Is it just me or do the very best adventures come about at the very last minute? Fishing for bluefin tuna has been on my bucket list since I was a young fella, so when Nick called me on a Wednesday morning with an opportunity to chase them out from Milford Sound, I couldn’t say yes fast enough. The only catch was that the optimal moon phase coinciding with the best weather window was on Saturday and Sunday – just 60 hours away. Typically, this wouldn’t be a major predicament, but with Nick and Evan needing to book flights from Auckland to Queenstown, the boat being a 13-hour drive away in Kaikōura, and – to top it off – me being in the middle of a three-day fishing trip near Twizel after emerging from Covid isolation, we had an uphill battle ahead if we were going to make it to Te Anau on Friday night, all geared up and ready to roll for the weekend.

Immediately, we began hatching a plan and problem solving our way through a long list of tasks that needed to be ticked off without delay. The flights were secured, the game gear and spearfishing equipment was gathered and packed for the plane, and, critically, we had arranged for my dad, Bruce, to make the mammoth trip from Kaikōura to Te Anau on Friday with the boat in tow. After a couple of stops along the way in Wānaka and Queenstown to repack the boat for gamefishing and to collect the Aucklanders from Queenstown Airport before loading up on salt ice and groceries, we began our convoy south.

Spurred on by unbridled excitement for the adventure ahead, we finally arrived in Te Anau soon after midnight. After topping the boat and vehicles up with fuel, we managed to grab a couple of hours of shut-eye before hitting the road once again at 3.30am with the intention of launching the boat at sunrise. What we hadn’t anticipated was the newfound popularity of this fishery. The boat ramp was jam-packed with every man and his dog, all eager to launch at sunrise and go after bluefin tuna, too. So by the time we had repacked the boat one last time and queued up to launch on the single-lane ramp, the sunrise had given way to daylight. We could see the prime bite time was quickly slipping by. This was made worse by someone (it may or may not have been me) realising at least 15 minutes after leaving the boat ramp that a GoPro had been left on the roof of my ute after filming the boat launch for our YouTube episode. Following a quick trip back to the wharf and an unplanned early-morning exercise session sprinting back to the ute, we were finally under way with the GoPro on board.

Passing beneath colossal peaks and breathtaking views in every direction, the prehistoric-looking cliff faces soon gave way to the beautiful big blue. The conditions were as good as they get – clear blue skies, unusually warm water temperatures, and a buttery smooth ocean. Our excitement levels were understandably peaking with the potential for big southern bluefin tuna to burst through the water surface at any moment. The magnificent sound of the Makaira game reels filled the air, the drag clicking as the top shot uncoiled from the spool and released the lures beyond the back of the boat. Keen for some variation in our spread, we opted for skirted lures running alongside a couple of hard-body bibless options, all of which provided a different colour and action to tempt the gamefish. Our tactic was to throw a bit of everything out there and see what would get hit first. A new addition on this trip was a pink daisy chain trailed a few metres behind the transom to simulate a critter scattering bait in the air.

Eager to spot a bust-up, we had our first false alarm of the trip when we were overly enthusiastic and mistook a passing pod of dolphins for a school of tuna. Nevertheless, we knew this was a promising sign given that tuna can often be found around the same area as dolphins. All of a sudden, the serenity was pierced by a screaming reel only 20 minutes after setting the gear. The green and gold hard-body lure had just been smashed and the top shot was rapidly peeling from the reel. Another rod kicked back and forward on the opposing side as another fish hit a second lure in the spread, but this one failed to hook up. Evan took over the helm and kept the boat moving due west while Nick quickly cleared the gear and I just watched on in excitement as I captured all of the action on film. The call had been made earlier in the day that Bruce would be the first one of us to battle a bluefin given he could only join us for the first day of the trip, so he strapped on the gimbal belt before grasping the bent rod and tethering the harness to the lugs atop of the reel. This was one of my favourite moments from the trip as I watched my dad hooked up to a gamefish for the very first time – not long before his 70th birthday. However, as soon as he was clipped in and ready to fight the fish, the bend in the rod eased off and there appeared to be little to no resistance on the line as he cranked the handle around and around again.

“Nothing?” Nick questioned, just before the line came tight once again. As the fish had turned and swum out to starboard, the line had arced through the water as it trailed the fish, so the perceived weight of the fish was gone until a few more turns of the reel brought the line tight once again. After regaining some of the line the fish had taken on its initial burst, the fish made a couple more attempts to flee from the boat. The line pinging under tension only increased our heart rates further, as the fish had one more crack at swimming away from the boat before Bruce reduced the distance. A glimmer of silver and dark blue appeared beneath the starboard side, and for the first time we were able to confirm that we were indeed hooked up to our target species – the mighty bluefin tuna! Time seemed to slow down to a snail’s pace as the fish drew closer and closer to Nick, who was eagerly waiting with gaff in hand for the fish to swim within range.

As the tuna circled around the boat just below the surface, Nick grabbed the leader in his left hand and pulled the line upwards. The fish rose to the surface and as it passed directly below, Nick pulled the gaff through the bottom lip of the tuna and lifted it clear of the water, then hauled it onto the deck between the four of us. We had done it! In this one moment, the effort, the money invested and the hectic few days to get us to this stunning location had proved worthwhile, resulting in the fish of a lifetime for Bruce. Although the tuna was on the smaller side compared to some of the other specimens caught in the area, this fish, which we estimated at around 25Kg, was the most memorable fish my dad had ever caught after a lifetime of fishing. The smile on his face said it all. It’s certainly a core memory that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

On the tuna front, it was one-anddone for us on this trip. Despite towing lures for the rest of the day and for most of the following morning, the tuna never returned for a second visit. Once we grew tired of dragging the lures around in the unrelenting wind and big swells that punished us on Sunday, we found a bay along the coast in which to drop anchor, allowing Nick and Evan to slip over the side and explore the underwater bounty that this area is so well known for. Before long they had found plenty of large crayfish hiding amongst the rocky structure below, with a few even hanging around out in the open on the sand. The pair left countless legal-sized crays alone and focused on carefully selecting a few choice ones to take home. Evan managed to find his personal best, and Nick came close to doing the same. Soon their attention turned to their spearguns to nab some tasty tarakihi, of which there were plenty patrolling the sand, flanking the rocky outcrops. An inquisitive blue cod also approached Nick before turning towards some nearby structure, and with blue cod for dinner sounding appealing, a perfect shot was made to ensure we would be eating like kings back at camp that night.

Fiordland really is a national treasure. The incredible landscape, the abundant marine life and the unforgiving weather make it a destination like no other. But like all great things, this special place needs to be looked after. It’s tempting to get greedy and take more than needed, especially when it can be so easy to fill the chilly bin. If you plan to fish anywhere in Fiordland, I suggest doing the same as us and focusing on securing a variety of species to take home, rather than bagging out on one or two species of seafood. We were treated with a very diverse catch bag that we used to experience a wide range of meals with our families once home – hopefully, this remarkable fishery remains abundant for generations to come.