February 27, 2011

We’re getting a certain routine in getting everything ready in the morning now. Everything that can potentially break when driving needs to be packed and secured before we can move the camper van in the morning. After breakfast there is hectic activity as everyone works to get ready.

The roads have also been better since the terrible winding roads up in the Marlborough Sounds. Coupled with our investment in medication against car sickness for Iseline our life on the road is much more pleasant than we feared in the beginning.

We were on the move again.

Today’s tentative goal was to reach Westport and possibly work our way closer to the Southern Alps and the famous Fox and Franz Josef glaciers.

We followed the coast southwards and stopped in Punakaiki to see the pancake rocks.

With that name we were certain that the Maori had taken the word “pancake” and transformed it into “Punakaiki.” Not so. Punakaiki means something close to “a basket of food” in Maori and was probably given because there is an abundance of fish in the waters here.

The European called the rock formations here “pancake rocks” because they look like a stack of American style pancakes. They may or may not have been inspired by the Maori name of the place.

I base this information on the tourist information we read at the site. Trying to find this out using the web turned out to be very difficult. Many people have just assumed that the name “Punakaiki” has been inspired by “pancake” or vice versa and the web is riddled with statements claiming this, always without references.

What a classical example of one of the great fundamental challenges of information on the internet. There is a lot of information available out there and written media doesn’t stand a chance to keep up with the rapid update of online information. On the other hand quality assurance of information on the net is a tricky business. Which sources can you trust and which can you not trust? An increasingly harder problem which will become more and more important. When incorrect information gains critical mass it can turn into “truth” very quickly. Anything that at first glance seems intuitive, but is in fact wrong, will often swamp the net and obscure the real truth.

30 million years ago deposits of calcium from the skeletons of small sea creatures formed what is now the limestone of the coastline here. For some reason not completely understood the limestone in Punakaki formed alternate soft and hard layers. Once geological forces pressed the limestone up to the surface, after having been buried for millions of years, erosion removed the soft layers a bit faster than the hard layers and thus created the “pancake formations” seen here.

Pretty neat, eh?

We walked along the trail

and saw the blowholes which act like geysers at high tide:

There were some cool rock formations:

Can you make out the faces in the rocks?

Here is some help:

The road further south followed the coastline:

and had cool road signs:

There are blue penguins here, the world’s smallest penguin. In the summertime they stay at sea all day, catching food and avoiding the heat, before they return inland at sunset. Bad strategy in an area where the main road follows the coastline.

After a while Helene had the courage to ask me out about the painful trout fishing experience I had yesterday morning. Did I maybe want to fish a bit more? We had plenty of time and she would be willing to spend another day in some spot with favorable fishing. Oh, how I love that woman!

Time to log on to the internet again. GSM availability is very variable in New Zealand, but when it’s there, it’s often very good. I got a nice HSDPA (3.5 G) signal and surfed the web while cruising down the west coast of New Zealand with my lovely wife and wonderful kids.

This time my choice fell on the Arnold river, which runs out of lake Brunner. If the river did not live up to its excellent reputation, I could always fall back to fishing in the lake.

I even download a detailed 1:50 000 map of the area to see good fishing spots and plan ahead. The whole map series covering New Zealand is available for free on the internet. Wow! What a great contribution from the state to the country’s people and businesses. The Norwegian Mapping Authority (Statens Kartverk) has a few things to learn here.

We headed up the Arnold Valley. Unfortunately, even though the road went close to the river, the landscape made it impossible to see it. We decided to go all the way up to the lake, where there was a camp ground. We could stay there for the night after I had fished the river, and I could also fish for some local fishing information.

The guy at the campground was a friendly relaxed fellow. When I spoke about fishing in the river he diplomatically told me that there was a bit more water flowing than normal, and that he recommended the lake. Not taking a hint I told him I prefered river fishing. He pointed out a couple of spots on the map and we headed out again.

We found a quiet place next to the road to park the van and Helene did some school work with the kids while I headed out to kill some fish. I was full of optimism.

It was very difficult to access the river. The last hundred meters (110 yards) was tight “jungle.” with pointy spines all over the place:

Sweaty and full of scars I discovered, half-way through, that the nasty things were growing on marshland close to the bank of the river.  It was impossible to cross with my walking shoes, and I could also see that there was no real river bank, just hostile plants all the way.

I cursed the fishing gods, backtracked and finally found a way to reach the river by following the banks of a side creek.

Yikes, now i understood why there did not seem to be any river bank. A bit more water than normal, eh? After having seen this I would probably have believed the owner of the camp ground if he had told me there was a real danger of flood in the area and that several elephants, a truck and a sports stadium had already been washed away by the massive flow of water. The river was not fishable. Any fish daring to move out of its hiding place would probably be dragged away and turned into fresh sushi.

I remembered the network of side rivers and creeks from the map, and decided to give them a go instead. I walked for about 20 minutes further down the river.

The landscape was beautiful and fishing spots plentiful.

