It was a dark time. The rise of socialism (spend it all), nanny state and the inevitable plague of marine reserve petitions cast a cruel shadow over the freedom of many a spearo keen to grab a cray or perhaps shoot a fish for the family. But the Wellie boys rose up. We wrote submissions against the insidious South Coast Marine Reserve proposal given it would push all recreation spearfishing and fishing further around the coast - a dangerous coast, making it inaccessible for all but the bottle blower stores conveniently located next to the proposed reserve. One, a 20 year Coast Guard veteran wrote a 4 page report on "why the SCMR was not safe for boaties...". The result, a close 51 to 49 margin in favour of the reserve. The Alliance (remember those hippies - read "Greens") eventually won. We all got letters back thanking us for "our support of the reserve"???? ... Politicians.... So, while I applaud the debate around "3 for me"... true character is to show grit, fight and determination to preserve our rights to recreational acc.... YAWN.... we all know how this plays out... Whatever. So, only one thing for it. Time to go diving Viking Profish 400 weapon on the roof rack, loaded up and headed out at some un-godly hour to "my Ti-Point" just south of the bridge... Kitted up, the water a chilly 14 degrees... then 21 degrees? Huh? Turns out the dive watch is pretty cosy tucked under the new Moray 7mm suit and gloves. Unfortunately optimistic forecasting on yours truly again (read 0.5m E swell moving to 0.8m E swell means E swell will be Yucky) meant my three dive buddies Ralph, Chuck and Hurl had to be kept at bay most of the morning. A few "white knuckle" grips of death on sea weed below kept the body mostly intact from the surf. White water 10m off the coastline meant I had to push out... fields of butterfish, a sure sign of colder water here, nay a snap to be seen Like diving the same spots year round, you start to build "local" knowledge. Give it a month the warmer water and bait fish that frequent the adjacent weedline will come. And with them, the glorious munter snapper that I've watched chasing them, monstrous white mouth open... ah the memories Never Fail Rock Anyhow.. conditions dictated a move to "Never Fail Rock" (NFR) where the big snapper live. Sure enough, first snapper of the day spotted on approach. Kina ground burley and aerial assault applied. While the burley does its thing, the family shopping list can be attended to. A couple of crayfish were enough, and a few butters. Lovely. Pleasingly, paua litter the ground, all under 100mm. Over the next two hours I worked hard, conscientiously feeding the appreciative panny snapper. Time for plan B The Plate There's a rock plate, say a metre across, just littered filthy with big, fat, juicy kina. Handy smashing rocks are conveniently located below. The plate sits at the bottom of a tall ledge at the northern end of NFR. With an hour to go, it was time to give it a go. To my surprise, five minutes later, there she was, mooching, white pectorals flaring, hovering unaware above it... obviously not tempted by NFR burley A. I gripped the weed and slunk down over the side of the ledge, fighting the swell, spear shaft tangling in the weed awash in the surge. Shoot now? Nah. Get closer. Blissfully unaware, she turned, presenting a head shot. Extended the barrel and squeezed the trigger. Lights out .... stoked Took 5 minutes to get the spear out. Well and truly jammed. I've tried and tried tying one of MLJ's one-and-a-half fisherman's knots on my dynema line - from speargun shaft to reel. The result, my 6.5 fisherman's (2 hours to tie) that will never come off and I never want to re-tie again. Eventually managed to yank the spear out. Slotted a blue cod then paddled my way back in warm, sunny conditions. The building easterly pushing me toward the beach. Lost in my thoughts, awoken by THUMP THUMP THUMP as the kayak shook violently. My yum-yum yellow kayak was taking a beating. Scared the be-geebees... turns out it was the snapper going through a serious bout of the rigors in the Chill Pod. So with those constant vibrations, I hit the afterburners and as is custom, flipped the yak ever so gracefully onto the beach So, the next time you think about Politics, make a difference, go for a dive and shoot some fish.... - Snoop