Wildside - Whitebait

Getting down to the serious business of chasing white gold

 

© Zane Mirfin, Wildside Column, Getting down to the serious business of chasing white gold, Nelson Mail, 27 September 2008

White Gold: Fresh Whitebait ready to eat. Yum!

Whitebait have almost mythical status in New Zealand. Hailed as a Kiwi delicacy, these tiny, transparent estuarine fish are in great demand by commercial and recreational fishermen during the New Zealand springtime.

When the whitebait are running, job absenteeism is high, people speak in hushed, secretive tones, and it is every man for himself. Often termed white gold, fresh and frozen whitebait can reach upwards of $105 a kilogram in local fish shops, if and when it is available.

Whitebait in technical jargon is made up of the young of three main galaxiid species: inanga, koaro and kokopu, with inanga being the most commonly caught species. All whitebait species spend part of their life cycle in fresh water and part in the sea.

Tiny fish hatch in late autumn and are carried along rivers out to sea, where they live and grow over winter. In late winter and early spring, whitebait migrate back up rivers and streams, finally settling and growing in bushcovered streams and swamps (making great trout fodder along the way).

Mature inanga adults migrate downstream to lower river sections and estuaries to spawn in grasses covered by
water during spring tides. The eggs remain in the grass until the next spring tide covers them again, when the
young hatch and are carried out to sea, renewing the cycle.

All interesting stuff, but the really fascinating part about whitebaiting is the human behaviour and culture associated
with the annual runs. All manner of people live streamside during the New Zealand whitebait season (August 15 to November 30, shorter on the West Coast), hoping to spy the familiar black shadow of a large shoal entering their net.

All sorts of nets are used, from small set nets to the large ‘‘Southland Sock’’ style, which is set for the entire tide, with two internal traps to stop whitebait retreating back downstream.

Tony Condon, a West Coast whitebaiting legend who I met on the lower Paringa River in South Westland, told fascinating true stories about the huge quantities of whitebait caught there over the years, mostly by people fishing from registered commercial stands. Condon’s view is that internal traps in large modern set nets have totally revolutionised whitebaiting.

Department of Conservation staff would probably face a streamside lynching if they tried to remove such nets on the Coast, though.

‘‘Feral inbreds’’ we may be, but whitebaiting is a very serious business.

Many whitebaiters like myself like to use a scoop net, which is a long-handled aluminium-framed net with a large oval mouth.

The mesh and net bag consist of a fine, soft white or grey material, and whitebaiters wait patiently along stream banks, visually searching for shoals that swim over their white ‘‘sighter’’ or ‘‘spotter’’ boards.

Once a shoal of whitebait has been sighted, a careful attempt to slowly scoop up the swimming shoal is attempted. It is exciting stuff when the net is lifted and a black pudding of whitebait is seen wriggling in the belly of the net. More often than not, though, the whitebait escape, as they are often skittish and very capable of eluding capture.

I’ve always enjoyed this visual form of whitebaiting, something I learned from my grandparents when I was a small boy. Indeed, one of my most treasured fishing tools is my grandfather’s handmade scoop net frame, which was handed down to me.

My last really good catch of whitebait was several years ago on the raincoloured Grey River on the West Coast. My fishing buddy Graeme Marshall, formerly of Nelson, and I had only a few hours to fish, and the water was too stained to spot individual shoals that day. Graeme suggested we take turns ‘‘blind scooping’’ as the tide pushed. I’m glad we did, as we managed a prodigious weight of bait in short order. Unfortunately, I had to go, but that’s whitebaiting, and part of the allure of the sport.

Whitebaiting to me is spending time with friends, challenging myself against a tiny foe, enjoying nature with the miracle of spring and the tides, and, with a bit of luck, ending up with a feed to give to family and friends.

Whitebaiting around the Nelson- Marlborough area can still be pretty good. Golden Bay is the star performer, with the Takaka, the Aorere and the wild rivers of Mangarakau consistently producing results each season.

To the east, the Wairau River, Wairau Diversion and Opawa River turn on some consistent action for keen whitebaiters. Closer to Nelson, we have the Wakapuaka, Waimea and Motueka as likely places to try your luck.

I haven’t seen anyone whitebaiting in the Maitai River for years, but the Nelson City Council reservoir on the North
Branch Maitai wiped out this once excellent trout fishery, so it’s logical to assume that the whitebait took a pounding, too.

We had a great time whitebaiting last Saturday, close to home in the Waimea catchment. My two boys, Jake and Ike, watched over by their grandfather Stuart, had an awesome adventure together.

Being young boys (six and eight), they were just as keen catching crabs and throwing sticks and stones, but later,
when wearing polarised sunglasses, they were transfixed by the small shoals of whitebait moving upstream on the first push of the tide.

Sharing one set net, the boys had their first whitebaiting experience, and we were fortunate to catch one pound
(450g) of the elusive delicacy – not a bad tally for the early season around Nelson. Wet, tired and covered in mud, the boys staggered home triumphant.

That night, we were probably one of only a few Nelson families tasting fresh, locally-caught whitebait. I can picture it still: a sizzling pan full of thick spoonfuls of succulent fresh bait, mixed in Baton River organic eggs, a dash of pepper, a twist of lemon, and washed down with a honey-spiced summer ale.
Delicious!

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