Words Fail

There are these theories, elaborate constructs of quantum physics, time and space, math and language, that state that it is possible for a place to be more beautiful, more wild, more spectacular, than Great Barrier Island.

I can state, conclusively, these theories, they lie.

Last week I was treated to a 4 day fishing trip to the Great Barrier. We left Auckland about 6-6:30pm and sailed North for about 2 hours, the Coromandel Peninsula on our right and the Northland of New Zealand on our left. The sun was setting just as we arrived at the Great Barrier, a spectacular explosion of color and beauty on the South Pacific...

From Great Barrier...

We entered Fitzroy Sound just as it was getting dark, settling down in one of the myriad small bays for the night; the water still as glass, two Morepork (really) owls calling gently to one another across the sound, photoluminescence made the water around our boat glow and sparkle, making the place positively other-worldly. Fitzroy Sound (and I recommend you check Google Earth or some such for more detail) is big. As in, in the 1800's it was reckoned that Fitzroy was one of only two harbors in the world that could shelter the entire British Navy. It's that big, and that spectacular.

In the morning, we woke early to go out fishing and I was greeted by the captain and this view, the sky slightly overcast with high clouds.

From Great Barrier...

We headed out through Man O' War passage, which is only a couple of hundred feet across, I'm guessing and just outside of Fitzroy, we anchored next to a large rock and dropped our lines overboard. The results were almost instant. A couple small, throw back snapper later and we started pulling up a fisheries' manual of the local fauna. I landed a Trumpeter, Bede landed a John Dory and Red and I landed a couple of Parore, including this one, which weighed in at about 8 pounds.

From Great Barrier...

We returned to Fitzroy, the village at about 1030am after fishing for several hours and gorged ourselves on the Trumpeter, Red's Parore and the John Dory, which you can see Bede cleaning and filleting here:

From Great Barrier...

The John Dory was exquisite, I can assure you. My big Parore was held in reserve, we went back out that day and fished the north end of the island, near The Needles, way up top of the island, not really doing much, lots of small throw backs and a parade of non-eating fish graced us. Returning to Fitzroy Sound, we selected another isolated little bay, anchored and prepared for dinner. My Parore was butterflied and a smoker was produced. The fish went in, the beers came out of the cooler and we went into the water. Following brief showers to rinse off the salt water we settled onto the back deck to relax, lie about the ones that got away and enjoy the exceptionally delightful company of one another. It was incredible. The next two days we spent fishing and circumnavigating the island. The wind came up and we actually got stuck in Tryphena Harbor for a day as the winds roared through Colville Passage at 28 knots, bringing up the waves. We celebrated Mass each day we were out and it was absolutely amazing.

There are, you see, these places where language, where words are crafted. Adjectives roll off of tongues in these places and are soon sullied with overuse and unreflected application. These language mills, at the mention of the Great Barrier Island, they fall silent. The adjectives they would fashion falling uselessly to the floor, the craftsmen themselves painfully silent, like a Greek chorus that knows it cannot possibly meet the task of reducing this place into a sound which accurately captures its meaning. And this is the only place I have ever been where words positively...fail.

This was the sunsetting on the clouds my second night on the island...even the image doesn't capture it adequately. But it will suffice to stoke you to go there for yourself, perhaps...

From Great Barrier...

More to follow...