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Mike Williams gets knee-deep in next year’s river on his way to find today’s trout. Metolius River, OR. Arian Stevens © 2024 Patagonia, Inc.
24. THE FEATHERS AWARD 2024
Trumpet fanfaronnade… Drumroll… Cymbals clash… and the winner of The Mission’s prestigious Feathers Award, for Africa’s most impressive fish caught on fly in the previous year is… Revealed in this issue.
32. THE APPRENTICE
Not since Neil Strauss in The Game or pretty much everyone in The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert has a man peacocked so hard. At least, that’s our opinion of Deon Meyer’s experience at Agua Boa in the Amazon, where he kept up with the pros, drank almost all of the beers, and only slightly melted his brain.
50. A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
For Leonard Flemming, a visit to Gkhui Gkhui River Lodge with his wife upended a lot of what he had come to expect of the Orange River. An inland river with predictable tides? Dry flysmashing smallmouth yellows?! Luxury instead of the rough stuff?
60. THE VIRGIN
If you think of tigerfish like sex, then former Protea fly fishing captain MC Coetzer has been wearing a chastity belt for several decades. Until very recently he had deliberately chosen not to target them. But that all changed on a trip to Matoya Fishing Lodge on the Barotse floodplains of western Zambia.
70. SAME SAME BUT DIFFERENT
On a breakaway from rearing twin toddlers, editor Tudor Caradoc-Davies went down south of Down Under in search of Tazzy’s tailing brown trout.
Cover: The jungle scene at Agua Boa in the Brazilian Amazon as imagined by illustrator Simon Berndt. Full story on page 32.
Sandbanks, drop-offs, troughs and big peacock bass looking to ambush your fly was what Deon Meyer found in the Amazon at Agua Boa Lodge (page 32)
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THE BRAINS TRUST
One of my favourite things about the Feathers Award each year is getting to share the entries with the WhatsApp group of judges (the guys behind our brother blog Feathers & Fluoro plus The Mission team).
In short, the criteria to enter the Feathers Award is a special fish caught on the African continent (that includes fishing off a boat along the coast). “Special” is further defined by whether the fish is rare, difficult to catch on fly and, of course, of a decent size for the species. While we reiterate time and again that size isn’t everything, I am not going to pretend for one second that size does not matter at all. That said, I swear on all that is unholy that it’s not the only thing that our judges obsess over. Because all of them have at some stage fished for that farm dam lunker, that midget fish that seems impossible to catch and that rarity that no one thought was possible, they genuinely get excited about all sizes, shapes and models entered.
This interest in interesting fish really came through in the entrants this year too. There were at least two fish that we did not know what they were (OK… one appears to be suffering from a skin condition, but the other is literally
undescribed to science). Then there were more familiar fish, caught in various testing ways: a pig of a koi on a golf course and three specimens of a coastal rarity – belman – caught in one session. And, of course, there were the big fish. Slab-like kob caught in three wildly different areas along the South African coast, a world record billfish, gargantuan tarpon, grassies, blue yellowfish, you name it.
The winner however was not just one thing. It’s not the biggest fly-caught specimen of its species we have ever seen though it is a great size. It is not so rare that catching it on fly is rare, but it’s not common that’s for sure. This fish, from its look (described by one judge as a Maurice Sendak drawing), to its size, the way it was caught, its rarity and the connection between angler and quarry in the story was a winner due to the sum of all these parts.
What all of these fish had was an element of obsession in the angler, from chasing swordfish at night off the Kenyan coast to vendettas with specific fish in farm ponds, tidal troughs, pools and runs or the bevy of anglers fishing in the dark along the West African coastline for massive poons, anglers gave their all to catch their dream fish. To those anglers, we salute you.
This magazine is home-grown, hand-rolled and smoked into being by a bunch of
humans, completely AI-free. If you enjoy what we do and feel you would like to support us in some way, get some The Mission merch from our website, buy us a beer/coffee on Patreon (patreon.com/themissionflymag), or just send us an email telling us how amazing our jaw lines are at info@themissionflymag.com.
“I’m
you
pink dolphin was checking
EDITOR
Tudor Caradoc-Davies
ART DIRECTOR
Brendan Body
EDITOR AT LARGE Conrad Botes
CONTACT THE MISSION
The Mission Fly Fishing Magazine for Soutie Press (Pty) Ltd 25 Firth Road, Rondebosch, 7700, Cape Town, South Africa info@themissionflymag.com www.themissionflymag.com
CONTENT COORDINATOR Matt Kennedy
COPY EDITOR
Gillian Caradoc-Davies
MANAGING DIRECTOR
Ingrid Sinclair
ADVERTISING SALES tudor@themissionflymag.com
CONTRIBUTORS #49
Peter Coetzee, Eddie Rall, Stu Harley, Leonard Flemming, MC Coetzer, Deon Meyer, Andy Coetzee
PHOTOGRAPHERS #49
Peter Coetzee, Eddie Rall, Stu Harley, Leonard Flemming, MC Coetzer, Deon Meyer, Andy Coetzee, Michelle Flemming, Conrad Botes, Jack Espach, Peter Broomhall, Wouter Bagman, Jarmir Horak, Willem Burger, Jonathan Boulton, Cameron McDermott, Garth Wellman, Hanno Scholtz, Dale Kindler, Henkie Altena, Johann du Preez, Jeremy Block.
COVER ARTWORK #49
Simon Berndt
telling
boet, that fokken
your cherry.” Otters in the Amazon are a little extra. (Page 32)
Coffee tastes different on a fishing morning.
It’s even better if you’re sipping it scalding hot out of a tin cup at some remote cottage, just as the sun starts to paint the horizon. It’s the flavour of adventure. Of uncharted waters. Of frontiers. It’s a potent charm, we know. We’ve been there.
That’s why we embrace the spirit of the frontier Push the boundaries of your fishing experience with the finest brands and expert advice, available online and in-store.
Coachman’s Crossing
Centre, Peter Place, Bryanston, Johannesburg Tel: (011) 463 9048/9 | www.frontierflyfishing.co.za Shop online at frontierflyfishing.co.za
CHUM
THE WITVIS REBOUND, BERG BUDDIES, A SKINNY DAMSEL, F3T IN MARCH AND A NEW DIGI-MAG
WATCH NOW
WATCH...
...BERG BUDDIES, Matt Kennedy’s latest short film for The Mission following two charnas, Platon Trakoshis and editor Tudor Caradoc-Davies on a day out chasing carp on the Berg. It’s short, fun and (somewhat surprisingly) filled with good info on this fishery. youtube.com/@TheMissionFlyFishingMagazine
“A DAY OUT CHASING CARP ON THE BERG”
GET BEHIND THE...
...BRINGING BACK THE WITVIS PROJECT. Fish the Berg River between Paarl and Franschhoek these days and you are likely to find carp, the odd bass and sharptooth catfish. But as recently as the 1990s when it was declared locally extinct, this river held one of the Western Cape’s iconic indigenous freshwater species, the witvis. Thanks to ongoing work from the Western Cape Government’s Berg River Improvement plan, damaged riparian habitats are beginning to heal, and the river ecosystem has started to recover. Enter Bringing Back the Witvis - an ambitious freshwater rewilding project by the Freshwater Research Centre with support from the Table Mountain Fund. Pulling this off will take time (creating witvis nurseries in farm dams and working with landowners in the Berg River catchment), but if these fish thrive and breed in the nurseries they will be reintroduced to the river, slowly rebuilding the wild population, one witvis at a time. Check out the Freshwater Research Centre for updates and support them if you can. frcsa.org.za
WATCH NOW
LEARN HOW TO TIE...
...A SKINNY DAMSEL. The Feather Mechanic, aka Gordon van der Spuy recently joined us (in drag to get into character) in the office to tie that lethal bar snack beloved of stillwater trout and other fish - the Skinny Damsel. Find a better step-by-step for this fly, we challenge you. youtube.com/@TheMissionFlyFishingMagazine
BOOK YOUR SEATS FOR...
... F3T IN MARCH! Over the last few years, the film fest scene in South Africa has been a little congested with both the F3T and IF4 fests happening in the middle of winter within about a month of each other. The good news is that F3T has now moved earlier in the year to March (right after the USA gets the shows in Feb) and for South African fly anglers it means less of a mid-year social crush. Expect two shows in Johannesburg at Lanseria Country Estate on the 23rd of March (one from 4-6pm and one from 7-9pm), a show in Durban at The Barnyard Theatre on the 24th of March and a Cape Town show at The Labia Theatre on the 27th of March. Aside from the usual kick-ass fish porn, there are also prizes to be won that include vouchers, gear, travel and more. flyfilmtour.com
“PRIZES TO BE WON THAT INCLUDE VOUCHERS, GEAR, TRAVEL AND MORE.”
CHECK OUT...
...THE DRIFT BY ELEVEN ANGLING. If you are keen on even more fly fishing literature, then make sure you check out this new digi-mag from Eleven Angling Adventure. In short, travel specialists Eleven serve up some extremely spiffy destinations, which they showcase in mag style in The Drift. Expect Ski to Sea (covering a combo skiing and sea-run trout offering in Iceland), April Vokey at Owen River Lodge in New Zealand’s South Island, a photo essay on Taylor River lodge in Colorado, the stunning landscapes of Rio Palena lodge in Chilean Patagonia and more. elevenexperience.com
THE BEATS - GOLDEN DAYS OF SUMMER
Whether you’re deep in the dog days of the hottest summer on record or dreaming of sunny days while riding out winter, this collection of songs has kept us going over the last few months. Featuring Madrugada, Skinny Pelembe (channeling Leonard Cohen with Beth Orton), Samara Cyn, Ibibio Sound Machine, Greentea Peng, Doechii, Idles & LCD Soundsystem, Soulway, KYUSS, JJ Cale and more.
“THIS COLLECTION OF SONGS HAS KEPT US GOING OVER THE LAST FEW MONTHS.”
BLUEBARRED PARROTFISH
BEAUTIFUL AND GOOFY AND WITH A SET OF DENTURES TO RIVAL
A CAMEL, THE BLUE-BARRED PARROTFISH IS A STUNNING SHALLOWWATER FISH. WELL-TRAVELLED DIY GUY PETER COETZEE WEIGHS IN ON HOW HE TARGETS THEM.
Photos. C/o Peter Coetzee
WHAT
Scarus ghobban/blue-barred parrotfish. Sometimes referred to as swallowtail or emerald parrotfish (I avoid the latter name as there is an actual emerald parrotfish and a small one at that). Its dentures are the second strongest biomineral on earth (behind the common limpet), and they will bite through a hook with almost no effort. With enough tension on the line the angler only feels a quick tap. They are supposed to survive primarily on algae, but somewhere along the line they decided crustaceans were a welcome addition to their diet.
WHERE
Native and common throughout the Indo-Pacific, they are most prolific in the shallows where humans have left them alone. I’ve been lucky enough to catch these guys in Yemen, Oman, Seychelles, and to have targeted them in Kiribati, the Maldives and in Mozambique. They can often be seen tailing over shallow reef and turtle grass, most commonly on the surf side of islands and atolls.
ITS DENTURES ARE THE SECOND STRONGEST BIOMINERAL ON EARTH (BEHIND THE COMMON LIMPET), AND THEY WILL BITE THROUGH A HOOK WITH ALMOST NO EFFORT.
HOW
Sight-cast to individuals or shoals. Use a red, white or orange crab or shrimp fly, either static or stripped slowly depending on the immediate environment. The Omani fish seemed happier to follow than the rest, the Yemeni fish being more comfortable with a static fly, hard on the bottom. The eat is instantaneous and the first run is violent.
There is a hack to be exploited… These guys will often go to the surface at the end of their first run and swim in a few circles, seemingly to gain situational awareness. You can take advantage of this if you’re quick enough through the water and can net a fairly inexperienced fish. They exhaust themselves during a fight and should be handled with care when at hand.
EDDIE RALL
SOMEWHERE IN THE SOUTH AFRICAN VELDT, USUALLY BESIDES A RIVER OR SOME STILL WATER, IS WHERE YOU WILL FIND DIAMOND RIVER OUTFITTERS GUIDE EDDIE RALL . BETWEEN CATCHING FISH AND SHOOTING THINGS, HE SPOKE TO US ABOUT LIFE, KLAPPING GYM AND COLLECTING GUNS AND GRAPPIES.
Photos. C/o Eddie Rall
5 best things about where you guide?
1. Diamond River. There is no destination like it with its rich history and exclusivity. There are thousands of antelope roaming the 60 000 hectares, San rock engravings and national monuments. I feel as though I’ve been taken back in time.
2. Waking up in the morning knowing that you could hook up on a 40lb largie at any time. (Horst Filter witnessed this in this area in the 1990s).
3. The massive, exclusive fishing waters. This Diamond River has very low fishing pressure from the outside world which makes it a remarkable and unique fishing destination.
4. The river is so vast that clients don’t have to fish the same spots again and again. We are always covering new waters.
5. It’s not always all about fishing here. For the avid birder this is definitely a place to visit.
5 fishing-connected items you don’t leave home without before making a mission?
1. Leatherman. Good for trimming flies, fixing and repairing boat motors and general camp things.
2. Headlamp. Tying flies in the evening, collecting firewood (avoiding scorpions and snakes) and braaing for the clients.
3. Power bank. For phones and cameras, to ensure I can capture the best moments on the river.
4. Rain jacket. Mainly because my girlfriend won’t let me leave without one and secretly packs it into my bag. But it has its purpose.
5. A lot of grit. Guiding clients with different personalities in remote areas with limited access to essential needs can take a toll.
5 bands to listen to while on a road trip?
1. Shaboozey.
2. Imagine Dragons.
3. Johnny Clegg (“King of Time” specifically).
4. Bob Seger (especially “Against the Wind”).
5. Spoegwolf.
5 things you are loving right now
1. Bow hunting. Just like fly fishing, it is a challenging sport to perfect, yet it is so rewarding.
2. Gymming. This is something I thoroughly enjoy but it’s difficult to remain consistent while on fishing trips.
3. Sightseeing. Visiting national parks such as Kruger and Mapungubwe and exploring new places with my girlfriend.
4. Buying new guns.
5. I thought long and hard about a fifth one and very quickly became aware that there really is not much more to me besides hunting and fishing.
