Offsite Issue 37 Jul/Aug 2023

PLUS:

• MENTAL HEALTH CHAT

• THE WEEKEND MISH

• GAMEBIRD HUNTING

WORK HARD, PLAY HARD

Rheem offsite is published bi-monthly by NZ Fishing Media Ltd.

177B Marua Road, Ellerslie, Auckland

Editor: Jason Harman

Designer: Dialog Studio

Sales: Josh Williams 021 862 579

sales@nzfishingnews.co.nz

Editorial Enquiries: jason@nzfishingnews.co.nz

Advertising within this publication is subject to NZ Fishing Media Ltd’s standard advertising terms and conditions, a copy of which is available by emailing grant@ nzfishingnews.co.nz.

Cover Photo:

Escaping the complexities of modern life in Mount Aspiring National Park. Image by Graeme Murray.

Contents

Fishing in Paradise

ColorCote Tradie Profile: Guy Hilliard

Frames Photography Gallery

Tradie BBQ: Corn & Mussel Chowder

Gamebird Hunting

Northland Fiesta

Stoney Creek Workwear Giveaway

Rheem Offsite Turns Six!

And just like that, it happened. Despite all the BS – Covid lockdowns, worldwide paper shortages, and rising production costs – Rheem Offsite is still going strong six years after it started; a proudly analog, free product in a digital world where everything costs more than it should.

We hope you’ve been enjoying the goodies we bring you each issue as we work hard to showcase the people, culture, destinations, and outdoor adventures that make Aotearoa a tradie’s paradise.

rambunctious and rewarding fishing trip to the Far North.

For our ColorCote Tradie Profile, I interview Wā naka-based electrician Guy Hilliard using a quickfire Q+A to try to throw off his guard and get to the heart of what makes him tick.

We’ve also included something new in this issue: Mental Health Chat – a place in the mag where we make space for the conversations that matter.

Rheem offsite is proudly printed on sustainable PEFC-certified paper.

In this issue, we’ve got an uplifting story from Richie Laming – one of the South Island’s most gregarious guides – about his trip of a lifetime with a group of mates and one simple goal: connection. We also have a cameo appearance from legendary larrikin of the outdoors, Geoff Thomas; and the young bucks from the Weekend Mish take us behind the scenes of a

As always, get in touch if you have any stories of your own to share or to give us your feedback. We want to hear from you! Message us on Instagram (@offsite_magazine) or email me at jason@nzfishingnews.co.nz.

P.S. Keep an eye out for our 6th birthday giveaway on social media!

– Jason Harman, Editor.

A Journey into the South Island Backcountry

ESCAPE. IMMERSE. EVOLVE.

Words by Richard Laming @escape.immerse.evolve Photos by Graeme Murray @graememurraynz

Connection: a word often used to describe something deep in the human psyche. It’s a hard concept to quantify, but one could say it’s the alignment of our energy and thoughts to something external – outdoor enthusiasts have a connection to the land that they explore, conservationists and hunters even more so. But connection isn’t solely physical; it’s a social and spiritual phenomenon, too. Connection creates attachment, and, more importantly, it fosters curiosity and understanding.

Such deep thoughts, however, were only a twinkle in Bob Mclachlan’s eyes as he assembled seven fair dinkum Aussie blokes and two Kiwis for a 3-night expedition into Mount Aspiring National Park – a trip that was aptly

named ‘How Good’. In the hopes of preserving a few hectares of forest from going to print, ‘Big Water Bob’s’ credentials will not be mentioned in significant detail. But briefly: thanks to worldwide adventure-racing and pioneering feats in the discipline of white-water navigation, this bloke was like a duck to water when it came to the Kiwi outdoors. With his unassuming confidence and lightning wit, you couldn’t help trusting the man. This expedition was in Bob’s gargantuan yet safe hands.

Silhouetted by Hawea’s iconic mountains, preparations were made with the hustle and bustle of city life still labouring in the minds of the participants. Spearheaded in energy by the infectious chirp of Andrew ‘Reidy’

Reid – an integral member of the hit TV series Bondi Rescue – the rest of the expedition crew consisted of fellow Bondi lifeguards Ryan ‘Whippet’ Clarke and Ben Quigley; Hamish McMaster (AKA ‘Hammer’), the quietly determined Mark Liddell, the effervescent Dean Degan, creative geniuses Graeme Murray (photographer) and Zane Wilson (videographer), and guides Bob Mclachlan and me (Richie Laming). Some fellas were lifelong friends, others had only just met. It was the makings of one hell of a trip, but right now, only three things were on the agenda: blokes, beers, and banter.

While enjoying the simplest of luxuries – fresh bread and butter baked by Bob’s wonderful and caring wife, Cat (also the logistics superstar

behind this trip) – we listened as Bob described the coming day’s activities: jet boating, glacial lake swimming, hiking, pack-rafting, heli-adventuring, mountain biking, and more. From the looks of wonder and awe sprinkled with apprehension, the trip was foreign territory to most. Ben Quigley mentioned that his young son couldn’t understand how you could stand on top of a mountain because when you drew one on paper, the peak leaves no room for a person. Indeed, mountains of this grandeur appeared as a great unknown to most of the crew. It was left to the imagination as the crew departed for bed, bellies full to the brim, to sleep under a cloud of nervous excitement.

