Thread: BOP Fish and Hunt

After a fantastic walk in the sunshine with ebf the day before, it was time to saddle up and head to the train station to catch my bus to Rotorua. Here began my BOP fish and hunt trip.

Travelling on the bus wasn’t a new thing for me – I have had many trips from the poking, proding medics at Waiouru’s health school back to my ‘home’ in Wellington. This was my first trip that I would pass the camp I used to call home and where I was birthed into the army all those years ago at the Waiouru Marae. I shed a few quiet tears as I passed my mountain on the left and the bus chugged along to Waiotapu. I bailed out with my two bags and secured a spot outside on the edge of the highway and waited for Mucko to arrive.

Much to my surprise, a young fit farmer bowled up in his well-loved Commodore (not! The poor thing was in need of some basic TLC!) and we headed back to his whare to drop the bags and go pull some tits. I really enjoyed learning more about both Mucko and the cows he looks after. The sunny weather snuck away on us and we made it home for dinner with the fresh smell of rain on our backs. After eating like a king – venison steaks for dinner, I mean really what else could it be - I headed out the back to send some 243 rounds down range. Unfortunately the Howa wasn’t prepared to hit a barn door so I arrived home a little discouraged. We stayed up and talked over the kids under foot and all got to bed a few hours later than we really should have. A blink of an eye and the alarm was going off. It was time to get some fish.

The toll highway at Tauranga couldn’t have come sooner. I was really excited to meet the rest of the gang and of course learn a bit about the art of fishing. I was stoked with a big fatherly hug from Scribe. I’d waited too long to meet him and instantly enjoyed his company. We all sorted the last few logistical tasks and boarded the ship. The post introduction quiet didn’t last long. We were straight into the jokes, stories, bets and plans for the weekend.

Oneshotkill it was fantastic to meet your brilliant partner. Mucko your family and friends are absolute gems and I enjoyed their company. We all managed to pull something up on board throughout the day. Mohawk and Oneshotkill got a quick dive in which resulted in a gift for the farm owner who allowed us access for the hunt. The highlight of the fishing for me was the entertainment of a mad Scotsman charter guide running about like a headless chicken when a shark decided he might like to nibble on the fish we were catching. What a sight! The shark was awesome, putting on a show of us off the back of the boat and prompting swearing and barely comprehendible directions from the Scotsman.

Once the day was over, I was sporting a great tan sans sunglasses. Luckily during the drive out to the farm land it seemed to fade a bit but not enough to stop the occasional laughter from the boys. Racoon look apparently doesn’t pull the guys!

Well after dark we arrived at the station access to the DOC land we’d be hunting. I was very impressed by the driving skills of oneshotkill. We had a quad bike loaded with the pilot and Scribe, towing the trailer with Mohawk and myself holding onto the packs of gear. Our bums suffered but the ultimate sacrifice was by a day pack filled with beers. Needless to say they were left at the quad once we were Oscar Mike down the steep track to the river.

When we had finally made it to the track just after midnight, we were all relieved that no-one had managed to get to know the water on an intimate level. The walk in had the potential to be treacherous at such an hour but by pacing ourselves behind our sensible guide oneshotkill we had remained unhurt and mostly dry.

A few hours later Mohawk was up to cook himself a meal of a king before heading out. Even with a cellphone alarm right under his nose, oneshotkill was out to the world! Scribe and I both remained in our bunks and the dog had managed to sneak inside during the night. Mohawk was on his own and trudged out the door, determined to bag himself a deer.

Returning empty handed but not without a smile, Mohawk found the rest of us sunning ourselves, laughing over the hut logbook entries and telling more yarns. It wasn’t long before we’d all realised we would learn less in our lifetimes than Scribe would have ever forgotten. The man is a true source of knowledge and was happy to impart it with us new young hunters and we were happy to listen. More food cooked by Mohawk and then we were ready to set out. The plan was to hunt until darkness fell and then head back to the hut to meet Scribe after his wander in the opposite direction.

