flats fishing that would follow. Its no secret around here that small kings hang around channel markers and consequently they receive their fair share of attention from stick baiters, jiggers, fly fishos and even divers. Even as we pulled in under electric motor power, another boat approached the marker. We quickly dealt to 3 fish before moving on, the other boat taking our place. I doubted they'd get much attention on their stick baits, rumbling around with outboard on puts kingis down pretty quickly. I headed to another marker where I'd seen a large fish last time around, but nothing was doing. The pole was decorated with a double gang hook and a desiccated piper ... a sure sign of a kingi haunt.

Leaving that spot we arrived at the outer rim of the flat we wanted to hunt, and set up. It was a good while before he first wake was spotted, and set a course to intercept the cruising fish. My first shot was met with a chase and eat, but I... trout struck. Bluddy hell, after all this time I still do it now and again.

Kingi wake

Jase made no mistake with his first cast to a cruiser which inhaled his piper fly. The fight was torrid in the shallows, culminating with the fish sitting tight under the boat. After a few minutes of to and fro I got the net under a fine specimen.

Over the next quarter tide we chased wakes made casts, had multiple refusals and all in all had a ball.

As the tide receded, the fish began to leave, and soon there was no sign of activity.

I retrieved the boat at the lowest of the tide's ebb, creating the need to wade through mud for the final few metres. The sun blazed overhead. I wandered along to the car park, town was drowsily busy, in a relaxed sort of way, and I wondered if back when the Florida quays were being discovered as fisheries if the ports had the same sleepy feel? Coming down after the intensity of flats concentration is a nice feeling, and fully relaxed I pulled the boat and headed home.