With Tuesday dawn bringing beautifully clear conditions, it naturally brought an air of optimism to the group as we checked equipment, hoarded snacks, double-checked maps, and filled packs. Then came departure time. Energy levels were high (there was more get up and go in the team than a one-night stand) and you could feel it. First stop: the Makarora River at the head of Lake Wānaka. Here, our team would board the Wilkin River Jet. Light-hearted comparisons were made as packs were loaded into the jet boat, then, with a hiss and a roar, ‘How Good’ was a go. Glassy, windless conditions welcomed us up the Wilkin River as we made our first encounters with the type of terrain we would be immersed in

over the following days. Faces reflected quiet shades of intimidation as clear as the water below. After half an hour of disrupting the peace, horsepower transitioned to footpower as we disembarked from the last remnant of civilisation and waved goodbye to the jetboat. We had arrived at Kerin Forks Hut and, from there, would venture onwards to Top Forks Hut (a characterexposing 17km in the far distance).

There was something pure about the following eight hours of hiking. Pure simplicity it was, as the persistent elements of nature have an unequivocal ability to strip back the layers that do not serve, exposing your core being. Strapped with 20-30kg of gear each, the hike presented a beautiful combination of native beech forest and river plains. Stimulated by the amphitheatre of wilderness, and disarmed from technology, we were able to fully appreciate the beauty surrounding us and engage in natural conversation. This was vital, as through some moments of the eight-hour long trek, we were hanging onto the words of our

compatriots for motivation.

The first day’s journey was a good example of how hardship and vulnerability can create connection, and you would struggle to find a better arena for it than in the Southern Alps. There were moments of joy, of laughter, of struggle, and the pleasure of being in such a beautiful place. And, of course, there were those niggling self-doubts (which would only come out in the open a couple of days later). Hamish would later mention how he was haunted by the same peak, which never changed its position – an indication of how hardfought travel was.

Arriving triumphantly at Top Forks Hut at 5pm that evening, it was as if we were emerging from a time capsule. The experience of the last eight hours had been amplified into what felt like more. It sure had for Reidy, at least, who had already eaten his three days’ worth of snacks. With packs finally dropped, the crew took a muscle-salving dip in the upper reaches of the Wilkin River. A refreshed vibe overtook camp as tents were erected and the primal aroma of a campfire enveloped the air. Whippet, a self-confessed pyromaniac, took it upon himself to source the wood required with a gusto not seen since cold beers were introduced the previous evening. Those beers sure did seem a long time ago now.

With socks and shoes out to dry,

bowls were filled (as was morale) with some of Cat’s homemade Bolognaise. The twinkle of distant stars framed by silhouetted peaks provided an evening backdrop like none of us had ever seen before. Then the natural boredom set in. ‘Boredom’ usually has a negative connotation, but place ‘natural’ in front of it and the phrase describes the wonderful things that happen when you escape societal pressures and immerse yourself in wilderness – evolution.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines ‘evolve’ as “to develop gradually,” On the outskirts of Mount Aspiring National Park that evening, small changes were gradually developing in everyone. Around the campfire, the crew shared and exchanged new learnings with one another. As we settled in for that first night, the gentle flow of the nearby Wilkin River carried our thoughts away, and the smell of our tent partner’s flatulence…

There are iconic voices everyone can recognise: Bruce Buffer, the American ring announcer; Ray Warren, the Australian sports presenter; and Bob Mclachlan, the larger-than-life Kiwi outdoorsman, at 6am. With Bob’s humming commentary acting as a natural alarm clock, the team

was roused slightly stiff. Yet, with the first breath of fresh alpine air, morale was ignited again. A tummy-warming concoction of porridge and cream followed before camp was packed and the destination outlined for that day: Lake Castalia, a glacial-filled lake rising 500 metres above us. With approximately six hours of pack-hiking ahead, a line of nine evolving humans departed Top Forks for the mystery that was Lake Castalia, and a day of natural stimulus soon to be etched into our minds. Surrounded in all directions by magnificent beech forest and masses of glacial ice, as the clock hit 11am the ferocious rumbling of ice falls began with the thaw of the summer sun. There was a cacophony of “Oooohs” and “Aaaahs” from the crew as containersized chunks of ice plummeted hundreds of metres. Graeme and Zane were in the zone capturing the foreground of hikers amplified by the awe-inspiring backdrop. The team were completely safe on the trail, spectating from afar as we explored the two lake systems preceding Lake Castalia: Lake Diana and Lake Lucidus. We took our lunch at a small glacial-fed swimming hole in the north branch of the Wilkin River – where Zane showed his true-

blue roots with a pair of cracking budgie smugglers – before we pushed the final couple of hours onto Lake Castalia.

As we advanced towards Lake Castalia, all was hidden by mammoth pieces of rock. Then, with a final turn that signalled the end of the prehistoric labyrinth, a view greeted us unlike anything that had come before. It wasn’t just that it was a lake shimmering in brilliant turquoise, it was the enitre cradle the lake was encased within that blew our minds. All around were cliff faces so sheer and dominating that it was impossible to gain scope of how large they were. At least 15 waterfalls cascaded down the rockfaces, and with each gusting wind, the waterfalls became waterclimbs –forced against their will in a battle of the elements. Better still, the setting sun created a rainbow effect on the water droplets, which was described as “like a scene from Interstellar”. In other words, out of this world. Mark revealed later that up until this point in his life, he had no idea that such places truly existed. Frothing with energy, we then made our way around to the lake’s northern end. With nothing to do but build a camp, eat food, and share in each other’s company, life really had become pure and simple for our motley crew of nine lads. We had nothing but time. Time to imprint what we had seen as a memory to relish later, like a reservoir that could be drawn upon in tough times; time to enjoy the magic of being ‘off-grid’, far from the day-to-day struggles of everyday life; and time to connect with each other spiritually, beyond the superficial. With the added bonus of

an early morning ice cave exploration to look forward to the next day, we resigned to our beds that night with our metaphorical cups brimming full.