5 indispensable flies for freshwater?
1. Black Muishond (Marius Rousseau).
2. Crystal Bugger.
3. Alphlexo Crab.
4. Foam hopper.
5. Green Caddis tied on a 1/0 circle hook with a 4mm tungsten bead.
5 favourite fly fishing destinations across Africa?
1. Vaal River – specifically the mid and lower Vaal.
2. Orange River near Augrabies.
3. Kosi Bay mouth.
4. Jozini.
5. Zambezi River.
“THERE REALLY IS NOT MUCH MORE TO ME BESIDES HUNTING AND FISHING.”
We don’t know what’s cooler - Eddie’s mullet or catching grass carp on dry flies.
5 of the best things you have picked up from guiding?
1. People skills. Learning how to deal with different people and their temperaments.
2. There is always someone wiser than you to teach you a few more tricks of the trade.
3. I have built up a good network of people who have now become friends that might help me in the future. You never know where life takes you and it’s always about “who you know”.
4. Being able to adapt better to changing weather conditions and to solve problems quickly with the resources you have available.
5. Jokes! Some of the best jokes I have ever heard have been on a fishing trip while on the river or sitting by the campfire.
5 funniest situations you’ve experienced while guiding?
1. Just before a trip Rob Jeffrey (the owner of Diamon River Outfitters) and I went down to the river a day earlier to set everything up in camp. We went fishing and somehow, after landing a small largie, I got the hook stuck in my left thumb. I panicked big time and after arguing for a couple of minutes with Rob as to why not to yank it out because it was so deep, he just yanked and it came out so easily. We both laughed, but Rob almost died laughing.
2. I once shouted for Rob to help take pictures of the camp record smallie. He thought the client had died. He ended up sprinting to us in the dark over the rocky terrain and it was just a big mess. Funnily enough, it did put a big smile on the client’s face.
3. One day, while doing a drift, the wind was howling and the client in front was so tall that when I told him he was like a sail and making the drift faster than it should have been, he chirped, “It’s not my belly it’s my big nose.” The other client and I just about just broke ourselves laughing.
4. When guiding with Roelof Botha he told me the story about two deaf people fighting and the story of the farmer with one leg. It was and will always be the most hilarious day out I will ever experience.
5. Marius Rousseau… his jokes and figure of speech and the random things he sometimes just spits out are so sharp and hilarious you never have a dull moment with this legend.
5 people you would like to guide or fish with?
1. Horst Filter.
2. Mathew Scholz – Pelagic Pursuit.
3. Adam Cavanagh – Cavy Fishing.
4. Marius Rousseau.
5. Anton Hartman.
5 shower thoughts that have occurred to you while fly fishing?
1. After a hard day of fishing, I wonder if there are still fish left and if I have given my very best to a client.
2. I wonder if my leader is strong enough and if my hooks are still sharp.
3. I think of just how amazed I am that God made fish so beautiful and special. I think of how thankful I am that He created them because it’s not just the fishing. For most people, going fishing is therapy and an escape from the busyness of everyday life.
4. I think about how, if one day I have a son, I will teach him to cast properly and to catch a fish on fly.
5. I think how blessed I am to be able to fish for so many species and to travel the world.
5 things about fly fishing that you may never understand?
1. The behaviour of largemouth yellowfish.
2. The ability of a fly line to knot by pure magic in the middle of a cast just as you spot a fish.
3. The impossible task of casting in the same tree five times consecutively.
4. Moon phases. Who knows what the hell the fish think?
5. 20lb leaders.
5 common mistakes that most clients make?
1. They spend so much money on fishing trips but don’t spend a lot of time practising their casting.
2. Doing their own thing on the water and not listening to their guide or trying to tell the guide what to do and where the fish are.
3. Trying to save money on gear and they end up losing big fish because of it. Not everyone is rich, and you do not need to buy the very best gear, but do some research on what gear fits your budget so that it will do the job.
4. Trout striking on largies... Or, stripping holding the line with one finger while the fish eats and there is slack in the line... Or a rod tip that’s kept very high while stripping.
5. When they don’t communicate with the boat partner while casting and both of them cast at the same time and end up with their lines tangled.
5 flies to pack (in the smuggler kit under your driver’s seat) to cover most species?
1. Alphlexo Crab.
2. Spawning shrimp.
3. Bucktail Clouser.
4. Brush fly.
5. Muishond.
“THERE IS ALWAYS SOMEONE WISER THAN YOU TO TEACH YOU A FEW MORE TRICKS OF THE TRADE.”
“GUIDING CLIENTS WITH DIFFERENT PERSONALITIES IN REMOTE AREAS WITH LIMITED ACCESS TO ESSENTIAL NEEDS CAN TAKE A TOLL.”
5 of the most underrated species in your book?
1. Black bass.
2. Triggerfish.
3. Rock salmon.
4. Three spot pompano (aka wave garrick).
5. Bluefin trevally.
5 flies that to look at make no sense but that catch fish?
1. Blob.
2. Woolly bugger.
3. Perdigon.
4. Mrs Simpson.
5. Gurgler.
5 destinations on your bucket list?
1. Borneo for red kaloi.
2. Bolivia for golden dorado.
3. Socotra for GTs.
4. Indian Himalayas for masheer.
5. Mexico for rooster fish.
Your last five casts were to….
1. Tigerfish and Mozambique tilapia in Limpopo.
2. Big bass in a private dam in Hoedspruit.
3. Small and largescale yellows in the Blyde River.
4. Bass in Taung dam.
5. Largemouth and smallmouth yellows on the lower Vaal.
Eddie and client with a moose of a largemouth yellowfish.
Andy Coetzee
The Feathers Award 2024
WE PRESENT TO YOU, THE BEST FISH CAUGHT ON FLY ON (OR OFF, IN THE CASE OF BOAT-CAUGHT FISH) THE AFRICAN CONTINENT IN 2024.
Each year, long before the Academy Awards, the Golden Globes, the Emmys, Tonys, Grammys, Nobels or Pulitzers get their glitz on, they are beaten to the punch by the mighty Feathers Award brought to you by yours truly (The Mission Fly Mag and the Feathers & Fluoro “brains” trust).
Forget performances on the silver screen or trivial things like contributing to the evolution of humankind, the Feathers Award celebrates singular obsession, bloodyminded determination, the execution of plans and the realisation of weird dreams... all for the pursuit of catching special fish on a fly rod on the African continent. As always, points are given for how unique a fish is, whether that’s the rarity of the species, the size of the specimen or the challenge that went into catching it.
Tarpon tornado
Special mention needs to be made of the bevy of phenomenal tarpon entries this year. There was a time when only a handful of pioneers – like our editor-atlarge Conrad Botes, Arno van der Nest and John Travis – had caught a tarpon on fly in Gabon. Now thanks to the development of that incredible fishery, specifically the African Waters set-up at Sette Cama, we see a rash of great fish caught on foot in the surf by anglers like Wouter Bagman, Jarmir Horak, Christian Neyret, Keith Clover and Rob Kyle. Of particular interest in terms of the development of the African tarpon scene was what happened a little further south in Angola, where Andy Coetzee (our Lifer in this issue) put in the hard yards while establishing a less-frequented fishery and also caught several great poons. His solo efforts got several mentions from the judges this year.
The wonderful weirdos
Beyond the big fish, this year stood out for some the oddities it produced. There was Willem Burger’s not one, not two, but three belman (baardman) caught on fly along the Overberg coastline. Only the second person we know of to have caught belman on fly (the first being Jannie Visser), this was a remarkable feat as while this species is not exceptionally rare for rock and surf anglers, it is uncommon. What’s also uncommon is the size of 11-year-old James Boulton’s Natal stumpnose caught on a 5-weight and an unweighted shrimp meant for grunts. Little wonder his father and guide thought he had initially hooked a bus grunter.
Keeping with weirdos, The Mission’s content co-ordinator Matt Kennedy entered his koi caught on a golf course on the Cape Peninsula. Matt said he knew it wasn’t going to win, but he was proud of the time he spent obsessing over and finally catching this albatross of a fish. Check out his video of the saga called Bread Hatch on our YouTube channel. Then there was Dale Kindler’s behemoth grass carp caught on the Vaal River. Freshwater milkfish, grassies deserve more respect than they get and this fish, caught on a 6-weight, was a proper specimen.
Dale says, “I could not get a true weight on it despite trying… The scale pulled to 21kg but this fish was a lot bigger and fat! At 125cm total length (measured against the 6-weight rod) this fish was the fish of dreams! After chatting to seasoned anglers we estimate it safely at 25kg, perhaps bigger. After lots of elated swearing and a couple of pics, the fish swam off strong, hopefully making more anglers as stoked as I still am a couple of weeks later.”
Next we had Hanno Scholtz’s bizarre albino fish that he eventually figured out in a KwaZulu-Natal farm dam. “I had no idea what I’d just caught. At first glance, I thought it might be a diseased or dying blue kurper but they’ve been there [in the farm dam in question] for years and there were at least 10 of them. Still, I was stoked! My mate and I took some photos and inspected every centimetre of the fish, but we couldn’t make a definitive ID. I spent hours phoning around, asking for opinions, but the feedback was inconsistent. Was it an Egyptian mouthbrooder? An albino Mozambican? We still don’t know. What we do know is that we’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Heading slightly further north into Zambia was the Avatar-esque magnificence of Garth Wellman’s stonker blue yellowfish. Almost twinning with it was another fish found in the same river systems (read about both species in issue 47). The latter fish - Ben Pellegrini’s bream species, previously undescribed to science - does not have a name, yet it got the second most votes for first place. As our resident fishing scientist on the judging panel Dr JD Filmalter said, “To me Ben’s unknown bream represents the pinnacle of a true fly fishing mission. Fishing uncharted waters, catching unknown fish.”
Willem Burger
Matt Kennedy
James Boulton
“BEN’S
UNKNOWN BREAM REPRESENTS THE PINNACLE OF A TRUE FLY FISHING MISSION. FISHING UNCHARTED WATERS, CATCHING UNKNOWN FISH.”
Dale Kindler
Ben Pellegrini
Hanno Scholtz
Garth Wellman
Titans
There are so many other really noteworthy entries. Like Henkie Altena’s 124cm kob caught in his backyard at the Karoolskraal fly fishing camp on the Breede River. It’s a fish most of us have lusted after for decades. Far away up the other side of South Africa’s coastline, Arno van der Nest also caught an amazing kob while fat biking and fly fishing for GTs. Coming from the same fishery as many of this year’s big tarpon was a colossal cubera snapper caught by Johann du Preez of Indifly. Look at the fookin’ incisors on that thing! But perhaps the most impressive saltwater fish of the lot was Jeremy Block’s broadbill swordfish, the first one over 100lb ever taken on fly. To truly understand the obsession required to chase after this species, we suggest you read a profile Peter Coetzee wrote on Jeremy a few years back in The Mission Issue 13.
Ghaui and goliath
Ultimately, there can only ever be one winner each year and for 2024 that winner is Greg Ghaui’s* fin-perfect goliath tigerfish from the Chinko River in Central African Republic (CAR), which ticked the box of being rare, big and beautiful and caught in a supremely satisfying way. Greg’s backstory is as follows:
“The Chinko season in the CAR this year was another condensed version. I guided on only one two-week safari out of a two-month season. While nothing happens quickly or easily there, and time evaporates like mist over the rainforest, I had a golden chunk of it between demobilising after the trip and doing some ranger training on boats. No camps to build, no incoming tours, and everything still in place at the fully operational Camp Chinko as the base. The safari itinerary had been a massive undertaking: stitching together every high-potential area we had come to know in snapshots of seasons and conditions over the last three years. We really stretched ourselves to cover 300km of water between the Chinko and Vovodo rivers during the safari, and it was ultimately the most successful trip to date – two goliaths landed and some giddy engagements with a few others!
“I was burning to personally connect with a goliath tigerfish again. I had missed out on them entirely last year, guiding a safari and fishing myself, and it was profound to be back among them.
“Immediately tempting was to burn back to the places that had produced this safari and others, and try to settle some scores. I had seen the lies, seen the flies and could come with a plan. The obvious downside to this was precisely in its appeal: they were all known, proven spots. If I thought about it for a second, the most exciting theme of every successive year in the Chinko for me has been the expansion of the places we have found fish – in more and more diverse setups the more we prospected. The goliath tigerfish are very versatile, and any confidence I have in guiding for them there is in the hope of finding them in many of the most likely- and unlikely-looking places.
“The scope for blurring lines and losing my way in a tunnel was huge. I needed a framework or direction to prevent this from becoming a self-serving one-dimensional quest that would also burn the best chance at contributing to the evolution of something that is still essentially walking on its knuckles.
“To keep myself on track I imposed two conditions. I would either only fish holes that we had tagged as highpotential but had not yet shown us a fish, or if I was fishing a proven hole, I had to fish it using a method that had not yet produced a result. The most obvious and appealing of these to me is a surface fly on a floating line. Jack Espach was my fishing comrade and he would provide the control element to any experiments by fishing proven methods as he searched for his first fish. Only when he wasn’t paddling me around into prime position, that is!
Johann du Preez
Henkie Altena
Jeremy Block
“I JUST STOOD THERE UP TO MY STOMACH TAILING THE FISH WITH ITS HEAD UP-CURRENT BEHIND THE SAME ROCK, LOOKING THROUGH THE CLEAR WATER ALONG ITS BODY AND INTO ITS EYE, WHICH WAS ALSO LOOKING AT ME.”
“The moral dilemma solved, I needed some flies to fish with enough confidence to keep me on the straight and narrow. I butchered the head section of one of Stu Harley’s articulated alpha Blu Stu Njujus, and wedged a double-barrel popper head taken from a GT popper left to me by Chris Cox onto the entire front shank. Backwards. I was hoping for a more subdued disturbance and some extra movement but was entirely unsure how it would play!
