Still waters run deep for 81yearold whitebaiter
WHITEBAIT season began yesterday with barely a breeze across the glassy currents of the Clutha River.
Cribs cluster at the two mouths of the mighty river, but upstream on the banks of the northern branch of the Clutha, spaced out among the trees, were more basic stands like the one 81yearold Mac Oliver set up his net for, for the first of the 2022 harvest.
‘‘We’re a bit early. We probably won’t see any whitebait till after one o’clock,’’ Mr Oliver said.
Low tide was at 12.17pm and the following, incoming tide will counter the power of the rivermouth current, allowing swarms of young fish known as galaxiidae to enter from the open sea and make their way upriver.
Some galaxiids live in fresh water all their lives, but whitebait species have a partmarine life cycle where larvae hatch in a river, are washed into the ocean and later return as juveniles to complete their development to full adulthood.
Born and bred in Kaitangata,
Mr Oliver said he had been whitebaiting hundreds of times and explained the basics as he set up his rig.
‘‘You don’t need a licence or to pay anything to set up a stand, you just have to be 20m apart and your screens can’t be more than 6m.’’
His stand was a leanto shelter on a tethered raft, with a rickety gangplank to a shed on the bank.
Screening nets ran from the mud and willows out into the water to his socknet, which was dipped just above an array of painted white planks lowered into the water; a whiteboard to help him see the transparent, 2cm5cm swimmers.
‘‘I used to bring a book to read while I waited, but found myself looking up to check the water so often there wasn’t much point.’’
He had first gone whitebaiting with his father when he was a boy and these days there were several stands shared by his extended family.
‘‘It’s not such a huge tradition for me as for a lot of the whitebaiters around here. There’s been years where I haven’t bothered and I don’t really eat whitebait myself.’’
The travel and setup seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a man who doesn’t care for the famous New Zealand delicacy, and he had a leisurely think about why he was there.
‘‘My wife likes it, and my neighbours. There are always plenty of people to share it with, and if I get a good catch I don’t mind selling it.’’
With the whole day ahead of him, he slouched back in his seat under the warm spring sun and gazed out over the shining, peaceful water.
‘‘Other than that, I’m not really sure why I do it.’’