Tuesday, January 29, 2019

Scouting, learning....

As I sit at my office desk I can't help but observe the flags on the harbour bridge drooping flaccidly.  Its calm and oppressively hot. Its the day after the holiday weekend. I'd spent Sunday morning on the land's largest harbour - and oh how different the weather had been then. The tides on neither coast had been ideal for me, so I'd chosen this mission as the preferable of 2 options. It hadn't started all that well with both batteries canning out before I'd left the river (despite meticulously charging them. Seems they both reached their life expectancy simultaneously), and continued to be less than ideal. Running this harbour with extensive flats and banks without a nav system (there are no channel markers) is ok on high water but it was halfway through a waning tidal flow so when I saw a ruffle ahead I realised that I was heading into a bank at ~20 kts. I had to lift the motor to float over the lip into the channel. I'd rounded the small headland at the river mouth to encounter a fresh Westerly right on the nose. This wasn't a 3 kt zephyr predicted; it was a fresh 15 kts at least. And... clouds obscured the sun from time to time.

Still, I got to the flat and rigged. I'd changed out the SA Sonar tip line which I find pretty dumpy for the Rio Flats Pro (overall a nice enough line but I find he running line to be diabolical to manage) int tip. A few practice shots showed it as quick to pick up and shoot on the Salt HD. Cool. The breeze continued. Over the next couple hours I scanned, ate my sandwiches, applied sun screen, scanned, drank water copiously, scanned... to no avail. Occasionally a mullet would broach. A group of dipping, screaming terns worked  deeper channel. I moved the boat over but the birds dispersed. A few casts. Not with much confidence. When the line shot through my fingers I missed the set. The fish was gone. Needing respite from the constant breeze I anchored in a few inches of water and lay on the deck listening to waves slapping the hull.

The logical option now was to follow the flooding tide up the harbour. In the distance I spied a jet black object - black ray surely? Bearing down with line laid out and fly ready the black object revealed itself as a mussel or oyster buoy. Stand down. At least I was now bothering the occasional eagle ray. Why aren't the big black kingi holding rays in this harbour?

But still. It would be churlish to complain; time on the water is infinitely preferable to being stuck indoors. And I took away some affirmations:

  • Refresh the battery supply at least once every 2 years (one of those batteries had given 10 years service)
  • Any wind with West in it sucks on this harbour; vis is effectively killed
  • No forecasting service is 100% trustworthy
Not sure if I'll be back on the local flats this season. With an impending GT/bonefish trip and then debilitating surgery following that, I may be done for this season.

Monday, January 21, 2019

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.

Monday, January 7, 2019

Back on the flats

Adam chugged by early; for me a sign that I'd made at least partially a good call to explore the flats for a cruising kingi. He's a kingi bloodhound and I liked the idea that he'd chosen the same area as I had. We had plenty of space without messing each other's chances up.

I'd had some good days and sessions on trout of late, but the weather had been against my plans to get out after the yellow-tailed beasts. The king tide had come and gone, the incessant winds not allowing any chance to take advantage of the higher tides.

Today I'd launched at dawn and set off on flat seas, thinking about the trips undertaken of late...

The previous trip had been a meat hunt, the family wanting smoked kahawai for Xmas and whilst I had taken the early option of hitting some convenient rocks looking for snapper and blooding the new Sage Salt HD #9 paired with an Abel Super 9, by mid morning I still had an order to fill. I don't really like the idea of fishing to order as it puts undue pressure on what to me is a calming pass time. I'd spent a short time looking for Mr Kingi and in the process had been lucky enough to see (twice!) juvenile snapper hitting small flounder swimming in the surface film. I had to double take.. I could clearly see the snapper but needed to get close to see the tiny flounder no larger than 4cm swimming just under the surface. Amazing. Leaving the estuary (no kings seen) my kahawai prayers were answered when a massive work up appeared, terns and mutton ducks dipping and swimming amongst the splashes created by kahawai slashing through white bait on the surface. A left over Crazy Charlie stripped fast just under the surface came up trumps and the #8 bent over as the line zinged out to he backing knot. Amazing fish - translated from Maori Kaha ("strong") wai ("water") the fish's more than apt name being "strong in the water" - the perfect fly rod fish. They hunt, they hit hard, they take line relentlessly, fight doggedly- perfect. And they are beautiful eating fish when bled, brined and smoked.

***

I was rigged, line stripped with rod in hand and exploring a point when Adam passed by, heading for he far side of the flat. His Wave Walk kayak is set up with a small outboard and makes pretty good headway. I chose a path around the near edge of the flat. The SW squalls and cloud weren't ideal. Far less than. My vis window was narrow, but I began to disturb rays which to me is a positive. It took over an hour to traverse the flat, by which time 6 people had began to wade out - given that 3 were dressed in day glow orange they sure weren't anglers. It took some time to figure that they were retrieving not just one but 2 large set nets, both unmarked and therefore illegal.  I was drawing closer to Adam who upped sticks and moved and soon after I spotted a pressure wave. With Minn Kota in hare mode I headed towards where I'd seen it then hit the spot lock, scanning, scanning, scanning. Finally I managed to get my crease fly on an intercept course and the fish engulfed it, running strongly. It was not a large kingi but none the less was he first for the year from the flats.




Photographed and quickly returned, the fish powered away. I still had time up me sleeve so decided on a new course of action to explore some new spots. The first, a lone marker pole looked a good target to throw to. I did and a large kingfish followed the fly without eating. Next cast hooked the pole and in the process of getting my fly back I spooked the whole area.

Next stop was an old haunt and it faithfully threw me a small fish on the piper fly.



Then it was time to chart a course home. Roll on better weather.