All In One Day

John is a short, stocky man with a Hawaii ball cap, a jade stone around his neck and a round, bearded face. His face crinkles with merriment when he laughs.



We are up early today, because he has offered to take us cod fishing and when we venture out to brush our teeth, he is already getting his dinghy ready. "I'll be ready to go in a quarter hour," he says.

And so in a quarter of an hour, he suits us up in lifejackets and we help him run the rubber dinghy down to the boat launch. Into the water it goes, wheels and all, and we're off, puttering along the shore and out to the left point of the bay, heading around the corner and towards the dreaded French Pass.


Spending 2 weeks here every year and being an ex-fishing charter captain, John knows the waters well and guides the dinghy expertly to a point just around the corner. He grabs a couple of fishing rods from the back of the boat.

"What about bait?" I ask.

"Bait?" He chuckles. "I just use some rubber bits." He points to what looks like squares of yellow rubber sponge threaded over the hook. "Sometimes you don't even need bait. They'll just bite the hook!"

He guides the boat to spot just off the point and then lets it drift in the fast moving current, pulling us towards the pass. Out goes the line, letting it drop to the bottom. He hands me the fishing rod.

"Now what do I do?" I begin to tug on the line. "Do I need to jig a bit?"

"Nah, just reel it in. You should have one by now."

"Whah?!?" I look at him and he laughs and I begin to reel in the line and sure enough, I can feel something below tugging back. I crank the reel and when it reaches the top, there is indeed a blue cod on the hook.


Meanwhile, Jenn on the other side is reeling in two at a time!



It's that easy. John positions us just off the point, over the reef, and we drop our lines to the bottom. In seconds, we will feel the familiar tug and we're reeling them in, often two at a time.

We keep the larger ones and toss back the smaller ones. But, before we can even let the small ones go, the shags stalking our boat dive for them and guts 'em down whole.







Jenn has a fight on her hand on her side.

"Probably got a barracuda," says John. Cautiously, Jenn hauls her line up and pulls in a blue cod, practically torn in half. "Yep, the barracuda got that one." John tells of being bitten by a barracuda just the day before and their razor sharp teeth. "You got to be careful if you catch a barracuda because their spiky fins can put a puncture in the dinghy."

He also tells us about the sharks in the area which are often spotted while out fishing and even from the beach — bronze whalers, threshers, blue sharks and even the occasional great white. I beg Jenn not to catch another spiky, hole puncturing barracuda that might sink our boat out here...

When we have nine cod (3 each, which is the maximum daily allowance per person) we ride back to the beach. John wipes down his boat and then we join him down at the fish table where he cleans and filets the fish. We feed the remains to the sting rays, waiting patiently for their share just at the edge of the beach.










John's wife, Rosemary, gives us some special shake 'n bake "stuffing mix" to coat the filets. "Cook those in a bit of butter and you're good to go," she tells us. And she's right!

Having caught our fish for tea, we then meet up with Diane, the temporary DOC ranger, who invites us back to the lighthouse keeper's cottage on the Pass where she is staying. Keen to see the French Pass and lighthouse from her perspective, off we go, up the road and then down her private driveway to the quaint, little home built back at the turn of the century. We can see the pass, which is quite calm at this point and the lighthouse and beacon which mark the safe channel. A boat comes up from the Tasman Bay and passes through, We watch to see if it gets caught up in a tidal maelstrom — not to be. Darn it...














Afterwards, we walk down to the rocky shoreline and get a few photos of the beacons and the pass from a new angle.






Late afternoon finds us back with John, his wife and a few other fisher locals as we sit out, share stories about the islands and our adventures and watch the new campers arrive. Peter and his crew is back with more snapper and shares some with us. "For your tea tomorrow," he smiles.



John treats us to some of his own home distilled coconut liquiore before sending us tottering home. There is lots of good laughter. I feel fortunate to spend time with these people who are so genuine, so kind, so welcoming. They are happy to have us there, invite us to join their group, without any concerns or questions.

John's wife sells me a very lucky hat, which she knits herself, from John's beer empties.



I wear it with pride.