Zane Mirfin GENERAL OUTDOOR Articles 2008 - 2012

Lighting systems for  your outdoor Adventure.

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Happy hunting in winter's darkness, Nelson Mail, 9 April 2011

With the end of daylight saving for another summer, it’s time to see the light.

Let there be Light: Another beautiful day dawns over Tasman Bay.

with the end of daylight saving last Sunday, it’s time to start anticipating those shorter days where there is more
night than day. Fishing and hunting activities don’t have to end with shorter days and many of us are out there making the most of the opportunities, positioning ourselves in the dark for the best times at dawn and dusk.

But to do so, outdoor people need decent lighting systems to make fishing and hunting safe, comfortable and possible.

Lighting systems have come a long way in my time in the outdoors and some of the torches or flashlights I used to own are now almost laughable when compared to modern, energyefficient LED lights.

Nowadays you can get headlamps that fit on your head and handheld lights that have in excess of 200-metre beams and will last for 13 hours’ burn time on a single set of AA batteries. A friend owns a massive LED torch run on eight D-cell batteries that is described in its marketing literature as ‘‘a torch that will single-handedly light canyons’’.

Modern technology is great but you still need to look after your lighting gear. Most of it doesn’t like water, especially salt water, and in heavy rain and windswept coastal lagoons lighting can let you down, right when you need it most. From a safety perspective, I always try to carry two lights, both equipped with fresh batteries. Then if for any reason I lose, drop, drown, break or inadvertently run one flat, I’ll have a useable light or spare batteries.

One time many years ago, my mate Cam and I ran out of battery power and couldn’t find an old hut marked on a map. We spent a cold night in the rain huddling together in sodden sleeping bags before waking up at dawn to see the hut 50 metres away on a bank above the river.

I also like my personal lighting systems to use common batteries like AA or AAA that are readily available and can be swapped between other outdoor equipment like GPS, depth sounder and camera flash. Then when you get caught short somewhere, you can always cannibalise batteries from somewhere else.

Years ago most of us were fans of the mini-Maglite torches that were a product of the time. They still work well and you can now get LED bulbs for them on the internet to make them more energy efficient.

What made Maglites great was that the headpiece had to be screwed undone for them to work and meant that it was impossible to accidentally flatten batteries.

A cunning trick with modern lights is to reverse the batteries in your torch to avoid accidentally switching it on – you can always change batteries around when you really need the light later.

One of my favourite lights was a Petzl headlight I bought in 1993 in Aspen, Colorado. The price of US$70 was a princely sum at the time but I still have the light, and although it’s heavy and clunky next to new-generation lights, it served me well on those dark Colorado rivers.

Back in those days, Taylor Creek Flyshop was the largest and busiest year-round guide service in the United States, and I used to do what the boss termed the longest day, where I would guide three different groups of anglers per day.

Doing the night shift at the end always meant finishing in the dark, and I have great memories of mule deer, coyotes and even a black bear in my beam as we headed for the vehicle.

Flounder spearing and spotlighting for small game and deer are fun pursuits in the dark. In earlier years we used carbide lamps for flounder spearing but modern sealed beam lights on poles for under water, using
closed-cell motorbike batteries, makes this activity so much easier and more efficient. Old-style batteries used for spotlighting deer were shockers too, as leaking battery acid was an occupational hazard, burning holes in clothing and equipment.

Modern spotlights are so much better with brighter bulbs, rifle attachment systems and colour filter options to hold game in the beam longer.

When spotlighting, always obey proper firearm safety by identifying the target beyond all doubt and always considering your firing zone behind the deer to make sure farm houses or stock are safe. My rule has always been that if you can’t see the whole animal, don’t shoot.

Other essential lighting systems for night-time use are boat navigation lights. Nav lights make sure you are seen by other boat users when travelling and help keep everyone safe between sunset and sunrise or in other times of reduced visibility.

Lights aren’t always practical on small boats but having a flashlight on board can help to signal your position to other water users as required.

On my aluminium dinghy I made up a simple system using a board that is bolted through the rear rowlocks and has red/green sidelights and a white stern light attached.
 

What to do with your Wild Bounty

 

Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Dealing with bounty from the wild, The Nelson Mail, 26 March 2011

First, catch your prey . . . but then what?

Novel approach: Christian Wurzinger hamming it up after hunting some dinner.

When it comes hunting,  the easiest part  actually shooting deer. After the gunsmoke clears, ears stop ringing and the photos are taken, the hard work of putting the venison on the family table usually begins.

Recent red stag success had me working hard to field-dress the beast, removing the gut and offal, and letting the beast cool in the shade of the forest.

Later in the day, I worked fast to render the beast down into boneless meat, while all-around angry wasps fought with me over ownership of the carcase. Taking about half an hour, I soon had eyefillet steaks, back straps, back legs and shoulders in a boneless state and miraculously had only sustained four wasp stings to my left hand.

Back home, we ate the steaks, and I took the frozen legs down to Rik Taikato and James Fairbrass, of Meat Solutions in Salisbury Rd, Richmond. What these guys don’t know about meat probably isn’t worth knowing and they made me up some great venison sausages, flavoured with beef fat, semolina, and paprika seasoning. Best of all, the kids loved eating them, too.

Rik and James had some great advice for me with the annual red stag rut or the roar coming up because they see deer carcases from all over the district being bought in by successful hunters.

Hunters routinely bring in whole animals, or you can bring in carcases in various stages of disassembly.

Years ago when I used to shoot lots of deer up the Owen Valley, I’d often drop in whole skinned carcases to my local butcher to be made into boxes of steaks, meat patties, sausages and salamis, but in recent years I’ve mostly cut my animals up myself into steaks, roasts and casserole pieces. I used to love eating liver and kidneys, but indiscriminate poisoning on public land now means that all offal should stay on the hill for safety’s sake to avoid any chance of consuming poison residue. So much for wild harvested organic meat.

The good news is that Rik and James can turn any animal into good eating, even suggesting that rank old rutting stags can make excellent lean salamis. They suggest keeping meat clean is an important first task for hunters, avoiding dirt, gravel, and flyblown venison. Another important task they advise is to let meat and
carcases cool properly, never putting warm meat into plastic bags where it will sweat and deteriorate very fast.

Sharp knives are an important part of fishing and hunting. James is a great believer in soft knives with soft steel that are easy to sharpen regularly. Modern hard knives often come factory sharp, but can be the very devil to sharpen properly again. I’ve always found stainless steel knives difficult to sharpen and my knife sharpening skills were pretty rudimentary until I bought a commercial Butcher Buddy tool a year or two back that allowed me to put great edges on knives every time.

On my hunting belt I always carry a diamond sharpener I use as a steel to straighten sharpen my knife edge as it bluntens with use. Be careful with sharp knives, however; it’s been my belief that getting cut or burning yourself with boiling water are probably two of biggest risks in the outdoors.

Fish, too, require treatment to obtain the best quality.  Fish need to be iced immediately, after being killed
humanely with an iky spike screwdriver through the head. As soon as you can, they should gutted and gilled, to preserve the best flavour.

Often I’ll ice my fish down and bring them home whole to process on my outside stainless bench, complete with tap that can plug the garden hose. Aimee used to hate me bringing gore and guts inside the house,
and now I can fillet fish in my dairy-worker plastic apron, hose the lot down outside when  I’m finished.

Filleting is what most people do with their fish, but you can end wasting the other half that is left. Lately, I’ve been enjoying those smaller 30cm pan-sized snapper cooked whole in tinfoil with butter and spices on the barbecue.

When I fillet a snapper, I also cut the wings off the filleted carcase and smoke them after brining in rock salt, soy sauce and brown sugar. Smoked snapper wings, complete with a cold beer, is my favourite part of the fish.  I also boil some of the heads and frames, after removing guts and gills, to make fantastic fish stock for fish soup and bouillabaisse. Then when I’m left with only snapper and flounder frames, I bury them under trees around the section as excellent organic fertiliser.

Storage of processed game and fish is important, too, and I like to chill them down as soon as possible, especially fish. Game meat and game birds are often best aged in the fridge for a few days before eating, and I’m convinced fresh fish is always best left in the fridge for a day or two before eating to fully relax all the fibres in the flesh.

Cover your fish in plastic food wrap, to avoid it drying out too much. Freezing meat and fish is always an option, but I’m a great believer in giving away fish and meat as a special gift or koha to family, friends, and neighbours. If you must freeze all your catch, make sure you get all air out of sealable bags and label with ID and date so you can eat it inside six months for best flavour.

Sometimes it’s easy to get demoralised about the outdoor scene and our shrinking resources, but lately I’ve been as successful outdoors as I’ve ever been and have had plenty of practice cutting up fish.

On one recent trip, as all four rods bent under good fish, a friend joked that ‘‘the catching is so good that I haven’t had time to fish’’.