With the following morning bringing serene conditions, we ventured up to a remnant ice formation tucked into the western flank of the surrounding cliffs. It was here that the scale of the land became more fathomable. What appeared to be a black dot from camp turned out to be an archway receding into the ice, approximately 5m tall by 10m wide. It was as if nature’s genius had created this spectacle just for the ‘How Good’ crew to enjoy. After an hour spent in awe of this icy wonderland, we began the return journey, spurred on by the thought of the biggest sensory stimulus yet to come: a helicopter flight over Mount Aspiring itself.

Rene Daumal famously said, “You cannot stay on the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place?” No words were more poignant as the crew took one last glance at the extraordinary Lake Castalia. The answer became clear over the following hours as we returned to the Top Forks Hut: “One climbs, one sees. One descends, and one sees no longer. But one has seen.” Our eyes had been opened, our egos had been humbled, and our spirits had flown over the previous 24 hours. A calm had descended upon the crew, and although the task was still arduous, the crew were in sync, in rhythm.

Under the lowering sun, we ventured on to Jumboland, approximately 6km back down the

main branch of the Wilkin River. A cold-water bath and another rock jump helped us cleanse those hardto-reach places. As we savoured our dinner of mash and curry, the crew stared into the campfire and reflected on how the time we had known each other seemed irrelevant, as the lack of artificial distraction had allowed a rapid connection to be forged between us. It made us realise that despite the different ages of the crew – ranging from 30s to 50s – the concept of age in the pursuit of the outdoors is irrelevant; it’s the energy that counts! Bob, with a mending leg that he’d broken several months prior, was a testament to this. As Graeme experimented with some stellar photography, the crew retired in gentle anticipation of the next morning’s excitement.

Doofdoof...doofdoof... a rumble filled the valley as two metal birds descended from the sky. In what Dean later described as a Vietnam reenactment, we boarded the choppers and a new dose of adrenaline surged for the last action-packed day. Within minutes, the crew was navigating country as beautiful as it was hostile. Sheer cliff faces opened to cascading waterfalls, and chunks of glacial ice desperately hung on. Mt Aspiring, standing 3033m above sea level, captivated our attention as it dominated the landscape. It was easy to see why helicopters had become so relied upon here. Thousands of feet up this day, the view gave the impression that if the land were pulled flat, it would double in size – easily. There was so much

terrain, but in a stone’s throw, you could be anywhere. When we reached the famous Coxcomb ridge, it was like seeing beyond 3D, as if the brain just didn’t know how to process it. Before we could recalibrate our thoughts, the choppers were sweeping down into the upper Mātukituki valley, where we would begin our pack-rafting section. The looks were unanimous as the crew disembarked after the 30-minute sojourn. Time had just stood still for us, and we had just visited an entirely different realm.

Pack-rafting, or “Pek Raftin,” as Reidy playfully put it, has revolutionised river travel. To the Aussies, the water was their playground, and it was their time to shine in the Mātukituki River’s grade 2/3 rapids. Once briefed by Bob, with helmets and life jackets in tow, the boys hit the river in rafts of their own. Crystal-clear waters were kissed by sparkling sun rays as our train of rafts navigated between the hills and crept slowly back to society. Allowing the river’s flow to navigate our pathway, we took several stops to explore the myriad of waterfalls, glacial backdrops, and native forests which adorned the skyline. It really was a lovely way to relax and chew the fat, knowing the looming wave of civilisation was creeping ever closer. With the last of the rapid sections providing a flutter of excitement, after 2.5 hours, we finally neared the pickup

point. There was Cat, the superstar behind the trip, waving at us from the river’s edge.

It was a sentiment shared by all and best described by Bob: that first glimpse of civilisation came with a slight battle of emotional thought. Images of family and friends, home and hot showers suddenly flooded into our minds, but this was opposed by a deep longing and regret that our time in the wilderness could not continue, that simplicity would be replaced by complexity. In one way or another, each of us had challenged ourselves mentally and/or physically in ways we hadn’t before. This was a huge growth space. But with that first temptation of comfort, the romance of the wild gripped at our rafts and challenged our priorities. That, it must be said, is the devilish charm of the NZ backcountry.

All was not over yet, however. With rafts dismantled, it was off to the Glendu Bike Park for a rip before retiring to the luxuries of Hāwea View Lodge. It was the perfect way to spend the last couple of hours of an actionpacked Friday, and with everyone sized-up on an e-bike of their own, the simple objective was to summit the trail mountain and then descend back to base. Admittedly, some sore bodies ensured the E-bikes stayed in ‘turbo’ mode, and the subsequent energy that was conserved ensured a fun descent. I’ve heard it said that people love to mountain bike because they are chasing a state of flow. But what is flow? As Hamish descended that day, he described a complete removal from everything he had experienced

– he was purely present. But once he stopped, incredible images from the last few days returned to resettle in his mind in an even clearer state. It was like experiencing the highlights of the trip all over again.

