Record bluefin

“We’re f***ing hooked up!” I yelled as I raced to clear the rod nearest the screaming Talica 50.

“Shit, I just dropped an F-bomb,” I said to Nicky beside me. Then, “bugger, now I’ve dropped an S-bomb too”. I could sense the cameraman in quiet hysterics behind me, listening to the torrent of un-broadcastable expletives through his headset as he pointed the camera towards me.

We were only five minutes into our planned three days of fishing at Waihau Bay in late June, filming the final episode of the new season of ADOS Addicted to Fishing, and we’d already hooked what we strongly suspected was our target species - a southern bluefin tuna.

I grabbed a harness from inside the cabin and stood by the rod, watching the rapidly emptying spool as I fumbled to attach the gimbal belt to my waist. Suddenly the reel went into overdrive and the line, which had been peeling out at a vast rate of knots, began to disappear even more quickly than before. Thinking we were going to lose the fish - along with 1000m of line - I dropped the kidney harness and picked up the rod.

The boat slowed and once Nicky had cleared the remaining gear, she helped me into the kidney harness, as we started the arduous process of gathering back the line that had just emptied from the spool.

There was little resistance, the fish having clearly exhausted itself in its first blistering run away from the boat.

There was so little fight, in fact, that it had us wondering if our fish was actually an ‘A-word’. A for albacore, of course. Albacore are a common by-catch in the same waters that southern bluefin tuna frequent, but are much smaller, typically in the 10-20kg range. The ‘A-word’ itself was unmentionable at the time, for fear of manifesting an undesirable species instead of the target.

But the real fight was yet to come, and as the spool refilled with line, the fish on the other end seemed to replenish its energy stores too. As it came closer to the boat, the line angled down, taking on the typical character of a big tuna as it dove below the boat.

I worked the rod, steadily gathering line and lifting the fish higher until it decided that was close enough and peeled the freshly gathered line back off the spool. The drag settings indicated I was only exerting 8kg, but with 4? temperatures and the sun still not over the horizon, I didn’t want to push it too much and risk pulling the hook. After all, we really wanted this fish. Not just for its delectable sashimi-grade flesh, but to complete the episode of ADOS Addicted to Fishing we were here to film.

We plugged away at the pinwheeling fish, gaining and losing line in turn. On a couple of occasions, the fish suddenly shot up to the surface, acting like a marlin preparing to jump.

At one point we saw it surface about 50m away from the boat, its fins slicing through the water, unmistakably tuna-shaped, and we quickly abandoned any suspicions of an out-of-season marlin.

Our battle of wills continued, as the fish gradually inched closer to the boat with every cycle of its routine. Eventually, the leader came within reach, and Nicky reached to grab it but was forced to dump it as the fish shot under the boat, dangerously close to the Honda’s shining prop.

At the next opportunity, Nicky grabbed the leader and held on tight. Exerting steady pressure on the fish, she let it swim its wide, circular course as she hauled it smoothly upwards. On the second pass, she offered up the perfect headshot and I slammed the gaff home.

Watching us haul that fish over the transom of Nicky’s Extreme 795 Game King is something I can’t wait to see on screen. It took us a couple of shots, and a fair bit of effort, before the bulging mass of southern bluefin tuna slid over the step and thumped onto the deck.

Hugs and high fives were dealt out all round, as the cameraman hurriedly readjusted his sound levels to avoid being deafened by our high-pitched celebratory screams. We stared down at the barrel of a fish, all wondering the same thing… How big? “That’s got to be close to a hundred kilos,” said Dave, Nicky’s crewman.

Whatever it was, it was by far the biggest tuna I’d ever seen, let alone caught. I was keen to weigh it. But there was one major problem.

Before we set out, we’d agreed that if we caught a bluefin, we would bleed it, trunk it, gut it and pack it on ice straight away, on board the boat. We wanted to capture all this on camera, to demonstrate the best way to keep the delicious meat of these sought after fish in prime condition.

I really wanted to weight it. But at the same time, I didn’t want to screw up the show. What a dilemma!

We took length and girth measurements, but without any mobile reception to look up the size-to-weight formula, we still only had our eyes to estimate the weight. In the end, Nicky came up with a solution. If we could fit it in the insulated kill bag, with plenty of ice, and zip it up - it was coming back to shore whole. If not, we’d stick to the plan and break it down at sea.

It fitted. Just. We still bled it, because it seems a travesty not to do so with a spectacular fish like this. We wanted to waste as little of it as possible.

As we carried on trolling, we picked up some patchy mobile reception, and it was then that we realised we may have a record on our hands. The size-to-weight formula worked out at 92kg, and the standing women’s 37kg record was 91.4kg. Pretty close!

Back on shore at the end of the day, the scales at Waihau Bay Sports Fishing Club read 99.1kg - a pending New Zealand women’s record on 37kg line.

I wonder if it would have gone the full hundred if we hadn’t bled it…? But of course, I don’t regret that for an instant. The delectable sashimi I’ve enjoyed with friends was absolutely worth it. And of course, it leaves me with a goal for next season’s southern bluefin tuna run at Waihau Bay - a spectacular place and an incredible fishery that I can’t wait to get back to.