Hard to tell, except it keeps on getting worse

Press, 21 May 1988, Page 22

Hard to tell, except it keeps on getting worse

Is the fishing industry turning its back on fishermen? Martin Rajnai (below), Austro Carina's skipper astride a winch box, watches progress on the fishing deck below. RICHARD CRESSWELL was aboard to gauge the extent of problems bedevilling the industry.

Hunched against the wind as the trawler pitches and rolls in a gentle swell 30 kilometres off the Kaikoura coast while the mist rises off the hills you might believe fishing is easy. But as the skipper of the 24metre trawler Austro Carina, Martin Rajnai, will tell you, it isn’t as easy as it looks. “It’s very calm,” he says, as the trawler pitches and rolls, “but sometimes it’s so bad you can’t even cook or sleep.” He says the industry sees feasts and famines, and, according to the skipper of the United Fisheries-owned vessel, there is a famine right now. After three days fishing during Anzac week-end, with about three “tows” a day, there are only 168 cases of fish to unload at the Lyttelton wharf, a far cry from the 750 cases handled on past trips or the capacity 1100 cases during halcyon days on the' West Coast.

“It’s definitely getting worse,” he says, but it is also definitely hard to tell. Often the famine can be blamed on the weather or erratic fish movements.

But one sign of problems in the industry is the proposal to cut orange roughy Total Allowable Catch levels in the Chatham Rise area.

That Ministry (MAFfish) move is linked to feared lack of fish stocks. “Sometimes the fish are there and sometimes they are not,” says Mr Rajnai, in spite of the array of equipment on board to track them down. The Austro Carina once hunted the lucrative orange roughy but now concentrates on barracuda, squid and others. Mr Rajnai has been a fisherman for five years and studied for his deep sea ticket in Wellington, running two small inshore boats for eight months from Lyttelton before skippering the Austro Carina.

He is quick to praise the company he works for who he believes has been very fair to him, but others have been less fortunate.

“This vessel was brought from a -fisherman who had a poor

season and was allocated quota based on that catch history; he got squeezed out,” he says. That story is a familiar one for many fisherman who feel they are out of the industry through no fault of their own. There is now a bitter legacy among some after the introduction of the Individual Transferable Quota (ITQ) scheme in October, 1986, in spite of a supposed voluntary reduction in allocation by fishermen.

“One day there will be no future for me,” Martin says. Although the money can be very good, the hours are long, and the work environment often dangerous. “It is hard on your family,” he says. "When you’ve been away for weeks and the father comes to the door, your kids say 'who is this guy?’ You’re married to the job and 80 per cent of the men are single or soon can be after two years at sea.” But he holds it is a good life, with challenges and changes in the industry bringing tough competition. The same atmosphere is now putting pressure on jobs and work at sea is scarce.

“I get three calls a week at least from people looking for work and I know how desperate they are,” Martin Rajnai says. The Carina has a crew of three: the engineer, Bruce Cox; and two deckhands, Ross Dillon and Tony Knowles. Workers have no union and no rights, says Mr Rajnai. “Often the only conditions we get are what ve can negotiate with the company and the ship’s owners.” But changes are ruffling the waters in the industry as one group plans to form a union for the workers at sea. The New Zealand Sharefishermen’s Association is cautious about revealing too many details, but the association administration officer, Mr Peter McKinnon, has confirmed it is forming a union.

He says all workers at sea in the fishing industry from skippers to processors will be eligible to join. Those workers have previously

been exempt from union coverage because of the Fishing Industry Union Coverage Act 1979 which prevented union membership.

He says that act has been repealed by the Labour Relations Act, introduced last year.

The union will be known as the New Zealand Fishing Industry Union, but Mr Rajnai says negotiations are at a delicate stage.

Tony Treadwell, president of the Lyttelton Fishing Association, and owner of the Pegasus Fishing Company, says union coverage of some form or another was going to happen, but many fishermen are regarded as contractors or self-employed, putting them out of reach of union coverage. “There is nothing wrong with unions, but the fishing industry is a peculiar business,” Mr Treadwell says. On the smaller boats skippers worked hand-in-hand with their crews rather than in a master-and-servant relationship.

He says unionising the industry has advantages but it will be difficult defining who will be eligible. The Lyttelton association has a membership of 20 out of about 50 Lyttelton fishermen. Is Tony Treadwell concerned about the loss of members to the new group under the national Sharefishermen’s Association? “If my members prefer the new group then I’ve no problems with that,” he says. “But how would the new union cope with the special ‘partnership’ between skipper and owner, or skipper and crew.” Martin Rajnai says there has been no-one representing fishermen, in a period of intense change. Although not an avid supporter of “Rogernomics,” Mr Rajnai can see some of the reasons behind the industry shake-up under the ITQ system. “It is the rules and regulations laid down that make it so tough, and the crazy ways of raising money, such as resource rentals.”

“I can understand what the

Government is trying to do, but it is too little too late.” Mr Rajnai says they used to have a picture of Roger Douglas in the wheelhouse on a dart board.

“When we got annoyed we used to throw darts at it, but it got so shredded we had to take it down after three days,” he says. He is frustrated about the overseas interest in the New Zealand fishing industry and bitter about the lack of policing of foreign vessels. MAFfish has a nerve centre in Wellington which knows the exact numbers of the vessels in our Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ) and where they are at any time. Ships require permission to come within territorial waters which reach out 12 miles, while the larger vessels must report their position to the ministry at noon each day. In the area off the Canterbury coast there are 12 ships, including five charter vessels and seven foreign-licence ships. Ac-

cording to the Ministry, all the foreign licence operators are Japanese long-liners. Charter vessels are foreign registered, but hold New Zealand quota, and can be chartered by this country’s fishing companies while foreign-licence ships are foreign-owned and operated. “Officials always pick on the little guys and hammer him when he is operating close to shore,” says Mr Rajnai. He says the charter vessels often come within the limit, but “nobody gives a damn.” He believes the methods used by the foreign-licence ships are ruining the fishery, by fishing the breeding grounds or on the edges of fishery areas. “This stops the fish naturally moving into inshore areas and out again. They never make it,” he says.

Mr Rajnai’s worst experience at sea was not while fishing but delivering a ferro-concrete launch from Half Moon Bay, near Auckland, to Wellington.

“We were coming down the coast near Wellington when we hit 60-knot gale winds.” He says they headed into Palliser Bay and tried to stop the boat drifting by dropping three anchors.

But the wind was so strong it blew them on to a reef, cracking the hull, while attempts to move the launch tangled the anchors in the propellor.

“We were blown across the bay, bailing frantically, while the wind whipped the canvas awning away.” 11 He says a Mayday was received by the Wellinton harbour pilot who luckily towed them into the harbour and safety. “Sure, fishing is dangerous, it is a dangerous business, but if you use some common sense then you get through the day all right,” he says. It may take more than common sense to survive in the future.