Recreation & Fun

If I’d known I was going to catch a possible world record fish that day, I would have packed a change of clothes and some make up. After all, a girl should always look her best, whether she is a supermodel strutting her stuff on the catwalk or posing for a photo alongside a big fish, right? Nah – this is fishing in the real world, and it ain’t always pretty!

I’d got the call that Thursday evening from skipper Stu after he’d heard the weather forecast for Saturday.
“We’ll be fishing 2 and 3 kilo,” he said.

So it was on a drizzly Saturday morning that the Kahlua II team assembled at 6.00am at the Whangaroa Marina for a relaxing day out fishing for kingies at the Cavalli Islands.
Aboard was the regular team of skipper (and brother) Stu Sheard, his mate Winky Bannister, my friend and sister-in-law, Jane Rooke (all seasoned light-tackle fishos) and me, the relative novice, having only fished with them for four years.

An hour and half after leaving the marina we were at the western end chucking in a berley bag to attract some kingie ‘lollies’ – koheru – to use as bait.

My first live bait went out under a balloon on 4kg line at the ‘Teapot’, and before we could get a second one in the water I got hit. That fish proved to be on a mission, and while backing up in an attempt to stay with it, the skipper swamped the bait tank and we lost half our bait. Talk about smoked off!

That rod was put back in the cabin, and out came the 2kg. Then, as Stu was putting the bait out he had a bit of a run, and as he pushed the drag up to stop it, realised he was hooked up.
So, with Winky at wheel, the fish was led slowly out. Stu proceeded to play the fish for nearly 20 minutes, doing everything he tells his anglers not to do – but made just one fatal mistake by putting his finger on the spool – then it was ping and ‘see you later, kingie’.

Back out went the baits, this time on two- and three-kilo lines.
All seemed quiet however, so we decided to grab a bite to eat. And you know what happens when you decide to eat – yep, that’s when the kingies decide to eat, too.
All of a sudden my bait was airborne, there was a huge splash, and the reel started to scream again. So in between sausage rolls and chicken pieces flying in all directions and the other baits being retrieved, I pushed the brake up and was in business.

The fish allowed itself to slowly be led out into deeper water so easily we thought it might have been a barracouta at first. However, two powerful runs followed, so we knew it was a kingfish.
Working the fish with short pumps, after an hour I had it up and close enough to the surface to catch a glimpse of it – a good kingfish – and swimming beside it was another fish of similar size.

Then down it went on a blistering run into the depths below. Mate Winky, sitting on the flying bridge, informed me we were in 58 metres of water and my fish was at 40.

By now the short pumps were taking their toll on my back, which had gone past the pain threshold, and my left arm had basically gone numb. However, words of encouragement from the crew were enough to see me back into my work again, the fish now heading back to where we hooked up initially.

This made skipper Stu a bit anxious, but as luck would have it, the fish started showing signs of tiring, and I soon had it on the surface yet again.

“Go gently,” was the call as the swivel came gradually but steadily closer to Winky’s outstretched hand. A decisive grab of the trace was quickly followed by the gaff slicing in, and the exhausted fish ending up safely in the cockpit.

“&%$@! It’s a world record, Mick – let’s go home!” an excited skipper yelled, and before we knew it we were off.

An hour later saw us arriving at the weigh-station.

A loud cheer went up as the scales tipped 20.10kg, beating the existing record of 16.48kg, and it was congratulations all around.
For the record, the fight time was one hour and 35 minutes – I’d given birth in less time!