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Dean(o) Horgan, Terry O’Connell and Outer Limits (and the weather!)
combined to produce what was one of the most enjoyable charters I’ve ever been
on — not because of the number of fish caught, but as a result of the
completeness and the total professionalism shown in every facet of their
operation.
There are not many skippers that would even contemplate going to the Three Kings Islands for only two or three days, but Deano suggested we do so. My friend Petah Woollams (manager of Newmarket’s Just Fishin’) and I met up with Deano and his second skipper, Terry, at Houhora Wharf, along with stowaway photographer and NZF contributor Alistair Ritchie. Unfortunately we were a little late arriving after missing a turn-off in thick fog, so with only the slightest of ripples marring the sea surface and a blazing sun overhead, the lads were understandably champing at the bit to get out and amongst the action. Deano’s eyes rolled upwards when he saw all our gear. As we offloaded, he went: 'Got that… and that… and all those on board — but bring them along anyway, no worries!' (He even had a better saltwater fly fishing ‘ladder’ gaff than the ones we had — very impressive.) So even at this early stage, we knew we were on an exceptionally well-equipped boat. (And what a boat! I’ll rave on about the big Riviera later on, but suffice it to say that it is the most luxuriously appointed charter vessel that I’ve ever been aboard.) It didn’t take Terry long to stow our mountain of gear away, and soon we were sedately cruising out of the picturesque Far North harbour. Upon clearing the harbour entrance, Deano put the hammers down until Outer Limits was charging along the coastline at well over 20-knots for the first hour and a half, making up for some of the lost time. Finally we slowed. The water looked fantastic: a deep purple-blue and seemingly with a kind of in-built glow emanating from it. Deano is a big fan of teasing fish up and then switching over to a livebait, so he usually trolls a pattern of lures and teasers without hooks. However, as we’d only just started fishing, we hadn’t caught any live koheru yet, and the handful of big skipjack tuna that took our bungy-line lures all ripped off under their own weight and power. This meant that until we got some livies, Deano was forced to deploy a couple of ‘armed’ Hooker Lures instead, and these were positioned behind the twin strings of wiggling, fizzing and splashing teasers affixed to our stern. We’d only been trolling for half an hour when Deano called, 'Fish up!' and there it was, fin erect and zigzagging excitedly behind the blue Hooker ‘Rudy’, moments before it crashed onto the lure and hooked up. The line was flying from the reel at such speed that I had to ease the drag back before the butt could be removed from the holder, but then I was in the chair and hanging on, the reel’s spool still a blur and the Duel’s ratchet wailing. In the interim, the other lines had been retrieved and stowed efficiently by Terry. Deano slowed the boat to an idle before instructing me to 'Come on — pull it in!' So I did. The marlin appeared to have expended much of its energy in that first blazing run and was now rather docile. I sneaked a bit of additional manual pressure on the spool when no-one was looking (it’s usually worth a slap on the wrist from most skippers), and after six or seven minutes it came into sight, swimming straight at us, its stripes and fins glowing purple-blue. On lures this is a dangerous angle, and when I felt the bumping headshakes transmit up the line, I expected the hooks to pull at any moment. But then the leader came up, Terry grabbed it and the marlin instantly surfaced, head clear of the water and thrashing its bill from side to side — and that’s when it fell off. It sank back beneath the surface and swam away as if nothing had happened. But that’s life, and besides — we still had heaps of time left! We carried on northwards, simply enjoying the gorgeous weather, the good food, the company and the great sights. We saw numerous manta rays, singly and in groups, their massive wings gracefully flapping and looking like giant underwater birds. Occasionally they launched themselves high into the air — well over 15-feet at times — before crashing back down again in explosions of foam. Often, only the slender tips of their wings were visible above the surface and they looked just like the sickles of feeding marlin. (So when we came across a group of sunbathing mantas, we got really excited — the first couple of times, anyway.) As the day wore on, it became obvious that the weather was going to be very settled, prompting Deano to suggest that we should have a broadbill drift (despite his still feeling a little weary from a previous drift the night before last). Good on you, Deano! The problem was we really needed some more bait, so in desperation and against our better judgement, we introduced a long-set skippie lure on a rod and reel at the rear of the pattern. This was the signal that the marlin had been waiting for, as only minutes later one was up and hammering the left teaser string. In the ensuing chaos, as we tried to clear gear and drop baits in amongst the added skippie gear, the marlin lost