Another morning this week I took out my brother-in-law Guy Mullon and his eldest daughter Caitlin, who now live in Melbourne to make the big bucks but where there is crap fishing on the doorstep. Guy marvelled about the quality of Tasman Bay fishing and the 30 fat snapper that packed the cooler to the max, but as we pulled ashore on the beach I knew that the work had only just begun.
 

Join an Outdoor Club

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Your club needs you, Nelson Mail, 3 July 2010

There are any number of outdoor clubs and associations you can align yourself with, depending on your interests.’’


Does yours measure up?: Ike Mirfin assists NZDA Nelson secretary Warren Plum.

A recent evening out to the Nelson Branch of New Zealand Deerstalkers Association (NZDA) made me realise the true value of belonging to outdoor clubs and associations.

The annual NZDA head measuring night is eagerly awaited on the local sporting calendar with another great
collection of animal horns, antlers and tusks shot by members in the last calendar year.

It’s great to see the success enjoyed by local members and I don’t think winning or losing really figures in why club members attend the evening – you don’t even need to enter a head to enjoy the night.

Last year, Mirfin thar heads achieved 1st, 2nd and 3rd in the Bob Baigent Cup for horned game, but this year I don’t think the Mirfin brothers had any luck with the few chamois and thar heads we put on the table. It didn’t matter – it was great to look and talk with other members about what they had been up to and what trips they had enjoyed in the past 12 months.

My boy, Ike, came along for the first time, and loved it. I don’t think rabbit shooting will ever be the same for him
again, because he now has his sights set on bigger game.

Rob Shuttleworth had a massive 15-point red-deer head on display which scored 285 on the Douglas Score (DS). He also had some wild ram horns from the remote Clarence River scoring DS 85. Rob comes from
impeccable deerstalking genetics (Jack and Charlie Shuttleworth were iconic Kiwi stalkers and authors in the
golden age of New Zealand hunting), but his red deer trophy at last year’s head night was nothing short of
incredible. Scoring DS 356, it was a massive rack of antlers that dwarfed everything else and went on to win the National NZDA Orbell Trophy for the best head of any species.

Cunningly, the club had its annual meeting on the same night. President Bill O’Leary and secretary-treasurer
Warren Plum retained their long-running positions and it is obvious many clubs and associations rely on one or two key members to keep their organisations afloat.

Warren has always been a hero of mine, and his role in the success of the club over his 36 years of membership is immeasurable.

He is proud of the Nelson branch membership of 400 and climbing, and enjoys the large number of younger men who are motivated by increased opportunities of recent years.

Warren told me a story about local farmer Lloyd Higgins and his granddaughter both entering red stag heads on the same night one year. ‘‘What other sport could you have grandfather and granddaughter competing and enjoying at the same level?’’

Club patron Lester Bowden paid homage to the proud history of the club.

The next day I was able to call another of my hunting heroes, Gordon Max of Brightwater, a foundation
member of the Nelson Deerstalkers way back in 1948, who was very pleased to know that his club was in good heart.

Having been a member of the NZDA since I can remember, I’ve always enjoyed the social camaraderie of our club nights, but an effective club or association is much more. NZDA has 50 branches and about 8000 members. Local membership benefits include the Packer’s Creek rifle range, where rifles can be sighted in
and where local, national and international competitive shooting events are held; Red Deer Lodge, situated at St Arnaud, which houses some of the greatest red deer trophies shot in New Zealand by local men such as Gordon Atkinson, Newton McConochie and Temple Sutherland; hunter training; and national advocacy on behalf of hunters on issues such as gun ownership, access, dogs, poison and bureaucracy.

There are any number of outdoor clubs and associations you can align yourself with, depending on your interests.

I’ve been a keen member of the Nelson Trout Fishing Club for more than 30 years. We have such a great time at our club, although the advancing age of the membership is a concern, with no junior members – I may well be the youngest member at 42.

But the club has been invigorated by the enthusiastic membership of many anglers who speak with English, American, Swiss, German and South African accents. The club was started by Chappie Chapman, a man of great magnetism and personality. Saltwater anglers are possibly the one weak link in New Zealand membership of clubs and associations. Nationwide, there is real concern over the effective lack of representation for recreational anglers because Government and the Ministry of Fisheries don’t know who to engage and negotiate with. The lion’s share of resource allocation goes to commercial and iwi interests, because they are organised and can lobby Government effectively. That’s
another reason to join a club like our Tasfish.

 

Close to Home Pursuits in Winter

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Neither fish nor fowl too easy, Nelson Mail, 8 May 2010

Bird in the hand: John Stewart of Brightwater with some of the morning’s bag of ducks, shot near a pond in Wakefield.	Winter Brown: John Dow, Chairman of Pike River Coal, catches winter prize.

The first birds swung around the pond like ballerinas of the sky as they pirouetted downwards toward us. It’s still possible to get a good dose of hunting and fishing close to home – if you know where to look.

THE alarm clock started screaming at 4.50am and with great effort I struggled out of bed.

The first Saturday of May is revered among keen wild fowlers who celebrate the opening of the duck shooting season every year, so when my mate John Stewart of Brightwater asked me to shoot a small farm pond at Wakefield with him I just couldn’t say ‘no’.

They say home is where your heart is, and sometimes you can’t always get to the best places and you just have to make do with what is on your doorstep.

Nelson duck shooting is generally considered to be pretty poor compared with further down the South Island. Agriculture is limited up here with very little grain and crops grown to boost duck numbers.

Outlying areas such as Murchison and Golden Bay offer more opportunity but there are still a few mallards around Tasman Bay if you know where to look, and John’s small shallow pond out in the middle of a grassy paddock was definitely worth a go.

Setting up our layout blinds and decoys before daylight was a mad frenzy before the legal shooting time of 6.30am.

The shots had already started in the distance when we jumped into our hides ready to go. The first birds swung around the pond like ballerinas of the sky as they pirouetted downwards toward us. John fired and missed and I was just too slow.

The next bird that came within range wasn’t so lucky, and I folded it cleanly, hearing the satisfying thump of the duck hitting the ground on the other side of the pond.

More birds came our way throughout the morning with both John and I shooting a few birds apiece. It was a great morning out and best of all, I was home for lunch with the family.

Finding places to shoot close to home isn’t getting any easier with fewer ducks, more land subdivision, and less opportunity, but if you look and ask there are still worthwhile places to go.

That afternoon we went as a family to a fun cross-country run organised by Nelson Athletics at Saxton Field. Dave Dixon was the man in charge, and it was a great event with a record 200 kids turning up to run in four races.

Dave is also a mad keen fisherman, a champion New Zealand coarse angler who has won national titles catching fish such as tench, perch, rudd and carp.

Dave and I have often lamented that there are no coarse fishing opportunities close to urban areas for young anglers in the Nelson and Marlborough regions, but that is another story.

As the kids splashed through mud and water, I just couldn’t keep my eyes off all the fat, contented mallards floating around on Saxton Pond – safe and sound on opening day.

In the evening, John Stewart took us to another pond around the Coastal Highway. It was a beautiful spot that he had been feeding with an automatic feeder that scatters wheat a few times a day for several weeks before the season. My
boys Jake and Ike had a great time helping John scatter a bucketful of acorns in among the wheat before settling down in the layout blinds we had set up safely behind John and I. We were camouflaged in the dead vegetation surrounding the pond. We saw ducks, we called to ducks, but alas, only nonshootable grey teal came within range, proving that even feeding ducks isn’t a surefire method to success. It didn’t matter – we all had a good time and John even promised to take the boys out pukeko shooting to a favourite local possie one night after school.

On Sunday, I was trout fishing close to home. Nelson’s Linda and John Dow are wonderful people and we’ve had some fun fishing trips together in the past. A chance meeting down the streets of Nelson last week set the scene for my last guide day of the season when John, who is chairman of Pike River Coal, had a special guest for the weekend, celebrated United States angel investor Bill Payne.

The day was a cracker, sunny, calm, with no wind on the lower Motueka River, which is open to winter fishing from May 1. The Mot is a great local river – scenic, close to home, excellent access and usually plenty of fish. The river was a little high, with a touch of colour after recent rains, and the moon phase wasn’t good but it was the only day available to Bill so there we were.

I’ve always been convinced that moon phase is a major factor in the success or failure of fishing and hunting trips, and the same conditions that meant many had reduced duck tallies at the weekend also affected our fishing.

The company was excellent and I sure learnt a lot about mining and investment over the course of the day but the river was like a biological desert, with no bugs hatching, fish rising or biting our flies.

We plied the river with everything and flogged it to a foam but to no avail. Later we came across another fly angler who hadn’t touched a fish all day.

John saved our bacon with two beautiful brown trout after I had to dig deep into my box of magic tricks.

Fortunately, we had something to show for our efforts at the day’s end, with John keeping a 2 kilogram jack for his fish smoker and we gratefully received plastic bags of nashi pears and apples from our generous orchardist friend who allowed us access through his property to the river. The catching may have not have been epic but the fresh, sweet
fruit certainly made the day.