“I walked out of the camp and picked my way through the very last rapid of the Vovodo before it joins the Chinko to give the composition a run in the tight tongue chute that blows into the confluence. I watched the fly wobble around a lee rock and saw the unmistakable “milky bar” sear up behind it, pause and wolf it down.
In this shallow fast water, it had to be a runner, and I had to wade in to unhook the line from a rock but that was probably what fought the fish long enough for me to regain control of my backing-scorched hands! Being so close to camp I could also shout for Jack to come and snap a picture, and while I waited for him I just stood there up to my stomach tailing the fish with its head upcurrent behind the same rock, looking through the clear water along its body and into its eye, which was also looking at me. That extended time with its tail plugged into my hand, with no pulling and fighting, just both taking stock is what I really remember about this fish.”
*Greg is now the third member of the East African Ghaui clan to win the Feathers Award with his cousins Ed and Barns Ghaui winning the inaugural award in 2020.
Greg Ghaui
F Y N B O S F I S F Y N B O S F I S
S H R E V I V A L S H R E V I V A L
THE APPRENTICE
NOT SINCE NEIL STRAUSS IN THE GAME OR PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE IN THE ADVENTURES OF PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT HAS A MAN PEACOCKED SO HARD. AT LEAST, THAT’S OUR OPINION OF DEON MEYER’S EXPERIENCE AT AGUA BOA IN THE AMAZON, WHERE HE KEPT UP WITH THE PROS, DRANK ALMOST ALL THE BEERS, AND ONLY SLIGHTLY MELTED HIS BRAIN.
Photos. C/o Deon Meyer and the three pros
Glossary
Ou or oke: pronounced “oh” or “oak”, informal Afrikaans for man/boy or bloke/chap. Moer: informal Afrikaans for slam or hit. Klap/ping: As above.
Trips to exotic destinations are often written by people who appear to fly fish for a living, guys who know their Homer Rhode from their Homer Simpson – professionals. That’s not me. My story is one about a working-class ou, dad and fly fishing apprentice who went deep into the Amazon jungle. Although I may be a relative noob, I did go there with three Jedi-level fly fishing pros: Johann Rademeyer (Mavungana Flyfishing guide), Mike Dames (Mavungana Flyfishing and African Waters guide) and Tyron Knight (who guides from time to time when he’s not doing other stuff).
My infatuation with the curse of fly fishing began only about five years ago when Johann took me under his wing. I’ve known him since we were groms in our competitive surfing years. We’ve remained connected and share a similar passion for anything to do with fishing. From my first wet-behind-the-ears grunter sessions on the Garden Route, to klapping tigers on surface flies at Pongola and numerous other missions in between, Johann is the reason I fly fish.
Fast forward a few years, and many hours with Johann spent trying to improve my skills, and I found myself boarding a plane with him, Mike and Ty, heading to the
Amazon in search of peacock bass. This was a trip 14 months in the planning. Having made the impulse decision to sign up when Mavungana Flyfishing head honcho Jono Boulton told me that a spot had become available on an Agua Boa trip, this felt like the longest wait in the world. We’re talking that extended version of pre-fishing trip psych. There is literally not a single “Fly fishing for peacock bass in the Amazon” video I have not seen.
Melting in Manaus I will never, ever again complain about a hot day in my hometown of Cape Town. As we got off the plane in Manaus from São Paulo at 3am, we walked straight into a wall of heat that rivals that moment you open the oven door to see your pork belly blackened and burnt. We had three days to kill in Manaus and we had some pre-booked tourism activities sorted which included a visit to Amazon Theatre (aka the Manaus Opera House), swimming with freaky pink dolphins, experiencing an arapaima’s hit and realising how quickly one can dislocate a shoulder. Then there was the Manaus fish market. Top tip: don’t go there hungover. Ever. I don’t think I’ve seen a paler-looking Mike Dames in my life.
After three beer-filled days, what we were about to experience only really set in on the morning of departure for Agua Boa Amazon Lodge. Seeing the eight-seater jungletaxi single-prop plane (and the captain carefully calculating the load capacity) got us excited. Flying over the Amazon was incredibly special. You have never seen so much green in your life. The magnitude of the rain forest was evident even from 10 000ft. From this moment on I had Sir David Attenborough constantly narrating in my middle ear.
“THE BEST WAY TO PREPARE FOR THIS PLACE IS TO SIT IN A SAUNA AND TIE LEADERS ONTO FLY LINES.”
Straight into it
There was a lot of concerned chatter about the water levels, as the Amazon is currently facing one of its biggest droughts in over 50 years. But, with the Agua Boa system being so far north of the main Amazonian river systems, the impact of the drought was not as noticeable as it is further south. Whether or not Mavungana receives classified, long-term weather predictions from the pink dolphins I don’t know, but the week they secured was bang on. Water levels were perfect. Upon arrival, almost in a frenzy, we set up our gear to head out fishing. We were rigged and ready with a 7-weight intermediate, 8-weight intermediate, 8-weight floating, and 9-weight sinking, each setup with a purpose and big plans. On the 8-weights we fished with 50-60lb leaders, while on the 9-weight we had 80lb in case we had a shot at an arapaima.
At Agua Boa you and your fishing partner fish together for the week but you get a different guide each day. This way you get to visit all seven sections of the river, because each guide is assigned a beat. Some of these guides have been guiding their same sections since the lodge’s inception almost 25 years ago. Each beat has multiple oxbows and different offerings in terms of structure, so you get to see and experience a large part of the massive Agua Boa system. The guides drive the boat, man the pole, point fingers and say in broken English, “Big peacock. Cast there.” You break for lunch under the trees (probably one of the few times you actually stop sweating) and once the day is done the guides go full taps back to the lodge. You leave at 7am and are back at the lodge at 5pm.
Did I mention it’s hot and humid? The best way to prepare for this place is to sit in a sauna and tie leaders onto fly lines and rapala knots onto your fly while leaking like sieve. You’ll be set.
Cruising on the boat towards the unknown is incredible. Your senses are completely overloaded and your head is on a swivel. It’s a bit overwhelming at first as there is so much happening around you. There is no pollution, no plastic, no human interference. I can safely say this is the most natural environment I have ever seen. Johann and I looked at each other and just shook our heads.
“We’re in the Amazon, bru!”
Our theory was that on the first day the guides suss out your skill level to determine what type of fishing you can handle. After about 20 minutes of winding down the river we came to a stop at this little bay and the guide said, “OK, we fish.” Giddy with excitement and dripping with sweat, I was in the front of the boat and Johann, aka Snor (moustache) was in the middle. He’s a pro. My odds of getting moered by a fly sailing through the middle of the boat were a lot lower than his. This is guaranteed.
While I was still sorting my life out in the front, Snor already had two casts and two beautiful little butterfly peacocks to his name. I soon followed suit.
THERE IS NO POLLUTION, NO PLASTIC, NO HUMAN INTERFERENCE. I CAN SAFELY SAY THIS IS THE MOST NATURAL ENVIRONMENT I HAVE EVER SEEN.
“THE GUIDE WAS ABSOLUTELY FROTHING AT THE BACK OF THE BOAT, PROBABLY OUT OF RELIEF, BECAUSE THE GRINGO HADN’T COMPLETELY STUFFED IT UP.”
When you hook into a peacock bass, you realise these buggers are thugs, super-strong and very aggressive on the eat. You regularly encounter a fish willing to make that 50lb leader look like dental floss. In that spot alone, in an hour and a bit, we probably got about 30 fish. It was the perfect place to get the muscles firing and to get a feel for what the next seven days of fishing would be like.
Having proven something to our guide, Preto, he muttered “OK, we go.” Loaded with confidence in his two anglers, rods safely stored, on we went to a zone that absolutely blew our minds. At this stage, we were drinking as much as possible and trying to give our bodies a chance to acclimatise to the heat while sitting back awestruck, allowing our senses to absorb everything. Heading into this narrow little stream off the main river we bundu-bashed over and into logs and around fallen trees. You could clearly see how high the water rises in the wet season. After a few minutes of slog, we came to this hidden oxbow lake. The water itself was clear, but the black peaty bottom made it look dirty.
Preto smiled, “Big fish here. Big fly and sinking line.”
What we soon learned is that at least 80% of your casting is aimed at the trees and structure. The balance is when you’re taking shots over peacock nests or sight-fishing over the sand banks.
In these oxbows, there’s barely any wind so the temperature goes up even more. The water was about five metres deep. Snor was moering fish as he was fishing the sinking line while I was focussed on the intermediate line and allowing the fly to sink. We had so many double-ups. As soon as Snor got on, I would cast in his fish’s direction because peacocks like commotion and the chances are good that you’ll get smashed as well.
After about 40 minutes we came to the turnaround section of the oxbow. It was about 4pm and while it was arguably the hottest time of day, the guide suddenly lit up from his poling platform and uttered the most consecutive words he had spoken all day. “Massive peacock! Eleven o’ clock! Grande, grande!!” That was my cue. At first, I couldn’t see it, but then old eagle eyes Snor pointed me in the right direction. Loading that pressure cast, the fly landed a few feet in front of the fish and Preto up on the platform went nuts. “Strip, strip, fast, fast, go, go!!” I listened.
Holy shit, that peacock was angry. He turned on the fly, hooked himself into fifth gear and, with as much violence as a fish can muster, he moered it. I strip set and it was party time. Hell yeah!
Rookie error incoming…
With the hook now properly set, all of a sudden, my left hand, the hand I use to strip the line in, completely cramped up and my fingers all went stiff making it impossible to keep the line tight and get the fish to the boat.
“BY DAY THREE, EVERYONE HAD ALREADY CAUGHT AT LEAST 120 FISH. SO THE FOCUS SHIFTED TO SIZE, MIXING IT UP WITH SPECIES.”
Stripper’s claw! I went into snoek mode – wrapping line around my hand to keep tension and to keep myself in the game. After what felt like ages, things came right again and we were back in business. After a few aerial displays from that beautiful fish, I finally got it to the boat and Johann lipped it. Relief!
The guide was absolutely frothing at the back of the boat, probably out of relief, because the gringo hadn’t completely stuffed it up. I was exhausted but, at the same time, I was like a dog with two tails. What a place, what a vibe, what a fish!
Back at the lodge jetty, I’ve never seen so many stoked anglers. As we docked, the barman brought us an ice cold caipirinha, which went down like a homesick mole. I got off the boat and walked, clothing and all, straight into the pool and even though the water was 32-plus degrees Celsius, it felt good as I simultaneously poured any liquid I could find down my throat. Rehydrate. Beer. Water. Probably some pool water too. The thing is, you get so consumed by the fishing you tend to neglect your liquid intake and that is not a good idea if you want to avoid getting sunstroke and missing out on precious fishing time.
With everyone now in the pool, the vibe was peaking. I sat back and listened to the day’s war stories as guys exchanged what flies worked best, the wildlife they’d seen and how bloody strong the peacocks are. This became a brilliant daily ritual followed by dinner. On that note, the food was incredible and it’s hard to believe that this type of offering is even possible in the middle of nowhere.
Nat Geo on speed Sunrises in the Amazon are something to behold, when the sights and sounds of the jungle wake up. From fish smashing other fish on the surface, to howler monkeys in the jungle singing their tunes, and the birds swearing at each other, it’s one of the few moments you really don’t want to speak to anyone. You just want to sit and listen.
Redtail catfish
“YOU REACH A STAGE WHEN YOU DON’T COUNT ANYMORE. YOU JUST CAST AND STRIP SET.”
The thing about the Amazon that sets it apart from other wild places I have been to is the variety. Every day you see something new – whether it’s new terrain, a new bird, snake, reptile or mammal. Amid sightings of turtles, anacondas, tapirs, stingrays and toucans, we also had encounters with caymans. A few would swim over when the guides called and the bloody croc would give off a roar rivalling that of a lion as the water vibrated furiously over its back.
Of course, our attention was mainly on what else was swimming in the water and we were lucky to catch a few special species during our week, like oscars (the famed aquarium fish), dogfish, arowana, bicuda, pike, two kinds of catfish and the James Bond favourite, piranha.
By day three, everyone had already caught at least 120 fish. So the focus shifted to size, mixing it up with species and fishing in different ways. If I am not mistaken, Mike and Jono had collectively broken four rods by day three, but boy did they get some absolute units. Mike’s motto by then was, “Big flies. Big problems.” That theory paid off with a remarkable-sized acrobatic arowana caught by Jono.
Ty and his boat partner Chris Freund struck gold on the sight-fishing flat, with Ty landing his PB peacock and Chris sight-casting and successfully landing both a redtail catfish and tiger shovelnose catfish.
No one was lucky enough to land an arapaima, but we felt their lurking presence all around us and would often see and hear these massive two-metre fish come up to breathe and smash the water. Fishing for them takes a lot of patience. The guide moves you around as well as he can without disturbing the water or making a noise, as the fish have a very keen sense of hearing. As soon as the fish surfaces within casting range, you need to hustle, get that 300-grain sinking line and a big fly out as quickly as possible. You let it sink for a bit and then begin the slowest retrieve you can manage. From as fast as possible to as slow as possible, it’s the complete opposite of fishing for peacocks.
The boat gets weirdly quiet as the three of you wait in anticipation, the soundtrack of the Amazon playing all around you, while bees and bugs buzz like crazy wanting a sip of your salty sweat. When the fish eats it creates this vacuum as it swallows your fly and within that split second that it swallows it, it also spits it out. It’s incredible. Johann went tight on one. His face lit up with every emotion possible. Keeping that rod straight and setting that hook as hard as possible can only be described as hooking onto a moving car. It was short-lived unfortunately, but it’s a memory that will last forever, as well as unfinished business until the next time.
Sound and the fury
Perhaps the most striking thing about Agua Boa, its peacocks and other species, is both the quality of the sight-fishing and the top-water fishing.
“If you are slow, you go” seems to be the creed by which everything exists because, in the Amazon, whether it is from land, air or in the water, every second something dies. There is this constant barrage of peacocks chasing smaller bait fish onto the banks, which causes an immediate feeding frenzy. Once the peacocks kick it off, certain birds fly in to try to grab a meal and even the lizards rush in to pick stranded bait fish off the banks.