interest and swam away. That was the only real glitch on our trip and I still believe that it was a necessary gamble. Unfortunately the broadie drift was an anticlimax. We gently bobbed around in what would have been wonderful sleeping conditions without getting a single bite — except from one big, hungry squid. Despite all feeling a little jaded the following day, we decided to stick to the original plan: that of trying to catch a Three Kings kingfish on light tackle — preferably on just 3 or 4kg. Fortunately Deano has a good live bait spot so we caught a good number of koheru on small jigs early that morning at Nor’ East Bay. It took about 20 minutes to hook my first kingfish. At the time, I was using my ‘heavy’ 4kg gear, and the ‘fight’ lasted about five minutes before a nasty rock ate the line. Obviously it was time to use the 3kg rig! This time we would be ultra-cautious. Deano signalled his willingness to back up onto the kingfish for as many times as were necessary to keep line angle to a minimum and try to lead it out into more open waters. However, feeling a bit guilty about hogging the fishing time, I encouraged the others to have a go on heavier tackle at the same time. Alistair wasted no time in accepting the offer and quickly showed that a decent sinker (not really advisable on my own little rig) could make all the difference by quickly hooking up on a powerful fish. It was a see-saw battle that took about 10 minutes, but ended with a nice kingfish of around 24kg coming on board. Then it was my turn. As promised, Deano backed the big Riviera up several times and successfully kept the line length to an absolute minimum. Half an hour later, we finally managed to coax the fish out into more open waters and I felt a little more confident of my chances, with over 100 metres of water beneath us. For the first time that morning, the light Daiwa rod had some bend in it, and my little Penn 525 Mag was smoothly losing and gaining line in turns — but mostly gaining. Deep down a metre of silver could be seen dully gleaming. 'This might be the fish you want', said Deano, knowing that the current record king was only around 17kg. My heart was in my mouth but I just kept pumping and winding as smoothly as I could. The boys picked up a gaff each and assumed battle stations as the leader came up. Terry grabbed the trace just as it angled under the duckboard, but seconds later the fish popped up on the other side and the gaffs went in — to a face-full of jagged teeth! SURR-PRISE! A bloody barracouta! It was if a wicked magician had transformed it just under the boat. Everyone was howling with laughter at what is probably the longest time ever taken to land a 4kg ‘snake’. I’m probably famous now! We carried on for a while, but, perhaps understandably, my heart wasn’t really in it anymore, so just before midday we decided to give the stripies on the King Bank a hiding instead. By travelling at over 12 knots with just two high-speed lures fizzing and popping behind us, it didn’t take long to get there. Back in the more usual ‘bait and switch’ mode now, Terry positioned two monster Hooker Swimmers out on the third pressure wave back (prototypes that were supplied courtesy of Guy Jacobsen), as well as two in-close strings of Moldcraft ‘goodies’ with large, water-shifting Moldcrafts and Hookers at the rear. These were tied off on opposite corner bollards to make sure that hungry marlin didn’t remove them. (Although a big mako shark still managed to do this recently. Bye-bye $300!) Two bridle-rigged koheru lay head-down in the tuna tubes awaiting their fate. One was attached to the boat’s brand new Duel reel and Kilwell 15kg chair rod (Petah’s outfit), and the other to my 8kg stand-up rod and reel. We were ready for action. Unfortunately the marlin fishing was rubbish. It took at least 20 minutes of trolling before I saw the tip of a fin race up behind the close-in left-hand teaser. At the same time as I was alerting everyone to the marlin’s presence, I was also reaching over to drop my bait in, but was suddenly phased when I heard Dean say that he couldn’t see anything from the bridge. Dean has excellent marlin-detecting vision (he usually sees them well before anyone else) and was in a great position to see any billed visitors in the pattern. I hesitated. Perhaps I’d imagined it? Then it appeared again, up behind the right-hand teaser this time, and as per our earlier agreement on ‘sides’, Terry tipped Petah’s bait in. It was immediately monstered. As her ratchet steadily wailed, I cursed my momentary self-doubt, but this evaporated when another much bigger fin broke the surface and charged in behind the left-hand rigger’s lure. Even as I cranked it away from the aggressive fish, Terry was dumping my bait in the water. Thanks, mate! Although the panicking koheru was initially ignored, we got to see this fish more clearly when it swam up and turned alongside our stern, all lit up like an ocean liner from end to end. It was massive — a really big stripie. I wound my bait back in again and then let it swim out. That did it: I could feel the marlin chomp down on the bait shortly before the line began to leave the spool, steady and unstoppable. Fortunately, before striking, I noticed that both lines were angling in a