Tssskkk. It was music to the ears. The cap being ejected off a bottle and that first sip of beer was divine nectar. It’d be fair to say that the beer wasn’t just being ingested, it was being absorbed via osmosis – the cells were craving it. With the bikes offloaded, we settled into the luxuries of the lodge. On the back of a trip where wet feet, blood blisters, and pack rash had become the norm, it was a brilliant contrast. There was local food expertly prepared by Chef Andy, waterskiing, wakeboarding, swimming, and a wonderful spa with show-stopping views. But, above all, it was the moments of vulnerability that were the most memorable at the lodge, kickstarted by that arduous pack-hike all those days ago. Around the dinner table, the ping pong table, or lakeside, connections continued to be developed. Tears were spilt as the positive and negative aspects of the trip were revisited. It was an amazing feeling. We each came seeking adventure but were left cradling the precious connections and our shared understanding. Simply put, the crew didn’t want to be anywhere else. For at least this week, we had disconnected from the world and reconnected with ourselves.

Fishing in Paradise

The crews arrived at the wharf not too long after 5am – just in time to see the small Stabicraft boats being lowered into Niue’s clear waters by crane. At 5:30am, the annual fishing competition began, and with only five hours to fish on day one, the four local captains wasted no time shooting off to the nearest Fish Aggregating Device (FAD).

Every year, Rheem and Plumbing World team up to offer a few plumbers the chance to compete in a fishing tournament in Niue, and 2023 was no different. Last month, hosted by Chris Cross from Plumbing World and Rheem’s own Helen O’Leary, five lucky plumbers spent a week enjoying one of the Pacific’s most untouched paradises, and catching no shortage of fish across the four-day competition.

According to Helen, the first morning was eventful. Wahoo, yellowfin and skipjack tuna were all caught, but no fish was better than a very solid 19kg wahoo landed by Graham, one of the

fortunate plumbers chosen to compete in the 2023 comp. Helen’s own boat, however, was a little less lucky.

“We had so many bites, but most of them got eaten by sharks. One of us pulled in a head and I pulled in half a yellowfin. And we even got a shark right up to the boat, and just as we were about to cut it free, it broke so we lost a few lures.”

With the boats picked up again by crane at 10:30am, the crews shared the stories of their fish on their way back to Scenic Matavai Resort. Graham’s fish was the clear winner of the day, which was confirmed at that evening’s prizegiving.

“We ate at a different restaurant each night and Shontell from Niue tourism came through to do the prizegiving and hand out the prizes each night,” Helen explained.

Day two started just as early, with the crews arriving at the wharf just after 5am. Unfortunately, they also arrived to news of the Tongan

earthquake, and with the uncertainty around the impact it would have on the conditions, the skippers decided to postpone the competition until the following day.

Thankfully, this trip was not just about the fishing, and the crews spent the rest of the day – as well as every other afternoon – enjoying the island’s other sights and sounds, and there are few better places in the Pacific to explore. Despite its growing reputation, Niue remains an almost untouched Pacific haven. The coral atoll is filled with pristine white sand beaches, endless hidden coves and rugged limestone cliffs (these are why the boats have to be craned into the water!).

“We spent lots of time walking through what they call chasms – there are lots of pathways to little bays,” Helen explained. “There’s no rivers or creeks on Niue. It’s all just rock and all the freshwater goes down through the rock and comes out in springs, sort of like bays, and you can snorkel there. The water is incredibly warm and the snorkelling was amazing!

“We also went out with Niue Blue, who run a swimming with the dolphins and whale watching cruise, but unfortunately we didn’t see them that

day – but we did see them the other days while fishing. There are spinner dolphins that jump out of the water and spin around – they can spin about seven times. We even saw dolphins from the deck of the Scenic Matavai Resort, which looks right out over the water.”

Despite the almost endless beauty around the island, there was one clear standout. According to Helen, the Limu pools were everyone’s favourite place to explore. The pools are protected by limestone rock formations, which create a sheltered place to swim and snorkel, and to access them you need to climb over a hill and down a ladder, making them a crowd favourite.

The final three days fishing were just as fun, with plenty more pelagics coming on board all of the team’s boats. The trip ended with the grand prizegiving, and it turned out that

Graham’s day one wahoo couldn’t be matched. The youngest of the crew, Jarrod, took out heaviest total weight with a total of 50.1kg – not a bad effort for the week! But it wasn’t just the plumbers receiving prizes – the local fishermen were also competing in their own competition, and they didn’t need the fancy gear to catch winning fish.

“The local fishermen go out on the canoes and they often catch bigger fish than we do, and they pull them in on handlines!” Helen explained. “We went to Marine Deals and bought a whole bunch of lures and handlines for prizes for the local competition… and they also have other prizes which Niue tourism organise.”

For everyone who attended, it was a trip to remember. In fact, it was enjoyed so much by one of the plumbers that he’s already booked to go back with his wife later this year!

Rheem proudly supports Save the Kiwi to achieve their goal and take kiwi from endangered to everywhere. If you’d like to take part and help save New Zealand’s national icon, go to www.savethekiwi.nz/donate – Your donation will help hatch and raise kiwi chicks in safety, increase kiwi populations, and protect wild kiwi habitat.

THE COLORCOTE TRADIE PROFILE

Words and Images by Jason Harman

WHAT A GUY

Who is this Guy, you ask? Well, you’re about to find out.

