I get that down to 17 minutes on the return journey. It was getting dark and cold. I was in a hurry and the thought of getting into my hot sauna seemed to provide the impetus necessary to add some extra rotational force to my pedalling legs.
...
Chris unchains the oars and little rowing boat, we load up our rods and paddle off around the lake skimming the banks with its reeds and marshy edges. We fish with rubber lures which are lead-weighted at the heads. They cast beautifully.
Halfway round Chris hooks and lands a pike. It's not big but would make a decent meal. Chris says the white flesh is difficult for him to distinguish from cod which I find difficult to believe - I imagined pike or most lake fish to be muddy tasting. The water is very brown here but translucent brown in the shallows. Chris says its from the peat.The pike makes a disturbing croaking sound and before I know it, Chris has unhooked it and put it gently back into the water. It swims off.
My dinner swims off.
I am having more luck hooking the lilies than any fish and on the way back I volunteer to row. We've been on the water for one and a half hours so it's a good distance back.
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The dark lake, like a gypsy's crystal ball reflects another world. Autumn is just starting here but in the upside down world it is easy to imagine the arrival of spring in New Zealand, the land of my birth.
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