FISHING DAYS

Press, Volume LXXII, Issue 21975, 26 December 1936, Page 6

FISHING DAYS

* Quinnat in Canterbury Rivers THE DANGERS OF WADING SOjME CI’RKH’S EXPERIENCES RECALLED (PPF.I-IAM.Y WRITTEN FOR THR PR***.) IBy G.B.M.J (XI.) I had the run of a hut on the north bank of the Rakaia for several years from 1920 on. fishing there every season—sometimes alone, sometimes with a mate. I could only fish on weekends and odd holidays—l have no records, but think I took together with friends about, 2,50 fish up to 1924, I know that in those years fish were more plentiful and rods fewer on the water than has been the case for the last five years, and I can only compute the numbers by a comparison with those quoted below. Blank days are omitted, but they were unusual till the last three seasons: —In 1925, 8 days, 29 fish; 1926, 11 days 42 fish; 1927, 9 days, 39 fish; 1928, 12 days, 45 fish; 1929, 19 days, 50 fish; 1930 18 days, 73 fish; 1931. 8 days, 39 fish;’ 1932, 4 days, 18 fish; 1933, 10 days, 26 fish; 1934. 5 days, 5 fish; 1935, 5 days, 13 fish; 1936, 2 days, 3 fish; total, 111 days, 382 fish. . . The fish (quinnat salmon) varied in weight from 31b to 341b—the average in the Rakaia would be about 13 to 141b About a quarter of these nsh were taken in the Waimakariri, where the average is rather less—perhaps about 111b. I have a record of 1930 showing 70 fish totalling 8291b from Rakaia and Waimakariri—an average of -close to Another record (no date) shows 28 fish, 3821b—average 13.61b. Some of the best quinnat salmon fishing we had was by boat. J.M. and I had a strong boat built in two sections, which we carried on cars or trailers. We floated down the Waimakariri and Rakaia many times, thus avoiding long trudges on the shingle and much carrying of nsh. It was a joy to sit in the boat and glide down the rapid rivers, but it needed careful handling to avoid accident in rough water. We would beach the boat here and there to fish likely water from the banks. A Boating Accident The boating was not devoid of incident Once J.M., in the boat, was washed under a wire fence lying in the Waimakariri; also we had a narrow shave with three in the craft going under the Rakaia bridge through F.T.B. catching a crab. With Major Sparrow, from England. I had drifted down the Rakaia, having warned the major always to step out on the upstream side, but once he did the reverse, with the result that the boat freed from his 15 stone weight, rose up and knocked him down in some 18 inches of water and floated on top of him. I got it of! and he came up laughing —saying, “I don’t care a d . we’ve had such good sport.” We had 15 salmon. He was delighted with the game. We got most of our sport in these years from J.M.’s hut on wheels, then a few miles up the river. There was a good pool nearby out of which we took 45 fish one season. I tried them hard there with large salmon flies in clear

water but without success. Then I put on a spoon—l immediately got two fiS lii that locality one year with L.F.T. I found a good pool out of which we took three fish one evening. Going there early next morning, we got iy before 8 a.m.. much to the chagrin of two other fishermen, who had been camped close by for a week and were fishless. One of the fish I took that morning led me down and across a heavy stream that I should not have dared to cross in ordinary circumstances. After about half an hour s tussle I gaffed him in the pool below—he weighed 341b and fine order. Of course, this pool soon became known and a doctor friend of mine, camped by it and captured a 38-pounder. My friend. Dr. R. N. came down frem Hastings in the season of 1930, when we got Quite a lot of fish, both in the Waimakariri and Rakaia. We were fishing the Rakaia one day some miles above the railway bridge, in a heavy nor’-wester and got seven fish mostly big. They were too heavy to carry, so we floated them down a side stream, which we had to cross. I had just got over when I heard an exclamation from R.N., and, looked round to see him down and bumping along the rough stony bottom hanging on to two big salmon and his rod. Only his head and shoulders were out of water. I plunged to his rescue and took his rod and salmon, but even then he had great