Guy Hilliard is the inaugural subject for our new Q+A interview style – our first meat, if you will. He is a qualified electrician based in Wānaka, and is currently undergoing his cable-jointing apprenticeship with Power Solutions Ltd.

First things first: why did you decide to become a tradie?

After college, I wasn’t too sure what to do with myself. I got a job at Air New Zealand as a baggage handler, which was a good job, but I knew it wasn’t for me in the long term. What it did teach me was that I liked working with my hands and working outdoors, but I was also looking for something where I would be challenged. I was fortunate in that my dad was an electrician, and he encouraged me to pursue a career in the trades. I was hesitant at first, as I thought I wanted to do my own thing, but I gave it a shot anyway as I had nothing to lose. Once I started, I quickly realised how much there was to learn and how much progression there was in the field – I was hooked!

What’s it like being a tradie based in the South Island?

It’s great, I feel like I’ve found my place down here. It’s got so much to offer in terms of the outdoors, landscape, and lifestyle. One thing that has stood out for me is the sense of community down here, particularly in Wānaka. Everyone I’ve met has been really hospitable and kind, which has been great, as moving to a new place can be tough at times.

Fill in the blank: “When I’m not on site, I’m usually doing _____?”

I’d usually be hanging with friends, playing a round of frisbee golf, mountain biking, hiking, diving, or hunting.

What are your favourite off-site activities, and what is their appeal?

Mountain biking, hunting, and diving would be my top three picks. They’re all things that when you’re doing them you aren’t really thinking about anything other than the task at hand. There’s

something about being completely immersed in what I’m doing, especially something I enjoy.

Alright, we’re going pretty well so far, time to get weird. Guilty pleasures?

Ha-ha chocolate milk. For sure. Favourite sports team?

It would have to be the mighty Hurricanes.

What will you always buy, regardless of how much it costs?   Chocolate milk. And when I lose a pair, a set of good headphones.

What do you consider to be your greatest achievement in both your life and career?

I’d consider the family and friends that I have around me to be my greatest achievement personally; my greatest achievement in my career is still to come.

What’s the biggest lesson(s) you’ve learnt throughout your journey into the trades?

I’ve learnt to be more open-minded and that everyone has got something to share that you can learn from. Both things have been instrumental for me in the trades, and they have also helped me in my personal life, too.

Name the most beautiful place you’ve ever been. What’s so special?

Angkor Wat stands out as the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. Mum planned the trip, and I did no research, so I had no idea what to expect. It blew me away – the workmanship that went into the temple, the way it’s been preserved – it’s such an amazing place.

Someone steals your Spotify login details. What music would they fi nd? Any embarrassing ones in there? (We’ve all got them…)

I’m not too sure I should be embarrassed because she’s great, but there are de nitely a few Adele tracks in there.

If you had to pick a couple of people that have been the most infl uential in your life/career, who would they be, and why?

I’ve had a lot of people that have been in uential throughout my life and my career, but I’d say my parents would be the top for me. Dad, being in the trades already, really helped me as a mentor and taught me how to perform and gel with different crews. Mum’s always been a pillar of support for me; she’s also a teacher, so she’s given me some great advice on how to teach other people – how to gure out how each person learns best and how to cater to their speci c learning needs. They both encouraged me to travel, learn, and get into the outdoors, which has left me with several lifelong passions.

What makes you feel more alive than anything else?

Ripping down a hill on a mountain bike makes me feel pretty alive.

What’s been your closest brush

with death?

I can’t think of a speci c time that I thought I was about to die, but I’ve done some things that, in hindsight, I really shouldn’t have done.

If you could time travel, what year would you visit?

I don’t know the year speci cally, but I would go and see the gardens of Babylon – the descriptions of them sound incredible.

What do you hope that folks will say about you at your funeral?

Hopefully, they’ll say I was a good friend and a nice person.

Title of your autobiography?

“What a Guy.”

Paint us a picture: describe your perfect day.

Early morning mission with the boys. The ocean is at, so we head out for a dive. Visibility is mint and the sh are in abundance. We get a nice mixed bag, go home, cook up a meal, throw some tunes on, crack into a few beers and spin some yarns.

What profession would you pursue if you couldn’t do what you do now?

When I was younger I always wanted to be a pilot. I think if I wasn’t in the trades, I’d give ying a go!

am

tradie profile is brought to you by ColorCote

FRAMES

Frames is where we highlight Aotearoa’s most inspiring outdoor imagery. It’s the place in the magazine where you can slow down, take a deep breath, and truly appreciate the beauty of our backyard. Feast your eyes!

Suraya Hollands @surayahollandsphotography

Guy Macindoe @guy_mac

Mental Health Chat

Part 1: Exercise

Mental Health is something that affects us all, in different ways, on different days and to very different extents.

The truth is that for those of us in the construction game, we very rarely speak about it, let alone take time to actively improve and maintain our own mental wellness.

A key thing I have found with my mental health is that when I move my body, the mind begins to follow. A walk, a run, going to the gym, being out in nature, taking the kids to the park for a run-around, or simply just being out on the water are some simple ways to lift our mental state.

It has been proven that 30 minutes a day of physical exercise can improve mood, reduce stress, improve self-

esteem, and even decrease anxiety and depression.

The healthy way to look after our mind is by taking small moments of time daily to give back to ourselves.

