Whangamumu has become my nemesis.
It seems to hold a special fascination for me – perhaps it’s the remoteness which adds to the adventure factor. That and the prospect of giant snapper – the lack of fishing pressure the area receives suggests the big fish are there to be had.
Despite two aborted trips due to unfavourable conditions, I was undeterred, and a forecast of nor’westerly winds with a dieing swell heralded a prime opportunity for another crack at it.
Saturday was the last day of ‘Daylight Saving’, which meant a relativity late start time from Auckland at 330am – three and bit hours later I was standing on the beach looking out across a couple miles of water to my prospecting grounds – conditions were perfect, just a touch of lift from the east and a light wind which would make the paddle that much easier.
Boat in the water, I was half way across as the sun broke free of the horizon, and the first signs of civilisation were apparent – a solitary farmer working the old fashioned way – on horseback – other than that, there was nothing – brilliant.
I found a nice cave to anchor the kayak in, near the head of the harbour’s southern arm. As I was kiting up I could see parore milling around on the bottom ten metres below – the water looked good. Once I was in it, I confirmed that visibility wasn’t going to be a problem, with a milky ten to twelve metres available.
Moving into the sun towards the head of the arm, I started to spook snapper almost straight away – a promising start, at least the fish were here, now I just had to get my act together. Half a dozen kina smashed on the far side of a little ledge brought some snapper in – none big enough to warrant a shot though.
Moving on, I found a bit of shade where a pinnacle rose high from the water to block the sun – this was an area in which I had the advantage. Seeing better now in the shadow, I could see a few snapper holding out in midwater – one worthwhile – maybe ten pounds. Hard up against the rocks I pulled a few kina and threw out to the fish, watching them disintegrate as the fell to the bottom. The smaller fish came in first as they always do, with the large one still wary of what was going on. Some more kina, and I slipped quietly from the surface down the weedy slope to close on the fish – waiting for thirty seconds, I could see the one I wanted circling in closer now with more interest. A quick lunge from my resting place just as the fish turned away was enough to close the gap for a shot – a long one, but the fish was slow to react and was hit low in the guts. I let him run with the gun as he took off in panic, hoping the flopper would hold, but true to form, the fish went around a corner and I suspect the dragging gun caused the spear to tear out a moment later. I had a bit of a look around, but no sign of the wounded fish – bugger, a waste.
I needed to find an area to swim down-sun before it came around to the north too much. A hundred yards offshore was a small reef which breached the surface. This seemed like the best opportunity for good snooping – maybe some current and a chance to get the sun over my shoulder.
A little more exposed to the last of the lift, my reef was a bit of a challenge, but I found deeper areas which were worth investigating. Certainly no shortage of snapper, I seemed to be bumping into them on a regular basis, but for some reason luck wasn’t with me today – each time I found myself looking the wrong way, or only spotting them as they sensed me and started to move away. At one stage I was buzzed by a small squadron of kingfish fighter-bombers – they came in fast from over my shoulder, but tail-end charlie was just out of range by the time I had the gun up. It was here I found a deep bommie, the top coming up to perhaps twelve/fifteen metres, with a touch of current running onto it. Starting from ‘downwind’, I moved to the
high point and just as I eased up to the top, a snapper in the ‘extra large’ size category was heading out to deep water – bugger again. More snapper were there, but the one I had come this far for was a lost chance.
Back to the coast, I continued northwards towards the harbour entrance for no reward – the ground was okay, not much current but there were a few fish, all of which I missed or spooked – grrr… Turning left into the harbour, the out-going tide brought visibility down to half what it was outside – still okay for snooping, but I decided my best chance for a fish was back at the offshore reef.
With much of the day gone and no fish on the line yet, the situation was looking grim, so the first place I checked out was where I saw the big snapper earlier. The snapper seemed to like it there, so I laid a kina burley just beyond a bunch of kelp which would cover my approach for when I returned.
Hunkered down behind that kelp ten minutes later, I could see plenty of wrasse on the burley and mixed in with them were the snapper I wanted – the biggest, which was still small, got a spear shaft through it – again not a good shot, and fish took the whole rig down into deep water out if sight. Back on the surface I couldn’t lift the floatline – obviously the fish was hung up in something far below – a few minutes rest and I followed the line down to my prize – which turned out to have got itself jammed in a cave some eighteen-odd metres down – very convenient. A quick wrestling match and it was secured on the float.
I was cruising back to the shallows to re-rig the gun when I saw a pale shape of a fish skirting a rock ledge just on the limit of visibility below me – at first I thought it was an industrial sized leatherjacket, but as it passed another outcrop I realised the shape and movement were wrong – ahha! john dory – now that’s worthwhile. Keeping one eye on the fish, I hastily reloaded and dropped down to my target – who upon sensing danger, did that Matrix-like roll on its side – too easy…and it was dead.
So in the last few minutes, the day had changed from the possibility of a rare trip home with nothing to show for, to a reasonable success – with fish sorted for a few dinners, all I needed was something big for the smoker. Progressively deeper diving and I was feeling comfy at twenty metres - on one of them, the kingfish showed up again. This time they had all their friends – school of twenty plus fish, all seemingly about the forty pound mark. My weight belt was set-up heavy for snapper snooping, and passing down through the fifteen metre mark, I covered the last ten metres to the fish in no time. One of them didn’t hold off enough and took a shot for his laziness. It was a good hit in the green zone and the fish appeared almost stunned for a brief moment – I thought I had hit it in the spine – but oh no, I think he was just taking a moment to hook up 3
rd gear before mashing the loud pedal to the firewall. I was all out of breath – I think it would have been my deepest speared fish to date – and it was only because of the thirty metre floatline that I was able to make it back to the surface to meet the buoy as it went past – the dory on my stringer looked more like a bucket-mouthed groper with the water pressure as it was towed along!
Not wanting to put too much pressure on for fear of bending the spear shaft, it was only fortune that the fish headed for deep water and away from any potential hang-ups. After five minutes and a pretty good job of trying to drown me, I had the king’ up - a quick iki to make the fish quiet and all was peaceful again. The fish had the last laugh though – no more fishing today, the spear was now only good for shooting around corners.
Only a quick swim to the kayak – was pleased to see the fish just fit into my chiller compartment and the boat still had a reasonably healthy freeboard despite adding the best part of sixty pounds to it – it did make the return trip to the beach a little slower however.
Boat back on the roof of the car, and a long drive back to town – happy in the knowledge that id finally had a success at Whangamumu. 
Nice read and feeesh!
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