Eeling at the Maori Hole

Got everything?
Sure have.
OK. In the car you lot!
Doors slammed shut and we were off!
Hey! Whose got the bait?
“I have,” said Penelope. “Look!”
She held up the bucket. It was crammed with fishing tackle. Reels, torches, knives, thermos and a thick slab of red meat still dripping blood.
“Good one,” said Hoani. “Eels like their meat fresh.”
“Ergh! Gross! You could’ve wrapped it first,” said Johanna.
“Why?” I said. “We want to use it as soon as get there. First eel caught gets a chocolate fish remember?”
“Well, that’s gonna be ME this time,” said Mattheus. “Cos you won last time.”
“Yeah right.”
“OK you kids, settle down,” said Dad.

We drove along in silence until we got to the Patea River. Dad parked the car. We tumbled out scrambling for beanies and torches.
It was dark.

We trudged along in silence, single file flicking our torches on and off, gumboots swishing through the long grass; as we listened to the sound of rushing water running over riverstones and the distant call of a Morepork.

At last we came to the Maori Hole.
“Here we are,” said Dad. “The perfect fishing spot.”
We dived for the tackle.
“Better give Penelope the green line. The one she got for her birthday.”
“Yep it’s my lucky line. Pass it here,” said Penelope.
“Hey! I want the red reel – not that tatty one,” said Johanna. “I’ll never catch a thing on that.”

“Hang on you lot,” said Dad. “Not all at once!”
We stood back while Dad helped us bait the lines, dropped them over the river bank and down into the dark water.
“Now remember” said Dad, “if you want to catch a fish you’ve got to think like a fish.”
Then one by one we sat down between the bracken and fern to wait.

The air was cold. I rubbed my hands together and pulled the beanie down over my ears. I remembered the last Summer, coming down to the Maori Hole and seeing a group of kids dive bombing off the rocks into the deep clear water, sunlight streaming off their happy laughing faces. I’d watched them from the swing bridge and wished I’d brought my togs. Now it was late Autumn. There was a definite bite in the air. Around me everything seemed still and silent.

Hoani spoke up, “My friend Nancy had a pet eel once. A real big one.”
“What? In a tank?”
“No in the creek down the back of her farm. She fed it raw eggs. It was tame as.”
“How’d she do that?”
“She’d call it by tapping on some stones and dropping an egg into the water. The eel picked up the scent and come out of it’s hole to eat. I even saw her stroke it once.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No.”
“Awesome!”

We sat in silence the night sounds wrapping themselves around us. Overhead stars pierced the sky their tiny lights like little candles. It was peaceful just sitting by the river our lines in the water, everything quiet and still. We lay back in the grass listening to the sounds of the bush.

“It’s late,” said Dad. “Time to pack up.”
We got up and made our way back to the car. We drove home in silence until we got to Hoani’s house.
“No fish today but good cocoa and great company.” Dad said.
“See yah.”
“See yah,” we said.