I think the saying goes if at first you fail, or something like that.

Well some experiences need time. 

Time before they can be spoken about, let alone written about.

Experiences that scratch the soul. Grave experiences I call them, because thats where memories of those experiences get taken.

Theres a few photo's throughout this yarn, and a video to follow when I recover over the next few days.

2012 saw me lucky enough to be invited on a Cova Rose charter chasing Bluefin off Westport. It changed me - enough said.

If you are a rock on a riverbed, 12 months is not long in the geological scale of things. If however you are a 43 year old that feels like a 6 year old the week leading up to Christmas, then 12 months is an eternity.

Martin Luther had a dream, well I had a fantasy, and I guess it was a wet one - to take my own boat down and have a crack this year.

A years planning, more chores to earn brownie points than I care to confess, and a kings ransom worth of expenditure. I reckon there was more planning and conversations about this trip than there would be a NASA pre shuttle launch.

As with most things like this, the first 11 months dribbles by, then the last month is a manic last minute rush around. So many questions, so many unknowns. Would the weather be ok? Would the fish be there? Would our gear hold? Would we hold? Do they really have 6 toes on the West Coast?

I have this uncanny ability to assemble bunches of foul mouthed, belching, farting, demented crews with relative ease, and with 3 of Northlands finest mongrels on board, and my fine self, we hit the road on the 16th of August. Chris, Luke, and Bryce were to be my first crew for the first week, then weather dependant, a second batch would fly in for the second week.

An uneventful tow to Wellington was interrupted where upon arrival at Wellington we got the first earthquake we'd all felt, and then a night of shakes continued at the motorcamp we were staying at. The highlight of this evening was when under the cover of darkness, I tied a rope to the bed leg of Chris's bed next to me, and every five minutes or so would give a teeth charring yank on it, trying desperately not to piss myself whilst doing so. 'Did you feel that one'? he'd yell wide eyed.

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The morning saw us on the ferry and that afternoon we finally rolled into Westport.

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Next days forecast was a minter, so it was fuel up and prep as soon as we hit the ground. Big thanks to Talleys for their bait/burley help.

6.30am at Westport boat ramp - hell yes, let's do this.

Pilgrims, let me tell you, 65 miles straight out to sea is a long way...................

We passed Lance on Cova Rose heading back in and he passed on where the boats were working - thanks mate!

Out we go, and finally, what seemed like close to Australia, we picked up the trawlers.

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To say we fished hard is an understatement.

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Every haul. Every boat. Non stop. No marks. No takes. No fish. 24 hours. Defeat.

Back to Westport. Clean boat. Eat. Sleep. Pub.

The forecast at this stage decided to show us who was in charge and promptly tunred to crap - well, crap enough for a 7m trailerboat erring on the side of caution anyway.

With a shift in the Hoki boats towards Greymouth we decided to relocate and mid week saw us in our bach twiddling our thumbs. The next few days were a bit of the inevitable touristy stuff, plenty of support of the Monteiths brewery, and a quick hunt that saw Luke secure a nice chamois buck 2 hours off a public road.

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The week rolled around pretty quick, and with the next 5 days looking like rubbish we conceded defeat and the boys hopped on their plane home. The forecast was just too fickle to invite another crew down confidently, so with a heavy heart and a lightened wallet, I pointed the landcruiser north, and with Pork Hunt on the back did the looooong trek back to Huia.

The following week was a rather morbid week. The weather slowly started to come right, and tuna started arriving in better numbers. Add to this Brian and co from the club trailering down their boat Game Az and the feet started to get itchy again.

I found myself inadvertently still looking at Greymouth weather forecasts every day, dreaming of what could have been, and kicking myself for getting my timing wrong and being a wee early with our first trip. But hey, I was at the other end of the country again, had towed my boat home, was empty of brownie points, and money, and had a backlog of work. I was resigned to another years wait.

Or so I thought.

Enter 'The Sarge'. Arron Sergeant from Strictly Fishing charters had been based down there for the last month as well. We had spent our share together at the pub when I was down there. The phone call was a pleasant one.