The weather was hot and we were glad to be crossing the calm river time and time again. We met fresh sign along its banks and stopped often to absorb the information the bush was providing us. Hot on the trail with the breeze in our faces, we steamed up a hill towards our clearing of choice. The sign slowly decreased and we paused for a break. I was sure I could see something bright blue below us through the trees but we couldn’t decipher exactly what it was. A few minutes later we were found out by a dog below – he was guarding his master’s blue fly sheet home, smack in the middle of our clearing. We scrambled back up the steep bank with the barking ringing in our ears. This whole valley was stuffed now that the possum trapper was not where we were expecting him to be. It was back to square one as we met briefly to compile another plan. There was no time to loose. We pushed quickly through the bush we had only just traversed. We covered ground quickly and sat near a river junction to burn the last few minutes of strong light before returning to our plan B clearings. Oneshotkill lead us up a re-entry to a scree slope. I was convinced that our chances were better at the clearings so returned to the bottom to relay the plan to Mohawk that we would leave our guide for a few minutes and RV down at the main river just before dark. Surrounded by the roaring of the river we hadn’t heard the shots fired by the 308 I had carried all day. Oneshot appeared around the corner and with that look on his face, didn’t really need to tell us that he had been successful in his venture up the steep cut re-entry. We dumped our packs, briefly congratulated our comrade and powered up the side creek. I met my nemesis Onga Onga while clambering up the bank to retrieve the deer. Oneshot explained the events of the hunt as we rounded the corner. The unlucky mob of deer saw four shots in the air before the one barren hind collected two and lay to rest. We laughed that our new friend’s nickname might not be quite so fitting anymore! We gutted and hung the hind for evening and headed back to camp for a feed and recap of the day with Scribe.

During the writer’s afternoon walk he had found himself and his dog on top of a mob of deer before he knew it. It was such a surprise to both him and the dog that at the moment of a hind touching the scope, the four legged hunter was off like a shot and both the deer and Boy were gone in a flash. Scribe had returned to the hut with tired legs, empty hands and dogless.

Our camp mother was quick into his dry gears and onto the cooking. We ate and drank like kings and lit the fire. Scribe’s concoction of Brandy and lime had me in bed and snoring not long after I had finished my feed. In the morning when I finally woke it was to a hot sweat and an empty hut! Twoshot and I had both slept well into the morning as the others had gone for an adventure of their own.

After much grumbling, more napping, mad searching for pan relief in the hut supplies box, it was time to bite the bullet and collect the meat from the night’s hunt. Twoshot took his big, empty pack and all the rope we could find while I remained at the hut nursing a sore gut. Just as he had disappeared into the bush, Scrbe and Mohawk returned with Boy – she had been hiding sheepishly under the quad trailer during the night. Not much more than an hour later, Twoshot arrived with the meat and we cleaned up the hut. Packs packed, floors swept and it was time to head back to the bike. The walk out seemed ten times easier in the light of day. Even still, I was glad to have the support of Twoshot as we crossed the last wide, fast flowing section of the river together, grasping each-others heavy packs as we walked. We were nearly done! How fast the weekend had gone. I was glad to climb into the trailer once again and this time be able to enjoy the sights of the farm on the way out.

Once back at the wagons we all agreed we deserved a beer. And much to our surprise, the Castlepoints that no-one could even be bribed into drinking on the boat three days prior, were sitting in the chilly bin – still cold! Other than Dundee of course, I had never seen such a reception for a dirty old Castlepoint. We laughed and drank in the sun as Scribe signed us books to take home. It was time for the awards to be presented before we parted ways. It was a quick decision to the recipients and the naming of the prizes.


The Big Four (Snapper, King Fish, Crayfish, Red Deer) – awarded to TwoShotKill

100% Commitment 0% Reward – awarded to Mohawk for his diligent yet unsuccessful efforts

All ‘Round Good C**t – Mucko for sticking to the cause and organising such a great event


Scribe, Boy and I jumped into our wagon and headed for the farm. I needed to come home with something or else I would surely not be allowed out on another unsuccessful hunt again! Spot x proved results as I neck-shotted a young billy and then a nanny kid for myself. We dragged the meat back to the car and decided that along with the award, Mucko deserved a few goat curries for his awesome effort.

