Paua to the people

When I was 15, I did a computerised questionnaire in the Careers Department at school which sought to determine a compatible career path by way of multiple choice and psycho analysis. My preferences for out doors work and practical people orientated and entrepreneurial roles were analysed. Laughably enough it suggested I become a farmer. What a waste of 14 quid, which was a lot of money in those days.

Before I left for NZ, I was given some contacts by Cath and Hamish in Bristol. I phoned to introduce myself and was immediately invited to stay. Kiwi hospitality triumphs again.

These contacts, David and Kathy, were fantastic hosts, wonderfully warm and brilliant conversation. They gave me carte blanche on their house and made me feel right at home. We spent last Sunday night with a marvellous glass of Marlborough wine, the crossword and some soul-deep conversation.

They introduced me to two important things. 1. A Marine Farmer called Alex. 2. Sauvignon Blanc from the Saint Clair Vinyard. The wine was the most buttery, fruity-soft white. Available at 22 GBP in the UK it was but 10 pounds from the vineyard shop. I was sorely tempted to send some home, but it was evident that the post office don’t do envelopes big enough.

I was introduced to Alex at the Anglican church where Hamish and Cath met David and Kathy almost a year ago. Alex and his wife only attend sporadically but over breakfast that morning at 9am they felt, out of the blue, that they wanted to go to church. Perhaps you would call it the butterfly effect, numerous small influences adding up to a significant result. They attended, David introduced me, I said I was looking for work, Alex faced a horrendous week of catching up with jobs on his Paua farm. Just minutes after the service, I had been given a job for the week. To me it’s a clear example of God’s subtle provision - for both of us.

Now, I have to admit that I have developed a slightly withered work ethic. Part-time teaching and latterly wheeler dealing has facilitated my working as a volunteer intern for Woodlands, but has made me a little unused to orthodox full working hours. I am not a slacker. It is just that my focus on a normal job was always eroded by the need to be somewhere else, collecting a motorbike, moving a fridge, painting a ceiling, selling a car, packing some parcels, sorting something for my dappy female housemates… life was a list of things to do- and I loved it. But, perhaps that was for a time and that time is certainly not now. Earning money to pay your way often comes down to honest, hard work. And cor blimey have I found some honest hard work!

I knew it would mean being up early but it was the sort of early that makes you wonder if it was worth going to bed the night before. (Well, okay, 5.20am – but then I am a land lubber city type). On the water for 6am. Dawn would emerge through the mists over the Sounds. The twin prop, twin Volvo engined 400hp launch took us out to the marine farm in the Tory Channel, skipping and thudding across the choppy sea. White gumboots, yellow rubber trousers (!) and a lifejacket – I looked quite the sea dog. The work is varied and revolves around growing and feeding paua shellfish. Otherwise known as abalone, the NZ variety is famed for its stunning blue swirls in its shell, and its pearls which are rare but which can be propagated by certain methods, about which I am sworn to secrecy (seriously). Inside an upturned shell you will see this delicate haemophiliac mollusc is a large liquorice black muscular foot, which lolls and twists like a demented tongue. The meat is worth $100 a kg. The shells can be shined to stunning beauty and the pearls are worth a fortune. The organisms are kept in barrels resembling a cylindrical bin with mesh windows and a mesh lid. The barrels are attached to a taut line of buoys and sink below the surface. Each barrel is regularly cleaned, and the paua are fed seaweed which is grown on the weighted ropes also attached to the main lines. The lines are serviced from a barge which looks like it could have been a Blue Peter project, but in fact is ingeniously designed and there is no sign of sticky back plastic or glue gun. It comprises an enclosed cabin/work area, an outboard motor, a Honda generator, water blasters, winches, doors for blocking the wind, a kettle, solar charged batteries and a heated towel rail (towel hook in motor housing for constant drying effect). Blasting the algae off the barrels covers you in green slime, your hands are never dry- if you are not hosing down shellfish, you are lifting and sorting seaweed from the lines. Big brown slimy varieties which the paua love to munch on. There is more to it than this, but you get the picture. The work is not easy, but the days are enjoyable, broken by the tea breaks, the sandwiches and the boat trips to visit the Whaling Station where the company diver lives and who dives from our boat to connect underwater lines and service anchors. My sea legs weren’t too good to start with, and my head is still swaying even as I sit here to type, but I was quite au-fait with the boating thing in the end. It is in the blood after years of family outings on the Avon and Kennett Coal Canal and the Bristol docks on my dad's river boat called Woof Woof.

I have had a brilliant experience. The water and the islands make for a great view from the office window. The open space, life’s different pace, the solitude of the calming glassy blue sea quietly going about its business of hosting some of the most fascinating animal creations. I have learned so much. Most of all, that gimmicky careers software can be of value... Actually it might have been right.