The fish that started it all....

One fateful day whilst studying in Uni, my housemates decided to take a one hour drive to Raglan, a little fishing town in the North Island of New Zealand. I tagged along as I had nothing more interesting to do.

At Raglan after a huge breakfast of fish and chips, we climbed down a sheer cliff (hanging on to a dangling rope with our picnic baskets) and settled on some huge rocks with some boat fishing rods (which we found in the store room of our rented house) and one surf casting rod.

By lunch time,  the guys have given up fishing as nothing has been caught, which left me free to play around with the one and only surf casting rod. I remember feeding the fishes more than catching them as I kept baiting the hook and the fishes kept stealing away all the bait until maybe for the tenth time before I actually hooked something up.

I reeled in as quickly as I could and I could feel the fish fighting hard at the other end. Once it was out of the water I had to pass the rod to one of the guys as the fish was wriggling so hard I could hardly hold on to the rod to continue reeling it up the cliff side. It was a shock to see such a tiny little fish coz it sure did eat a lot for one and I felt it weighing a tonne when I was reeling it in.

Although everyone else treated the fishing experience as another typical adventurous outing, I was quietly hooked on fishing...(after all the little fellow tasted real good baked in sambal)