Fishing: Big on action ... that's seafishers for you

My friend Glenn phoned to invite me snapper fishing with his mates on Lance Paniora's boat Smokin Reels.

Although he didn't directly say so, I could tell he wanted a troutfisher along to show him a thing or two.

These guys had been calling me a mudfisher for as long as I could remember, so I decided it was time they witnessed real action. To make sure, I took along my two lucky troutfishing hats.

So there we were on a pleasant evening, bobbing around off Rangitoto - Glenn, his mate Guy, skipper Lance and myself.

I pointed out to Glenn that troutfishers needed only one rod, so why did he bring six? He looked sheepish.

That's seafishers for you ... don't really know what they're doing so they bring along a whole bunch of rods to cover themselves.

Guy and Glenn caught the first fish. They drank a few beers to celebrate and then had a belching contest. That's seafishers for you ... full of hot air.

More fish came on board, good ones, with Lance in particular doing well. But at my end, the higher arts of the river and lake were taking a break.

There were mutterings about just how long does a troutfisher take to hook up, so I decided it was time to put on the Neverfail Summer Stetson.

It blew off in the next gust and sailed away, sticking up in the waves like the conning tower on a mini-submarine.

This was not a good omen.

I replaced it with the Deadly Black Beanie, which served only to cover my ears and block the growing tirade of jibes being cast in my direction. Skipper Lance said the snapper could smell trout on me and they didn't like it.

During a quiet period and a few more beers, the guys started waffling about guys' stuff.

That's seafishers for you ... a few snapper, a few beers, and their testosterone gets out of control. Dedicated troutfishers would never dream of putting a warm woman ahead of a cold fish.

Lance was a most impressive seafisher. He could tease, strike, hook, reel in and boat a fish without breaking conversation or even looking at his rod.

That's a seafisher for you ... he'd make a good troutfisher.

The catch rate continued to go up and then Glenn decided it was time to phone our mate Pete. Now Pete should have been on board. It was he who had organised this trip. But at the last minute his wife made him stay home and babysit while she went to a Christmas party.

That's seafishers for you ... can't get their women under control.

So Glenn got Pete on the blower and said with quiet relish: "Guess what mate, we're slaying them out here." Pete's reply was not for human consumption.

And that Glenn ... well, that's seafishers for you ... kick a good mate while he's down.

At the end of the trip we counted up. Lance caught about a dozen. Glenn and Guy got about 10 between them. And me, well, I probably got about 15, but being a practising catch-and-release exponent, I set an example and deliberately let them all get away.

That's a troutfisher for you.