Interestingly, my last outing this week, a night sortie spearing flounder with my brother Scott, was a runaway success.
When we had two dozen beauties safely in the onion sack we decided it was time to head for home.

Fishing and hunting close to home is like that. You just have to keep going, keep enjoying yourself, and sooner or later the results will come.

Sometimes it’s easy to get depressed about the continual loss of outdoor rights, resources and opportunities here in New Zealand, but there will always be fishing and hunting opportunities close to home for those with an eye for the main chance.

 

 Fishing for Eels

©Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column - Chasing the not-so humble eel - Nelson Mail, 10 April 2010

Their slimy, scary appearance belies the remarkable life story that lies behind each and every eel.

Catch of the Day: Mirfin boys Ike and Jake and their friend André Malthus know the ins and outs of eeling.

LET’S face it, eels are not sexy beasts. With their slimy, serpent-like appearance they are never going to win a beauty contest.  Despite their looks and reputation as a scavenger of the fishy world, they are remarkably well-adapted to their watery environment, fulfilling an important ecological niche and being an important indicator of water quality. They
taste good too and ‘‘tuna’’, as they are known to Maori, have always been a major dietary component of tribal life, allowing inland habitation far away from the fertile coastal zone.
 
In recent decades they have also become an important commercial fishery managed by the Ministry of Fisheries under the Quota Management System. Forest and Bird is scathing in its condemnation of commercial eel fishing, claiming that longfin eels are now an endangered species.

Almost every small child in New Zealand has a tale of going eeling and my childhood memories are rich with tales of chasing the humble eel. Whether by net, hook, hand, spear or gaff, chasing eels became all consuming and the local
eels were in grave danger during school holidays. The best time to catch eels was always the months with an ‘‘r’’ in them. During the cold winter months of May, June, July and August most eels go into a dormant phase and fishing is
generally a waste of time. As kids we would pour rotten eggs, blood, meat scraps and fish berley into the water to attract eels to the hook or spear, and later, when allowed to go out after dark with torches, we became even more successful.

One small stream that flowed in a drain down Richmond’s Beach Rd was a favourite daytime haunt and we would spend hours turning over rocks and spearing the small eels underneath. One friend used a carving fork as a spear but got more than he bargained for one day when he spied a large tail poking out from under a bank. Down went the spear and the angry eel wrapped all the way up his arm trying to bite his face. The screams were priceless and we eventually
managed to prise the eel free while also learning a valuable lesson that eels should always be speared behind the head.

Although it sounds barbaric now, catching eels was a lot of fun and we learnt a lot about life in the process. My kids are now interested in eeling too and it’s been great helping them learn about water and what lives within. We’ve even become more ecologically friendly, letting most eels go unharmed.

In New Zealand, we have two species of eel, the short-finned eel (Anguilla australis) that occurs throughout New Zealand, Australia and much of the South Pacific, and the longfin (Anguilla dieffenbachia) which is unique to New Zealand.

Longfin eels can grow to large sizes with the females typically twice as long as males, with an exceptional specimen growing to two metres in length and weighing up to 50kg.

Longfin eels are the dominant South Island species and make up 40 per cent of the total allowable
catch nationwide. Both species are diadromous, living at sea for the early stage of their life and returning to freshwater as juveniles until maturity and spawning back in the Pacific Ocean, thousands of kilometres from New Zealand.

Short-fin eels breed in the ocean near the Coral Sea and New Caledonia while longfins breed in the deep Tonga trench. Breeding is an intense affair with an orgy of eels intertwining together by the hundreds to squeeze the last eggs
and sperm from their bodies before dying. The larvae float on ocean currents for as long as 15 months before reaching New Zealand and transforming into ‘‘glass’’ eels that ascend fresh waters and make their way upstream as elvers. Wild and boisterous waters are easily navigated and the young eels can even travel considerable distances over moist ground. Once the eels mature they head to sea to complete the circle of life.

The story of the eels of Nelson Lakes National Park is particularly fascinating with many believed to be the oldest living eels in the world. Being some of the most inland lakes in New Zealand and being cold, deep, glacial waters, eel
growth is slow. According to the National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research’s Don Jellyman, who assisted me with my masters thesis on trout back in 1990, the female lake eels grow at about 9mm per year with the average migratory adult eel being 93 years old.

With the Nelson Lakes offering 17 per cent of the total area of New Zealand lakes unaffected by hydroelectricity development and no commercial or recreational eel fishing, they are an important genetic reservoir for the longfin
eel.

Over the years I’ve encountered lots of eels on hunting and fishing trips. Night fishing for big brown trout in Canterbury’s Lake Ellesmere and Rakaia Lagoon has been frightening at times when surrounded by hordes of eels while standing in the deep water and mud. My advice when you feel light tapping on your waders is to not turn your headlight on and look
down.

Our last family eeling trip at Easter was a lot of fun. With an approaching front, we only had an hour or two to coax an eel or two from under a big willow tree on Marlborough’s Wairau River. With rotten eggs and a dead rabbit for bait and a couple of handlines, the seven kids had a ball. Before the rain hit, we managed three nice eels that excited the kids and gave them some great stories to tell their mates when they get back to school. Maybe when they learn about the birds and the bees, they might appreciate eels even more.
 

Holiday fun in Kaiteriteri, Nelson Region

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Hooked on the great outdoors, Nelson Mail, 15 March 2010

A family holiday is a time to pass traditions on to the next generation.

Net result: Izaak and Jake Mirfin out catching flounders with Uncle Scotty.

KAITERITERI Beach is a glistening jewel in the crown of Tasman Bay. With golden granite sand, clear blue water, great accommodation, entertainment and lashings of abundant Nelson sunshine, it sure is a tough place to beat. Best of all, Kaiteriteri is close to the region’s main population centres – and, most importantly, free for all to cherish and enjoy.

With Aimee virtually being a solo mother for the past few months while I’ve been guiding overseas anglers on the rivers of northern South Island, we were due to have another family holiday again, and what better way than to spend a weekend at Kaiteriteri testing our new family-sized tent at the beachside campground? With half of Christchurch now having returned home, it was time for some Nelsonians to reclaim Kaiteri for some autumn outdoor recreation.

We were joined by my brother Scott, sister-in-law Kirstie and their two boys on our minicamping adventure, which added immensely to the experience. Our kids all get on great, and this weekend was to be no exception, whether it was out in the boat, having a barbecue, or playing catch together with their megahowler toy.

Over the years, I’ve spent a lot of time away at various campgrounds as a cabin dweller on fishing trips, but couldn’t remember camping out at such places in a tent. Normally, I associate camping out with wild, remote places far removed from huts and other modern conveniences, so camping near to flush toilets, kitchen facilities, hot water and electricity seemed a bit weeny-ish. But as it turned out, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

After fishing the Motueka River for the day, I was fortunate to arrive late at our jam-packed camp sites with tents already erected and a cluster of vehicles, boat and shuttle trailer. There were camp tables, folding camp chairs and all manner of kids’ boogie boards, sand shovels and wet suits lying around.

After I drove my truck on to the site towing my tinnie, there wasn’t much room left for anything else. The Mirfins definitely had all the toys for a great weekend.

Kaiteriteri is a great place. For a start, there is the beach, plus Little Kaiteriteri, Breaker, Stephens and Tapu bays a short distance away. Along the main beach there are all sorts of places to eat and drink, playgrounds to visit, a flying fox, and mini-golf to play. We had a great time doing family stuff, other people were very friendly, and judging by the number of other families we already knew, Kaiteri was a favourite of plenty of others, too.

Having young children, our outdoor priorities have changed over the years. It is now harder for Scott and me, in our early 40s, to get away and be the intrepid outdoor men we used to be in our 20s and 30s. Sometimes our outdoor jaunts are limited to short adventures, not so much for us but for our kids, so they can learn about the outdoors and to safely develop competence and enjoyment out there, on and in the water.

On our first morning in Kaiteriteri, Scotty and I raced out in his Naiad inflatable to set a setline for snapper and a set net for flounder in the Riwaka estuary. A few hours later, we were able to take the kids out to check them. Alas, no snapper, only a few sand sharks – the fishy vermin of Tasman Bay, which had spun the setline into a ball of knots in places. Our netting success wasn’t much better – a bit of weed and only one flounder – but the kids were having a ball. Back on the beach, we sunbathed, swam, snorkelled, made sandcastles, caught mud crabs, and talked of other places we planned to visit together as a family in the years ahead.

On Saturday night after dinner, my boys Jake and Ike were insistent we go flounder spearing, so off with Uncle Scotty it was to the Riwaka sandflats. The howling southerly was cold, and we kitted the boys out in fleece clothing, lifejackets and beach shoes for the long walk out to the low tide mark before full darkness hit.

