Monster Snapper on a Softbait

I’ve known Cosmo for as long as I can remember. We grew up as neighbours on a small ‘lifestyle block’ (big paddock would be more accurate) in Dairy Flat, and he’d often wander down to our property to hang out with my brother and me. After a few years of little contact, Cosmo got back in touch once he saw I had taken up the position as deputy editor of this magazine. His new hobby was fishing, and I could see, from the frequency of his calls and posts on social media, he was almost out every day casting a line off the rocks or from his kayak. His effort was unquestionable, but having spent most of his time fishing off the rocks on the North Shore, his biggest snapper to date was only 50-odd centimetres.

And then Level 3 Lockdown rolled around, which put everyone on an even playing field. All us boaties were forced to drag our old kayaks out from behind the house and fish the hard way without the help of our outboards. Another NZFN contributor and mate of mine, Josh Coombridge, and I had decided to paddle out of Army Bay (socially distanced, of course) on the first Saturday of Level 3 and spend some time casting soft-baits around Wellington Rock. Two fishes last lockdown in this area were very successful, so it was the obvious choice for our first cast in over a month.

It was on Thursday that Cosmo called and asked if I wanted to come with him to fish at Stanmore Bay. I told him he should join us instead (socially distanced, of course), and after a bit of back and forth about paddling distances, he agreed to meet us at 5:15am that Saturday. The 2km trip was a little bit further than what Cosmo was used to – a developmental disorder makes certain activities a little challenging for him at times – but he was up for the adventure.

We made it to Wellington Rock just as the sun emerged from behind Tiri, and were the first anglers to cast in that area for five-ish weeks. All three of us were using 5-inch soft-baits, and while Josh and I both had Shimano Stradic combos with light braid, Cosmo was using the substantially cheaper Shimano Aqua Tip rod and FX 4000 reel spooled up with 30lb braid and equally heavy leader.

Josh hooked up first cast to a pannie and I started feeling bites instantly. The fish had their heads down, however, and were only feeding hard on the bottom. I shouted to Cosmo, asking whether he’d had a hit – he hadn’t – so I told him to try letting the soft-bait bounce on the bottom for a bit because that’s where the fish seemed to be (yes, that’s me trying to take some credit for what happened next).

“I’m on,” is what I heard thirty seconds later, and sure enough, I turned to see Cosmo’s rod bent over. Josh, who was closer than me, assumed that his drag was too low considering how fast line was exiting the spool, and told him to tighten up. I returned to my fishing, and so did Josh. After a couple more casts and no word from Cosmo, I swivelled in my seat again – his rod was still bent in half, and now he was being towed at a decent rate of knots.

Josh and I silently agreed to pull in our lines and paddle after him. An XL kahawai or a rat kingie was my initial diagnosis, but as I drew closer, the big head nods were unmistakable. Josh and I suddenly got serious, pulling up next to his ‘yak and encouraging him as best we could through the final stages of the fight. He was starting to tire, and the fish was still running 10+ minutes into the battle, but Cosmo kept getting winds on whenever he could, and the fish was, very gradually, losing ground.

And then we saw it. Something red and big was emerging below us. It started off as nothing more than a shimmer but, as moochers are prone to do, the snapper soon flopped onto the surface and started basking in the morning sun. I can’t remember exactly what Josh said, but it was something along the lines of, “It’s massive! Get the net!” I was close to laughing (I’d never seen a fish this big) as I paddled up next to the fish and, seeing that not even its head was going to fit into my net, I pulled it onto my lap with my hands.

Without hesitation, Josh and I called it for 25lb+. Its head climbed up my chest while its barrel-like tail lazed down near my ankles. Through all of this Cosmo was yet to show any emotion – I think he was still in shock. I asked him what he wanted to do with the fish and he made the call to keep it, which I completely understood considering this was his first fish over a few pound and he wanted to put it on the scales. Josh reached over with his knife and dispatched it quickly before I passed Cosmo his catch. After a few photos, the ordeal was over. Cosmo was finally able to relax with the biggest fish most anglers would ever see, let alone catch, resting between his legs.

Fish don't get much bigger than this in the Hauraki Gulf.

Landing a big snapper off a boat on light gear is one thing, but to do it on a kayak with a $100 combo, a 5” soft-bait, and within a stone’s throw of Auckland is something completely different altogether. Cosmo only waited around for another 20 minutes or so before calling it quits and paddling home without Josh or I. Again, this was completely fair enough – there was certainly no need to catch any more fish, and I would have been pretty keen to weigh the snapper while it was fresh too. He messaged me that afternoon to give me the official measurements: 13.5kg/29.5lb and 85cm. After further inquiry, I did find out that it was placed in a plastic washing basket and then hung from the scale. My basket at home weighs 1kg (and it’s a bit of a unit), so for the pedantic among us, I will call the fish for at least 12.5kg/27.5lb. There have been a few feel-good lockdown stories from around the country, but this would have to be up there with the very best in my books.

November 2021 - Ethan Neville
New Zealand Fishing News Magazine.
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