similar direction, so held mine next to Petah’s to see if there was a cross-over. There was, so I remained in freespool, sorted that out and then slid the reel’s lever across into ‘strike’ before firmly lifting the rod. Double hook-up! I love the Three Kings! The decision was made to go for Petah’s fish first and get it out the way so that we could concentrate on mine afterwards. With both lines still heading off in the same direction, Deano had Outer Limits shuddering and shaking with the all the power and stresses as he backed up, a huge mountain of foaming water rearing up at the stern and threatening to spill over into the cockpit at any moment. (Deano said he would have liked to have got me wet, but didn’t want to drench Alistair and his camera gear at the same time.) It was all going like clockwork; Alistair was holding the tag pole and Terry was clutching a big flying gaff (just in case), with Petah’s swivel just visible and jinking around above the surface. However, I was as surprised as anyone when my own swivel suddenly slid out of the water and remained poised, just a metre from my rod tip, for around five seconds. I called attention to it, but with the noise of roaring motors and the intense focus placed on Petah’s fish, it took too long for us all to suddenly switch plans, so I ended up scrambling along the side and up to the bow. After checking with me that I was okay via the sound-directional intercom (very nifty!), Deano and I could only shake our heads at the lost chance and carry on. About 20 minutes later, I was lucky to narrowly escape a cut-off when a nearby boat gently ran over my line, its crew struggling to subdue and release a fish of their own. However, with quite a bit of the resultant free-spooled line now lying in the water and Outer Limits running forward to keep Petah’s line tight, I wasn’t too surprised when the fish suddenly jumped and my hook fell out. What else can one do in such instances but stick one’s tongue out between the lips, inflate the cheeks with air and blow — long, hard and loud! Then, tail between my legs, I slunk back to the cockpit, the empty hook and trace trailing in the water. But that’s the great thing about double hook-ups: even after one failure there’s still another fish waiting to be caught! So I tried to put the disappointment behind me, placed a rather forced smile on my face, and picked up the tagging duties so that pro-photographer-Al could take heaps of wonderful scoop shots of jumping marlin. As it turned out, Alistair had to wait a long time. Whenever we got close to Petah’s fish, it dived down and couldn’t be raised, despite a steadily increasing drag pressure. We ran away from it, up to it, around it and everything in between, but it always got its head down every time. At one stage I commented that it was acting like a giant Rapala, and it really did seem to be. After about two hours we began to hope that the fish was getting tired, but then suddenly the line started spewing off the reel even faster than before and this culminated in the most angry, crazy, somersaulting jump that I’ve ever seen anything other than a blue marlin do. That was pretty scary. Our professional photographer was changing lenses at the time, but I’m sure that the sight’s still vivid in his mind. Hopefully, one day, there’ll be a psychic machine that can develop it. As time went on, Petah, a little low on marlin-fighting technique to begin with, began to really hit her straps, and I was impressed. With maximum weight now placed on the Kilwell rod (it was a chair design but she elected to go stand-up), she wound fast for as long as was necessary and then did the inch by inch grind when the fish was straight down below. She never faltered. After three hours we were treated to another impressive jumping display, but this time high porpoising leaps that were more typical of the species. Our professional photographer watched it all amazed, then picked up his camera. 'Wow! That was great! Do it again! I’m ready now!' The end came shortly after. Just about out of ideas, Dean decided to run a wide fast circle around the fish. We then watched incredulously as the line angled up to the surface and remained there as we charged in and Terry grabbed the leader. Terry is a very powerful man (Deano previously took the heavy leather leadering gloves away to stop Terry snapping any more 500lb traces!), but even he had trouble controlling the big fish — and no wonder — the Owner Super Mutu hook was caught in the marlin’s broad upper back. No wonder it had been acting like a giant Rapala and been so hard to land! After estimating its weight to be in excess of 150kg, the hook was removed and the stripie was soon swimming steadily away. Petah was absolutely exhausted, but her face was radiant with happiness. I couldn’t help wondering how big my one might have been ... (Coincidentally, out of interest we later tested the Duel’s drag pressure to see just how much pressure Petah was exerting at the end, as by then she was way past ‘strike’, and the scales registered almost 10kg. It was a real tribute to Petah’s quick acting and the drag’s smoothness that she didn’t bust off on some of the faster runs.) The Crew Although I’ve fished with Deano on a couple of occasions, this was the