Out in the shallow incoming waters, we shared the one immersible flounder light we had. Other powerful torches failed to penetrate the wind-chopped water surface adequately to see flounder moving inshore to feed with the tide. The simple spears we carried were home-made with the assistance of the boys one evening previously – slender manuka stakes with a long piece of sharpened steel rammed up a hole in the end of the pole.

Ike was getting cold, and I thought we were going to go home empty-handed when suddenly a flounder appeared before us in the corrugations of the sandy bottom. The boys were excited, urging me on as the spear sank home. What a shot – right through the head – and there was a satisfying throbbing on the spear as the flapping flounder stirred up the sandy bottom.

Scott reached down and put his hand under the flounder to stop it coming loose, and we had our first and only catch of the night. The boys were hooked, and it was the perfect time for a quick photo before heading back to camp.

On the walk back, the boys were excited to catch and release a few small fish and juvenile flounder in their small hand nets, but I knew they had become real flounder men when they talked flat out about saving their pocket money to buy a flounder light each. Somehow, though, I don’t think they’ll have to wait that long, with a birthday coming this month and dad, Uncle Scotty and their granddad keen to take the boys out again as the days get shorter and the nights get longer.

To many people, wading around in the dark, cold waters of Tasman Bay will hold no appeal, but to generations of Mirfin boys, spearing flounder isn’t a matter of life or death – it’s much more important than that.
 

Hunting & Fishing and Outdoor Pursuits in South Canterbury

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Press-ganged into having fun after all, Nelson Mail, 16 January 2010

A reluctant trip south turns up trumps because of great people.

The salmon-fishing experience was enjoyable but, alas, unsuccessful, not even seeing a salmon porpoising in the perfect water and low-wind conditions. The only thing we caught was a brand-new lure I hooked up off the bottom on one of my casts.


Blown Away: Izaak and Jake Mirfin in the hills above Albury.

Over New Year, I was dragged kicking and screaming on a family holiday. My anglers had pulled the pin at short notice and I had no excuse to avoid Aimee’s cousin’s wedding down south. Aimee was adamant that I go and although I
was press-ganged into the journey, it turned out to be a great family holiday.

Pleasant Point in South Canterbury is a wonderful place, a small rural town reminiscent of a safer, more traditional New Zealand. The area is a sportsman’s paradise with hunting and fishing opportunities all around, and a warm, sunny, and inviting climate.

From a trout-fishing perspective, the lowland streams revolve around the Opihi River and significant tributaries, the Opuha, Tengawai, Waihi and Temuka. Historically these streams were iconic trout streams that I’ve fished on earlier trips, but time has not been kind to such waters, with development taking a significant toll. The Opihi has improved in recent years as a result of the Opuha dam releasing cold constant flows but the grim reaper of trout streams, the invasive alga didymo, continues its relentless march.

Driving around the district, it’s not difficult to notice the huge water demand for agriculture and horticulture – water use must be massive, with large-scale irrigators watering crops and pasture as far as the eye can see.

Talking salmon fishing, it seems everyone in South Canterbury has salmon fever at this time of year and fortunately one of the best New Zealand Pacific salmon rivers, the Rangitata, is not far away. Catching up with my old mate and guiding comrade-in-arms Graeme Marshall was fun and easy too, as he now lives in Pleasant Point, only minutes from where we were staying.

When Graeme suggested salmon fishing on New Year’s morning, it took me all of two seconds to accept his invitation.

The wedding was on New Year’s Eve, so the kids and I spent the morning visiting some icons of the South Canterbury sporting scene at their premises in Pleasant Point.

Adrian Gilbert, of Gilbert Tackle, is a well-known figure in fishing circles, manufacturing fishing lures of all manner of styles, shapes, weights and colours. Adrian has been in business for decades and supplies state-of-the-art lures to wholesalers all over the country. He was just wonderful with my children as we selected brightly coloured ticers and zed spinners for future kahawai and salmon-fishing adventures together.

Just down the road was G D O’Rourke & Sons Taxidermists, a wellknown taxidermy service run by three O’Rourke brothers. Kerry O’Rourke is a fabulous chap with great patience who explained all manner of things to my boys and girls as they ogled mounted creatures, skins, skulls, horns and antlers from all over the world. As we left, Kerry offered to call some local landowners about wallaby hunting access for us if we were unsuccessful in meeting local farmers at the
wedding. I was humbled at small-town South Canterbury hospitality and thankful that my children had the chance to spend time with Kerry and Adrian and their kindly outdoor ways.

The wedding itself was special. As an old married man of 10 years, it’s hard not to be a little sceptical sometimes, but the old stone church on the hill at the small rural settlement of Cave was a perfect venue and it was great to be part of the happy celebrations.

The kids lapped it all up and the outdoor party that followed beside the old Oamaru stone stables at the bride’s family farm, ‘‘Loudon’’, was fantastic. We met wonderful people with South Canterbury charm and after a few hours of enjoying glasses of Pimms and fine company, I’d met several local landowners who kindly invited me on to their properties to hunt wallabies.

The evening just kept getting better in the big white marquee and we were entertained with a ceilidh, a Gaelic dance party.

The kids had a wonderful time folk dancing with everyone and we even got to dance hand-to-hand with outdoor endurance guru Steve Gurney. Steve may well have got voted off TV’s Dancing with the Stars but he will always be a far better dancer than Mirf, even with his left arm wrapped in a sling from a recent misadventure.

New Year’s Day was seen in beside a blazing bonfire under a big fat full moon. Sleep was too short, and I was woken by a text message from Graeme Marshall outside at 7am – ‘‘your taxi awaits you’’.

Graeme is a well-known author of numerous hunting and fishing books – we even wrote a book together back in 2000 called Brown Trout Heaven – Fly Fishing New Zealand’s South Island. While fishing, Graeme and I had a great time catching up, reminiscing and talking about his latest sell-out book, Aerial Hunter – The Dick Deaker Story.

It’s an epic read and we talked about fantastic helicopter adventures we have had together with Dick and our American anglers over the years, including the time we both flew the length of the South Island from Nelson, spending 10 days fishing the wild, remote and pristine rivers of Fiordland with Dick at the chopper controls.

We had a great time fishing two favoured pools on the large Rangitata river for several hours, which we had all to ourselves. The salmon-fishing experience was enjoyable but, alas, unsuccessful, not even seeing a salmon porpoising in the perfect water and low-wind conditions. The only thing we caught was a brand-new lure I hooked up off the bottom on one of my casts – someone else had had even less luck than us.

That afternoon the wind intensified as the nor’wester hit gale force. High on the foothills above Albury, the boys and I searched in vain for a wallaby in the howling wind. Wallabies are introduced marsupials from Australia, offering great sport in their stronghold of South Canterbury’s Hunter Hills, but conditions were diabolical for the boys’ first attempt at the speedy varmints.

I can’t remember winds so strong – it felt like being slapped as the gusting winds knocked us around, even blowing the boys off their feet at times. After my hat blew from my head and went hundreds of metres up into the air, Jake, 9, looked at me as though I was a crazy man and said, ‘‘The wind’s too strong Dad, I think we should go back.’’ And so it was, with a great adventure making it back to the safety of our vehicle.

As we headed down the mountain, a text from Aimee said: ‘‘dinner @ Loudon’’. The timing couldn’t have been better. Salmon fishing and wallaby hunting in South Canterbury mightn’t have been very successful but the people of South Canterbury and their legendary hospitality couldn’t have been more awesome.

 

Introduced Species

©Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Exotic can be profit, Nelson Mail, 12 September 2009

Desirable Immigrant: Fishing for an alien species - trout inthe DOC-controlled wilderness.  Not all introduced species are unwanted and are generally valued by New Zealanders.


❞ Without introduced species, the New Zealand economy could not function as we know it.

In New Zealand we are fortunate to have so many introduced animals, fish and plants. These introduced life forms, including us humans, have had a profound influence on the modern lifestyle and have created great social, economic and recreational opportunities.

As an outdoor recreationalist, I highly value introduced species for sustaining the outdoor pursuits I enjoy.

Sure, there are a few important native species if you a hunter and fisherman in New Zealand, most notably saltwater fish and gamebirds such as paradise ducks and pukeko, but without introduced animals and the introduced plants, trees and creatures they feed on, the outdoor sporting scene would be pretty barren.

Just this week, my father Stuart and I were up at our forestry block pruning Mexican cypress trees while listening to Kathryn Ryan on Radio New Zealand National interviewing various people, in preparation for Conservation Week, about the negative effects of introduced trees on the New Zealand environment. Dad and I just kept rolling our eyes as we listened to waves of propaganda and bureaucratic justification.

The view from our ladders was impressive, over the Waimea plains and out into Tasman Bay. Below us the sinuous curves of the Waimea River led through the intensively modified landscape and we discussed the value of introduced species in our economy. Before us we saw grass, sheep, cattle, vineyards, willow and eucalyptus trees, pine plantations, citrus and olive orchards, and many other signs of a well-balanced modern agricultural economy.

