Geoff Thomas: Kids learn the ropes

Four-year-old Asher Thomas rides the rope with his aunt, Jenny Thomas. Photo / Geoff Thomas

What do you do in midsummer when the youngsters ask if they can catch a trout and go for a swim in hot, thermal water?

You head for Lake Tarawera, that's what. When you've spent your first years swimming and fishing there, it feels like going home. Now, two generations later, you can introduce the little ones to the feel of hot sand under their toes, the sweet smell of sunscreen lotion that triggers so many memories, the tickly sensation as tiny cockabullies swarm around their feet in knee-deep water, nibbling gently at fragments of skin too small for the eye to discern.

"Did you know that in some countries people pay to put their feet into a bowl of water where fish clean their skin, just like these bullies are doing?" you tell a wide-eyed 4-year-old.

Thin little smelt wiggle past, just like whitebait that have never seen the sea. "The trout love these best of all," you explain, "which is why we use little silver flies to catch them."

The shallows along Hotwater Beach are too hot in places to stand still, as the energy deep within the earth's crust slips through as boiling steam rising off the still water. It is even hotter when toes are wiggled down into the sand.

"You know we once caught a trout right off this beach," you say, as a fish splashes on the edge of the weed. "The trout chase the smelt and herd them up against the hot water. It's a good place to catch fish. But then we wrapped the trout in tinfoil, with some butter and mint and salt and pepper inside, and buried it in the sand. Two hours later we had fresh-cooked fish for lunch."

"Is that really true, Pa?" asks the 6-year-old and, as his leg has been well and truly pulled in the past, it is a fair question. "Sure is. But the overseas television people we were with didn't believe it could be done."

The sea biscuit is always popular with the first generation, and it becomes a challenge to drive the boat in a wide curve so the G-forces build up as the tube speeds wider and wider until the rider cartwheels off in a tremendous spray.

This happened once with some of the Auckland Blues players in a sheltered bay at Waiheke Island, and Xavier Rush surfaced minus his skimpy togs. Quite a sight. The missing article was later found wedged tightly in the crease at the base of the inner tube.

But, on the lake, the 21-year-old is a determined fellow and it is impossible to dislodge him.

For the littlies, a sedate tow on the end of a short rope is equally challenging, even when secure in the arms of the first generation. The 6-year-old is more interested in fishing and climbs out of bed without a murmur when you knock on the bedroom door at 6am. "I can drive, Pa," he says, taking the responsibility seriously as he steers the boat from the jetty.

He quickly picks up the dynamics of deep trolling on the lake. With a combination wire and lead-core line out the back and a black toby spinner on the end, it is important to follow the contour when the shelf drops away.

"We don't want to go below 20m," he informs us, with one eye fixed on the screen of the depth sounder as the boat is skilfully maneuvered around the drop-off. One of the rods bends and the reel gives a buzz.

Mihkel has never seen a trout before, let alone caught one, and can't believe his luck when a 2kg rainbow surfaces and is lifted into the boat. It is a sleek red, green and silver picture, spotted on the back, and soon it will be transformed into skinless fillets with all the bones removed, dipped in egg and breadcrumbs and quickly fried in oil and butter until crisp.

Another trout joins the first in the fish bin, this one shining like a newly minted coin. Time to head back to the bach, rouse the family and get out the frying pan. No burying the fish in the sand this time.