Similarly, if you create a top-water commotion it attracts a lot of attention, not only from the peacocks but the millions of lurking piranhas. They reduce your five-inch fly to a twoinch military precision haircut in one bite. We witnessed a piranha feeding frenzy and it ain’t pretty. In a few seconds, the fish victim was vaporised.
Fishing top-water flies is such a high-energy way to fish for peacock bass and even as a spectator it’s so rad to see these fish smash the popper out of the water. The eats constantly have you hooting and high-fiving. They even got the guide going when, drifting along the river casting towards a section with fallen trees and structure, Johann was dialled into pro mode. Putting his popper in places where even the devil would fear to tread, we heard this soft comment from Lucas the guide at the back of the boat. “Nice cast, professional boy.” We were both dumbstruck as Lucas had not said, up to that point, anything else in English other than, “Cast there”, “Change fly”, or “Piranhas”.
Equally as memorable was the visual thrill of sightfishing on a specific section of the river where ginclear water flowed over white sandy beaches. Every team of anglers got a chance to fish it and each day the boat came back with smiles from ear to ear. The fish at this spot constantly move up and down the banks looking and lurking and you get to see some amazing things. Stingrays for days, redtail catfish, shovelnose catfish, arowana and the ever-patrolling pairs of peacocks. You seldom see solo cruisers and when you do, you know it’s a big one. Throw in a few dolphins passing by and you have all the ingredients for an unforgettable day’s fishing.
Last day blues
Waking up on the last day’s fishing is always bittersweet. At this stage, the body’s batteries are running low and everyone has aches and pains.
Heading out on that last day I wished time could stand still. During our final hour’s fishing we came across a feeding frenzy and couldn’t cast and release fish quickly enough, probably clocking 20 to 30 fish between us. At this stage you don’t count anymore, you just cast and strip set. All the boats fished until the absolute last second. With our bodies tired and our hearts full we made our way back to the lodge, processing some mixed emotions at this being the last boat ride in this wonderful part of the world. A few moments later, we were greeted at the dock by lodge manager Carlos and his team and, beers in hand, we made our way to the pool for one last dip, as content as can be as we processed what was, quite literally, the trip of a lifetime.
“MASSIVE PEACOCK! ELEVEN O’ CLOCK! GRANDE, GRANDE!!” THAT WAS MY CUE.”
SHOP THE MISSION
I travelled light. Just my Riversmith Convoy Travel Case (riversmith.com) as check-in luggage and my Orvis Pro Waterproof Backpack 30L (orvis.com)
4 rods Orvis Helios 7-weight for the different smaller species, the Orvis Clearwater 8-weight for my top-water fishing (nice and whippy to bring out the best of the popper). Orvis Helios 4 8-weight as my primary rod, when I needed tight casting and accuracy this rod was incredible. Orvis Helios 4 9-weight for arapaima fishing. orvis.com, flyfishing.co.za
A proper hat. We ended up buying large straw hats in a market in Manaaus and they were the best investment. Normal caps are too hot.
5 reels. Shilton SL6 and SL5s. Can’t ever go wrong here. shiltonreels.com
Line choice is very important. I used a selection of Airflo lines
Intermediate: Airflo Universal Flats
Floating: Airflo Universal Flats Tapered Power Taper
Sinking: Airflo Depthfinder Big Game 300gr airflofishing.com
The lodge
Agua Boa Amazon Lodge is situated in one of the most unspoiled natural environments in the world. Located between an ecological park and a national park, the Agua Boa River and its surroundings enjoy ecotourism reserve status and permanent safeguarding by Brazilian authorities. The entire area is protected from illegal and commercial fishing, hunting and deforestation. This in turn creates a “buffer area” for the protection and preservation of the Yanomami tribes. The fishing rules here are very strict. Only fly fishing is permitted in this vast reserve, all hooks must be de-barbed and all efforts are made to ensure the safe release of all fish caught. amazonaguaboalodge.com
Water bottle. I used the YETI Rambler 769ml and it was perfect. On some days the bottle was almost too hot to pick up as it bakes in the sun, but my ice was still solid and liquids nice and cold. yeti.com, upstream.co.za
Tech shirts. Orvis Pro Hoodie and Patagonia Tropic Comfort Natural Hoody. These are super-important. I took a few other brands’ shirts and they were far too hot. These two are highly recommended. orvis.com, patagonia.com, flyfishing.co.za
A CLOCKWORK ORANGE
FOR LEONARD FLEMMING , A VISIT TO GKHUI GKHUI RIVER LODGE WITH HIS WIFE MICHELLE UPENDED A LOT OF WHAT HE HAD COME TO EXPECT OF THE ORANGE RIVER. AN INLAND RIVER WITH… PREDICTABLE TIDES? DRY FLYSMASHING SMALLMOUTH YELLOWS?! LUXURY INSTEAD OF THE ROUGH STUFF?
Photos. Leonard & Michelle Flemming
When I think “Orange River”, two things immediately come to mind. The first is the multitude of fish that one generally catches subsurface in relatively murky water (the usual suspects being smallmouth yellowfish, largemouth yellowfish, mudfish, moggel, sharptooth catfish and carp). Secondly, there’s the hard graft involved with fishing in a very hot environment, hiking long distances over rocky, thorny terrain in that dry, Great Karoo heat. Fly fishing on foot on the Orange River is basically like cross-country hiking in semi-desert conditions. You live and sleep in dusty clothes, stinking of sweat. You land up sunburnt with painful cracks in your hands from the dry air, and you tend to suffer from severe sleep deprivation brought on by crashing every night on a camping mattress on uneven, pebble- or sandy scorpion-strewn banks. It’s awesome.
Although the fishing requires dedication and endurance, it is usually also pretty reliable. In fact, it can be exceptional, with silly numbers of yellowfish landed per day. Sometimes you just can’t keep up with the smallmouth yellows devouring your nymphs in the fast water. Potentially, you can catch hundreds of them if you keep swinging nymphs on the edges of rapids and in the glides. Those figures are not an exaggeration.
So, for me, the fact that good fishing is always accompanied by a bit of hardship is something that I accept and which, strangely enough, has also left me with fond memories of the Orange. Getting good fish numbers, as well as getting relatively big fish in-between, somehow soothes the beating you get from the elements.
“THIS MIDDLE SECTION OF THE ORANGE, ABOVE THE VAAL CONFLUENCE, HAS A DAILY HIGH AND LOW TIDE.”
That was true until my wife Michelle and I recently had the opportunity to visit Gkhui Gkhui River Lodge. Pronounced “koi koi”, Gkhui Gkhui translates to ‘ship ship’ in San and is named after an island in front of the lodge. This is where animals frequently got stranded by rising water levels and it was seen as a sort of Noah’s Ark by local people. A luxurious lodge perfect for a couple’s getaway, Gkhui Gkhui sits right on the border of the Northern Cape and the Free State, between Hopetown and the infamous lilywhite enclave of Orania. It’s nine hours’ drive from Cape Town or three hours from Bloemfontein.
The first peculiar thing about a fishing trip to this part of the Orange River was, in my case, the contrast with what my off-water experience on the Orange is usually like. You will happily return to the lodge after a sun-baked day’s fishing to a cozy chalet. Instead of rehydrated food or something from a tin, there’s a stunning restaurant with bar and TV, wifi and a swimming pool for whenever you feel like taking a dip to cool off with a cold one in hand. Instead of a ground mat with scorpions and heat resonating off the river rocks, you get a double bed and aircon. Instead of a boskak and a hole in the ground you get… the picture.
A tidal river
Besides experiencing five-star hospitality, the second thing that I found extremely peculiar about this middle section of the Orange above the Vaal River confluence was the fact that the river has a daily high and low tide. Yes indeed, there’s a tidal river slap-bang in the middle of South Africa.
Flows are regulated by dam releases and, like clockwork, the stretches of the Orange below Gariep Dam and Vanderkloof Dam typically have a morning high tide, which slowly recedes to an afternoon low. When you wake up in the morning and get the first glimpse of the river, you’ll get to experience the “incoming tide”.
High tide typically gets the smallmouth yellowfish moving into the rapids and areas which were out of reach during the afternoon/night-time low. The mudfish and carp also move onto the mudbanks that get covered with the higher flow. As these areas get flooded with fresh water, hungry, opportunistic fish swim in for fresh algae and biofilm growth, newly swamped invertebrates and fresh cattle manure. This area is a prime cattle farming area and you’ll see lots of cattle grazing along the lush banks. Fresh cow poop is 100% fish fodder and the yellows move in fast as the water rises to fill their bellies in the shallows.
“GETTING GOOD FISH SOOTHES THE BEATING YOU GET FROM THE ELEMENTS ON THESE FISHING TRIPS.”
“IF WE PLACED A TAN FOAM BEETLE ANYWHERE NEAR A SURFACE-DWELLING FISH, IT GOT SMASHED LIKE CLOCKWORK.”
After waking up and catching an espresso and continental buffet breakfast at the lodge restaurant, you head out to the flooded areas for some of the most exhilarating fishing that you will experience anywhere on the Orange/ Vaal system. The guides, Anthea Linsell and Vian Ferreira, will take you to fast water (Michelle’s favourite), “frogwater” backwaters (my favourite), or even to drifts on an inflatable raft to target the numerous fish species that are there. It was in one of those backwaters that I also managed to target some really big carp.
Christmas beetles
The last peculiar thing I learned about this stretch of the Orange was that there is, surprisingly, some dry fly action. Besides the unique dry fly fishing that I’d come across in the crystal-clear upper reaches of the Orange River’s tributaries in Lesotho (such as the Bokong River), I had never stumbled across yellows rising as consistently to dries in the Orange’s murkier water downstream of that. Mates have told me about spectacular DDD dry fly action below Vanderkloof Dam, but I have never seen yellows rising to dry flies on the Orange proper, to the extent that I felt compelled to tie on a hopper or adult caddis. Gkhui Gkhui’s smallmouth yellows are different.
In the days leading up to the trip Anthea (Ant) mentioned to us that the yellows were particularly fond of foam beetle imitations fished as dry flies to surface-cruising fish and that a tan-coloured version was the shizzles. She’d sent us some WhatsApp photos of her version. So, I tried to copy her imitations and tied some #8-10 tan foam beetles following her description. These things worked like a water mine on surface-cruising smallmouth yellowfish.
Although regarded as pests in vegetable gardens, we welcomed a proper Christmas beetle “hatch” with open arms at Gkhui Gkhui. A particular tan-coloured scarab “Christmas” beetle was so prolific during our stay that one morning the lodge swimming pool had a beetle lilo consisting of hundreds of these goggas floating on the surface. In terms of how that impacted the fishing, we found that if we placed a tan foam beetle anywhere near a surface-dwelling fish, it got smashed like clockwork. Armed with beetles we had, without a doubt, one of the best dry fly sessions for smallmouth yellowfish I have ever experienced. This was just upstream of Gkhui Gkhui on neighbouring farmland that you’ll have legit access to when visiting the lodge. Reliable, tidal, terrestrial dry fly fishing of this calibre in murky water? It all felt so surreal to me.
Look, to make it extremely clear to my regular fishing friends, after my Gkhui Gkhui experience I’m not saying I am now anti-roughing it, far from it. But, if you’re looking to scratch that Orange River yellowfish itch with some superb dry fly fishing, while also spending time with your partner (bonus if they fish, like Michelle) and enjoying some of the finer things in life, then Gkhui Gkhui is perfect.
The great Argentine chef, Francis Mallman summed this up really well when he said, “Human beings need contradictions. We need opposites. We need to sleep in a five-star hotel and we need to sleep under a tree. The distance and the difference between those two extremes are what makes us happy and what makes us think and what makes us grow.”
All I’m saying is, I’ve slept under plenty of trees over the years.
Leonard and Michelle were guests of Gkhui Gkhui for this trip. Find out more at gkhuigkhui.com
Anthea Linsell. Check out our High Fives guide interview with Anthea in The Mission Issue 21 at themissionflymag.com
Christmas beetle. Looking for a quick beetle pattern that will do the damage for trout, yellows and other species? Watch Platon Trakoshis’s ‘Speed Beetle’ at themissionflymag.com
THE VIRGIN
IF YOU THINK OF TIGERFISH LIKE SEX, THEN FORMER PROTEA FLY FISHING CAPTAIN MC COETZER HAS BEEN WEARING A CHASTITY BELT FOR SEVERAL DECADES. UNTIL VERY RECENTLY HE HAD DELIBERATELY CHOSEN NOT TO TARGET THEM. BUT THAT ALL CHANGED ON A TRIP TO MATOYA FISHING LODGE ON THE BAROTSE FLOODPLAINS OF WESTERN ZAMBIA.
Photos. Conrad Botes, MC Coetzer
I’ve only ever fished for tigerfish once in my life and for this I blame Jannie Visser. Back in the early 2000s my good friend Jannie went on a cross-country tiger-fishing trip to the Zambezi River. If I remember correctly, he fished somewhere along the Caprivi Strip after driving all the way from Cape Town with a stopover for a few galjoen in Namibia.
Those were the days before South Africans targeted species like golden dorado, peacock bass, Nile perch or Tanzanian tigerfish. Tiger-fishing on the Zambezi or in the Okavango Delta was the ultimate freshwater destination for South African fly fishers and it received a lot of publicity in the fly fishing magazines. Everybody fished for tigerfish, and everybody made them out to be this mythical beast of a fish that was more powerful and ferocious than anything else that inhabits fresh water.
Jannie’s experience was however the complete opposite. His opinion was that tigerfish are completely overrated. Sure, you find them in spectacular surroundings, but they don’t take any line; at best, they waddle around on the surface in between half-hearted jumps, and even setting the hook was no problem with 20lb tippet.