Without introduced species, the New Zealand economy could not function as we know it. We rely on those introduced grasses, tree crops and vegetables that also feed our dairy cows, sheep, pigs, deer and many other valued introduced animals.

If we were totally reliant on all things native, we would head back to the Stone Age at a rapid rate. Early Maori found coastal areas or tidal lagoons and estuaries to be the best real estate to occupy because there was plenty of fish, shellfish and eels on hand. The interior of New Zealand, by contrast, was a harsher place, with limited food resources. Thomas Brunner, an early explorer of the Buller Gorge, found this out the hard way when he had to eat his faithful pet dog, Rover, when he ran out of food along the way.

Lately in The Nelson Mail, there has been robust debate in the letters column about introduced animals, native birds and toxins such as 1080 poison. This debate is healthy and is largely polarised as divergent groups go head to head, as is their democratic right.

The Conservation Department (DOC) and other government organisations such as the Animal Health Board have copped significant flak, but I believe it is every taxpayer’s right to question organisational orientation, budget and spending priorities that affect taxpayer values, interests and recreational activities.

It seems to me that the land stewardship models of conservation and preservation regularly get confused. At university, we were taught that conservation was the wise use of resources, while preservation is where you lock something up and throw away the key.

I’m a great believer in the intrinsic value of native species and love nothing more than visiting coastal areas with my
son, Jake, a mad-keen bird enthusiast, to enjoy the marvels of nature.

Our company, Strike Adventure, is also a concession holder, able to operate commercial tours on crown land, but I find that paranoia in the bureaucracy and media about introduced species gets a little tiring.

There has to be a better way of managing New Zealand’s valued resources, native and introduced, and I believe it needs to start with deviating from the ‘‘native is good, introduced is bad’’ mentality.

Sure, some species haven’t worked out well, such as stoats, rats, old man’s beard and didymo, but many species, such as deer, chamois, pigs, mallard ducks, canada geese, trout and salmon – to name just a few – have become highly valued recreational species and have added significantly to the social, sporting, tourism and cultural amenities of New Zealand.

When you look on the positive side, many introduced species have at least some value to outdoor recreationalists. The biodiversity and ecology of the New Zealand landscape has been irrevocably changed but in life you can’t go back.

The world wasn’t meant to have so much human movement and modification and the ongoing introduction of new species and organisms is pretty much inevitable, because you can’t cut yourself off from the outside world.

Many of the arguably worst introduced invaders were brought into New Zealand waters and on to the land unintentionally, and organisms such as didymo, sea squirt, undaria and varroa mites arrived despite the best efforts of biosecurity, and will continue to arrive in the years ahead.

Interestingly, one of the worst invaders in North American rivers is the New Zealand mud snail, which went there attached to an angler’s boots, proving that our own native species aren’t totally benign in new locations, either.

There will always need to be sanctuaries for New Zealand native species, and public and private initiatives, in association with volunteers, will play a valuable part in preserving at least some of our native heritage. But you can’t turn back the clock and in the years ahead it would be nice to see introduced species treated with more respect and better management by politicians and bureaucrats.

Treating most introduced species as pests has proven to be unworkable and is definitely not sustainable long term.

The current mantra of reducing valuable introduced resources to pest liability status at the expense of the taxpayer just doesn’t make sense in an era crying out for the wise use of resources. It costs a lot of money, disenfranchises interest groups, and alienates a large percentage of the population who just happen to hunt and fish.

Resources such as introduced fish, birds and game animals can only be managed well if they are perceived to have value.

In the future, I’d like to advocate for protein management reserves, where wild animal populations close to civilisation could be managed sustainably on public land. Such areas could be toxin-free, organic food-gathering areas, where the public could harvest free, safe and healthy meat to feed their families and subsidise their Third World pay cheques.

We could even have innovative resource management systems where DOC was self-funding and incorporated the value of introduced species.

Maybe we could even access our latent mineral resources on Crown land for public good – now there’s a really contentious idea.

 

Outdoor Equipment Organisation

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Getting your Brain into Gear, Nelson Mail, 4 July 2009

Depressed because bad weather is keeping you from the outdoors? Cheer yourself up by making sure your hunting and fishing equipment is ready for action in the spring.

Safety First: Check your gear is ready, batteries charged, for the next adventure.

❞ Some of my most prized outdoor equipment is gear I have either made myself, someone else has made for me, or other items that I’ve inherited along the way. I still use my late grandfather’s homemade, aluminium scoop net frame for whitebaiting. 

According to the Nelson Mail that night, it was the coldest recorded morning in Nelson for 16 years and so . . . the
perfect time to go floundering!

Naturally there was no-one else around and the channels of the Waimea Estuary were all mine.

As I set my net alone on the calm waters, I pondered the homemade netsetting frame I had made two winters
previously out of 4x2 timber off-cuts.

Screwed together with coach screws and with a piece of old carpet stapled on
to stop the net getting sucked up into the outboard motor propeller, it has caught my family many flounder
dinners since.

Costing virtually nothing to make,my homemade frame has had a few minor modifications along the way, but these have just improved its efficiency whenever I find time to get out on the water.

Making outdoor equipment yourself has a lot of benefits. You can tailor it to your own requirements and it will generally cost far less and give you more satisfaction that any commercially available product.

Some of my most prized outdoor equipment is gear I have either made myself, someone else has made for me, or other items that I’ve inherited along the way. I still use my late grandfather’s homemade, aluminium scoop net frame for whitebaiting. My grandfather, Ken Hill, put a lot of thought into the design, but the thing I like best is the history and the family connection to idyllic boyhood days spent on the riverbank with Ken and my grandmother, Pat.

This winter I’ve been busy again, building, designing and repairing gear for hunting and fishing trips. Recently,
I built a foam-padded gun rack out of 4x2 boards for sighting in my rifles at the rifle range. Designed to be used on a concrete bench-rest shooting platform, my rack will hold my rifles absolutely steady so they can be the most accurate
I can make them on the range. Attention to detail will always bring home the bacon.

Other recent projects include using surplus timber to build drying racks inside my garage so when I arrive home
wet at night, I can dry waders, raincoats and other outdoor equipment before another early start the next day. I’ve also installed rod racks on the ceiling and have been building storage systems to hold all my net ropes, weights and floats.

Recycling plastic electrical cable reelsto hold different length ropes, and colour-coding the reels by wiring on plastic milk bottle tops, costs nothing, but will make it so much easier later on when, in the dark, I’m in a race against the tide.

Most of these jobs only take time and add greatly to efficiency and enjoyment on the water in those warmer summer
months.

Winter is a great time to complete such projects and while maintenance is a boring topic, keen outdoor folk will appreciate the need to look after their valued sporting equipment.

My outside shed has now been customised with LED lights run off a motorbike battery and interior shelving to store gear out of the weather and, most importantly, to have equipment readily accessible and organised for when I need it.

In the process of getting organised, I’ve realised that recessions are actually good for us because they force us to use
the resources we have available and to appreciate what we have now. A customer once told me that a person is wealthy if they can’t name everything they own and that probably includes pretty much all of us.

In getting organised, I’ve found tools, materials, resources and other gear that I had forgotten I owned and by putting it all together where it can be easily located I’m back in control again. After months of spring-autumn outdoor activity, gear had been thrown into sheds, and was in desperate need of a clean, a wash, some repair or just love and attention in the form of a lube, new line, or a new part.

I’ve started writing jobs to do on my garage whiteboard before I run out of winter, including splicing ropes, repairing nets, oiling a rifle stock, making new whitebaiting screens, replacing braid on saltwater reels, untangling decoy rigging systems, patching waders, repairing multiple pairs of wading boots, re-tying new setline traces, sharpening knives,
cleaning out the bait freezer, making sinkers and jig, tying flies for the upcoming fishing guiding season and more.

Every keen outdoor person will have their own to-do list. Mostly it is a lot of fun and you’ll learn new skills along the
way. 

Maintenance can cost money, but it is definitely cheaper, easier and safer than having to replace equipment at short notice because your outdoor gear wasn’t given some TLC when it desperately needed it.

Winter is also a good time to get your outboard motor serviced.

While you’re working on throwing out junk, stacking shelves and repairing outdoor gear, you’ll also get some great brain waves on improvements you can make to existing systems.

If you want to continue to be successful you need to be thinking about how to customise gear and tackle to get the best results with the least hassle when you’re outdoors.

It can take years to perfect your gear organisation, transport and operational usage, but you can learn a lot by talking with other hunters and anglers and by checking out their kit and systems.

Being invited into the man-cave of noted angler and guide Peter Church of Turangi last winter to check out his fishing gear and boating systems was a revelation. It is amazing what you can learn in a few hours that you can then adapt to your own situation.

