FISHING
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TA R P O N
FEELING LIKE A SILVER
KING
EVERYONE HAS AN ELUSIVE DREAM, A BUCKET LIST WISH THAT THEY DESPERATELY WANT TO SEE REALISED. FOR KEEN ANGLER BRAD CARTWRIGHT IT WAS CATCHING A SILVER KING OR TARPON 58 w w w .t o p s a t s p a r. c o . z a
ABOVE: With the Angolan coast just a few hundred metres offshore, Brad Cartwright’s rod bends as he hooks his dream fish.
I
t’s inexplicable. I have no idea why it has such a tenacious and sturdy grip on me – but there it is. I simply love fishing. I am happy to sit on a rock and watch the water, looking at the way the wind ripples the surface, the whorls and eddies of the current, the tides and swell. I can contentedly whip a popper till my arms are screaming at the effort required, or try my hardest to land a delicate little fly on the spot.
For me it’s a primal instinct, not a race. Every time I go out I learn something about the fish, the world, my fellow fishermen but mostly about myself. I’m utterly content to watch the piscatorial boffins casually discuss tactics and techniques whilst fighting massive fish, barely a beautifully coiffed hair out of place. All while nonchalantly tossing in the Latin name of the species and distinguishing characteristics. Me? I just fish for the fun of it.