Unfortunately, I trust Jannie’s opinion 100% and, from then on, tigerfish were pretty low down on my list of fishing priorities. In Jannie’s defence, he’d only caught a few threeto-four-pound fish, but my mind was made up. If I was going to travel to fish outside of South Africa, it would have to be for saltwater fish, not for tigerfish. I was not going to waste my time and money. I have fished extensively along the African coast and beyond in destinations like the St Brandon’s, Bassas da India, Seychelles, Gabon, Tanzania, Angola and many others.
Over the years the focus in local magazines seemed to shift away from tiger-fishing on the Zambezi and Okavango Delta. This was probably due to the “discovery” of Tanzanian tigerfish by Tourettes (now rebranded as African Waters) and due to a decline in the quality of fishing available on the Zambezi River.
Some of my friends, however, still fished for tigerfish every year, and they simply could not believe that I refused to fish for them. After many discussions with highly accomplished fly anglers like Andrew Parsons and Mike Dohlhoff, doubts invariably started creeping in. If somebody like Andrew, who has literally fished the entire globe, chooses tigerfish as his all-time favourite freshwater species, then you cannot help but doubt your decision not to fish for them as well.
“THE TAKE FROM ANY TIGERFISH OVER SEVEN POUNDS OR THEREABOUTS IS WHAT SETS THEM APART FROM ALL OTHER FISH THAT I’VE CAUGHT.”
I finally succumbed in August when Conrad Botes talked me into a trip to Matoya Fishing Lodge on the upper Zambezi’s Barotse floodplain. Conrad’s often blind enthusiasm is contagious. He had heard that September was the time of year when you could realistically expect to catch a 20lb tigerfish at Matoya. That was enough to get Conrad sold on the idea and we really didn’t have any alternative fishing options available at the time. We were still stuck in a late-running and particularly cold winter with no fishing in sight for at least a couple of months. It was like selling crack to a junkie. I would have done anything for sunshine and warm water, even if it was to catch tigerfish.
Because of our total lack of experience, we contacted all our friends for advice about the area, techniques, tackle, fly patterns and generally what to expect.
The good news was that both Dan Factor of X-Factor Angling and Leonard Flemming (a former guide and regular contributor to this rag) confirmed that the area and the season were indeed when we could realistically expect a 20lb fish. The bad news was that we had picked the worst possible year to go on a maiden Zambezi trip. The region was in the grip of its worst drought in 30 years. Conditions were so bad that there was a national state of disaster declared in Zambia, and fishing all along the length of the Zambezi had been terrible all season. Despite all the negative reports, we convinced ourselves that hard work would get the job done and we started prepping frantically.
We tied all the “standard” tigerfish flies, like the Clousers and Whistlers, but Dan suggested that we tie a few bigger patterns as well. Conrad chose Jerk Changers and large surface patterns, while I opted for articulated Andino/ Puma-style flies that have been good to me in Gabon. As it turned out, these larger patterns produced all our better fish, and our guide, Calvin, would repeatedly point them out when asked for suggestions on fly patterns.
We started off fishing the Clousers and Whistlers on fast sinking lines. This approach produced a few three-to-fourpound fish, but the bigger fish eluded us. So far Jannie was spot on, and I could understand why he didn’t get excited about tigerfish. When you’re used to fishing in saltwater 99% of the time, a three-pound fish on 20lb tippet doesn’t really impress. However, we knew the bigger fish were
there because the other guests, fishing conventional gear, were catching multiple double-digit fish on lures every day. In fact, during our five days of fishing, two 20bl-plus fish came out on lures.
We switched over to the bigger six-inch patterns on the first afternoon, and the results were almost immediate. The average fish size more than doubled and it stayed that way for the rest of our trip.
When sight-fishing for GTs or pretty much any other aggressive gamefish, you see what’s coming your way. You anticipate the take quite a long time before it actually happens, and the result is that it never really surprises you. It’s pretty easy to deal with. Set the hook, clear the line, don’t do something stupid and let the reel do its job.
“THAT FIRST DOUBLE-DIGIT FISH THAT ATE MY FLY ON DAY ONE OF OUR TRIP CHANGED MY FISHING LIFE.”
In blind fishing situations, especially at a distance, the take is completely different. You realise there’s weight on the end of the line or you get that bump-bump, but the fish almost always gives you a moment to react while it is trying to figure out what’s just happened. There’s never any real chaos. Tigerfish are very different. That first double-digit fish that ate my fly on day one of our trip changed my fishing life.
The take from any tigerfish over seven pounds or thereabouts is what sets them apart from all the other fish that I’ve caught. It’s as if the fish lines up the fly from 20 metres away, accelerates to top speed and then attempts to rip the fly, the line and rod from your grip. There’s no other fish that consistently eats a fly with such destructive savagery. The take is all power and complete chaos. There is no time to react between the eat and frantically trying to maintain contact while the fish stays airborne for what feels like an eternity. It is completely addictive. Unlike Jannie’s smaller fish, it doesn’t stop there. They don’t take lots of line, but they are like a street brawler that fights low and dirty. They simply don’t give up.
Unfortunately, our inexperience got the better of us. We must have jumped 10 fish in that 14-to-18-pound range, but we somehow made a complete hash of every single big fish. We were definitely our own worst enemies, but we’ll have another crack at them next year. A bit older and a lot wiser.
Tigerfish are all that they’re made out to be. They’re beautifully brutal and they inhabit one of the most spectacular parts of the world. What a fish!
We started planning next year’s trip to Matoya even before we got off the boat at the end of our first day. With a bit of luck, Jannie will get a pink slip so that he can also start catching up on all those wasted years without proper tiger-fishing.
THINGS I LEARNED AT TIGER SCHOOL
Setting the hook
You read a lot about the strike and how to set the hook into that bony mouth. I don’t think it’s really up to the angler, but more a case of luck. As long as you maintain firm contact with the line at all times, it doesn’t matter what else you do to set the hook. The take is so fast and hard that there is simply no time to react in any meaningful manner. The hook sticks or it falls out. All you can do is to keep the line tight and hope for the best.
Reel, what reel?
We quickly learnt that the biggest sin when fly fishing for tigerfish is to reach for the reel. This is especially true during that chaotic period after hooking a fish, when every bit of focus should be on controlling the fish on a tight line. It’s simple. Forget about absolutely everything else and keep the line tight. We are so used to relying on the reel that it’s almost instinctive to want to get the fish onto the reel as quickly as possible. This approach cost us many very good fish with flies flying harmlessly over our heads after the first or second jump.
Articulated flies
Conrad caught most of his fish (including a very good humpback bream) on Blane Chocklett’s Jerk Changers (check out Conrad’s stepby-step video for this fly at themissionflymag.com ). Almost all my better fish came to the articulated Puma/Andino Deceiver. There’s nothing new about articulated flies, but they’re not something you see a lot of in South Africa. During the Covid lockdown we started experimenting with a few Gamechangers, but it soon got to the point where almost every single fly that I tie now incorporates multiple links in the design.
The most obvious advantage to articulation is that it gives the fly added movement through the length of the fly, as opposed to only a tail kick or jerk action. This is especially true with slower retrieves typically used for tigerfish. Depending on the placement and number of articulations used, there are a number of other advantages, like being
able to extend the size of the fly, the ability to place the hook/s anywhere along the length of the fly and increasing the available gape on the hook while still being able to incorporate a head design that displaces a lot of water.
Stripping basket
You don’t see a lot of stripping baskets being used by guys when they fish for tigerfish. This is probably because the boats we were fishing from were perfect for fly fishing. There’s a lot of space on the deck with absolutely nothing for the line to get tangled on. We weren’t sure about packing stripping baskets but threw them in anyway. I didn’t need the stripping basket until I lost my stripping basket overboard. When the wind picked up, I quickly realised that the stripping basket is an indispensable piece of kit, even on a perfectly laid out boat. Never leave home without one.
Lure clips
I hate any kind of clip when fly fishing, but when I saw what the Scientific Angler’s Predator Knottable Wire cost, I realised that I needed to find a way to make the wire last longer. Mustad’s Fastach Clips made it possible to save on the wire while being able to change flies as often as you wanted to. I am now completely sold on these clips and will definitely use them a lot more in other fly-fishing situations.
Lodge hospitality
Most fly fishing operations are slick and smooth with great food, friendly staff and comfortable lodgings and Matoya Fishing Lodge is no exception. I have never come across friendlier people than the lodge’s Zambian staff. The owner Marvin Sissing is a natural host who seems to truly enjoy making people happy. After a very long day on the water, the first person you see when you step into the lodge is invariably Marvin with a “How many fish over 10 pounds did you get today?” greeting. Before you can even sit down, the lodge manager is there with two ice cold Mosis. Life doesn’t get much better. matoyalodge.com
TASMANIA TROUT
SAME SAME BUT DIFFERENT
FISHING FOR TROUT ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD WHEN YOU HAVE THEM AT HOME SEEMS A LITTLE NONSENSICAL BUT, AS TUDOR CARADOC-DAVIES EXPERIENCED IN TASMANIA, WHEN THEY COME IN SIZE AND QUANTITY IN A PACKAGE THAT INCLUDES AMAZING LANDSCAPES AND WEIRD AND WONDERFUL CRITTERS, IT MAKES PERFECT SENSE.
Photos. Peter Broomhall, Tudor Caradoc-Davies
Yo, I told you You can’t touch this Why you standing there, man? You can’t touch this Yo, sound the bell, school’s in, sucker You can’t touch this
It was, admittedly, probably a little early to start spitting goofy, early-90s rap lyrics at a guide who had already waited two hours for my delayed flight from Melbourne to arrive at Launceston Airport in northern Tasmania but, tired as I was, I was also frothing and capable of finding meaning in the banal. So, as his dusty Hilux rattled along the highway heading even further north to his home town of Devonport (where I’d be based for the next few days) and MC Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This” came on Aussie Fly Fisher guide Peter Broomhall’s Android playlist, I gave my best (yet still lame) Denzel Washington-esque “My man!” nod and turn of the head. Then I made an even worse joke about hoping the brown trout didn’t take that attitude in the coming days. In the dark of the car’s cabin, I could not quite make out if Peter actually rolled his eyes or if I just imagined it.
My god there’s a lot of roadkill. What was that?
Probably a Paddy Melon.
Peter’s got a dry sense of humour and, what with my South African accent and his northern Tasmanian accent, while ostensibly speaking the same language over the time that we fished together we often had to ask each other to repeat ourselves to iron out some colloquial kinks. When he referred to a lump of smooshed fur as a “Paddy Melon”, I wasn’t sure if that was a joke of some sort, perhaps referring to an Irishman’s head (Peter was/is a massive Shane Warne fan and most definitely enjoys taking the piss out of people). When I Googled it later I learned that a “pademelon” is a legit kind of small wallaby. And a wallaby (for the uninitiated who have not spent time looking at marsupials in the field or online) is a small kangaroo.
There really is a lot of roadkill in Australia but in Tasmania it seems off the charts. It’s literally everywhere from suburban streets to highways and dirt tracks. By the time I wet a line for the first time at Talbots Lagoon, I think I’d spotted at least five species mashed into the tar and dirt roads. Later Peter explained that, even after decades of exposure to vehicles, marsupials seem not to have adapted to headlights and tend to jump into the road instead of moving away.
Before we get to the outstanding fishing, I had two weird internet-meets-real-life moments on that first day at Talbots with Peter. One came as we were setting up. Another guide and his clients were about 100m further down the dirt road pushing a boat to the launch spot. As we trailed behind them pushing Peter’s two-man rowboat, Peter mentioned the guy’s name and it rang a bell, because whenever we send out a mailer from The Mission (set to go out at a scheduled time between 10-11am worldwide), the first out-of-office I get is from this same guy several time zones away.
The second weird moment came a few hours in when I stepped in and then successfully identified wombat shit, having never actually seen a wombat before. This is thanks to a Facebook group called IFL (I Fucking Love) Science. A few years ago it posted a blog about how wombats are the only animal to excrete cube-shaped turds (around 80 to 100 a night). Stalking browns around a small island, I stepped in what looked like a bunch of large stock cubes and joined the dots (or cubes). Peter subsequently confirmed my powers of observation.
Yep, that’s wombat shit.
I was warned by a competition fisher before coming to Tasmania that while I can try my own South African trout flies, Tasmanian flies are very much same-same but different. Among other hard to imagine nuances, a very specific shade of “claret” was mentioned. In cases like this, I will always surrender to the guide’s better judgement.
“PETER SNIFFED THE AIR LIKE A RANDY ECHIDNA, AND DECLARED THAT IT WAS TIME FOR POSSUM EMERGERS.”
Wombat shit
With apologies to wombat biologists for the massive simplification, but the “why” is down to marking their territory, and square poop is less likely to roll away. The “how?” is down to the horizontal ridges in the wombat’s large intestine and the long digestive process. No, they do not have a square-shaped anus, you perve.
“EACH FISH AT TALBOTS INVOLVED SOME GNARLY HAND-TO-HAND COMBAT BECAUSE THE WHOLE LAKE IS MADE UP OF FALLEN, SUNKEN TREES.”
On Talbots, depending on the time of day and the fish behaviour in front of him, Peter sniffed the air like a randy echidna, pointed at a few midges faintly visible above the water as fish splashed beneath them and declared that, due to the emergence of caenids, red spinners or duns: it was time for very specific flies like “Possum Emergers” or “Iron Blue Duns”. When we tried catching rainbows in the deeper channels, we moved to double streamer “Shrek” patterns or “Fuzzlebuggers” that I made a note to double check against my growing marsupial list.
We alternated between wading along the shore of the lake or a small island and gently paddling closer to where we saw action. As the boat passed over sunken logs, I even saw a few large browns just sitting there in the clear, shallow water considering their next move. Once the fish came on the prod with the first decent mid-morning hatch, we had some exhilarating fishing. There was absolutely no need to blind-cast because there were plenty of good-size rising fish to intercept. The biggest challenge was reading the direction they were feeding in. I caught a few respectable browns and lost a bigger specimen on foot when it ploughed into some reeds. As Peter set up his camera, I waded through deep mud with the net to go dig it out – all while maintaining tension and declaring confidently that I could feel it was still there – only to find the fish was long since gone.