Half the fun of fishing and hunting is thinking about it,and preparing so you can be ready to go whenever the opportunity arises.

After all, when spring rolls around there will be deer to shoot and fish to catch.
 

Outdoor Etiquette

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Fishy antics no way to enjoy outdoors, Nelson Mail, 28 March 2009

I shouldn’t have gone fishing this morning, but I went anyway.

Naming rights: Living up to your name isn't always easy, but it's important to remember our manners outdoors too.

There were jobs to do at home, kids to walk to school, a school camp to attend, magazine and newspaper editors to keep happy, customers to call back. Then there was Aimee’s upcoming 40th birthday party to organise, and lots more in-between guiding trips. But the fishing was great – sitting out in the pre-dawn glow of Tasman Bay with my father Stuart, watching the eastern hills come alive to the colour of a golden sunrise, while prodigious numbers of snapper bent our light rods. As we motored for shore, the fish box filled with our quota limit of nice-sized specimens, we marvelled at how fortunate we were to have the water to ourselves on such a beautiful day.

Fishing has always been a passion of mine, but as fellow local guide Peter Carty observed in the book New Zealand Masters on Fly Fishing, ‘‘Fishing is a disease. It’s not usually fatal and there’s no known cure for it, but the therapy is wonderful’’. I couldn’t agree more, although my wife and family might not.

There have been times when I probably should have received treatment for my addiction. In fact, I can almost visualise standing up at a meeting of Fishing and Shooting Anonymous and saying. ‘‘Hi, I’m Zane and I’m a fisherman and hunter’’.

The passion and energy that we devote to our outdoor sports is what drives us as individuals to perform. This performance and competitive instinct is also where things often go wrong. Over the years, I have enjoyed the company of many fantastic people I’ve met on chance encounters. I’ve also been on the receiving end of a few people with the manners of lavatory rodents.

I’ve run into a few boaties recently whose behaviour suggested they hadn’t engaged their brains. They jammed up the boat ramp, zoomed past anchored boats actively fishing, and did not give other boaties some space while fishing at a favoured position they had arrived at first. Small stuff, but frustrating, and many of the transgressions I’ve observed lately could have been easily avoided with a little thought, consideration and brain power. Other people have rights also, and it’s a lot easier if we can all get along and share the great outdoors amicably. Rules and regulations will never really solve conflict in the outdoors between recreational users, but education and ethics might.

While I was doing a masters thesis at Canterbury University in 1990, called Trout Fishing in Nelson – Management of a Recreational Resource, I commented that ‘‘ethics are moral precepts that keep people from breaking the law when no one is looking’’. Ethical behaviour in the outdoors is just like ethical behaviour in life – it is an individual thing, and the definition varies from person to person. In this modern age of increasing pressure on resources, it is important that outdoor users accept the importance of ethical behaviour, because failure to do so can lead to increased conflict between user groups and individuals, which unfortunately often means decreased satisfaction for all.

You’ve had the Billy Graham sermon now, so what can go wrong out there on the seas and rivers and in the bush?

Over the years, I’ve witnessed some shocking behaviour between groups and individuals, probably caused by greed, fear, egotism and stupidity. Screaming matches, ugly confrontations and vandalism aren’t fun, and I admit to coming close to a punch-up on several occasions myself when testosterone levels became overheated on both sides. One time, I lost my temper on a boat ramp; another time, someone backed their boat into my vehicle. Last year, a group of kayakers paddled over a pod of rising trout we were enjoying on the Motueka River. Most of the time, though, I try hard to keep a level head, because mistakes do happen, other people have rights, and often people don’t realise what they have done or perhaps why they have upset someone else.

Many times, though, skulduggery is deliberate – such as when trout anglers ‘‘jump’’ in front of another angler to get to the best water, when whitebaiters claim multiple positions, or when duck shooters ‘‘skybust’’ – shoot at a range of birds so they don’t fly into the decoys of other hunters.

None of this is very pleasant, but things can get worse – like the time the Murchison mechanic was adamant that my vehicle brake hoses had been cut up the Maruia Valley, or the time I was salmon fishing with my friend Ross Millichamp on the upper Rakaia River. Ross is the manager of North Canterbury Fish and Game, and we were using his jetboat, towed by his Fish and Game truck. No salmon caught was disappointing enough, but when we arrived back at the truck, tyres had been let down and abusive messages scrawled on the dusty windows and doors. All in all, a sad, cowardly and despicable act by some desperate individual.

Life is just too short to go around upsetting other people and having to deal with aggression in the outdoors. My advice is to have fun and always strive to use common sense and show courtesy towards other users of the resource. Talk with people, and work out a fair and equitable plan so everyone can have a good experience. ‘‘Honour agreements and don’t tell lies,’’ is what our mothers taught us, and this has always been great advice.

Think long-term in the outdoors, and always remember that the toes you stomp on today may be attached to the butt you have to kiss tomorrow.
 

Small Boats

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Nothing like messing about in a small boat, Nelson Mail, 14 March 2009

Braving the Storm: Goose hunters Scott and Stuart Mirfin hunker down behind the tinnie.

Some days when I’m out on the river guiding, I start fantasising about days fishing and hunting with family and friends in my small aluminium boat. Boats have always been a part of my life and my father always had a small boat to take his boys out fishing in.

I now own a number of small craft myself, including a 3.7-metre aluminium dingy with 15 horsepower motor, small tractor tube PVC boat and even a 4.3m pontoon raft.

When you start looking around, there are small boats of all shapes and sizes out there, which is hardly surprising when you consider that New Zealand is a maritime nation surrounded by coastline, harbours and estuaries. More than 90 per cent of the Kiwi population live within 40km of the coast, so it’s only natural that New Zealand would be a nation of boat owners.

When you factor in all the lakes, ponds, streams and rivers flowing into the Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean, there are
huge numbers of places to have fun fishing and hunting in small boats.

Small craft come in many types of construction: Wood, aluminium, fibreglass, plastic – even inflatable boats with rigid alloy keels like my brother’s, which he uses to deadly effect on the local snapper population. All have their uses and the craft you own is likely to reflect the type of outdoor activities you undertake, and the places you commonly go.

Driving around the district lately, I have noticed many larger boats for sale and I’m guessing that there will be some
very good buys on larger craft in the next year or so in these challenging economic times.

Small boats have many advantages over large craft, in that they are less expensive to buy, are easily stored, easily towed and easily handled into difficult locations. They use less fuel, and allow access to places far from concrete boat ramps. Sure, they aren’t as seaworthy as larger craft, but with intelligent use they are, in my opinion, every bit as safe.

We often launch off any of Nelson’s beaches bordering Tasman Bay in my small aluminium boat. If the weather cuts up, we can be within 300m of safety.

The other advantage of a smaller craft is the huge saving on fuel in these energy-efficient times. For example, my brother Scott and friends caught 150 snapper last summer over a number of trips on less than a 20-litre tank of gas.

We have found that smaller boats outfish larger boats because they are quieter, cast less shadow, and suffer less from wave slap on the hull.

Just the other day, I was out fishing with my German mate Stefan in Tasman Bay where we had good success. The fishing had started slowly because we had got out on the water too late. By 8am (normally the time I’m heading for home) there were boats everywhere. One guy in a big boat was roaring around among the anchored burleying boats, looking for the perfect reef to fish.

‘‘Big boat, big penis,’’ my mate muttered as the unthinking boat owner did his best to scare every snapper deeper into the bay.

Fortunately, the fishing picked up as everyone decided to go elsewhere, and I was quietly chuffed when Stefan later admired the 60-litre cooler full of prime pink snapper.

I’ve had a great run with my little tinnie craft, having used it for hunting ducks on tidal estuaries, deer on alpine lakes, geese in the high country, goats and whitebait in Westhaven Inlet in Golden Bay.

I’ve also taken it fishing for brown and rainbow trout all over the South Island, red fin perch at Lake Mahinapua near Hokitika, set netting for flounder, and blue cod fishing in the Marlborough Sounds.

Some of the more memorable trips include 10 days fishing the lakes of South Westland where I had to navigate tricky waters into the pristine Lake Ellery. Another time I brought the boat loaded with possum traps and pelts down a raging Lake Rotoiti.

There have been deerstalking trips when the boat was overloaded with deer carcasses, and the time when a snapper got lost up under the seat and the boat became a seething mass of maggots.

One time we even shot a chamois buck from the boat. Cutting the motor, we glided on to the curious beast while mate Brian readied himself over the bow.

Retrieving the trophy buck from the water, Brian, who was in his 50s, said: ‘‘I never thought I’d ever get to shoot a chamois buck but the hardest thing about getting this one is keeping my feet dry while I pull it out of the lake.’’

One of the most frightening trips in the tinnie was on a Canada goose shoot in the Marlborough high country with my father Stuart and brother Scott. Fully loaded with guns and decoys, we were three-quarters across Lake Tennyson when dark ominous clouds and a huge squall hit us.

