Tight lines on water

Every summer, fishery officers patrol the Marlborough Sounds and the Kaikoura Coast as they work to ensure fishermen follow rules set by the Ministry of Fisheries. JO GILBERT spent a morning on the boat with two Blenheim-based officers.

When I first heard the message, my report time was 6am. What?!

That time is strictly reserved for cheap international flights and big nights out, I tell my chief reporter. This is most definitely neither of those two occasions.

I leave an alarmed and anxious voicemail: "I've been told kick-off is 6am and I wanted to check you didn't really mean 9am or possibly even later?"

Fishery officer Andy Benton returns my call. I can hear laughter in his voice as he tells me the usual start time has been pushed out.

When we meet at the ministry's Blenheim office at the crack of dawn (7.20am), the boat and ute are sorted. I don't want to know how long Liz Murray and Andy have been at work.

En-route to Waikawa Marina I grill the pair about the dramatic fishery officer stuff I once saw on TVNZ's show Coastwatch.

Have you been on many busts? What do you do on them? Is it exciting?

"There's a lot of sitting around and waiting doing surveillance. It can be pretty boring and you get hungry and tired," Liz says.

"But driving around following people in cars, that stuff can be fun."

Has anyone ever turned aggressive and abusive? Have you ever arrested someone?

"Nah, you can usually talk it out and if you have to threaten it, people usually back down," Andy says.

Oh. I sink back into my seat.

After fuelling up the ministry's six-metre Stabi-craft Temanu – 130 litres and $218.53 later – we head for Lochmara Bay as calls have come in from the public about a set net.

Since October 2008, recreational set nets have been banned from being within four nautical miles of the coast from the Sounds' Cape Jackson down to the Caitlins. Along the Kaikoura Coast, it's within one nautical mile.

"It might be people from out of town who don't know the rules, as it's a very public place to be doing something wrong like that," Andy says.

We stop a couple of recreational boaties along the way to see what they're up to.

They're the first of about 20 we speak to over the course of the morning (not a very busy day according to Andy).

Each one is documented.

"There's much more paperwork to do these days and less time on the water," Liz says.

"The Government wants stats on everything, but if we can't get out and do the work, then we don't have any stats to give them."

A former police officer, Liz has been a fishery officer for about seven years, all of which have been spent in Marlborough.

She's the team leader of four Blenheim-based officers, two Kaikoura summer officers and a pool of honorary officers, and she loves it.

"You never know what your day is going to bring, it's just great. And you see some awesome sights out here."

We arrive at Lochmara and there's no sign of the net. There's not much we can do about it, so we carry on.

Throughout the day, however, Liz receives updates from the two Kaikoura fishery officers who are lying in wait for a man to return to his illegal set net along the coast.

After a few hours, they nab him and his outcome is in the ministry prosecution team's hands.

This is Liz and Andy's third day on the water for the week. In the Sounds over summer, officers do two or three patrols a week, while along the Kaikoura Coast, every day's patrol day.

Yesterday the pair were in Port Underwood checking craypots. They collected about nine, which didn't make the grade – missing owner's names and escape gaps that were too small.

Today we're heading out of Queen Charlotte Sound, through Tory Channel and just past the heads. We want to be back on land before the southerly hits.

As we cruise along, we stop boaties to chat and see if they've been or are planning to go fishing. This is the main part of the officers' day today.

Interactions between boaties and Liz and Andy are casual and friendly, but on-task.

The officers answer questions about catch limits, minimum sizes, fishing spots, fish species and when the blue cod fishing ban will end. They also respond to cellphone inquiries.

"Not this summer, but maybe next summer," Andy tells questioners of the ban's end.

"There's a group called the Blue Cod Management Group who are working on a long-term plan, so keep your eye on the ministry's website."

Pressure on blue cod stocks led to the last government placing a four-year ban on recreational fishing for the species in the enclosed Marlborough Sounds. It began on October 1, 2008. Fisheries Minister Phil Heatley, who may adopt the group's final long-term management plan, has since said the fishery could be either partially or fully re-opened next summer.

Back on the water Andy labours, hauling up craypots and jumping aboard boats to measure fish and have a poke around.

Liz maintains the wheel and distributes rulers and pamphlets detailing the Challenger Fishery Management Area's regulations for adult and "junior fishery officer" badges for the littlies.

While watching Andy heave up a craypot, she tells me she can't do the same after she landed a fishhook in her finger last year. The ropes "hurt like hell on that middle finger".

You can just see the frustration in her grin as Andy passes a sly remark.

To be a fishery officer, I note there are a few crucial requirements: people skills, sunscreen, brawn, a sense of humour and mean backing skills.

Backing the boat and trailer into the marina shed is an art with dire consequences if not perfectly executed, as there's little room to move on either side.

It also helps if you have hardy sea legs, although Andy admits his aren't the finest.

Originally from Melbourne, Nelson-based Andy prefers the relaxed Kiwi lifestyle.

He's been a top of the south fishery officer for 3 1/2 years, after spending time in an office dealing with deep sea fishing stakeholders and working as a fishery officer in Western Australia. There are four other officers in Nelson. In the peak of summer, officers across the top of the south work where needed.

Andy's honours degree in applied science majoring in aquaculture is a great aid to understanding why fishing rules are needed, he says.

There's a tap on my shoulder. It's Liz. "I've got a degree too. It's in music and from Auckland Uni. It's helped me a lot here as you can imagine," she says with a laugh.

Things are fairly humdrum until we head out around the channel heads.

Although there are no cinema-worthy scenes, two craypots the pair check are coming back with us because they didn't have the fisher's name and first initial on the buoys or the pots, as required.

Ideally, they say, a contact number should accompany the names.

"The silly thing is that this pot is not cheap and these guys are losing gear because of something so dumb," says Andy.

He scoops out what's left of the bait in each one. Two paua used as bait in one of them are clearly undersized. His head shakes in disappointment and annoyance.

Heading back to shore, we chat to a couple of adults and kids on a boat just inside Tory Channel.

They've got 15 blue cod, five black paua, and one each of yellowfoot paua, butterfish and tarakihi.

The ruler comes out and Andy jumps into their pleasure craft to measure their haul and have a look. All pass muster.

Liz asks for proof of where they caught the cod. The woman hands over a digital camera with a photo of a man proudly displaying his catch with the rocky cliff facing the channel head in the background.

Another man on the boat is diving around us, so their blue cod numbers are fine (the limit is three per person).

"See, 99 per cent of people are just like that and just happy to be out fishing. But then there's that one per cent," Liz says.

"They fish for the freezer, not just for a feed. They take all they're entitled to because they can. You can't talk to them or reason with them."

Generally people are good and realise that the officers are there to make sure everyone is law-abiding, says Andy. After all, the officers don't make the rules.

Today, Liz and Andy didn't have to handcuff or body-slam anyone, or engage in any fiery exchanges, and instead of a camera crew, they had me and a measly camera.

Nonetheless, it was interesting to really see what a fishery officer patrol actually entails, without all the TV editing.

Instead of the drama I'd hoped for, I made do with the fact that after the pair waved me off, they headed inside to tackle paperwork.

You never know what your day is going to bring, it's just great. That and you see some awesome sights out here - Liz Murray

- The Marlborough Express