4 minute read
FISHING QUEST
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
Advertisement
ABOVE: With the Angolan coast just a few hundred metres offshore, Brad Cartwright’s rod bends as he hooks his dream fish.
It’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.
FOREIGN WATERS The last time I went to the Kwanza River in Angola, we fished for Tarpon on fly. It was a blast! I didn’t land a thing … Without proper teeth these wild and feisty fish suck their prey in rather than biting – and in my enthusiasm I kept pulling the damn fly out of their mouths before it had a chance to stick. That was then. Recently I decided to return to Angola and give it another go. I’ve had recurring nightmares about those Silver Kings outfoxing me, along with the odd dream of actually landing one and swimming with it, before sending it back into the big blue to live and fight another day.
Via the fishing grapevine, I heard that Craig Thomassen had been invited back up to Angola and decided to crash his party, because if there’s fish around he’ll find them. He’s uncanny that way and I was hopeful that he may even allow me the chance to redeem myself with the fabled Angolan tarpon.
RIGHT: To photographers, the 60 minutes at sunrise and sunset are known as the ‘golden hour’ for obvious reason!
BELOW: Gloves are useful for protecting the hands when hauling in the last few metres of line once the fish is played out.
The Kwanza River is just short of 1 000km long – navigable for about 240km upstream from the mouth. It holds over 50 species of fish and is remarkably beautiful and pristine, given that it’s a scant 70km from the bustling city of Luanda and its seven million inhabitants.
The “Poons”, as Tarpon are fondly referred to the world over, were not nearly as active in the river as on our previous trip and although we did throw lures and soft plastics there, it was without much success, other than a good Cubera Snapper of around seven kilograms that Tommo the fish whisperer managed to entice to the hook.
Basically, our best chance was to fish the colour line where the river flows into the sea using small live baits which were swum literally within meters of the boat. Tommo was kind enough to offer me the strike, having already landed his fair share of these prehistoric beauties. Nothing can describe the physical rush I experienced when a giant slab of silver, estimated at 80kgs, burst out of the water – metres into the air – within what seemed like touching distance. It’s hard to imagine a more magnificent sight, especially for someone who has lusted and dreamed of this moment!
LEFT: Hitting the water alongside a tarpon before releasing it to fight another day was a dream come true.
BELOW: A fly rod and reel are all that’s needed to make many a fisherman’s heart beat faster.
Around 20 sweaty minutes later the fish was at the side of the boat. As I was about to realise my dream of swimming with this magnificent beast she gave one last head shake and a crimp on the terminal tackle gave way, sending her off into the salty blue.
Gutted is the word that comes to mind, but it was more than that. I genuinely wondered if I would ever have another opportunity.
Those thoughts must have been written all over my face because Tommo, seeing my desperation, magnanimously offered me another shot on our last day of the trip. Success! With only moments to spare, a fish of around 60kgs cleared the water, landing with a mighty splash and ripping line off the reel in a dash for freedom. For another heartstopping 20 minutes we tussled, until finally the fish was alongside the boat.
Well secured, I slipped over the side and into the water. The five minutes or so I spent with this behemoth of the deep, it’s huge eye seeming to be looking deep into my soul before it slipped back into the depths, will forever be etched into my memory.
In the end, that’s why I really love fishing.