Back to the dairy farm for me and I couldn’t help myself but to head out with Mucko’s 10/22 for an evening shoot. I bagged the only rabbit I could see and knocked over four magpies for the wild pigs to nibble on later. I arrived back home at 2130 nearly starving to death and was treated with the best hospitality that I surely didn’t deserve. I hit the pillow asleep and didn’t stir until the alarm went off to get me to the bus in time.

Over the weekend I learned much more than I thought I didn’t know. I really appreciated the acts of everyone on this trip and it really was a pleasure to meet every single one of you and your families. Thanks so much to Mucko and Twoshotkill for organising the fun, Scribe for all the free learning that took place and Mohawk for being the most committed hunter and best bush chef I've ever had the pleasure of sharing a hut with.

Here’s to another one guys. Cheers.



L-R: Dougie, Boy, Scribe, Twoshotkill (photographer Mohawk)

PS - Big apoologies to Mohawk, I don't expect an invite from him ever again but hey that's how things go when you hunt with a noob such as myself. If you believe what Scribe lives by, that hind was destined to collect those rounds from Twoshotkill and nobody else. Yours will be waiting right around the corner for you too.

Nice story, love how it was twoshotkill from the point where he missed.

Top story Dougie.

Originally Posted by Dougie

PS - Big apoologies to Mohawk, I don't expect an invite from him ever again but hey that's how things go when you hunt with a noob such as myself. If you believe what Scribe lives by, that hind was destined to collect those rounds from Twoshotkill and nobody else. Yours will be waiting right around the corner for you too.

Hey dont beat yourself up, we are both still learning the hunting craft. Just a little lack of communication, if I drive 6 hours to a hunting ground 40 mins via quad then , get up every morning at sparrows fart (4-4.20 am) , walk for more than a 4-6 hours each hunting session I am definitely going to walk around a couple more bends just on dusk when there is a higher chance of bagging a deer. So not begin given that chance ,( "I was convinced that our chances were better at the clearings so returned to the bottom to relay the plan to Mohawk") . So yer I was more than a little gutting considering there were 4 deer in that mob, but hey with my luck at the moment I'd F%#king miss anyway.

Sounds like you had a lot of fun, great story

Fuckn choice! thats hunting notihing goes to plan all the time.I should of made more trophys,good write up Dougie.

Rushy I think we need to team up and find Mohawk a tame blindfolded deer in the new year, Yes?

Jeezus just seen this write up will have a look later,only one pic? Off too carve a mutton roast.

Back soon.

Originally Posted by Dundee

Jeezus just seen this write up will have a look later,only one pic? Off too carve a mutton roast.

Back soon.

Now you see Dundee that is the sort of thing that makes me envious. I was brought up eating mutton and hogget but these days all a man gets is lamb because the Missus doesnt like mutton. Nothing wrong with lamb but a feed of mutton is something I would give my left nut for. You are a lucky bugger tonight.

Only one pic?
Mohawk im sure your a big boy and can make your own plans/decisions,If all 3 of you had bowled up to 4 shots spot probably would have spooked the lot and seen nothing.
Thats hunting man........Its planning, its knowledge, its skill, but mostly its just plain old luck

That was a nice read thanks for that Dougie .

Mohawk took a few great pics of the flora around, I'll leave it to him to put them up 'cos I can't remember all the names

Here's a few others.

Did you see the rope burn on that hinds leg?. 4 shot had me go in there 4 weeks ago, and I had a hell of a job tying up that bitch to a tree. Seems I should have used 4 ropes for 4 shot!!!
I did get an easy spiker on the walk in up stream past the hut. It was feeding on one of those little grass strips beside the stream.
Great story Dougie.

Nice write up, cheers Dougie