Rudely awoken by the alarm clock at 5.30am, we got ready quickly as we didn't want to miss the boat (literally!). We were told it might take an hour and a half to get there, though we adjusted accordingly for our slow coach van that could only do a maximum of 80km/h and allowed 2 hours.

With no cafe in sight (Stef was to have a caffeine deprived day), the route we took went up a hill, and back down, then up a mountain and back down again until we reached Duncan Bay at 7.30am. At the trailer boat launch ramp/jetty, we realised there was also a wharf just down the road where a silver coloured boat was coming into dock. We were parked in the wrong spot, so moved the van over. Chrissy's husband had told us his brother's boat was unpainted aluminium, so we thought we were bang in time.

Our second realisation was that we didn't really know the name of the person driving the boat, so would have to ask "are you Chrissy's brother-in-law?", which in other countries I'm sure would be a drugs-related code word. It wasnt the guy on the silver coloured boat though...

If that wasn't enough, our incompetent guide at Abel Tasman yesterday told us a story of a tourist couple who had been taken out on someone's boat a couple of years ago in NZ and were never to be seen again... Our imagination had worked overtime and we thought maybe we should text someone about our plans. Typically, there was no mobile signal and Stef's phone had only 16% of battery remaining. It was all the right ingredients for a potentially messy end to our so-far lovely honeymoon!

Luckily, a small white coloured boat soon pulled up, and, although he didn't answer yes to our code question, he responded with "I'm Mike" and seemed to expect us to get on his boat. He also had 4 fishing rods on the roof of his boat which gave us further confirmation of who we were looking for. He didn't seem like the psycho-killer we might have imagined, but soon after jetting off, my eye was drawn to the fish filleting board with a sharp-as knife stored on it. There was also massive cray-fish hooks as well as a knife sharpener in sight. Eeeek!

It wasn't long before we stopped though to collect other passengers, 3 strapping lads that Mike described as 'crew'. Brad, Simon and Mitchell; who, it turned out were from New Plymouth on a 2 week fishing holiday with Mike. They were all (including Mike) staying at his bach. They all seemed like good lads though, and after we exchanged basic pleasantries, the boat picked up speed to go to our first fishing spot to get blue cod, some of which would be for eating and the others for bait. En route we saw a pod of Hector dolphins who put on a bit of a show for us, frolicking in the Boat's slip stream. This was a good ice breaker as all the strapping lads and Mike seemed to be as enraptured as we were!

It was our first experience of fishing, and it was eeeeasy. Put a rod in, within 2 seconds you feel a yank on the end, hoik it up to make sure its hooked, reel it in with a cod on the end, which one if the other experienced folk take off for you :) Rinse and repeat.
But that was just round one.

With a good stash of blue cod, we went haring off to another location where the grouper fishing would be good. Mike watched his gps/sonar readout to find the right kind of underwater topography and depth and then we dropped lines with blue cod as bait.
As the sinkers were going a lot deeper - some 240m as opposed to maybe 30 for the cod - there was a lot more reeling in and out to do, and it was a lot more difficult to tell when the line was at the bottom, as well as telling what was a strike and what was just the line moving on the sea-bed.
Between the two of us we still managed to get two grouper though, which was more than some of the lads, but less than the star catcher of the day, Simon, who seemed to be getting a bite about every minute, and also caught two sharks - one of which stayed on the boat to be turned into steaks.
Every five minutes or so, Mike would manoeuvre the boat round as we were drifting in the current. He obviously knew what he was doing, as despite being really close to another boat, we seemed to be getting far more fish.

After maybe half an hour of this, and despite what seemed to us novices to be a good haul, Mike decided that it was no good any more and that we should go and look for crayfish instead, so off we went to another part of the coastline. (Must also mention that we were in the Marlborough Sounds which is absolutely stunning)
This was much shallower water, just off-shore from a little beach, and, lacking diving gear, we couldn't join in with this one. For this, Brad donned a wetsuit and scuba kit, while Mitchell pit on a snorkel and went in with a spear gun. Brad was given instructions on where to look and basically went hunting in the rocks underwater with a kind of hook on a stick and a bag to out the catch in. Mitch's plan was to try and spear more fish. While they were in the water, Simon had another little fish and bagged a barracuda, which was quickly dispatched to be used as bait for grouper the next day. The other two were in the water for a while (meanwhile mused at how lovely the scenery was and bonded over rugby with Mike and Simon) and Brad came back with a couple of crayfish, but in the end, Mike said he had to show the 'jokers' how it was done. After putting on his own dry suit and tank - which took a fair while as it was a fairly tight squeeze for him - he dived in and five minutes later came back with two crays. Then he directed the boys to take the boat to another outcrop of rock, where he found another couple. A final spot, and yet another three or so, before he decided that that was enough crays. Now off to get scallops!
The hunt for scallops didn't involve anyone getting wet. The basic principle was to throw out a steel grate which was then slowly dredged along the sea bed in a particular spot. While the boat slowly chugged along, dragging the grate, Mike expertly filleted all of the days catch and disposed of the skeletons and innards overboard, causing a fair commotion among the seabirds, and after two passes with the dredger, we had some hundred scallops or so. These were measured to make sure they were big enough to take, and piled up in a bucket. This seemed like loads of fish to us two, but apparently was well below yesterday's catch, and well below the legal limits. Still, it was decided to call it a day, and so we headed back towards Mike's 'batch', where we had picked the boys up earlier.
This part of the trip seemed to take a long time, but was still a boat ride through some beautiful scenery. Eventually though, we arrived. The crayfish from the boat were put into an underwater lobster pot, along with some 15 others which were being stored there (minus one which had seemingly been nabbed by an octopus, as only its shell remained). Then we disembarked and walked up the path - which was little more than a mown section of the grass - to the batch itself. This was like something out of a Famous Five book.

A simple wooden shack with bunks and beds to sleep seven people. The old calendars on the wall were from the sixties, fifties and forties, and there was an ancient old 6v radio (which apparently still worked) as well as furniture which obviously dated from when it was first built - though Mike wasn't sure when this was, presumably in the forties. Water was supplied by a hose which fed off a small creek that ran through the garden, and the only sign of modernity was a small generator which was used for evening lighting.
We had a cup of tea, while the boys drank rum & coke and shucked the scallops, and then Mike cooked up a plateful. Two platefuls in fact. Two platefuls of scallops! For us Cardiffians who are used to seeing three scallops at most on a plate in a fancy restaurant, costing at least a tenner, this was the height of luxury, and Stef managed to eat a fair few. he even tried a raw one which wasn't perhaps such a good idea.

We didn't want to stay too late as we wanted to head back to Nelson, so Mike bagged up some of our catch (more scallops, a whole crayfish tail, 4 blue cod fillets and a huge piece of grouper) and boated us back to the van in Duncan bay. We got there at about 6.30pm, paid our $100 each and decided that we would love to have Mike as an uncle.

We drove 'home' via a shop where we picked up some supplies that would go nicely with our new stock of food, and went back to the campsite shattered but very happy people.