As I said earlier, as tradies, we don’t often talk about our mental health with our friends, families, or workmates, so why not start things off in an easy manner by grabbing a mate to join you – be it as a gym partner, a running/ walking friend, or someone who’s into the same hobbies as you. This will help keep you both accountable and motivated. When we work together, anything is possible, and that includes the entry point into starting a conversation around our mental health. Maybe you know someone who is

currently struggling with something, or you’ve noticed life is just a little too heavy for them at the moment. With a bit of support, a listening ear, and a shoulder to lean on, you will be their reminder that they can get through this.

What better way to care for the mind and help out your mates than to look good and feel better through exercise.

Where to get help: mentalhealth.org.nz

In the first instalment of our Mental Health Chat series, Zane Munro from @forallthebrothers shares his insights into the link between movement and mental wellbeing.

CORN & MUSSEL CHOWDER

Recipe by Simon Walden @thetradiebbq

• Olive Oil

• 3 Strips Streaky Bacon

• 1 Shallot, Finely Sliced

• 2 Sticks Celery, Finely Chopped

METHOD

Add a splash of olive oil to a large pot and heat over medium heat. Add the bacon, shallot, celery, and chilli flakes, frying for 5 minutes until softened.

Add the potato and corn to the pot followed by the stock and bring to a boil, cooking until the potato is soft. Around 8-10 minutes.

Using a stick blender, gently blend the soup, pulsing to your preferred consistency. I like it a bit rustic with some texture.

Clean the mussels and remove the beards, then add to the soup along with the milk or cream. Cover with a lid and cook until the mussels open. Discard any that don’t open, season with salt and pepper.

Divide the soup into bowls and garnish with chopped parsley and a drizzle of chilli oil.

Best served with crusty garlic bread. Enjoy!

Your Shopping List:

• 1/2 tsp Dried Chilli Flakes

• 1/2 Cup Corn Kernels (Frozen)

• 2 Potatoes, Cubed

• 1 L Fish or Vegetable Stock

• 16-18 Fresh Green Lipped

Mussels

• 1/4 Cup Milk or Cream

• Fresh Parsley, Garnish

• Chilli Oil

The winter months are here, and if you’re anything like me, you’ll be after something warming and full of comfort. This super easy, sweet, and smoky chowder will definitely hit the spot and warm the bones.

GAMEBIRD HUNTING

THE HISTORY

When the first settlers arrived in NZ from England, they brought with them animals and birds that not only reminded them of the old country but also provided food and sport.

Among native birds hunted by Māori, and early Europeans dating right back to Captain Cook’s arrival in 1769, were native ducks, kererū and godwits, which were a favourite of Māori. Today, native birds are protected but some can be hunted during the gamebird season, including grey duck, shoveler, paradise shelduck, black swan and pūkeko. Some of the first ships that brought settlers to New Zealand carried pheasants, which were liberated in Wellington in 1842, and further liberations ensured the birds were abundant in both islands by 1870.

The Governor and later Prime Minister, Sir George Grey, was an

enthusiastic importer of all sorts of different species of wildlife. He introduced the first Californian quail, which were liberated in the Nelson area in 1865. They spread so rapidly that by 1890 large numbers were being preserved and shipped to London.

Today Californian quail, also known in the United States as valley quail, can be found throughout the country, but are most common in dry areas like Central Otago, Poverty Bay, Hawkes Bay and Northland. Two other species of quail can still be found in parts of the country.

The Australian brown quail were

introduced in the 1860s, but they are common only in the Bay of Plenty and Northland. The American bobwhite quail was less successful and is found only in South Auckland and northern Hawkes Bay. Unlike pheasants, quail are gregarious birds and live in colonies called coveys, which may number up to several hundred individuals.

Introduced ducks and geese have fared much better than the native species which are not as adaptable.

Mallard ducks from North America were introduced by the Auckland Acclimatisation Society and have spread throughout the country. These

Words and Images by Goeff Thomas

are the ducks which are commonly seen in city parks, and they can happily live alongside urban populations.

The groups of early sportsmen who got together to bring the birds, fish and animals to the ‘new country’ were called acclimatisation societies and they were highly successful with most of their attempts. Some species which were tried but did not survive include snipe, grouse, ptarmigan and various quails and pigeons.

But what these settlers did ensure was that privilege and money could not control the sports of bird shooting, hunting deer and rabbits, and fishing for trout and salmon as it does in Europe. The early rules governing the sport prohibited the charging for rights to hunt and fish, and this culture prevails today. Nobody can own a river or stream in terms of the fishing, and while access across private land is subject to normal trespass laws, the birds and fish

cannot belong to individuals.

Canada geese have become the subject of much controversy in this country. They were first introduced in the early 1900s and were a gift from American President Roosevelt. While highly valued in North America as a majestic gamebird, here their numbers escalated and after pressure from South Island farmers their status was changed by the Minister of Conservation. This removed Canadas from the gamebird schedule, changing their classification to pests so they can be killed by any means at any time. Sportsmen were not happy with the change, but farmers do suffer pressure on pastures and crops from large numbers of the birds.

Two and a half Canada geese can consume the equivalent amount of pasture as an ewe, so a mob of several hundred landing on a field can do

serious damage. Since the change in status, culls of several thousand birds have taken place. This is usually done when the birds are moulting and can not fly, so they can be rounded up and killed.

