KERRE MCIVOR

KERRE IS PREPARING TO REEL IN HER DINNER WITH A BEGINNER’S FISHING KIT

From the time we bought our place up in the Hokianga, I’ve wanted to learn to fish.

The Hokianga Harbour is famous for its kai moana and every time we’ve been here, we’ve seen men, women and children hauling in fish, seemingly at will. Our house is on top of a hill with a view of the harbour and, indeed, overlooking a famed fishing spot.

Every morning, Tom and I sit outside on the patio drinking our coffee and watching fishers make their way to the exact same spot, directly in front of our house. There they stay for a couple of hours before heading home just before midday, to presumably enjoy a lovely lunch of fresh snapper.

We’ve been fishing before, the husband and I. In fact, the Irishman enjoys remarkable success at the end of a rod. When we were in Tahiti, Tom managed to catch a huge mahi-mahi, as tall as he was, from a charter boat. I don’t know how he did it as he was one very weak and seasick Irishman.

Perhaps the mahi-mahi had simply lost the will to live before Tom did. Whatever.

This Christmas, I decided I would gift us both a fishing rod and we would catch our own dinner whenever we came up north. I had to google where to buy a fishing rod as I’d never seen a fishing rod shop in Auckland but I found one, right at the end of the motorway in a mall.

Two days before Christmas, I made the trek out and was struck by the enormous numbers of people in the store, all ages and from what appeared to be every walk of life. A young woman named Ngaio asked me if I needed any help and I told her I was looking for two fishing rods.

“What are you wanting to catch?” she asked me. I looked at her blankly. Was this a trick question? “Ah, fish?” I responded.

She smiled at me kindly and explained that there were different rods for fresh water fish and salt water fish. Did we want to fish off rocks or boats or the wharf? I told her it was for fishing off the wharf.

Ngaio disappeared for a moment and emerged from a back room with two rods, one slightly longer than the other. “These are good for beginners,” she said and handed them over. I inspected them closely. “Crikey,” I said. “Rods have changed from what I remember. Is there a button to press for the line?”

Ngaio looked at me in obvious confusion. “A button?” she said. “Yes,” I replied. “Where’s the line to put the hook on?” Ngaio in that moment realised what she was dealing with.

“Ah,” she said. “You need reels as well. And probably hooks and sinkers and all the rest…?”

Off she went to set me up with a Fishing 101 beginner’s kit and I headed back to the car, already tasting the fish we’d be catching in a matter of days. Once back at the car, however, I struck another problem.

I had a magnificent ute for the summer with a long tray, but the long fishing rod wouldn’t fit.

A car had stopped, seeing me about to depart, and the one gentleman occupant watched as I attempted to get the rod into the tray, into the backseat and diagonally across the front seat. I was getting desperate and traffic was backing up behind my observer.

Eventually, he beckoned me over. “Love,” he said. “They bend.” He got out of his car, came over to mine and bent the rod into the tray. “Good luck with the fishing,” said my Good Samaritan and I swear I heard him snigger as he got back into the car.

We’re heading off to try our luck tomorrow. I’m picking the fish won’t be losing any sleep knowing we’re on our way.

‘Perhaps the mahimahi had simply lost the will to live before Tom did. Whatever’

As well as reading her column, listen to Kerre on Newstalk ZB, weekdays, noon to 4pm.