Will you look at the beak on him?
I got a shot at redemption with another good fish sipping mayflies while revealing his skeg. The Possum Emerger did the damage. Hooked in a deeper channel then brought to shore, that fish came to hand after a relatively clean fight but, for the most part, each fish at Talbots involved some gnarly hand-to-hand combat because the whole lake is made up of fallen, sunken trees. Once engaged, these fish instinctively head off for the snags, while the angler who can see pretty much what the fish can, tries to stop them. You have to trust your tippet and your knots and horse the fish away from structure. These fish may be descended from English brown trout (introduced to Tasmania in 1864, then taken from Tasmania and introduced to New Zealand two years later) but if they went to school it was not to Eton or Harrow, but Chopper Read’s school of hard knocks.
“THE BEST WAY TO DESCRIBE FISHING THE WESTERN LAKES IS, IT’S LIKE FLATS FISHING FOR BROWN TROUT.”
On the second day our destination was the famous Western Lakes on the Central Highlands escarpment, so we drove inland from Devonport and up into the hills. The drive took us through countryside giving off strong English pastoral vibes – fields dotted with green wrapped silage bales like urinal mints; dairy cattle on renowned farms that, according to Peter, are now owned by the Chinese, and cutesy ye olde English villages like Deloraine. We stopped there to stock up at a place called Mumma Buzz, which sports a sign outside with a Morgan Freeman quote: “If you want to see a miracle, be the miracle.” They clearly know Peter there, but he said the matriarch has been calling him by the wrong name for about a decade. Then he pointed out what looks like a chicken running across the road.
That’s a turbo-chook. Flightless bird called a Tasmanian nativehen.
Sounds like slang for KFC. Another thing to Google later.
The Hilux left the farmland behind and climbed on through a steep, lush, montane forest of towering gums and massive ferns until it popped out on a plateau with much starker, tundra-like vegetation and stunted trees. We skirted the northern shores of the appropriately named Great Lake, Peter pointing out where dry lightning strikes (a side hustle of terrifying thunderstorms with no rain) set off huge bush fires in recent years, while also running me through how to fish for big brown trout in such a colossal expanse of water.
When you find them in the wind slick, it’s like seeing this wall of great golden bananas.
We stopped for a quick coffee at the aptly named Thousand Lakes Lodge where Peter dropped off boots and waders for another Aussie Fly Fisher guide who was taking a lodge guest out for the day. I chatted to the guy, an Englishman, and he admitted this setting was wildly different from the manicured chalk streams he was used to. The lodge is actually a superbly renovated Arctic training station formerly known as the Bernacchi Lodge and suddenly the polar tundra feel of the Central Plateau makes even more sense. At the gateway to the myriad Western Lakes district, just as your brain tells you this feels like it could be polar bear country, a wombat rolls into picture or a wallaby flushes from a thicket.
I only fished Lake Ada, so I cannot speak for all the Western Lakes, but the best way to describe it is like flats fishing for brown trout. These lakes are almost all very shallow, reaching a depth of a couple of metres at most and they feature sand bays, rocky promontories and open flats. Most of the time you walk the ridges a metre or two above the water line (trying not to lose an ankle in a wombat hole) and spot fish.
Initially, the trout are spooky as all hell. Peter thinks it could be the cormorants, a protected species that in certain Tassie rivers and stillwaters are nailing the fish this year. It could also just be a tough year, they happen. We get into this in a little more depth – the commonality worldwide for part-time anglers to declare or decry a fishery as gone or a season as average when they have simply not fished it enough. Nor have they taken into account that some years are better than others, just as some years are way worse. Instead, they hold all fishing to the standard of one golden day they had 25 years ago, when they caught a few big fish which seem to be growing in 5lb increments with each new complaint about the current situation. These things generate their own negative momentum. A few people have a tough week’s fishing, they spread the word, and more people decide to skip going out. Peter doesn’t mind as he will go regardless and find fish. He just can’t quite understand how people make such absolutist declarations when he knows for a fact that many of them have not actually fished the places in question as he is there so often. His philosophy: that the naysayers go once or twice, compare notes and declare the fishing “off” is refreshing. Because inevitably those who keep getting out there will find the fish. And, well… Peter’s not having a bad year.
After walking about half the circumference of the lake, we had not seen a fish. Once we started spotting them, energy coursed through our movements and, to any observer, it would be obvious that our body language switched into hunt mode. Still, at first, the fish were not properly in the mood. The first few genuine chances we had, the fish came and looked at our flies but turned away. So we tweaked our approach. Fly change to a beetle. More caution getting into position. Thinner tippet.
Thousand Lakes Lodge
If you plan on fishing the Western Lakes, Thousand Lakes Lodge is the place to stay. Excellent modern lodging with all the traditional cosy comforts you need: good food, incredible wildlife sightings at the lodge and surrounds, and several lakes on your doorstep. thousandlakeslodge.com.au
I should mention that up until this point, the fly sharing had been one sided. Then, I lost the simple black foam beetle Peter gave me and I tried one of the Good Doctor’s Beetles, famed for their prowess back home in South Africa on the smallmouth yellowfish of Sterkfontein Dam. Designed to imitate scarab beetles and Christmas beetles, my hope was that the brown trout of Lake Ada couldn’t really tell the difference between those bugs and their home-town gum beetles. As a sunbeam breached the clouds I invoked Mr Freeman’s coffee shop mantra about being and seeing miracles and I laid a cast out. It landed about a metre in front of a shadow that could either have been a rock or a brown trout moving slowly in the shimmering hall of mirrors that transformed the lake’s surface in the afternoon sun. My hopes were realised when a beak, as Peter puts it, immediately came up and engulfed the beetle. Game on. Even when I lost that fly, my last black version of the Good Doctor’s Beetle (somewhere between stumbling into what I think was a wombat hole and my fly getting tangled in a bush), and moved onto the brown ones I have in my flybox from my last Sterkies trip, there was no dip in performance. All I needed to do was manage to sight-fish, get the cast right and not suffer from the piscatorial equivalent of premature ejaculation in striking too soon (something I did on at least three occasions, much to my chagrin).
“IF I CAN SIGHT-FISH THE MARGINS AND TARGET TROUT IN SHALLOW, CHALLENGING CONDITIONS, I AM IN EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK.”
The guide - Peter Broomhall
Aussie Fly Fisher’s man in Tasmania, Peter Broomhall, knows the island like the back of his hand and when he is not guiding, he’s fishing himself. Peter follows the test cricket and supports Melbourne’s Collingwood Magpies (an Aussie Rules team that Peter says is loved by one half of the country and hated by the other). He’s a trout guy through and through. He has joined the Aussie Fly Fisher crew for a team-building meet-up in the salt, but he admits he is not entirely sure if he counts saltwater fly fishing as fly fishing. Technically, if you had a lot of time and the right flies, you could DIY Tasmania, but why make things difficult? From whether it’s time to select a Possum Emerger or a Blue Dun, to identifying road kill, finding the best tradie sandwich spots or understanding the Boag-Cascade line (an invisible geographic division in Tasmania between true northerners who drink James Boag beer and – insert spitting noises – southerners who drink Cascade), Peter’s your man. aussieflyfisher.com
Peter tried the Good Doctor’s Beetles too. Whether it was the lighter tippet, the beetles, the mood of the trout or a combination, the code was cracked for an hour or two and we each caught around a half dozen athletic browns, either in Ada itself or in the lagoons that drain into the lakes where fish get trapped. As we fished our way back to the car we saw wallabies, black swans and a wedgetailed eagle. When we stopped at the lodge again for beer and dinner provided by the lodge’s brilliant manager Bec, quolls (weasel-like carnivorous marsupials), wallabies and wombats showed up on the lawns outside. There’s also a family of Tasmanian devils close by, but they didn’t make an appearance on this occasion.
Planning the third and final day on the drive back, we deliberated what to do. For sheer bankability and fun, Peter would have voted to take me back to Talbots and I was sorely tempted to do it but, for the sake of variety, I elected to fish the rivers. After all, I am at heart a river guy. When it comes to trout, I seldom hold great love for stillwaters, finding anything involving a sinking line, dredging and drogues dead boring. However, if I can sight-
fish the margins and target trout in shallow, challenging conditions like Tasmania has served up in her stillwaters thus far, I am in every day of the week. Still, for the sake of the story, rivers it was.
We started the morning on the Mersey River in the hills up above Devonport. Despite the river looking good, we only found a few small fish and a massive tiger snake that I almost stepped on, on a jeep track. Peter thinks the pools where the big fish hold may have been hammered by cormorants, so we cut our losses and moved on to the Esk. The names of most of Tasmania’s rivers, like the Forth, the Esk, the Meander, the Mersey and the Liffey are either Irish, Scottish or English rivers revived, colonial transplants. While the Mersey felt like Montana save for the laughing kookaburras, ferns and towering gum trees, the south Esk which meanders through the lowland farmland near Launceston has a definite chalk stream feel to it, with slow shallow runs featuring long beards of wavering green weed and willow-lined banks. It was an oppressively hot day by Tasmanian standards, muggy and hazy. A tench grubbed past us and I re-rigged and tried to entice it with a squirmy (for the story of course), but I was
too slow. As we made our way along the banks of the South Esk, trying to find spots in the brambles to access the river, we flushed feral deer and rabbits. Settling into the heat of the day, we got better at targeting actively feeding fish in the weedy holes in the current and each caught around four to five modest browns on dry flies before calling it a day and heading into Launceston. With the river in our rearview, I remarked how the flora and fauna on the Esk had seemed so familiar and, well, English. Peter rattled off a list including the willows, hawthorns, gorse, foxgloves, fallow deer, foxes, the trout and of course the cricket, and summed up his empire with, “They’re all from England originally, but everything tends to do better here.”
In a way, that pretty much sums up the Tasmanian experience for me as a foreigner, with these extremes of wonderful weirdness in the fisheries and the native animals, sandwiched among placid pastoralism of the old world. There’s excellent fishing to be had and huge expanses of raw, unique wilderness to explore. I only wish that I had more than three days there. Just on the Western Lake district alone I have at least another 999 lakes to visit.
SHOP THE MISSION
Patagonia
- Swiftcurrent Waders
Comfortable, warm enough when the temperature dropped, yet light enough when the sun got high, I really enjoyed the handwarmer pocket, the central waterproof pocket for your phone and the way these waders I borrowed from Peter twinned really well with my indispensable Patagonia Stealth Work Station. I used to think having a zip-front wader was essential, but taking a slash while wearing these is really not an issue and the price point in comparison to the more heavy duty, zip-front waders on the market is appealing too. patagonia.com
Scientific Anglers - Amplitude Smooth Infinity Camo
Easily the best 5-weight line I have ever used, this line did it all from delicate presentation of dry flies at distance to bombing out streamers or handling drydropper rigs. scientificanglers.com
Scientific Anglers - Absolute Trout Supreme
I have never pulled on fluorocarbon tippet as hard as I did with Scientific Anglers’ Absolute Trout Supreme 4x when horsing fish away from sunken logs at Talbots and it was perfect for the job. At Lake Ada, the 5x made the difference with ultra-picky fish. This stuff is magic. scientificanglers.com
Scientific Anglers - Absolute LeaderWallet
The product I never knew I always needed. Featuring several re-sealable bags all housed under a Velcro closure, I have my tapered leaders organised by length and strength, plus a few pages spare for strike indicators, fishing licence, etc. scientificanglers.com
Costa del Mar - Grand Catalina Gold Mirror
Excellent fish-spotting sunnies thanks to the gold mirror lenses, plus extra protection from the wind and sun thanks to the removable side shields and some awesome 80s steeze with the aviator shape. costadelmar.com
Thomas & Thomas - Avant II 9-foot 5-weight. Accuracy and responsiveness personified. I’ve never had a rod that made me feel like a better angler until now. thomasandthomas.com
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Joining the lineup of its bigger siblings, the SR9, SR10 and SR12, the new Shilton SR8 is now available in three new colours (lime, orange and green). Designed from the ground up with the saltwater angler in mind, this super-large arbor reel oozes rugged functionality with high grade 6082 T6 aluminium and Shilton’s userfriendly design giving you the edge you need in any saltwater scenario (whether fighting fish or servicing your reel to fight more fish). With the SR8, Shilton has also increased the overall diameter of the cork drag, resulting in less start-up inertia and more stopping power, as well as adding a plunger (from two to three) to give anglers extra drag engagement and durability. While designed primarily for species like bonefish and permit, this 8-weight reel is just as at home handling larger freshwater species that behave like their salty brethren. Think tigerfish, largemouth yellowfish, golden dorado, salmon and steelhead. shiltonreels.com
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THE MISSION – BLOOD SAGE RIPSTOP SNAPBACK
For those of you who want to blend into the bundu, we present to you the (mostly) muted vibes of the Blood Sage Ripstop Snapback. Think of it from a fish’s point of view. All it sees is the usual wall of blue (sky) and green (bush) above the water save for a red smudge (a locust’s ass), then all of a sardine it’s hooked, hopefully by you.
As for that red smudge? That’s one of our Flavour Saver™️©️® patches for stashing and drying your flies. You get a 5-panel design with an unstructured fit, adjustable double row polysnap and all the undeniable sex appeal you can handle. themissionflymag.com
ORVIS - VINTAGE WAXED COTTON BALL CAP
Unlike your ball bag, this vintage waxed cotton ball cap from Orvis will only get better-looking with age and wear. Plus, it will do the basics like shedding the rain and shielding your face all day from the sun. Featuring a vintage-style label over the brim and an embroidered Orvis logo at the back, one size fits most. Available in olive or navy from Mavungana Flyfishing. orvis.com, flyfishing.co.za
“GETS BETTER-LOOKING WITH AGE.”
