Fantasizing at Lake Okataina - finale

Nauseated at the smell of frying bacon and eggs, Ernie heaved up, again. His head throbbed and the daylight blinded him. In his denial he cried out, "Damn you, I'm not an alcoholic! I can take it, or leave it."

Alan, whose appetite was satiated, belched. "Sure you can, but see if you can keep down a mug of coffee."

At 7.30 am they met the lodge owner Tom, at the helm of a 5 metre launch. After clambering aboard, Alan took the controls while Tom jumped back on to the rashackle jetty.

The Lady Annabelle slipped away into the crumpled sea. Endless tumbled crests and hollows stretched before them under a low, threatening sky. The south-easterly was cruel.

What a flier this boat was compared with Calypso. She lifted her nose and thumped across the choppy waves, a white wake feathering out behind her. The skipper gazed ahead, whistling in gleeful anticipation, gradually bringing the launch to the centre of the lake.

"Jiggle your lure astern so you don't tangle up my line if you fall overboard," bullied Alan.

Ernie assembled his rig, and wedged the rod under a grappling hook, gagging from the mother-of-all-hangovers. Petrol fumes combined with a pall of cigarette smoke and the uneven rocking of the boat nearly overcame him.

Ah, to have the 'hair of the dog that bit him'. With fumbling hands Ernie passed a handle of home brew forward to Alan.

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Black spots on either side of an enormous dorsal fin swarmed before his eyes. Ernie felt suffocated, holding his breath. He was bruised and buffeted by a heavy, cold turbulence and dazzled by a luminous magenta swash flaring across the sides of a silvery monster.

Suddenly Ernie understood that he was below the suface of the water. His lungs were nearly bursting. Above was the brown underbelly of the boat. Had he fallen overboard or had that bugger Alan pushed him?

A gigantic trout was undulating towards him, its hideous lower jaw jutting forward like the bowl of a pipe. Ernie gulped and swallowed some water. Good God, the face was ugly! Protruding eyes focussed on him with a baleful glare. Crimson skirts yawned at the gills. Thick bulbous lips curled back, leering. A deep resonant sound bubbled up as the huge fish oscillated before him.

Ernie wasn't ready to die. he powered his arms and shot up out of the water. Spent, he flopped exhausted on to the deck, where he took long shuddering breaths, marvelling at his miraculous escape.

Alan regarded Ernie's twitching body. "You've gone a bit strange. Didn't know you took fits." He kicked the near empty skeg of home brew. "Next time, keep off the piss!"

Gradually Ernie's head cleared. "There's a trout as big as a bus just below the surface," he croaked. "And I'm going to hook it, if it's the last thing I ever do." Alan shook his head sadly and turned away.

As fast as he could Ernie reeled in his lead line and then grabbed the capped tube containing his long fly rod. Quickly he assembled it and started making powerful casts, looping a heavy-weight line back and forth in the air.

Stirred by his buddy's aura of confidence and excitement, Alan too, wound in his line. He watched with baited breath and mounting dismay as the water rose in a bulge, then cut the motor.

Casting his fly to the very centre of the radiating waves, Ernie jerked his rod making the fly skip. Again he cast. Suddenly the tip of the rod whipped forward to touch the water. In a flash the huge fish was off. Ernie's feet were firmly planted, but effort was needed to hold on to the rod. Within minutes nearly all the line had been pulled off the reel.

"The big bastard's towing the boat!" exclaimed Alan in awe. "I'll anchor you." Ernie's back was aching and he welcomed Alan's solid arms round his chest.

At the end of its run the heavy fish leapt out of the water, smashing down again on its belly. There was another five minute charge - running, diving and tugging the boat along.

"Man, you're crushing my ribs!" gasped Ernie. Fearful that exhaustion would make him careless he asked Alan to relieve him. Twice during the next hour Ernie asked Alan to take the rod again.

Each run was of lesser duration, culminating in a spectacular leap and belly flop. Ernie showed increasing consternation when the fish was in the air, knowing that the line could so easily snap. Was he keeping the line too taut?

At last to his gratification, the great fish turned and made another run; this time at the boat. Desperately Ernie retrieved the line while Alan threw the ridiculous little trout net aside in disgust. "How the hell are we going to get that thing aboard?" worried Alan.

Then the incredible occurred. In a final bid for freedom the fish shot up out of the water, its tail beating the air. Momentarily it hovered before crashing down for the last time, right into the boat.

Alan used brute strength to shove the slippery giant between the seats. No way was he going to let it jump out again. He eyed the trout anxiously while it thrashed about threatening to break his shins. Success exhilarated Ernie.

Eventually the Lady Annabelle made it back to the jetty where Alan's shouting and gesticulating compensated for the size and emptiness of the hills surrounding the lake.

Curious onlookers gathered - several fishermen, a few guests and the staff of Okataina Lodge. The procession wound across the beach and up the bank behind Alan who was cradling the rainbow trout in brawny arms. Proudly Ernie strutted ahead.

At the weigh-in voices were hushed and exclamations muted. An almost religious fervour gripped the congregation as the measurements were given. For the record, that rainbow trout, the largest one ever caught in New Zealand, weighed 13.5 kg and measured 106 cm in length. Tom, who had a cellar stacked with large mounted specimens, estimated it to be 12 years old.

The press and television were contacted and celebrations carried on into the small hours of the morning.

Ernie's plans for the future involved puchasing his own boat, a twelve metre launch, that he would name 'Home Brew'.