Today, the bulk of the licence revenue gathered goes towards management by Fish and Game. Some funds are spent on restoring and managing wetlands, because 98% of swamps in this country have been drained and converted into farmland. But keen duck hunters also buy or lease blocks of land and turn them back into swamps, planting suitable trees and grasses which benefit a whole range of

native birds as well as the waterfowl.

Duck populations are carefully monitored by Fish and Game through programmes to band birds, aerial counts and hunter surveys. There are an estimated five million mallard ducks in New Zealand, and every year the population grows to numbers in excess of what nature can sustain. The winter environment cannot support so many ducks and many die of starvation. Hunting bag limits and seasons are designed to harvest game birds sustainably and about 500,000 ducks, or 10 per cent, are shot each year.

DUCKS AND DOGS IN THE MUCK

It is 6.30 in the morning and the duck shooters are crouched in their maimai, scanning the greying horizon for the first dark shapes to appear. Ears are strained for the faint sounds of ducks calling to each other and the whistling of wings, and dogs tremble against the leash, bursting with anticipation.

For it is the opening weekend of gamebird shooting season and all around the country proud shooters with youngsters, partners or bunches of mates spend the day blowing their duck calls, cooking hot breakfasts on gas cookers and urging their dogs to swim out and bring back a bird. This is a tradition that goes back generations, and now opening day sees about 40,000 hunters heading out to ponds, lakes, rivers and swamps all

around the country.

For man’s best friend, that first day of the new season will see dogs and their owners bond in a special way. It is a day when the four-legged friend becomes the loved companion, a day when the companion gets to ride in the front of the car for a change. Well, maybe on the way out to the swamp but after a day of jumping into the muddy water, the friend may be relegated to the dog box on the back of the ute.

For a bird shooter, seeing his dog search the bushes and reeds for a fallen duck and emerge triumphant, tail wagging and bird firmly grasped in the mouth, is the ultimate satisfaction. It is the reward for endless hours spent throwing a dummy at the local park, patiently teaching the young dog to heed his commands and learn that what started as a game is a serious business. For the dogs it will always be a game, but with practice they will learn how to trail the scent of a wounded bird; how to swing to the left or the right in response to their owner’s gestures; and how to stop when he commands. For some dogs the instinct to hunt is in their genes. It just needs awakening and shaping. Others will never learn.

When it comes to water the faithful labrador is hard to beat. It is the ultimate design – a friendly family dog and natural water animal. Labs love water, just as they love to eat. They will play with young children and have even been known to develop into useful watch dogs, although some family dogs seem to think that lying down and watching is all that is required.

Other breeds like the German short-haired pointer (GSP) are thin skinned and highly strung. The cold water can get to them, although jackets made from wet suit material overcome this problem. They can be frustrating, particularly when hunting cut-over forest or fence rows for pheasants and the long-limbed GSPs take off like rockets, leaving the hunters far behind and out of range of any bird that is flushed.

One trick which we used to employ was to let the dogs out of the vehicle when still a couple of kilometres away from the hunting spot and burn off some of their energy as they raced after the car. But a well-trained GSP will

freeze on point when a bird crouches in the grass and will not move until commanded, even though its every muscle is strained and shivering with nervous energy.

Then there are the little dogs. Jack russell terriers have been known to retrieve birds and even chase wild pigs, but you are more likely to see different members of the family of spaniels bursting with excitement as ducks circle the maimai. The English springer spaniel is always popular for it is right at home in the kitchen, on the back seat of the car, pushing through blackberries while on the trail of a pheasant or leaping into a pond after a fallen duck. Their long hair needs washing after a day in the mud, and it can be a chore combing out the burrs and biddy-bids which are worn like badges of honour garnered while pushing through long grass. But it always seems a loving chore, as the tireless little warriors will not stop until totally worn out. Nothing can replace time spent in the field with a dog. Sometimes that time concentrates on field trials;

competitions where handlers pit their own retriever against the best from around the country. But sometimes that time does not help when it comes to the real thing. A national champion was helping us look for a duck which had fallen into a large patch of tall reeds and its owner repeatedly threw a turnip into the middle of the patch of raupo to direct the dog, which repeatedly returned with the turnip in its mouth; much to the frustration and embarrassment of the owner.

But when everything comes together – the hunter pulls off a difficult shot, the bird glides away to disappear in the scrub 100 metres away on the far side of the pond, the dog leaps over the front of the maimai, swims unerringly to the other bank, shakes itself in a spray of droplets then, nose to the ground, shuffles into the bushes and appears five minutes later with the mallard grasped firmly in its mouth – it is the ultimate reward.

THE WEEKEND MISH: NORTHLAND FIESTA

NORTHLAND

Ageneral rule of thumb can be applied to all outdoor activities: the more you distance yourself from places that are easily accessible, the more magic you are likely to discover. It was something we kept front-of-mind when we were planning this trip – a hard-core fishing and diving adventure in the Far North of NZ – with our motley crew of mates.

It was early January when me (Gabe), Thomo, and Bene got a “good enough” three-day window to head north. As planned, we packed the car full of kit and started the long commute to where we would eventually meet the other fellas involved in the mission. Part-time resident Jack Priddy and local lad Josh Peterson provided the boat, as well as the local knowledge and experience we’d need to tackle this classic piece of Kiwi coastline.

Upon our arrival, Jack and Josh

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already had the boat in the water, caught some livies, and pretty much done everything else that needed to happen before leaving. All we had to do was put our absurd amount of kit in the boat and head to the campsite.