We only just made it ashore in fearsome waves, and pulled the boat high on to the land, and used it as the only shelter in a landscape devoid of any cover.

The following snowstorm was awesome and something the three of us have never forgotten, as it left us covered in thick snow during the whiteout conditions.

Most of the time, though, the sun shines and the outdoor experiences are very pleasant and enjoyable.

My kids now love to go out in the boat, especially to a sandspit they call Treasure Island in the Waimea Estuary.

I’m looking forward to many more great adventures together with our small boat in the years ahead.

 

Outdoor Photography

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, A different kind of shooting, Nelson Mail, 31 January 2009

Smile: Zane Mirfin with renowned American fishing photographers Cathy and Barry Beck. Photo: Martin de Ruyter.

A recent holiday down the Marlborough Sounds reminded me of the power of photos from the outdoors, when I studied several large photo frames stuffed full of images recorded over more than three decades of recreation and relaxation. Looking at people I knew, including many members of the Mirfin family, recorded at different ages and stages of their lives was fascinating. Looking at some of the fish species caught and the places we fished also showed how the fishery has changed and how our methods, techniques and attitudes have evolved.

I’ve always been interested in photography but what got me really excited about it was my guiding career and getting to fish and guide with many of my heroes. Successful American fishing photographers such as David Lambroughton, Tom Montgomery, R Valentine Atkinson, and Cathy and Barry Beck have had an enormous influence on my personal photography, and my latest fishing photography book, The Last Best Place, was really just the result of these people encouraging me to carry a camera every day to the world-class places I was fortunate to visit in the course of my job.

Being the chief photographer for Fish and Game Magazine, I need to own some pretty good camera gear to get the image quality required for magazine reproduction. I use Canon SLR cameras with a variety of macro, wide-angle and telephoto zoom lenses, which weigh a ton.

As I get older and the rocks seem to get bigger, I have rationalised my gear to one camera, flash unit and lens per day so I have room in my large pack to carry other gear as well. I’m still a film buff, using high-quality colour transparency (slide) film, but will eventually evolve into the digital medium as technology improves further.

But it doesn’t actually matter what equipment or photographic medium you use. What is important is the act of recording images for further use and enjoyment. There have been millions of great images recorded on the old ‘‘box brownie’’ camera, and the real skill in photography is good lighting, good subject matter and good composition. I like to always take three shots of a subject but vary each shot to have a variety of images.

Try using your camera in both horizontal and vertical formats, avoiding always putting the main subject directly in the middle of the frame. Get in close and make the shots interesting, trying not to cut off arms, legs and faces but eliminating dead space that doesn’t assist in telling a story.

One man I especially admire is 85-year-old Gordon Max of Brightwater. Gordon and his mate Tracy Stratford were deerstalkers in the golden age of New Zealand hunting, long before the advent of helicopter gunships and 1080 poison. They shot many big stags, with Tracy taking the biggest. Tracy may have scored the big stag but Gordon’s love affair with his cameras secured the true trophies in my mind.

Carrying two camera bodies with one interchangeable lens and both black and white and colour film, Gordon recorded some phenomenal images that made the adventures of the two men really come to life. These images remain as powerful today as when they were taken in the 1940s and ‘50s.

Just recently at a friend’s funeral, we were treated to a 15-minute array of images, professionally arranged by Nelson photographer Melinda Baigent. A touching music soundtrack, some wonderful quotes and dates on the side made the images of Neville, his family, friends and outdoor adventures come alive. If there was a dry eye in the place, I sure as hell couldn’t tell through my fogged-up eyes. That procession of family and outdoor images made me resolve to record even more images of my family and friends at play in the outdoors while I still can.

Always carry your camera, and always remember to record a few images along the way. Don’t worry if the fish isn’t big enough or the moment isn’t important enough – have fun with your camera and think of the future.

 

Outdoor Mentors

©Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Outdoor life the Ideal Education for our Youth, Nelson Mail, 3 January 2009

’Twas the night before Christmas, and some drunken hoon was urinating on my letterbox. After making what was probably the mistake of challenging him on his behaviour instead of just ignoring his Christmas message of goodwill, I received a hail of expletives and had several young men fuelled on liquid courage and testosterone charging up my driveway in an attempt to intimidate me while I stood on my deck.

Having a screaming match or worse with antisocial drunkards was something I didn’t want my wife, in-laws and children to witness, so I reluctantly retreated inside in an attempt to set a good example to my family.

I’m no angel and have done stupid things before, like most of us have in our lives. I still love a good party, some loud music and a few drinks, given half a chance, but it would seem that today’s youngsters just don’t have the same respect they used to have.  I’m pretty sure Aimee and I never behaved like that as university students and over the past several years, we have witnessed demolished letterboxes, stolen metallic numbers and broken bottles littered down our street. I’ve even been threatened by an intoxicated punk, complete with spiked hair and metal studs in most of the visible parts of his body, waving a Steinlager bottle at me in the Richmond Mall carpark several years ago while I loaded my groceries. When I pulled a heavy aluminium fly rod tube out of my truck and called his bluff, he and his mates beat a hasty retreat in their car, with wheels squealing.

Just last night when I was walking home alone from a friend’s house in the dark, I had to walk past a large group of young men and women on both sides of the street, all clearly intoxicated and many smoking goodness knows what. As a guide, my job involves knowing the habits and behaviours of the animals and fish we hunt and catch, and I knew enough to stay out of the way of these young people, say nothing, and walk at a brisk pace. I made it through OK but was heckled and intimidated. Aimee reckons I lead a sheltered life, but I’d have to say that nowhere in the New Zealand bush is as frightening as having to walk the streets of Richmond at night.

Every generation worries about the state of their young people but it seems to me that many of these young people have not experienced discipline and the respect that follows. They are now trained by their peers and not their elders. They now understand that they can challenge authority and the social order and get away with it. Maybe my friends and I were lucky, but we were always more interested in the outdoor scene and I’m sure it moderated our behaviour. Challenging ourselves against the mountains, sea and rivers was all positive and we never developed the anger and aggression that many of today’s young people so readily exhibit.

It’s pretty sad that the only outdoor experiences some young people may have enjoyed is casual sex down the Back Beach or urinating on someone’s letterbox.

As a male, it is important to be surrounded by older males of all stages of life who can advise, teach, and illustrate civilised social behaviour. As a young man growing up, I was fortunate to have male mentors all around me, men who would say a kind word, make a suggestion or offer some advice to a young man who needed it. The men I respected most were always those who hunted or fished.

Having been a member of the local branch of the NZ Deerstalkers Association and the local trout-fishing club for close on 30 years, I was lucky to have close contact with decent men who I could calibrate myself against on the road to manhood. In my early fishing guiding years, and still today, I was fortunate to have great mentors who I could learn from and be guided by.

Mentors other than parents or family are essential to young men integrating themselves into society and the common bond of hunting and fishing made it easy to admire, respect and listen to the older men I was associated with. You may not always agree with older mentors and many times you will grow beyond their advice, but the wisdom and knowledge an older generation can pass on is their enduring legacy.

An outdoor saying from America goes ‘‘It takes a hunter to make a hunter’’, and it is so true. I wonder about some of the aggressive young people I have encountered lately and ask, what mentors do they have in place in their lives?

It’s entirely possible that it is just as easy for ‘‘a mongrel to make a mongrel’’ if we let our young people down by not making the effort and time to involve them in our lives, society and outdoor sports. A few kind words and friendly guidance by all of us to our young people can help make our community a better place.

On the wall of the Sport Tasman offices in Nelson’s Rutherford St, there are the words ‘‘A kid in sport stays out of court’’, which speak volumes.

Neville Male, the Sport Tasman chief executive, recently emailed me initiatives by Sport and Recreation NZ to get people involved in the outdoors by identifying the barriers and obstacles to outdoor participation. One of the major barriers in my mind would be the lack of mentors of all ages, taking the time to introduce new people into the outdoors, sharing their values and passing on their skills and knowledge.

This is where all outdoor people can assist in their own way. If you have the opportunity to introduce some young person to the outdoors these holidays, you will be making the world a better place.

 

Outdoor Politics

 

©  Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, This Election, Speak up for the Outdoors, Nelson Mail, 25 October 2008

Captive audience: Zane Mirfin takes Peter Dunne fishing in Tasman Bay.

It’s election year again and I haven’t heard anything much on TV about hunting, fishing and outdoor recreation issues. As usual, the big political brands of Labour and National are dominating the limelight and the same old debates about the economy, tax cuts, welfare, immigration etc are at the fore. Understandably, people vote for their back pocket and their self-interest but unfortunately, many of the outdoor issues that add quality to our life are conveniently ignored.