At one point I saw a quite large trout head for cover when I got too close to the bank. Otherwise there was nothing.

After about 3 hours of fishing  it was once again time to admit defeat. The dream of a NZ monster fish seemed further away than ever.

Helene and the kids had had a good school session and we drove over to the camp ground. Once we were installed I questioned the owner again about where to fish in the lake. There was a pier not too far away. I prepared my secret weapon, the lake trout lures I had bought in Argentina on Jorge’s reccomendation:

They have a fantastic motion in the water and are riddled with lethal hooks. I was ready to go to war.

The kids wanted to stay in the van, so I had to go it alone. It was also getting chilly and I had to put on my jacket. We are increasingly getting further from the equator and fall has set in.

The pier was a magic tranquil place. I was all alone, the sun was on its way down, the view was magnificent and the sound of the small waves hitting the beach was soothing and hypnotic. Fishing is my way to clear the soul and this was a perfect place for that. I cleared my mind and systematically cast from the pier in a fan pattern. I used different depths for each angle and then changed a few degrees. There were no signs of life in the water, but i was really enjoying the moment. Look at my view:

I briefly came out of my trance when I felt a sudden pull on the line. It was very brief and very characteristic. There was no doubt what it was. That short pull gave me lots of information. I could conclude that there were indeed fish in the area. They were active, they were hungry, and most importantly, they were willing to take my South American lure. My hopes were rising.

I kept doing my systematic thing, while thinking about everything and nothing. It was starting to get dark.

Then it happened.

Just after I had started pulling in the lure, after a long cast, I felt two very clear and strong pulls on the line.

Trance gone, new trance entered. It is fascinating how the mind changes state when there is suddenly a fish on the line. All focus goes into landing it and the mind’s recording system gets turned on. I always have a hard time remembering exactly what I was doing just before the strike, but what I did during the fight is always well recorded.

I did the counter-strike hard and fast to set the hook. Holy mackerel! (or should I say “holy trout?”) A large trout immediately jumped out of the water in pain. The whole fish was over the surface in vertical position, shaking vigorously back and forth with water splashing in all directions. The image is forever imprinted in my brain.

My entire focus was on keeping the line tense. It jumped again. This was the critical moment. If it didn’t manage to shake off the lure now, I would have a good chance of landing it. It came up a third time. What a show! My pulse was pounding, my brain focused, ancient hunting instincts were cheering me on.

The line went slack. It was either off or swimming towards me. Frantically I reeled in as fast as humanly possible, There was resistance again! Doubt turned to adrenaline pumping.

It pulled out some line and started heading for the pier further down. I moved towards the shore to gain distance and forced the rod as far down and to the side as possible. If it made it under the pier and around one of the pillars it could all be over. I had the tuna experience from Aitutaki fresh in mind. I was not going to lose this one also.

It stopped and swam the other way, rushing out with line once again. My headache now was to get down to the beach from the pier. I managed to make it all the way to where the beach was under the pier, but it was a fair way down. I had to keep that line tense. Holding the rod with one hand I managed to jump the meter and a half (5 feet) down to the beach. My middle-aged knees complained painfully when i hit the ground, but my teenage brain soon killed the pain with adrenaline and endorphins.

I got the fish reeled in all the way to the beach and it turned on its side. It was panting and gasping, a few centimeters from my feet, as I struggled to get out the net with one hand. The fish made a last nerve-wrecking run for it as I held the rod fast and steady with the other hand.

All this time the back of my head was constantly afraid of the fish suddenly getting off the hook. There are few anti-climaxes greater than that of a big fish getting away at the last moment.

OK. At last. I had it back on the beach now. All systems in position, let’s get this beauty on land.

My net was almost too small, but on the second attempt I managed to get the tail in and wrap the net around the fish. It was on land!

I sent many warm thoughts to Jorge in Argentina. Thanks man, your lure worked!

I whacked the trout on the skull and sent it to the promised land. It was cold and I was trembling so hard from the adrenaline that it was really difficult to get my fingers to follow orders.

A woman and her son came by just as I had managed to release the hook. They were both impressed, and I was all smiles.

She could tell me that they were from Christchurch and had come here to get away from everything after the earthquake. She had been right at the epicenter and considered herself very lucky to be alive. She showed me some really bad bruises on her arm. It put a lot of things in perspective.

I cast a little bit more, but night had set in, it was getting really cold, and it was time to go back. I had landed my dream NZ trout. I was happy. I can die now.

The camp ground was closed and i had no scale, so I had to gut the fish without weighing it.

As i gutted it in the kitchen of the camp ground 3 Danish tourists came by. They were fishing people and full of questions and  “oohs” and “ahs.” I enjoyed the moment like a kid savoring his favorite candy,

The next morning I went over to the owner and used his scale. When he saw the fish he smiled and said “I told you the pier would work. That will teach you to fish where I tell you to.” No further comments, your honor.

1.7 kilos (3.75 pounds) when gutted. That’ll pass as a 2 kilo fish any time.

Eirik

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