'Tuna have showed up, I have one opportunity to get you back out before a big front arrives and I head back home. Get some mates and get your filthy arse down here'

24 hours later and I am picking up another couple of heathens at 5.30am Friday morning destined for the airport - Christchurch, then Hokitika. By 10am we are at the Greymouth boat ramp loading and prepping. Deja vu......................

With my two crew for this trip, Kieran and Trent, being relative game fishing newbies we decided to have a few practice pitching runs at a trawler daytime, not even hauling.

Enter the Amatal Columbia. Mobile burley bomb and tuna attractor extraordinaire.

4pm, 2nd pitch, fish on, you lil ripper.

130lb standup with the Avet TRX in the high 35kg plus drag range.

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3 hours of bleeding line, blood, and sweat. Toe to toe, just how I like it.

Good tracing, good team work, she's on the deck.

In February this year I had a major op on my back getting a full rebuild. Walking a bit Quassimodoish still.

A happy crew is an understatement. Male bonding, man love, high fives, woohoos, that kind of thing.

Taped at 2.46m long and 1.92m girth = 302kgs. Happy is an understatement not that the numbers mean that much to me.

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The Columbia by this time was 15 miles away - decision time, work the boats that are close to us, or go find the Columbia knowing she was holding - the latter won and 40 minutes later we are alongside again.

Fish on again, this time Kieran was up. The facial expressions and look of awe were hilarious as he got 'owned' by a horse. Damn near a spooling - 50m approx to go, snap. **** happens, we are still smiling, life is good.

Retrace, recoup, settle, pitch.

Trents up this time. Man oh man, did he give it some stick. 45 minutes of insane pressure - no other choice, we needed line on the reel. Very angry fish with more anger in reserve it seemed. 1 pulled hook. We are still smiling, life is still good.

Retrace, pitch.

Kieran again. Oh bugger, it's heading back towards the boat and the cables. Try to lead it, but we got laughed at. Again, insane pressures trying to lead and convince the behemoth that a clear area away from the trawler would be a lot more convenient and sporting. Two shows - a sh*t show, and a no show.

Grate grate grate around the cables and ping. You guessed it, we're still smiling, even if the skipper was swearing.

It's now 6am, and we have a plane to catch.

Back at the ramp at 9am, cleaned, fish butchered, and on the road by 11am for Christchurch ( Hokitika flights were full that day ) to make our 3pm flight. Home on the couch by 6pm.

If it wasn't for the bruises, my wrecked back, bags under my eyes, cuts and bangs, plus a fridge loaded with Tuna, I would swear it had all been a dream, 'THE' fantasy.

Thanks to my mates, Talleys, The Sarge.

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Cheers.

For those of you considering doing it privately, here's some info that may help.

Whilst you'd do it in a dinghy on the right day, think 7m boat+. Off Westport you will be 60+ miles, off Greymouth 30+ miles.

Talleys are great for getting your bait - good guys, accommodating, and thankful for the beer we dropped off.

I have a 7m Kiwikraft ( Pork Hunt ) with a 225 Honda. Full 24 hours 100km offshore saw approx 200 litres used - we carried 300.

Forget 37kg gear, use 60kg. We had Avet TRX's, great reels, but would like a bit more capacity ( we had 700m braid and 100m mono topshot. )

Be prepared for either Greymouth or Westport, and be ready to move if you have to. Both have holiday parks that are hardly busy at that time of the year.

The locals are awesome.

Commercial boat skippers are awesome - talk to them, tell them a joke or 3, ask permission to fish down the side of them. More often than not they will give you a warning when they are hauling.

Definitely worth fishing the boats when they are just towing, not even hauling, as the tuna will sit under them.

You'll need 4 of you to get the fish on board, or a block n tackle set up.

The season seemed a wee later this year.

A radar is good for tracking commercial boats. Little bit of drizzle and they are gone from sight.

It's a long way to tow. Good bearings, spare wheels etc etc etc.

If you think it's cheaper than chartering it's not.

8 pints of Monteiths Sassy Red and a seafood chowder after fishing makes you fart and sleep well.