Few Kiwi traditions capture the imagination of New Zealanders more than whitebaiting, writes Alina Suchanski.
From the recreational ''baiter'' who catches just enough for his family and friends to the commercial operator spending the entire season in a shack by his whitebait stand and flying hundreds of kilos out to city markets in New Zealand and overseas, whether they do it for the lifestyle or for money, they all become obsessed by this pastime.
Although whitebait are caught in rivers all around New Zealand, the largest returns are obtained from the West Coast where their habitat is relatively unspoilt by human touch, with many rivers originating from and flowing through national parks and conservation areas.
The desolate, wild coast between Big Bay and Martins Bay becomes a hub of activity for a few weeks each year between September 1 and November 14.
The tranquillity of the beaches at the mouth of the Awarua River and the Hollyford River is disturbed by small planes and helicopters flying in and out daily, quad bikes crisscrossing the sand dunes and boats splashing up and down the river.
It's spring: tui, bellbirds and wood pigeons are getting drunk on kowhai nectar, seal pups are frolicking in rock pools on the sea shore, and millions of baby inanga, kokopu, tuna (native eel) and koaro fish, collectively known as whitebait, are migrating from the sea to their habitat upstream where they can grow and reproduce.
That is, those that can make it there, for there are many threats lurking along the way.
Whitebaiters have been coming to Big Bay and Martins Bay since Davey Gunn put the Hollyford Track on the map as a tourist destination in 1936.
Once they catch the bug, they keep returning year after year.
Some families have been coming for generations. Private baches in the Pyke Conservation Area, where the Awarua River enters Big Bay, were built in the 1960s and '70s with approval of the New Zealand Forest Service.
Since 1987 this area has been under Doc's jurisdiction.
The hut owners own the buildings and lease from Doc the land on which they stand. No new buildings or extensions to existing baches are allowed.
Inside a cosy crib Ian Dobson (''Dobbie'', the owner) and his two visitors - Bill from Brisbane and John ''Simmo'' from Balclutha - muse about life in Big Bay.
''We've been coming here for years, usually stay for the whole season. Just love it. It's the lifestyle, the kiwiana,'' Dobbie says.
''You wouldn't starve here. You can get deer, hare, plenty of seafood: paua, mussels, trout and, of course, whitebait.
Plenty of meat. A bit short on veges, but we always bring a big bag of potatoes. If any visitors come they bring veges too,'' Simmo adds.
This is Dobbie's 45th whitebaiting season. His father, Douglas W. Dobson had started the tradition, which is now being carried on by his two sons, Ian and Bill.
According to Phil from Cromwell, the river carries 12.5 tonnes of whitebait per season.
''In a good year I can get 2.5 tonnes'', he says.
On the other side of the Awarua River, a new generation of whitebaiters is bringing modern technology to this remote location. Internet, broadband and a satellite dish help them keep in touch with the outside world.
Grant, Warrick and Kelly Mitchell grew up in Big Bay.
Their parents, Graham and Anne Mitchell, first came to Big Bay in 1966. Initially they made their living from deer recovery; later they supplemented their income with whitebaiting.
In 1972, when Anne was pregnant with Grant, they built a house where the family subsequently lived for 16 years.
Graham was an honorary ranger in the Pyke Conservation Area.
''He made sure we all followed the regulations and sensible practices,'' long-term family friend Ian Todd says.
The Mitchells' home stands on what used to be Davey Gunn's cattle grounds, now covered in regenerating native bush.
Graham and Anne were good role models who instilled in their children respect for the nature and taught them how to live off the land responsibly.
''When we were kids, Dad would make us weed gorse. At the end of each day, Mum used to give us a bucketful of whitebait to take upstream and put it back in the river,'' Warrick recalls.
Today, when they are not whitebaiting, the young Mitchells continue the legacy of Davey Gunn by maintaining the track that connects Big Bay with the Pyke route.
They contribute to conservation by possum hunting, trapping stoats and shooting deer. Their house is often full of visitors.
''We welcome everyone. Anyone can get a cup of tea here and a meal,'' Warrick says.
What stops people coming in droves is the high price of getting there.
Unless you are friends of a pilot, it can cost more than $600 to charter a plane or a helicopter. The price tag for occupying a piece of paradise comprises a few items.
A Doc concession for a private hut at Big Bay costs $2500 per year and the Southland District Council's rates can be round $1000, depending on the size of the building's footprint.
The Environment Southland annual permit fee for a whitebaiting stand is $220.
However, with the retail price in excess of $100 a kilo, whitebaiting can be a lucrative business. It is also a tradition, a pastime in which life slows down and the only thing that flows fast is the river.
