Ocean Fishing...In a canoe!

Kahawai (note "proper bloke hat" compliments of my first host) 

A grey mist hung low over the glassy bay as we shoved off the beach.  Even with four of us paddling the family’s new 18 foot aluminum canoe, weighed down with passengers and gear, took some time to gain momentum on its maiden voyage.  Fifteen minutes of paddling took us out around the rocky point where we were met by some larger swells, “sea’s a bit lumpy but nothing to worry about,” Mike proclaimed from the rear as we paddled on. Fifteen minutes later we had reached the fishing grounds about a half mile off the shore of the next bay to the east, we dropped anchor and the boat spun as the rope came under tension in the current. A mesh bag of frozen burly (chum) was hung overboard and hooks were baited. We cast our offerings into the drift line down-current of the boat and after about 15 minutes they were yielding snapper, small ones at first but their size grew with the increased presence of the burly.  It didn’t take long to boat enough snapper for a couple meals and we began turning back the smaller fish. Danny and I got into a double hook-up on Kahawai whose beastly fight put the snapper of the morning to shame. Kahawai aren’t great eating, but their tough oily meat makes topnotch bait, so in the cooler they went.  In less than two hours we had all the fish we could eat, the mission was deemed a success and the anchor was pulled. The timing was good, the boys and I were feeling a bit woozy from the waves rolling the boat on anchor, forward motion was much appreciated. The wind and swell were on our side for the paddle in so we were back at the house fileting fish in no time. We enjoyed the white flaky snapper meat prepared in various ways the next three nights….tasty tasty!

Mike readying our vessel 

Dinner 

Bounty of the Sea

While staying with the Belciks I got the opportunity to put on a mask and snorkel to dive for some of the tasty morsels the NZ coast has to offer. Our first outing yielded 20 paua (abalone), which are smaller but far more numerous than the ones in CA, and about a dozen kennas (urchins). The following day a short swim and about 20 minutes in the water produced 50 mussels a piece. These gathering sessions culminated in a feast made up of the bounty from the sea and a bounty from the garden, which fittingly took place on American Thanksgiving. 

Pauas 

Cleaned paua ready for pounding

Kennas

Kenna roe...what we're after

Appetizer?

Green mussels in the pot

       

Jewels of the Storm

The Belcik Family—Arrival

I met my second host in Opotiki and we drove 20 minutes east along the coast to their farm just outside the small town of Torere. Mike is American and Claire is a Kiwi, they have three boys Ben (12), Danny (18) and John (20). The family moved to what was a treeless paddock boarded by native bush in the early 1990s and has been developing for self-sufficiency since. Now upon entering the property a tree lined drive leads to their house and batch (guest house) which are separated by a large lawn. Both dwellings are single story with large wrap-around coved poachers, bearing a look that is classically American. The style imported by their builder Mike, pays homage his East Coast roots. The plot sits on a rise above town and from the house or gardens there are great views of the beach, bay and on down the coastline. After unpacking my stuff and a cup of tea, Claire was eager to lead me on a tour.

Batch

The family grows most of their own food as well as goods for market. Their cultivation approach is organic bio-intensive, though they barrow from other schools of thought and are constantly experimenting. In long raised beds a healthy crop of garlic was well underway next to some just sprouted corn. Adjacent were a few empty beds Claire explained we would fill with chilies and eggplants. A veg patch is home to numerous varieties of tomatoes, beans, peas, squash, melons, berries, lettuce, kale, spinach, arugula, cabbage, onions, celery, cauliflower, broccoli, brussel sprouts, radishes, carrots, potatoes, yams, endive and fennel as well as an assortment of herbs (and I’m surely missing some others but you get the picture). A citrus orchard lies on the upside of the garden and a variety of stone fruit trees make another edge. Throughout the property there are avocado, banana, papaya, persimmon, apple and macadamia nut trees as well as some other local fruits whose names I’ve forgotten. Behind the house there is a stand of Pines, Redwoods and Cyprus which Mike plans to harvest and mill himself for building timbers. The only animals on the farm currently (besides Meowie the cat) are chickens, a flock of hens lay eggs and some young roosters are being fattened up for meat. Much of the family’s meat comes from the sea in the form of fish, mussels, clams, crayfish (lobster) and poua (abalone) or deer, pigs, pheasant, peacocks and rabbits are taken from the bush. From Claire’s wwoofing host description and our correspondence leading up to my arrival it was made clear that what the Belcik’s are offering is not a basic work exchange but a taste of a lifestyle. They are passionate about how they live and want guest willing to share that passion. I was eager to get started….

Main House

Veg Patch

Garlic

Citrus Orchard

Goat Hunting

During my time in the Pakihi Valley I had the opportunity to tag along on a wild goat hunt. Much like wild pigs in the States (which they also have in NZ) the ancestors of the goats we were after were escaped domesticates. Since New Zealand has no large natural predators the goat populations have grown unchecked and now pose a problem to ecosystem health. Mike, my host’s neighbor, works fulltime for the Department of Conservation as a goat culler. His job description: hike through the backcountry bush, kill as many goats as he can and bring back the tails as proof. I showed amusement hearing this so he invited me to join him on an outing.