In the 2002 general election, Nelson was the genesis of the Outdoor Recreation New Zealand political party, which highlighted the plight of hunters, fishers, four-wheel-drivers and other outdoor enthusiasts. Campaigning on issues such as access, pollution, poisoning, gun control, bureaucratic excesses, marine reserves etc, the Outdoor party raised the political profile of the outdoor people and their loss of rights, resources and opportunities.

Throughout the country, outdoor people were talking in excited whispers about ORNZ but the election-night result was disappointing at 1.28 percent of the total election vote, or about 26,000 individual votes.

Disappointing, when it is generally considered that about 1 million New Zealanders hunt, fish and vote. The West Coast-Tasman electorate had the highest percentage party vote for Outdoor Recreation at 5.3 percent, followed by Nelson and then Kaikoura (Marlborough), perhaps showing that the top of the south is a hotbed of keen hunters, fishers and outdoor people.

Politicians from all other major political parties rushed to adopt similar or plagiarised outdoor policies to neutralise the leakage of votes to Outdoor Recreation and many of these policies exist throughout the political spectrum to this day.
The national director of Fish and Game, Bryce Johnson, commented to me a year or so back that those outdoor policies have helped the Fish and Game organisation immensely on the political front over intervening years because politicians will now actually listen.

In 2005, the Outdoor Recreation Party joined forces with United Future Party, led by Peter Dunne, but small parties got hammered that election as the big political brands of National and Labour turned MMP into a two-horse race.

One of the great things to come out of 2005, before the Outdoor Party expired and imploded through lack of support, was getting to spend time with the current Minister of Revenue, Peter Dunne, of United Future, even getting to take him fishing on the Pelorus River.

Peter Dunne has never forgotten the outdoor man and woman. Just this year, his initiative on the benefits of wild animals (deer, chamois, thar, pigs) has reached fruition and led to the formation of a Big Game Hunting Council and
a Wild Animal Control Advisory Committee. This is great news for hunters because for the first time, we will have meaningful input and a say in how this public resource is managed.

Most politicians are good people on a personal level; the lust for power or control and the baubles of Parliament causing most of the schoolyard problems we see nightly on TV political news. One West Coast hunting mate confided to me that ‘‘politicians are the most genuinely insincere people that I’ve ever met’’.

Whatever your personal beliefs, take the time to outline your personal outdoor issues to your chosen local politician – we can all make a difference, but don’t expect miracles. A media friend of mine once told me that the late David Lange wisely commented in a private moment that ‘‘don’t vote for a politician thinking they will change your life because they will let you down every time’’.

Read any outdoor magazine and the letters to the editor are always a scathing cauldron of criticism of bureaucrats, crown organisations and politicians. Outdoor people make the mistake of complaining to kindred spirits, which in general is a total waste of time, draining everyone’s time, energy and motivation.

If you have a problem, make the effort to write to your local general circulation newspaper. Look how a handful of individuals collapsed the Tasman District Council plan to assist Grace Church in providing a first-rate community facility for Richmond, or how a few Grey Power members have led the charge to derail Nelson City Council plans to rectify decades of infrastructural neglect.

It doesn’t matter if they are right or wrong; it’s the process that sways public opinion.

A politician whose name escapes me once said that one letter in a local paper is unimportant but half a dozen letters on the same topic indicates a problem. If a quarter of a million New Zealanders all wrote to their local newspaper about their opposition to aerial 1080 poisoning, the poison rain would (to borrow a Don Brash term) be ‘‘gone by lunchtime’’.

Outdoor recreationalists have long been facing an outdoor Armageddon as rights, resources and opportunities are undermined, over-ruled or just downright stolen. As an individual, it is your role and responsibility to protect what is special to you personally.  Infighting, backstabbing, complaining, ego and apathy are not going to save our proud outdoor
hunting and fishing heritage.

As the US cartoon figure, Pogo, infamously remarked: ‘‘We have met the enemy and they is us.’’
 

Fishing for Whitebait

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Getting down to the serious business of chasing white gold, Nelson Mail, 27 September 2008

White Gold: Fresh Whitebait ready to eat. Yum!

Whitebait have almost mythical status in New Zealand. Hailed as a Kiwi delicacy, these tiny, transparent estuarine fish are in great demand by commercial and recreational fishermen during the New Zealand springtime.

When the whitebait are running, job absenteeism is high, people speak in hushed, secretive tones, and it is every man for himself. Often termed white gold, fresh and frozen whitebait can reach upwards of $105 a kilogram in local fish shops, if and when it is available.

Whitebait in technical jargon is made up of the young of three main galaxiid species: inanga, koaro and kokopu, with inanga being the most commonly caught species. All whitebait species spend part of their life cycle in fresh water and part in the sea.

Tiny fish hatch in late autumn and are carried along rivers out to sea, where they live and grow over winter. In late winter and early spring, whitebait migrate back up rivers and streams, finally settling and growing in bushcovered streams and swamps (making great trout fodder along the way).

Mature inanga adults migrate downstream to lower river sections and estuaries to spawn in grasses covered by
water during spring tides. The eggs remain in the grass until the next spring tide covers them again, when the
young hatch and are carried out to sea, renewing the cycle.

All interesting stuff, but the really fascinating part about whitebaiting is the human behaviour and culture associated
with the annual runs. All manner of people live streamside during the New Zealand whitebait season (August 15 to November 30, shorter on the West Coast), hoping to spy the familiar black shadow of a large shoal entering their net.

All sorts of nets are used, from small set nets to the large ‘‘Southland Sock’’ style, which is set for the entire tide, with two internal traps to stop whitebait retreating back downstream.

Tony Condon, a West Coast whitebaiting legend who I met on the lower Paringa River in South Westland, told fascinating true stories about the huge quantities of whitebait caught there over the years, mostly by people fishing from registered commercial stands. Condon’s view is that internal traps in large modern set nets have totally revolutionised whitebaiting.

Department of Conservation staff would probably face a streamside lynching if they tried to remove such nets on the Coast, though.

‘‘Feral inbreds’’ we may be, but whitebaiting is a very serious business.

Many whitebaiters like myself like to use a scoop net, which is a long-handled aluminium-framed net with a large oval mouth.

The mesh and net bag consist of a fine, soft white or grey material, and whitebaiters wait patiently along stream banks, visually searching for shoals that swim over their white ‘‘sighter’’ or ‘‘spotter’’ boards.

Once a shoal of whitebait has been sighted, a careful attempt to slowly scoop up the swimming shoal is attempted. It is exciting stuff when the net is lifted and a black pudding of whitebait is seen wriggling in the belly of the net. More often than not, though, the whitebait escape, as they are often skittish and very capable of eluding capture.

I’ve always enjoyed this visual form of whitebaiting, something I learned from my grandparents when I was a small boy. Indeed, one of my most treasured fishing tools is my grandfather’s handmade scoop net frame, which was handed down to me.

My last really good catch of whitebait was several years ago on the raincoloured Grey River on the West Coast. My fishing buddy Graeme Marshall, formerly of Nelson, and I had only a few hours to fish, and the water was too stained to spot individual shoals that day. Graeme suggested we take turns ‘‘blind scooping’’ as the tide pushed. I’m glad we did, as we managed a prodigious weight of bait in short order. Unfortunately, I had to go, but that’s whitebaiting, and part of the allure of the sport.

Whitebaiting to me is spending time with friends, challenging myself against a tiny foe, enjoying nature with the miracle of spring and the tides, and, with a bit of luck, ending up with a feed to give to family and friends.

Whitebaiting around the Nelson- Marlborough area can still be pretty good. Golden Bay is the star performer, with the Takaka, the Aorere and the wild rivers of Mangarakau consistently producing results each season.

To the east, the Wairau River, Wairau Diversion and Opawa River turn on some consistent action for keen whitebaiters. Closer to Nelson, we have the Wakapuaka, Waimea and Motueka as likely places to try your luck.

I haven’t seen anyone whitebaiting in the Maitai River for years, but the Nelson City Council reservoir on the North
Branch Maitai wiped out this once excellent trout fishery, so it’s logical to assume that the whitebait took a pounding, too.

We had a great time whitebaiting last Saturday, close to home in the Waimea catchment. My two boys, Jake and Ike, watched over by their grandfather Stuart, had an awesome adventure together.

Being young boys (six and eight), they were just as keen catching crabs and throwing sticks and stones, but later,
when wearing polarised sunglasses, they were transfixed by the small shoals of whitebait moving upstream on the first push of the tide.

Sharing one set net, the boys had their first whitebaiting experience, and we were fortunate to catch one pound
(450g) of the elusive delicacy – not a bad tally for the early season around Nelson. Wet, tired and covered in mud, the boys staggered home triumphant.

That night, we were probably one of only a few Nelson families tasting fresh, locally-caught whitebait. I can picture it still: a sizzling pan full of thick spoonfuls of succulent fresh bait, mixed in Baton River organic eggs, a dash of pepper, a twist of lemon, and washed down with a honey-spiced summer ale.
Delicious!