I met a lovely man

​16 October 2012
​I met a lovely man on the train while travelling home from meetings in Wellington the other night. His name is Glyn and he has spent a lifetime trout fishing the rivers of New Zealand. Glyn started up our conversation when I sat down next to him.  He said he was happy to get home from his trip to Australia and see some sheep, instead of all those dairy cows.  Dairy cows, he told me, are mucking up ‘his’ rivers for fishing.  Glyn told me about the many many years he has spent fishing, and the change he said he has seen to those rivers over that time. ​

“The fish I used to catch used to look healthy and vigorous” he said, “now, if I managed to catch one, I feel I am doing it a favour by taking it out of the river, they look so glum.  And that’s if I can find one to catch”. He told me that many of his old fishing haunts in the Wairarapa and Manawatu just aren’t up to scratch any more.  “You are lucky if you can find a fish to catch”, he said.  Glyn had an interesting perspective in this. He said while he and other older fishermen don’t mind spending hours on the river without a trophy or a feed to take home, he worries about the kids.  He said he struggles to think of a place to take his grandchildren fishing where they could have the enjoyment of catching a fish, that’s not too far to travel.  He’s worried about this because he worries that this next generation won’t ever experience that thrill, and won’t ever become ‘fishermen’ without having those important early formative experiences.

“The fish I used to catch used to look healthy and vigorous” he said, “now, if I managed to catch one, I feel I am doing it a favour by taking it out of the river, they look so glum.

​And that’s if I can find one to catch”.

Glyn had a lot of really interesting stuff to say about a lifetime of observations on the river.  It was a nice change for me; I often only view the rivers through the lens of science, water quality reports, statistics and economic cost benefit analysis.  It’s good to hear the human side, and the very real concern about the future generations.  It also got me thinking about how we can make sure that this type of perspective is given a bit more life in the work that I do.  How do we make sure that that human element is given proper regard in the process? Advocacy groups do a great job, and they speak the language of councils and courts, of science and reports and law, and that is really valuable.  But who speaks for the angler or the swimmer?  The experience of every day kiwis who have an almost spiritual connection with their rivers and want their grand kids to have it too?
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The current process has many failings, and it can be daunting to a layperson, like Glyn, or his grand kids, to stand up and talk to a hearing commissioner.  But they can do it.  And it takes only a small amount of their time to make themselves heard.  What about some of the collaborative processes being touted as the next big thing?

Recent processes in CANTERBURY show that you have to be shoulder tapped to have your place at the table.  Another example in the Hawke’s Bay shows that you can self identify, but you have to commit to twenty six half day meetings to be involved in a long term and technical process.  Now in both these cases the access of every person to the council or court hearing is still open.  But recent PROPOSALS to do away with this process are concerning. This means Glyn, or his grand kids have to make a huge commitment of time and energy, or not be heard.  Surely there has got to be a better way?

Author

Helen Marr is a Perception Planning director who likes having thoughtful conversations with people about the environment.