To give me a taste of what it is all about he took me on a short afternoon hunt which he used as a training session for three of his young up and coming dogs. We went up a steep ridge behind my host’s house toward an area where a small group of goats had been working. Placing his hand to his mouth Mike let out a bleating sound across the ravine that sounded so unlike any goat I had ever heard I had to wonder if he was for real. But he was and it didn’t take long for us to lay eyes on the group in a grassy patch on the face opposite us, the rookie dogs circled about unaware of their presents. An animal could have easily been taken from our vantage but Mike wanted to give the dogs a chance to play the game, so into the ravine we went and up the other side. As we ascended toward their location the dogs picked up the scent and the chase was on. Back down the nearly vertical hillside scrambled with haste, though the thick vegetation in purist of the barks. Well trained dogs will bunch a group of goats into a “bale” until the hunter arrives but our young dogs managed to corner only one of the smallest goats in the creek below. One shot with the silenced .22 (noise suppressers are legal in NZ!) and the chase was over, Mike harvested the tail and took the animal home for dog chow.

Trout of Zeal—My first taste

Crossing the shallow riffle, a large shadow on the light bottom of the pool’s tailout just upstream caught my attention. Slowly moving up the bank my excitement grew as it became clear that the shadow was cast be a large brown trout. The fish was actively feeding in less than 2 feet of water a short ways off the bank on my side of the river, darting side to side eagerly intercepting unseen subsurface insects. I snuck closer and took a knee an easy casting distance downstream, his blind spot, to ponder my tact. The fish gave me confidence in my dry fly when he zoomed out of his feeding lane to inspect the food value of a floating piece of debris—just the sign I needed, he’s willing to look up. I stripped line off my reel, false casted three times off to the side, then turned and dropped my blue humpy three feet upstream of his nose. Without hesitating the fish slid forward and inhaled the offering—flawless! I let out an audible hoot as I stood up to dance with the force quickly taking my line. What a perfect sequence of events in this picturesque setting, I thought to myself, I am truly fortunate. After a couple runs around the pool I tailed the 24 inch plus brown, probably the largest of my life. A couple photos snapped, many thanks given and he was set free.  

New Zealand trouting is a different game than back home in the States, and I’m still learning to play. The fish are far less numerous which means covering a lot of water per fish, but the ones you find are much larger on average so it’s worth the effort. This beauty of a brown (above) was only the third fish I had seen, let alone hooked, on four outings during which I covered about 6 miles of Pakihi Stream. The stream was a very manageable size and its clear water was an immaculate window to the world below. Shallow riffles cascaded between a seemingly endless number of turquoise pools and deep runs—textbook trout water, or so I thought. I had read before coming to NZ that the most effective backcountry technique was sight fishing: only casting to spotted fish. But so much of this water looked too good to pass up and my first few times out I couldn’t help but put a cast or two to each likely lie, all of which were fruitless—naïve American.  During my time on the Pakihi I didn’t hook a single fish blind casting, but I managed to dupe every fish I saw first. Attractor dries or generic nymphs in combination with a decent cast always did the trick. The challenge was in finding them, not fooling them, so over time I casted less and walked more and my success increased. Most of the fish I caught were rainbows, all over 16 inches. The biggest bow, in the vicinity of 24 inches, got bonked for the smoker--coated in brown sugar and honey it was a nice compliment to the evening tea.    

Pakihi Valley

Entering The Pakihi

As we bumped up a poorly maintained dirt road in a small four-wheel drive my host and her two kids all spoke to me excitedly in a familiar langue with a still unfamiliar twist that I struggled to decipher. The road paralleled a winding river on the floor of a valley with steep walls that rose abruptly to sharp ridges which drew in on us as we advanced.  The walls were covered in lush sub-tropical forest sparsely checked with clearings that sported modest houses and grazing livestock. We were greeted warmly as we slowed for a neighbor couple riding barefoot and bareback on horses who said they would see us later for supper. As we drove through the river to make the final ascent up to what I would call home for the next week I couldn’t help but wonder, with much excitement, what I had gotten myself into? 

River crossing and swing bridge

Swing bridge--the only way in and out when the river rises

On the 5 hour bus ride prior, as we snaked our way through the countryside heading south from Auckland, buildings became less numerous and the abundance of natural beauty steadily increased. I smiled as I gazed through the glass at sweeping green paddocks, stands of prehistoric looking fern trees, sapphire blue lakes and gin clear streams. I met my fist host, Maria, who I connected with through International Help Exchange in the small town of Opotiki in the Bay of Plenty region on the east coast of the North Island. Maria lives in the second to last house up the Pakihi Valley, her property backs up to a national park and is boarded by a trout river. I don’t care how hard the work is the location is worth it I thought when I inquired about a visit.

My Hut 

My host's house

And it was. I had my own cabin (or “hut” in kiwi) away from the house, nothing flash but my own space. The workload was light, mostly moving wood or grubbing weeds and my afternoons were free to fish or explore the bush stretching out in all directions from the house. I got two days off to dedicate to chasing trout, Maria packed me a lunch and I put some miles on my new wading boots. A “track” (trial) ran along the river bank opposite the house which provided an easy avenue to get deep in the watershed. The valley was stunningly gorgeous and I was kept in awe marveling at the strange new plants and animals, feeding my biophilic craving. My host spoiled me with kindness, heaping meals and endless cups of tea. My stay in the Pakihi Valley was an entertaining peak at the real New Zealand well off the beaten tourist trail. I won’t soon forget the Valley or the wacky characters that call it home… 

The track upriver

Weka--shy flightless bird once thought to be extinct 

Panga or Tree Fern