VERSUS & SARAH BOULTON - RAINBOW TROUT SOCKS
Stopping just short of actually wanting your feet to smell like fish, we get the appeal of having your favourite species worked into clothing. Now, with Mavungana Flyfishing and Sarah Boulton Designs teaming up with Versus Socks to produce rainbow trout skin socks, you can live that dream. Designed for performance as well as vibes, Versus’s Active Crew socks offer both support and flexibility with all-around arch support and medium foot cushioning, so if you plan on hitting a trail to check out a remote valley, they won’t claim to be better suited to the couch. versussocks.com, flyfishing.co.za
“DESIGNED FOR PERFORMANCE AS WELL AS VIBES.”
- ZIPIT FLATS BOOTIE
While broken coral, bommie-hopping and hardcore marl might call for more heavy-duty footwear, if your flats fishing is of the easy, sand - and turtle grass-based kind, then you should consider the wading comfort, foot support, and snag-free finesse of these easy-on, easy-off ZipIt Booties. Made with vulcanised rubber and neoprene hybrid construction for support and comfort, they have a YKK corrosion-resistant zipper and are designed to be worn barefoot or with a light liner sock. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.com
“WADING COMFORT, FOOT SUPPORT, AND SNAG-FREE FINESSE.”
PATAGONIA - R2 TECHFACE PULLOVER
“Should have called it TechFort instead of TechFace,” was about the only criticism coming out of our office when this schweet new top from Patagonia was recently released. That’s because it hits the comfort and “I-live-in-thisso-sue-me” sweet spot that a hoodie gives you, but also incorporates some high-level technical fleece layering know-how. Featuring stretchy, nottoo-heavy, not-too-light R2 TechFace material that blocks wind and sheds moisture thanks to a DWR (durable water repellent) finish, it has a front zip for easy venting when things get steamy, while the hood fits over a ballcap. What else? A front kangaroo pocket sits above the waistline and wader belt to keep hands warm and the zippered chest pocket fits a fly box and is positioned for easy access. Overlay material at the shoulders and cuffs bolsters durability in high-wear areas and prevents wear from wader suspenders, a backpack or a sling, while underarm sleeve gussets make layering easier and won’t hamper your casting. Made in a Fair Trade Certified factory. patagonia.com
SMITH CREEK - TIPPET HOLDER
There are things you buy knowing that the plastic they’re made of will probably last a year or two then fall apart, and then there are things like this tippet holder from Smith Creek that looks like it could be handed down to your ancestors (assuming there will still be fish left for them to throw a fly at). Individually machined from marine grade aluminium, after precision milling, each unit is bead-blasted and then anodised in colour for a lasting surface finish. Fitted with a push-button plunger cap, this beauty is easy to open when needed but stays securely fastened when closed. Stainless steel plunger components and a zinc carabiner won’t rust. The floating washer design has a recessed silicone O-ring, so you can quickly snug it down against your tippet spools. Available in two colours (burnt orange and metallic grey). smithcreek.co, flyfishing.co.za
XPLORER - DELUXE RETRACTOR
You ever stand on the water, eyes transfixed on a tailing fish, as your hand reaches up to the spot on your pack or vest where you know your nippers are? It’s where focus, muscle memory and a wee bit of trust in your zinger combine. It helps if your zinger works, because if it doesn’t you might be scratching at the spot where your nippers used to be as if you can’t find a phantom limb. Get yourself a solid retractor like Xplorer’s new deluxe version that comes with an easy clip, and you’ll be sorted. xplorerflyfishing.co.za
SIMMS - TRIBUTARY SLING PACK
There when you need it, out of the way when you don’t – that pretty much sums up the appeal of a quality sling and Simms’s Tributary Sling Pack fits the bill. Made from a rugged and durable 600D recycled polyester shell fabric with 200D polyester liner, it sports a simple, lightweight build and a streamlined, smooth exterior that makes for minimised line catch and less bulk. With a large main compartment, a small zippered exterior accessory pocket, a fully integrated net sheath with daisy chain webbing for utility leash attachment and a fully functional and ergonomically shaped shoulder strap with tool attachment port and adjustable sternum strap – you have everything you need for a long day on the water. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.com
SIMMS - TAILWIND ROD AND REEL VAULT
“Trends” in fly fishing clobber are relatively slow to appear, but like that time everyone started to say “sick” and did not mean “diseased”, before you know it everyone is doing it. Take these kinds of rod and reel bags. A few years back no one had them (simply shoving rod tubes into duffels and hoping for the best), but now they’re everywhere. Simms make some of the best bags and this Tailwind Rod and Reel Vault looks perfect for the job. With an exterior made of a compression-moulded 900D ballistic polyester it has space for multiple 4-piece rods up to 10’ in length, plus plenty of customisable internal organisation for reels, tippet and other stuff via movable hook and loop dividers and two mesh accessory pockets in the lid for essentials. Hell, it even has a hidden compartment with just enough room for a change of clothes and a pair of shoes should the airline lose everything else. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.com
SIMMS - TRIBUTARY HYBRID CHEST PACK
While Simms positions the Tributary Hybrid Chest Pack as perfect for day trips (and it is), we also see this easy-access, 5-liter pack as the perfect pack for multi-day hikein trips where you have a large backpack on your back and need something smaller and accessible so you can fish on your way in. Made from tough recycled 600-denier polyester fabric with polyurethane coating, it features a fully padded and adjustable yolk-style shoulder harness, with a zippered pocket, providing breathable comfort. For your fly boxes there’s a main compartment, with a stretch mesh internal pocket, which is accessed via a large zipper. For tippet, floatant and additional stuff, there’s an accessory pocket on the face of the pack. An integrated net sleeve on back of pack includes a D-ring for extra secure net attachment, while a small stretch mesh water bottle pocket sits at the base of pack, and you’ll find a hypalon tool dock on the shoulder strap and large loop fly patch on the face of the pack. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.com
“THE PERFECT PACK FOR MULTI-DAY HIKE-IN TRIPS.”
- NIPPER 3.0
Sounding suspiciously like it was named by a thinktank made up of Kim Jong Un’s PR people and Jaguar’s branding genius, the Lid Rig 3.0, which is also apparently known as “The People’s Premium Nipper” takes nipping to levels not seen since your mum’s chihuahua died. Featuring a mil-spec anodised machined aluminium body and replaceable steel jaws, the Lid Rig 3.0 is versatile enough to handle a range of things that require nipping from 8X tippet to braid with ease. A unique magnetic “spring” made using two sets of rare earth magnets, means the nipper’s jaws remain open like Keira Knightley’s mouth 23 hours a day without relying on hinges, thereby eliminating potential corrosion issues. Throw in Lid Rig’s signature magnetic fly dock for temporarily storing and rigging flies, plus a stainless steel hook eye cleaner and you have a nipper that would make both Kim and Keira happy. Available black, gold, blue, and olive and with Mavungana branding. lidrig.com, flyfishing.co.za
SEMPERFLI - SCUD BACK
Other than being ridiculously amusing to say in Mike Tyson’s voice, the Semperfli Scud Back is also a brilliant addition to your fly tying options. “Why?” you might ask, in the tone of a terrifying toddler. Well, you see, Semperfli intentionally burn the edges to create a segmented look that mimics the natural segmentation of a scud or maggot not only giving you and the fish an appealing visual trigger, but a textured one too. Available in a range of colours from earthy browns and olives to vibrant pinks and oranges, Semperfli’s Scud Backs come in 3mm, 6mm and even a thick version for those thicc maggots in your area. semperfli.net, xplorerflyfishing.co.za
“MIMICS THE NATURAL SEGMENTATION OF A SCUD OR MAGGOT.”
SEMPERFLI - SEMPERFUR GRIZZLE
There are two kinds of people in the world. Those who look at footage of polar bears drowning off icebergs and think, “Damn, there are some great flies I could tie from that fluffy bastard,” and those who look to the synthetic options because using certain animal furs is either unsustainable or unethical (or both). Recognising that, Semperfli has been hard at work developing a range of SemperFur Grizzle, a hybrid material softer than craft fur with less underbody, more like polar fur. With really sleek fibres (up to 110mm long, but with varying lengths like real fur to give stunning profiles to your streamer patterns), SemperFur can be used as winging for any predator fly in fresh and saltwater. No colour run-dyed, it comes in 12cm x 12cm patches. semperfli.net, xplorerflyfishing.co.za
SEMPERFLI - SYNTHETHIC
PEACOCK HERL 1MM
Giving you the magic juju of natural peacock herl with all its iridescent accents of blue, green, gold and copper, Semperfli’s Synthetic Herl 1mm Extra Small is a fritz/chenille that changes in different lighting conditions just like the natural stuff. But… it comes with a couple of extra plusses, including that you can dress a hook really quickly with simple wraps; that unlike the natural version it will not easily snap mid-wrap nor fall apart when hit by a few fish. You also won’t have any issues with over-zealous customs officials citing CITES regulations. Inventor of the Klinkhamer, Hans van Klinken is a fan of this stuff for the thorax of his celebrated Klinkhamer 2.0 for size 12 and larger flies. If it’s good enough for Hans, it’s probably good enough for you. semperfli.net, xplorerflyfishing.co.za
STREAMBORN - MIDLAYER THERMAL PANTS
Planning on spending long, chilly days cruising around icy South African stillwaters in your float tube this year, trying to break some trooty PBs? If you want to avoid frostbite, best you get a pair of mid-layer thermal pants like these bad boys from Streamborn. Designed and manufactured in South Africa as a multi-functional breathable active mid-layer with thermal regulation properties, these pants are made of a polycotton 220grm French terry fleece and feature sexy yet functional stirrups (wiggles eyebrows). Perfect for that float tube work. streambornlifestyle.com, flyfishing.co.za
“IF YOU WANT TO AVOID FROSTBITE, BEST YOU GET A PAIR OF MID-LAYER THERMAL PANTS LIKE THESE BAD BOYS.”
DEEP WANTS
HOKA - HOPARA 2
Fact: wading boots are essential gear for the fly angler. Aside from a few kinds of fishery where they’re not necessary, you’re going to want to invest in a decent pair. However, there is also space in your fly fishing clobber cupboard for a different kind of footwear. Something for those look-see missions where you’re not quite sure if you’re going to want to wear heavy boots (or go barefoot) all day. Something that covers all your bases. Enter the shandal (shoe+shandal), a category usually populated by fugly clodhoppers that fall apart when tested.
In the case of the Hoka Hopara 2, we might just have the best evolution of shandal tech so far. For starters these things feel amazing, somewhere between the comfort of a running shoe (no surprise, given Hoka’s heritage) and the
L’OBJET
- GRASSHOPPER GEOGRAPHY RIVER BASIN
GLOBE
How better to plan the rest of your life’s fly fishing than looming over a globe featuring a high-res map of all permanent and temporary streams and rivers on the planet as found on this collab between Grasshopper Geography and Columbus Globes? With each catchment presented in a different colour, you can eyeball the Rufiji, Orinoco, South Fork and Waiau at home until you’re finally ready to pull the trigger and go fish them 4 realz. grasshoppergeography.com
PAY DAY
YOUR NEW FAVOURITE IN-BETWEENER SHOE AND THE GLOBE DR EVIL WOULD HAVE IF HE FLY FISHED.
naked freedom of a flip-flop. Then there’s the performance. Our editor has been wearing them across terrain varying from creeks and mud flats to rocky bays and hilly trails for the last few months while fishing and the Hopara 2 has handled every amphibian test with ease. Made with earth-conscious materials (including a 30% sugarcane topsole and midsole, 100% recycled knit upper, and 100% recycled Cordura mesh overlays to allow for water drainage while keeping trail debris at bay), they feature a toggle lace, adjustable heel strap, and quick-dry water repellence. Whether it’s a quick jaunt up a valley you’ve always wondered about or as back-up/camp shoes for a multi-day hike, you’d be hard-pressed to find a better fit for that in-betweener job. hoka.com, runbeatable.co.za
POUND FOOLISH
HAVING SEEN FIRST-HAND THE UNCOMFORTABLE OBSESSION MANY ANGLERS HAVE WITH A SPECIFIC SIZE OR WEIGHT OF FISH, SEASONED AFRICA GUIDE STU HARLEY OF FIRETAIL FLY (INSTAGRAM.COM/FIRETAIL_FLY), ASKS IF WE’RE NOT MISSING THE POINT.
Photos. Stu Harley
Ihave an amazing story to share about accuracy of measurement. It is also a small tribute to the late Sixbet Lipipa
Sixbet was a boat driver for over a decade on the Ruhudji river in Tanzania, a destination I guided at for many years. By virtue of his job Sixbet had a front row seat to some of the continent’s best tiger-fishing action. He had an extremely gentle demeanour and often spoke through a series of toothless smiles and quiet laughter. Whenever anything dramatic happened onboard he’d let out a quiet “sheew” and giggle to himself. He passed away a few years ago and the world is definitely worse off without him.
On a rare afternoon off my fellow guide, Greg Ghaui, roped Six in to navigate the boat for him while he eagerly wet a line. With Greg having guided the same number of years as Six had been driving the boat, the two made for a very chilled but extremely effective team on the water.
Approaching a productive spot, Six killed the motor and took up his trusty paddle. Greg, actually fishing and not guiding for a change, reached down, grabbed his 9-weight and began expertly picking the pockets of the riverbank. Before long, Greg hooked and landed a tigerfish. He held it up to Six and said, “How big?”
Six replied, “11 pounds.”
Greg weighed the fish and Six was spot on, it was 11 pounds!
Some time passed and, inevitably, Greg hooked another. The fish leapt alongside the boat, revealing its size to Six who deemed this one significant enough to help land. Without fuss, the fish was safely in the net and Greg asked Six again, “How big?”
”19 pounds,” replied Six and again, he was spot on!
This continued for another few hours or so with Greg landing a number of smaller fish unassisted. Six guessed the exact weight on every single one.
As the afternoon wound down the blissful orange hues of the dipping sun filtered over the river. Greg set his rod down to take it all in. The two gently chatted away in
Swahili while Greg sipped a cold beer and Six put the last of his remaining teeth in jeopardy with an ice-cold Fanta. They discussed this rare occasion that had just the two of them on the water together.
Six took this moment to ask, “Greg, what are pounds?”