Our plan for the first evening was to have a hard-core snapper straylining session. And after a 40-minute blast, we quickly set up camp, which for us involved two well-set-up tents, and for Jack and Josh involved a single picnic blanket lying at an obtuse angle. We then headed to Josh’s Spot X. Jack and Josh once again did us a great service by catching a bin load of mullet to be used as bait. Now, for the average Kiwi fisho, a whole pilchard is often considered a large bait, however, for these fellas, three-quarters of a 2kg mullet seemed like a perfectly normal thing to throw out. We anchored up, set a berley and began rigging the rods.

Early on in the session, we were

once again reminded of our rule of thumb: we had put in the effort to push remote, and now the fishing was shithot. The lads began cranking into the pannies. Countless four-to-five-pound snapper were brought onboard and swam back healthy as ever. We kept only the fish that had either swallowed the hook or were in bad condition. These fish were destined to fuel us for the following days. Unfortunately, not long after the start of the session, both Thomo and Bene came down with heavy-duty sea sickness. We told the fellas to hold out for as long as they could, but after 45 minutes it just felt like torture watching them release their bowels every 10 minutes or so. During that 45-minute period, we managed to land some slightly larger snaps, with me, Jack, and Josh all securing a couple of snaps in the 10-15lb range. Once we released the unwell back onto shore, we went for a quick dive to see

by Gabe Ross Images by Thomas Greenaway

what was going on below the surface. After a full night’s sleep, those of us sleeping in tents were up at around 5:30am, charged and ready to go. However, after a quick yarn with Jack and Josh it quickly became apparent that they did not have the same refreshing experience. The fellas had a scattered two hours of sleep, with a “quick, get the boat off the rocks!” mission at 4am – some added mayhem to the misery.

6 o’clock rolled around, and we

were off again. We were back to a similar spot to repeat last night’s affairs. Fortunately, this time, we had the swell and wind on our side. Berley in the water, frantic rigging, then anticipation.

Thomo and Bene were back in action for this session – their bowels thankfully not betraying them any further. Both fellas cracked into the session well, landing some beauty pannies. During this session, Bene became somewhat addicted to the challenge of landing a large snapper of very light soft plastic gear.

Jack, Josh, and I were back into the cycle of straylining: bait up, cast, get stripped – repeat. Over the course of this session there were some absurd baits getting thrown out; it was clear to see these fellas backed the ‘big baits catch big fish’ philosophy. After becoming lost in the process, I began unconsciously threading my single 7/0 circle hook through a fresh kahawai tail section. This bait was flicked out

to the same spot as many had been before and seemed destined for the same fate. But this time was different. Something big picked it up and ran with it like no other. It was slow, but you could feel the power and dominance thrumming through the braid. I closed the bail hoping it would stick. Pressure was applied, and the circle hook did its job exactly as it was supposed. I was connected to what I thought was a bloody good fish but not necessarily a ‘giant’. As the fight progressed, the fish continued to pull some crazy runs and left us wondering if maybe he was a monster. Josh was the one to call it early. Quote: “It’s a big one!” When we finally got it to the boat and into the net, we were all reminded of why we partake in this sport: pure froth and a high like no other. The beast smoked my PB by a fair few pounds, and to top it off, he swam back healthy as ever.

Time to crack into a few more. As we continued to land pannies we

were challenged by hearty runs, and a few solid fish were lost. We all felt as if another big one had to come soon. Josh, once again, was rigging up threequarters of a large mullet, clearly with one goal in mind.

Finally, he had a run that seemed a little more willing. His bait runner clicked over, and the mono came to full stretch… boom! He was into a goody. After pulling a decent amount of string, the momentum quickly shifted back in Josh’s favour, and he had him at the boat in only a handful of minutes. It was another beauty snap, floating around the 18-pound mark. This fish marked the wrap-up of the session.

We moved back to base camp and refuelled ourselves before heading out and targeting kings on the outgoing tide. Unfortunately, after slow trolling in some decent swell, we had two very seasick fishos and not even one curious kingie encounter. Me, Jack, and Josh dropped the other two fellas back at camp and planned to head back out and throw everything we had at the kings. We bashed out to a couple of pins and dropped a few high-speed jigs down. A couple of rat kingies and a ballsy scorpion fish was all that we could entice to the boat. At this point, all hope was lost on the kingie front, so we thought we’d try dropping on a bit of foul in about 60 metres. My arms were pretty worn down from the high

speeding, so the idea of putting on a slow jig and having a seat was much more inviting. The slow jig was only down for 30 seconds or so before it got smoked. My first thought was, holy hell, I’ve hooked another monster snap. However, long runs and a consistently pulsing rod tip made us think otherwise. After another five-or-so minutes of little line gain, we confirmed our suspicions –this had to be a king. As the fish moved up the water column, it began to come in much easier. We then got it to the boat and made the call it was one for the smoker.

The following evening and morning were filled with a couple of dives, some more straylining, and seeing if we could entice some topwater kingie action. Josh managed to shoot a very respectable snapper; we landed another handful of pannies; and had a couple of close calls on the topwater front.

Over the three days, we piled action into every available moment and were rewarded for the effort. These three days had guaranteed our return to the Far North. We’d like to say a huge thanks to Jack and Josh for taking us out and showing us what’s up there. We’re bloody excited to get back and see if we can break a few more PBs!

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