difficulty in getting out of the strong current, for his waist waders were full and he was carrying a great deal mpre than his customary 15 stone. Luckily, the car was not far away, and he had a change. The nor’-wester was bad that day—sand was drifting over us in clouds, making us look like niggers. Wading in Canterbury Rivers Wading the Canterbury rivers on foot is always an arduous and sometimes a dangerous proceeding, and calls for the exercise of the greatest caution. In fishing, wading is a necessity, and it is a common practice to cross and recross such rivers as the Waimakariri, and Rakaia, and Rangitata both for salmon and trout fishing. My old Rangitata fishing mate, F.H.8., was a heavy man, but very safe and cautious in the water. He and I together were wont to cross the Rangitata in its many branches near the mouth, sometimes at night. To make these night crossings safely we used to carry old newspapers when crossing over in daylight, placing them on each side of our chosen ford, with stones to hold them down. In the dark we could pick them up as a guide where to enter the water, and were generally able to distinguish the paper on the opposite side. We would always hold on to each other’s coat collars, so being able to support a stumble on the part of either man, while a great advantage was afforded to the man on the lower side by his mate above breaking the force of the water. We had returned over the Rangitata this way one night, leaving J. 8., a son of F.H.8., to follow later, and warning him to ford at the newspapers. He did not turn up at‘the hut that night, but arrived next morning wet through. He had tried to ford where we told him, but found the current too strong, and had stayed fishing all night. When daylight came he tried to get over, but was carried away, lost his rod and bag of fish, and had to swim back to save his life. He was afterwards put across by some men with a boat, who told him they had seen his rod going out to sea. It is often possible to find a downstream ford where crossing is safe, but to come back against the current on that ford would be impossible. I always make a practice of never attempting to fight against the current, but always choose a down stream ford if the water is heavy. So many lives have been lost in these rivers that one cannot be too cautious. A Good Catch One take of quinnat that I recollect was made by' four rods fishing from a farm on Fereday Island. We borrowed two horses as we had a couple of miles to go to the main river—also took two sacks to carry any fish. The man in the yard offered to come with us, saying he could carry all we should catch —but we took the horses. We had a great day, coming back with 11 fish which weighed well over 2001b. The man met us in the yard and I asked him to lift- the fish from the horses. He got the surprise of his life and said he was glad he had not come. Quinnat usually show up from the sea in tidal water about January, but seldom run in any numbers until about the middle of February. The first run is usually heavy. Provided the river is clear, the angler can be sure of a good capture if he is at the right

water when the-run is on. More than half the battle is having a knowledge i of the water and habits of the fish. Only the deep slow water 15 • Such places in a river falling 25,iee to the mile are a mile or two iuiic apart, and it is hard work walking up these stony river beds in long waders. Short waders are useless, as one cannot cross to desired water—l na\ e even known men to swim over to ge a good stand. That is where having a boat is such an advantage. In fishing through 17 seasons one meets with many strange experiences. To speak of tackle losses One day J.M. and I were fishing down with the boat and had stopped at the junction of two big streams, which looked a good place. He cast in while I go ready to push off with him in the boat. On the first cast a fish took him, and before he could get into the boat to float down with it the fish lan off all his line, which broke at the reel. It was now my turn; I was careful to fish standing in the boat, i hooked a fish and J.M. pushed off. There must have been a flaw in my line for that broke too, and away went the fish with about 30 yards of line. We then had lunch, after which we drifted down fully a mile in the big water. Stopping to fish, I went to the slack water at the corner of a run and spotted a dead salmon on the

bottom, gaffed him out and recovered my spoon, lead, and line. The fish was one of 161b. Talk about miracles! —they do happen still in fishing. About 10 years ago, after a big flood, the water left the north branch about 14 miles up from the sea and the south branch has carried nearly all the water since. In latter years I have rented a hut on the south side near the mouth. Fishing from here one evening I gM two fish, both over 201b. Next morning, with a boy as gillie, I struck another, but bvoke my rod at the middle joint. Giving the boy the butt and reel, I played the fish with the top Joint, the boy giving or recovering line as I directed. We actually got that fish out—27lb. The boy went back for another rod, but before he returned I had spliced the broken rod and landed another largo fish. When he returned I took another —the five fish weighed 1121b—a high average. They made a good photograph. I possess a large collection of fish photographs taken during a period of some 40 years at the sport. Distances Travelled by Fish As to the running of quinnat—l believe in their native rivers (say the Columbia and Fraser rivers) they travel very great distances in the day —I have been told as much as 70 miles. In our torrents of Canterbury rivers they ax-e believed to make about five miles daily, and many large bags have been made by parties following them up from day to day. They can be sold by red fishermen, who take out a selling license of £l. ’ In the tidal water of the Waimakariri—the only river with a delta area —netting licenses of £5- are issued, and some years about 2000 are netted. But it is a very uncertain game. The usual price in the market is from 2s 6d per lb in the early season, to, say. is- later on. They are not such good eating as Atlantic salmon, and vary a great deal in quality for the table. 'By the time they have got. say, 50 miles up. most of them turn black or brick red, and ax-e so near spawning, or may have spawned, that they are not worth catching. They are believed to die after spawning, but I do not think this is a settled question in New Zealand waters, where they have such short distances to return to the sea. A great many, though, are found dead far up the rivers after the spawning season. One disappointing feature of quinnat fishing is that they seldom leap, like trout, or like true salmon. Only when they are foul-hooked do _ they jump and try to get rid of the hook. In such cases they are a joy to see. Usually when they come to the surface they thradx along the water like a half-submerged torpedo. My friend, J.M.. had a Spaniel named Sandy, which used to retrieve trout which had been stranded with the rod. Once when I was waiting to gaff-a salmon for J.M., Sandy was by me trembling with excitement. As the salmon showed up close to the sloping shingle bank, Sandy made one leap right on to his back. The salmon went toi'pedo-like across the river, leaving Sandy swimming about and wondering what had happened. When we finally got the fish out he proved to be nearly as heavy as the dog—24lb. (To be continued.)