Back in the mid-80s, three families — the Lomonds, the Vincents, and the Bests — packed up for a trip around Hawke’s Bay. It was the kind of outing that defined the times: station wagons full of kids, coolers rattling with sandwiches and pop, and a sense that the road itself was half the adventure.
We figured it’d be a simple trip, maybe some trout fishing and a bit of exploring. But it turned into one of those memories that lasts a lifetime thanks to Paul Lomond. He set out with his rod looking for trout and came back with a haul of twenty or thirty ouananiche — land-locked salmon we didn’t even know lived in that pond.
The news spread quick. Suddenly, poles were pulled from the trunks, boats slid into the water, and all three families were out on the pond. The secret, Paul told us, was that the fish were hiding deep in the lilies, tucked into a corner of the pond.
The exact name of the pond has slipped away with time, but the picture of that day is sharp in memory: kids leaning over the sides of boats, the laughter echoing across the water, and the shine of silver fish stacked like treasure.
For us, that trip to Hawke’s Bay in the 80s became more than just a family outing. It became a story we’d tell again and again — the day trout fishing turned into a mountain of ouananiche.