first time that I’ve really watched him in charter gamefishing mode. He really is excellent. Not only is he always trying his hardest, he’s knowledgeable, keen, innovative and constantly thinking about how he can improve things. He also gets pleasure from making sure that everything necessary is on board the boat, in good order and that it is of the highest quality — and if it gets lost or broken, there’s usually a spare stored away somewhere to replace it. I view him as one of the new breed of skippers: he’s very computer literate, and as the boat is fitted with all the latest and greatest electronics, Deano’s able to combine it with his fishing expertise to maximum effect. Almost conversely, he’s also extremely laid-back, affable and has a very congenial nature. He’s always laughing. He must be a very good teacher, too, because it’s hard to believe that Terry has only been working as his deckie for four months! He’s already streets ahead of many competent deckies with the same number of years of experience! Not that this should be too surprising. Terry suddenly felt a compulsion to take up a life at sea last year, so he chucked in his well-paid job as manager of a trucking firm and then phoned Deano every day until Deano finally crumbled and agreed to let him work on board. What an excellent decision that turned out to be! Terry is driven, super-keen, pleasant and intelligent to talk to, and has a real thirst for knowledge. Like Deano, he’s always watching the gear — and if he’s not, he’s looking after the punters. He’s such a good cook that we looked forward to every meal. This guy’s going to go far. The Boat This obviously enables her to get to where she needs to be with the minimum of time. Within her 16-metre length, she has everything a boatie could ever want; angler or otherwise. Like the rest of the boat, the two large cabins have personal air-conditioning, and the very comfortable double beds are made up with fresh sheets and duvets. Both have access to en-suite bathrooms. (If necessary, there are additional single berths up in the bow, as well as up in the flying bridge.) And you can have a shower every day if you want, because the fresh water supply is not a problem. The water-maker on board can pump out 90 litres of new water every hour, and that’s in addition to the 1000 litres already carried! Heated towel rails make your towels warm and dry for the next time. The handsome saloon area is large and designed to facilitate entertaining and socialising — especially the dining area, which has a huge wooden table that’s capable of seating 12 people! Both the seating and the tabletop are covered in soft green leather — very nice. As for the on-board music selection: it caters to all tastes and with over 600 tracks programmed into the system, it’s fast becoming legendary. Then there’s the galley. This area is well set-up, spacious and full of beautifully polished wooden panelling (and there’s a stainless barbecue for those with the inclination). The three fridges on board — one of which is massive — keep everything fresh and the drinks cold. One of them is situated up on the fully-enclosed flybridge, providing quick and easy access for those thirsty boaties enjoying high altitude scenery or a session of lure watching. Even the flybridge itself is an impressive feature. There are several long seats to sit or sprawl on and the layout is perfect for socialising, especially as it can be completely closed to all adverse weather conditions. The Gear Deano uses Hooker Lures almost exclusively because they really attract fish (both with and without hooks), which is fine by me because I’m a fan myself of these New Zealand–made lures! As livebaits are the other important part of the fish-catching equation, they’re well-catered for. There’s an inside and outside livebait tank, and one is fitted with tuna tubes as well as underwater pool lights (all far too good for mere baitfish, surely?). Although Deano is a very keen exponent of stand-up type fishing, the boat has a beautiful, custom-made chair for those who prefer to fish this way — or if the fish proves to be overly large. Also impressive was the bait-rigging bench. It’s nice to have an area made for the purpose, and the long, narrow cupboard behind it is comprehensively set-up with a wide variety of tackle and accessories, all neatly packed in their own, see-through containers. In addition to the usual outriggers, Outer Limits boasts not one, but two downriggers. As far as I’m concerned, no boat should be without at least one. For the divers, there is a compressor on board for the refilling of tanks and a ladder for easy access. Both Deano and Tony Morris (Outer Limit’s owner) love to dive, and there’s a full-time divemaster on board. In summary, Outer Limits is a boat that’s hard to beat. The Riviera’s lavishly appointed, wonderfully comfortable to be on and equipped with everything imaginable. I found the skipper and crew to be eager to please; they’re a pleasure to be with; and are bound to enhance all trips. They can certainly count themselves amongst the top handful of charter operations in the country — and they’re certainly the best equipped. I will even gladly pay for my next trip with them!
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