Nathan Weathington
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Can’t buy me trout
“THERE’S LITERALLY A GODZILLA-SIZED BROWN TROUT LOOKING OVER YOUR SHOULDER, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME NOBODY IN GORE SERVES TROUT AND CHIPS? ISN’T THIS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ‘BROWN TROUT CAPITAL OF THE WORLD’?” MY SERVER GIVES ME A FAMILIAR LOOK. IT SAYS: “YOU’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE, AND MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP TALKING.” The immense…
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Winging it
Spiders in mirror are not as creepy as they appear. “I’VE BEEN RIDING WITH SAM FOR ALMOST TEN YEARS. HE’S BEEN TO EVERY CLIMBING CRAG ON THE SOUTH ISLAND. IT MIGHT BE THE LONGEST RELATIONSHIP I’VE EVER HAD,” ANNE SAYS WITH A SMILE AND A NOD AT THE IMPRESSIVE WEB ON HER 2003 FADED GREEN…
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Accidents happen, or do they?
Nathan tucks into a word-salad. “UNBELIEVABLE SALMON FARM ATTACK!” “TRAGIC ACCIDENT!” “100% PURE NEW ZEALAND!” I first noticed the word-salad issue when I received a late-night message on the Fishing Telegraph. I understood completely. The Fishing Telegraph is an extremely accurate and efficient form of communication, and it was telling me someone had cut a…
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Run, rabbits, run
Nothing says “Christ rising from the grave” quite like blasting away several thousand little furballs. Nathan discovers the annual Easter ritual that is the Central Otago Bunny Hunt. DESPITE TEN YEARS OF SUNDAY SCHOOL IN THE BIBLE BELT OF THE SOUTHEAST OF THE UNITED STATES, I’VE ALWAYS FOUND EASTER CELEBRATIONS SLIGHTLY CONFUSING. THE CROSS, THE…
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Yoga my ass
Nathan’s been on Instagram. He’s salty. LET’S DISCUSS. YOUR INSTAGRAM JOB TITLE SAYS YOGA INFLUENCER, BUT YOU’RE SENDING ME HIGH-DEF VALENCIA-FILTERED PHOTOS OF A BIKINI-CLAD BODY. DON’T GET ME WRONG; YOU ARE ROCKING THE HELL OUT OF THAT TWO-PIECE. YOU SHOULD BE PROUD, AND I’LL GLADLY DONATE TEN CENTS TO HAVE A PICTURE OF YOUR…