You could argue that Six’s confusion was that of the metric vs imperial systems (Tanzania has operated off the metric system since 1967), but his question still makes you think. Here was a man who had seen so many tigerfish landed over so many years that he knew how to guess the weight of any tigerfish based purely on sight and experience, yet who did not have a concept of the external abstract units of measurement his clients held so dear.*
“TOO OFTEN THE REAL TROPHIES ARE DILUTED BY ‘DUBIOUS’ MEASUREMENTS AND GENEROUS CLAIMED WEIGHTS.”
This brings me to the crux of the matter. When it comes to weights and measurements - and for the purpose of this exercise, let’s keep it focussed on tigerfish - what is the acceptable roundup for happiness? How do we measure success? Is it possible that it actually doesn’t matter? Maybe, we have been looking too closely at numbers, pounds and kilograms, inches and centimetres, that we have lost sight of what is important. As it is, too often the real trophies are diluted by, let’s call it, “dubious” measurements and generous claimed weights at the end of the day.
I think I speak for all guides when I say we’ve all been there. You’re on day three into a significant metaphorical bleed on the water. All your witty one-liners have lost their impact and even the surrounding beauty of the area has lost its lustre in the angler’s eyes. The fishing is extra tough and, like those hunters who obsess over a kudu’s horns being a millimetre bigger than the bull bagged by their competitors’, your client is “extra” size and numbersoriented, driven by a wish to beat their PB (personal best), a friend’s PB, the lodge record, or some other motivator. Whatever it may be, it’s “extra” kak! Added into the mix there may be pressure from the guide trying to beat his
guiding PB or his fellow guides’ PBs or, again, the lodge record. All this creates pressure which starts to spiral into a widening gyre of despair as expectations, results and the time you have left on the water seem at odds with each other.
Suddenly, a fish is hooked, a trophy fish!
The previously calm, even somewhat dull scene explodes into organised chaos and after a sphincter-puckering battle, the fish is netted. Victory! And it’s in this adrenalinefuelled moment that we have ourselves a situation where both guide and client are linked in a telepathic wish for the fish to weigh whatever their particular desired number is. The fish is lifted in the net and the thin needle dances over the numbers permanently stamped in the metal of the scale, numbers that don’t move.
A moment of silence falls over the boat. With his back to the guest the guide casts his beady eye on the needle’s final resting place … Fuck! It’s just short of the target.
With this, the net may find itself in a sudden and unexplained silent bounce. With the scale “recalibrated”, the needle, now at the very outer edge of a centrifugal curve, finds itself on the desired number. A triumphant cheer erupts from the guide and a wave of relief and joy washes over the boat. The bleed is over. The cooler box is opened and happiness has arrived.
Is this wrong? Don’t we all deserve to be happy? I feel that this only comes about when there is any sort of competition at play and in this, are we augmenting fish to an unobtainable reality? In the case of tigerfish, a 20lb tiger is enormous and should be safely perched on the “extraordinary shelf.” I think that, very often, this above-mentioned net bouncing phenomenon elevates an amazing 17lb or 18lb fish into 20lb stardom. Perhaps the even bigger issue is that in our obsession with size and PBs we have stopped considering that even a 13lb or 14lb tigerfish is a genuine trophy.
One thing I know for sure is that none of this would have mattered to dear Sixbet. Measurement matters and should be celebrated, but the experience should always trump the scale. It’s more than a pound’s worth, as Six well knew.
*Ed: according to the USA’s National Institute of Standards and Technology, only three countries (the USA, Myanmar and Liberia) do not have mandatory metric laws, though the United Kingdom embraces a dual system of imperial (e.g. pounds, ounces and stones for weight) and metric units. Fly anglers however, universally accept that all fish are to be weighed and/or guestimated in pounds, because they sound much bigger than kilograms.
FREE BEER & WHISKY !
Come in and chat to an in-store expert, get insight from someone that’s been there and done it, and enjoy a cold one or dram on us.
Courtesy of Devil’s Peak Beer and Rhino Whisky, generous supporters of our conservation charity.
BIRD HEAD
OF ALL THE SALTY FLY FISHING SEA DOGS IN ALL THE WORLD, FEW HAVE THE CREDENTIALS THAT ANDY COETZEE HAS. FROM GUIDING TO SETTING UP LODGES, WORKING WITH NAT GEO OR THE SMITHSONIAN, WRANGLING DUGONGS, SEA TURTLES, GTS AND TARPON, THERE’S A GOOD CHANCE ANDY’S BEEN THERE AND DONE THAT. WE CAUGHT UP WITH HIM ON COCONUT WIFI AT A REMOTE CAMP IN NORTHERN ANGOLA
Photos. C/o Andy Coetzee
The first fish I remember catching was with my twin brother Marcus (Mark). We were living in Eshowe, KwaZ dulu-Natal (KZN), and we were catching tilapia using bent pins and little corks. We were probably four or five years old.
I’m such a wanderer, a strandloper, that the list of places I have called home is endless. Many of these are in wild, isolated areas. For instance, I spent many years of my life in Rocktail Bay (KZN). I also spent many years a little bit inland from Rocktail at a cashew project in Maputaland. Then I went on to the Makhathini Flats, followed by the Transkei and then Seychelles. Those are all places I would call home because I visited them, and I fished, and I felt at peace there.
The list of things I have done is also endless. I have reinvented myself countless times from being a tour guide in Johannesburg and in the Kruger National Park to being a fly fishing guide in Seychelles. I’ve run lodges in numerous places and been a freshwater fisheries researcher on the Pongola floodplain. I’ve also been a sea turtle researcher and a horticultural researcher. I’ve caught dugongs and done consumer insight market research all around South Africa in the townships. For instance, while doing change agent work for corporates all over the country I’ve taken people like bank managers into the townships for two days. What else have I done? I’ve lived in isolated places pursuing my pioneering dreams and worked in both national and international television with Nat Geo, the Smithsonian, etc. It’s this undying pursuit of the new frontier that keeps me going. That and condensed milk.
Last year, two acquaintances asked me to check out the potential of a possible tarpon fishery in northern Angola on the border with Congo. My twin brother and I came out here for 10 weeks. No shower, no fridge, no nothing. Just hardcore living and fishing. We at stale baguettes (they were fresh for the first day), Nutella, basmati rice and a half a can of tuna each for supper – absolute bliss. And, of course, the ubiquitous can of condensed milk. We lived in a tent that got flattened. We had a gazebo that I built with walls made of flip-flops we picked up off the beach, it was named the “Flop House” after John Steinbeck’s book, Cannery Row. We had a toilet made from a toilet seat and a 200-litre drum that I picked up on the beach. I cut a hole in that and attached it to the seat. It was named the “Slop House”.
This new venture is a four-rod rustic lodge in the far northern reaches of Angola. I have had some challenges with training staff who do not even know what hospitality is, let alone tourism. There’s a language barrier of French and Portuguese, neither of which I speak. And then there are the logistics. It’s been a challenge but also a great insight into life up here. It’s wild and that’s what gets me going.
My nickname, “Khanda Lenyoni”, was given to me many years ago by the Zulus in Maputaland. It means “head of the bird” because I used to wear those foam peaks, and I would put all the flies I had used into them. The young boys would say, “Look at that white man; he’s got a head like a bird.” A lot of people know me as Khanda Lenyoni.
“IT’S THIS UNDYING PURSUIT OF THE NEW FRONTIER THAT KEEPS ME GOING. THAT AND CONDENSED MILK.”
“THE HANDIEST SURVIVAL SKILL I HAVE IS BEING GOOD AT TAKING CALCULATED RISKS.”
My home waters I would regard as Rocktail Bay, Black Rock, down to Mabibi and Kosi Mouth.
In my opinion there is only one outfit to use for the GTs there and that’s a G. Loomis GLX 12-weight 3-piece and an Abel Super 12 reel. I swear by them. I am hard on equipment, but nothing beats that setup which is what I’ve used for the last 30 years. While I have had them repaired (I have smoked the drag on the Abel a couple of times, and the cork and the reel seat on the Loomis have had to be replaced), I still have those outfits.
The best advice I have ever been given was from the former commanding officer of SAS in Rhodesia, Jack Crutchley. He said to me, “Keep up your enthusiasm. That zest for life is what inspires people.” That sat with me then and it still sits with me.
I am most proud of having taken my children to some wild places, exposing them to my enthusiasm for life.
What I have had to work on is my impatience. It’s my Achilles heel. I have to remind myself constantly to slow down a bit. But, on the flip side, my high energy level, the greatest asset I have, means I can get a shitload done in a day.
The most satisfying fish I ever caught was a GT I caught with my daughter, Grace, at Rocktail Bay when she was about 10 or 12 years old. It was a really nice fish. She helped me tag it and we named it after her.
The most satisfying fish I never caught was a GT I hooked in the bricks at Kosi Bay that just smoked my ass. These days, it’s not about landing the fish. If I can seduce it to take my fly, that’s enough. If I had a quick release system, I would release
it right there and then. That’s why tarpon fishing is the new obsession. You throw a fly in here and you think, “I don’t even know how I am going to land this thing let alone hold on for a couple of seconds.”
My go-to drink is cold condensed milk. It’s the elixir of life. I have had three condensed milk collections in my life. The first one was eaten by my children because I went to America following a blonde with big tits. My kids felt I had abandoned them, so I think they did it just to make me feel bad. I started another collection and can’t remember what happened to that one, but I am on my third now. I currently have over 90 cans from all over the world and when friends travel, they get me one to add to the collection.
While condensed milk is my first choice now, it used to be Jack Daniels. Jack and I had a very close relationship but that was 36 years ago, and it led to the demise of my relationship with my kids and my now-ex-wife. When my daughter was one day old, my then-wife said she could not wake me up and that I was endangering both my daughter’s life and hers. I have not had another drink since then.
One place never again is marriage. I am not good marriage material. I am too much of a wanderer. I don’t want someone holding a gun to my head saying, “Choose between me and your passion.” You are going to lose. I am just going to miss you, that’s all.
One place I have to return to is the Congo and their Goliath tigerfish. That fish is my nemesis.
The handiest survival skill I have is being good at taking calculated risks. There is an analogy that I often use. I am a paratrooper (same as my twin brother), and there are many of us who have been in the military in the parachute battalion. You don’t try to jump. You either jump or you don’t. So, in life, when you are standing in the door, jump! That’s life. You’ve done the training, you’ve calculated the risks, now jump out the door and see what happens. So, you have a bad landing? Tough. Then maybe you did not do your training right. Perhaps something happens on the way down – deal with it. That’s life.
“TARPON FISHING IS THE NEW OBSESSION. YOU THROW A FLY IN HERE AND YOU THINK, ‘I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW I AM GOING TO LAND THIS THING LET ALONE HOLD ON FOR A COUPLE OF SECONDS.’”
There are two skills I would love to master and those are Spey casting and touch typing. It is so frustrating when you want to write stuff, and you are pecking at the keyboard like a chicken with two fingers.
Before I die, I want to pass some of my life skills and insights onto young folk who are just starting out on their path.
What I get out of fly fishing has changed over the years. I am no longer as fanatical about catching fish. Now it is more the holistic thing about where I am in the moment. If I only get one shot at one fish in a day, so be it. When I was here in Angola checking out this spot with my brother, some days we would just sit and look at the fish – 100kg tarpon rolling within 10 feet of us – and I would say, “Mark, it’s not about catching that fish. It’s just about appreciating this majestic creature.” So ja, it’s not about the swing-your-dick, grip-and-grin pics for me anymore.
Something I have changed my mind about is population pressure and the state of our oceans and the state of our fisheries worldwide. I thought there was hope when we were managing quotas and fishing pressure, but I am getting more and more cynical.
The last fish I caught was a huge Angolan tarpon.
POP QUIZ
MENTAL COBWEBS OR CEREBRAL SPRING-TRAP? HOLIDAY HANGOVER OR NEW-YEAR-NEW-YOU? TAKE OUR RAPID-FIRE QUIZ TO SEE IF YOU MANAGED TO ABSORB ANYTHING FROM THIS ISSUE.
1. Stu Harley’s Undercurrents was inspired by the rash of people claiming what (page 96)?
A. 20lb largemouth yellows on the Orange River.
B. 22in trout on the Smalblaar.
C. 70cm grunts in South African estuaries.
D. 100cm kob.
E. 20lb tigerfish.
2. According to MC Coetzer, what contagion are you likely to catch from his tigerfish buddy Conrad Botes (page 60)?
A. Hard luck.
B. Blind enthusiasm.
C. A particularly virulent case of gonorrhoea.
D. Trench foot.
E. All of the above.
3. What natural phenomenon usually associated with the ocean did Leonard Flemming experience at Gkhui Gkhui on the Orange River (page 50)?
A. Low and high tide.
B. Influencers taking close-up photos of their cheeks clapping in their thongs.
C. A prawn walk.
D. The Vaalie Charge (when Gautengers upon arriving at the beach run full tilt into the breakers while roaring).
E. Guys selling “lollies to make you jolly”.
4. According to Deon Meyer, what affliction did he experience while chasing peacock bass in Brazil (page 32)?
A. Stripper’s claw.
B. Pole dancer’s foot.
C. Slapper’s elbow.
D. Popper’s head.
E. Brushie’s bush.
5. According to Tudor Caradoc-Davies, which of the following is an actual Tasmanian fly (page 70)?
A. Turbo chook minnow.
B. Echidna-yes
C. Wombat blue dun.
D. Para-pademelon.
E. Possum Emerger.
6. What did our Lifer Andy Coetzee follow to America (page 100)?
A. The promise of redfish on surface flies.
B. The tarpon migration along the East Coast.
C. A source of the finest condensed milk.
D. A blonde with big tits.
E. The flight path of the northern wheatear.
Gear up. We don’t just tackle your rig; we help you pack like a pro. Discover a new luggage range designed to take you further. Durable, versatile and ready for wherever the road (or river) takes you. From braai grid holders to ammo box liners, we have bags to keep your beer cold, your socks separated from your jocks, and there’s even a toilet roll holder for when nature calls. Because overpacking isn’t a problem; it’s a superpower.
