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Exploring the world of light tackle fishing has deepened my love for the sport and reinforced the belief that neither my size nor my gender should hinder my pursuit of angling excellence. Inspired by trailblazing anglers like Deborah Dunaway and Robyn Hall, I strive to follow in their footsteps, standing proudly at the weigh station and breaking stereotypes with my unyielding passion for fishing. Their legacy serves as a beacon of strength, guiding me to embrace my love for angling with pride and determination, no matter the challenges that come my way.
On May 16, 2023, while six months pregnant with my first child, Gus, I attempted a dream of many years—to capture a swordfish on 16-pound line class off the top of the North Island of New Zealand. While fishing aboard Ruckus, our 48-foot Viking, I managed to land a fish, one that weighed in at a whopping 370 pounds and broke the 37-year record of 174 pounds held by Deborah Dunaway. This also made it a 21-1 ratio catch and heavier than the 296-pound men’s record for the same line class.
A month after this record was obtained, we increased our line class to 50-pound, fishing in a spot along the coast off New Zealand’s Bay of Islands. This location is well known for holding a range of fish up to 800 pounds, hence the reason we chose to increase our line class to 50-pound, which is significantly heavier than our normal range of tackle. In less-than-ideal conditions with a 6-foot swell and 25-knot winds, we had a successful trip, going three for four, with the heaviest fish weighing in at 432 pounds.
We also suffered several heartbreaks that day. Not only did we lose a near record-breaking fish to the tax man, but we also broke off a 700-plus-pound fish on the leader due to gear failure. The loss of that extremely large sword haunted me and the crew for months to come. I lay in bed for nights on end picturing the large silver belly and purple iridescent skin flashing in and out of the swell after the four-hour fight. Then, as the wireman reached for the leader, we heard that dreadful ping. I replayed that scene in my mind over and over again, and the pain never got any easier.
After almost a year of enduring this mental torture, I finally got my chance at redemption. On April 15, we headed out to the 1,000-foot mark to deep-drop some squid. We hadn’t had a particularly successful year so far for swordfish, compared with previous seasons, getting zero bites over 10 days of fishing. But on that April morning, after two days of dropping baits with no bites, our determination, patience and perseverance finally paid off.
At 11:20 a.m., our bait was taken swiftly while the fish ran out quite a bit of line. The swordfish put up a fierce fight, first making a run toward the surface, only to stop 100 feet short and then return down into the deep. This happened several times, and with each dive I had to carefully manage the drag, inching it up to 37 pounds on the Shimano 80W reel to prevent the fish from escaping back into the depths. We always use Momoi in our record pursuits, and the pretested Momoi mono provided me with the confidence to push the drag this high on the 50-pound line. The relentless struggle continued for hours, giving me no opportunity to rest. Rain squalls added to the challenge. Although we were soaked, our crew remained focused and determined. This game of give-and-take continued for nearly eight hours.
As daylight faded and darkness loomed, the battle became more intense. I grew hungry and desperate to use the restroom. With the swordfish now in its happy place in the darkness of night, it began making its most powerful runs of the fight and refused to come near the lights of the boat. The crew faced a critical moment, and the decision was made to turn off all the boat lights to avoid spooking the fish. This created a new challenge for our skipper, Hunter Bryce, since he now had no clear sight of me or the line. Communication was key. I summoned my last reserves of energy to bring the fish closer to the boat, inch by inch, despite the darkness and the risks.
As the wireman, AJ Barton-Barry, expertly secured a wrap, our custom titanium/carbon gaffs made by Teenos Fishing Gear in New Zealand were swiftly plunged into the massive swordfish, marking the end of an epic struggle. With mixed feelings of relief and awe, we swiftly hauled the colossal fish on board to avoid any visits from sharks. The memory of that night and the sheer size of that silver swordfish belly when it finally got to the boat will forever be etched in my mind and those of everyone on board that day.
The emotional journey culminated on the docks of the Whangarei Deep Sea Anglers Club in the early-morning hours of April 15, when the broadbill tipped the scales at 661 pounds, 6 ounces, besting the previous record of 492 pounds, 4 ounces that was set in 1959 by Dorothea Cassullo. I would like to acknowledge that fishing is a team sport, and the success of this record-breaking catch was due to the combined efforts of the entire team. Everyone played a crucial role. Our success wouldn’t have been possible without Bryce, who expertly navigated the waters that night, or the crew members, Barton-Barry, Rob Bracken and Shannon Chambers, who all supported me throughout the grueling battle.
While I may be the one who gets the recognition as the angler, I am adamant that it was a collective effort that led to this incredible achievement. The camaraderie and teamwork displayed on that fateful day in April will be remembered for years to come. For me, fishing is more than just a pastime—it’s a journey of self-discovery and empowerment. With the unwavering support of my friends, family and dedicated husband, I continue to chase my dreams on the open waters.
