SOMERSET EAST
EXPECT THE UNEXPECTED M A K I N G A L O N G O V E R D U E V I S I T T O A L A N H O B S O N AT T H E A N G L E R & A N T E L O P E ( A N G L E R A N D A N T E L O P E . C O . Z A ) I N S O M E R S E T E A S T, T U D O R C A R A D O C - D AV I E S E X P E C T E D Q U A L I T Y T R O U T F I S H I N G . H E G O T T H AT, B U T A L S O G O T A G L I M P S E O F S O M U C H M O R E . Photos.Gillian Caradoc-Davies, Tudor Caradoc-Davies
“Everything around here has a story,” said Alan Hobson as he navigated the turns of the Waainek Pass, just north of Somerset East. We were winding our way up to the top of the 1782m high Boschberg, the mountain that looms over the town, en route to the aptly named ‘Mountain Dam,’ one of many waters in the area that Alan has access to. In the car behind us were my parents, while Alan and I led the way in his bakkie. For my folks and me, the final destination for the trip was the Wild Coast/Transkei where we were meeting the rest of the clan for a family holiday. The idea was to break the journey by spending a few nights in Somerset East, fishing with Alan and staying at The Angler & Antelope, the guesthouse he and his wife Annabelle run. As we gained elevation on the Boschberg, Alan pointed out the change in flora between four distinct biomes, while continuing with his story-telling. He was giving me some historical background on the area, specifically the Slagtersnek Rebellion that occurred in 1815 a few kilometres away in the direction of Cookhouse. One of the catalysts for The Great Trek, the story of Slagtersnek has all the uneasy plot points of a latter-day Tarantino flick – a battle over land, racism, Boers, Brits, a Cape Coloured Regiment, a shooting, a trial, and a horrendous failed group execution by hanging that eventually went through on the second attempt.
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Reaching the Alpine escarpment covered in long grasses and stunted trees, to the north we could see the mountains where Thrift dam is, another destination just over three hours from Somerset East, and on the distant hills to the south we could see a new wind farm that had just been switched on. It took years to build and brought a boost to the depressed economy of the region, but with construction wrapping up, the lodgers and their spending are gradually moving on. Opportunities like this are scarce and Alan has seen how easy it is for them to pass his town by. Somerset East was almost chosen as the site for a new factory by the family who own the Montego dog food empire, but due to politics and infighting they took it to Graaf Reinet further up the R63. After battling with several farm gates, witnessed by the bemused resident horses and cattle, our day’s stillwater trout fishing on Mountain Dam commenced. My old man is a little wobbly on his legs these days, but sharp on the strike and within a couple of casts he had already caught the fish of the day. I picked off a few rising stockies on dry flies before we stopped for lunch, an impressive braai that Alan put together on a mini-Weber he hauled out the back of his bakkie. Talking of that bakkie, other than the fact that it was equipped with every bit of tackle or tool you might ever need for day’s fishing anywhere in the Eastern Cape, what blew me away was that most of the many ammo boxes stuffed into the back were packed with fly boxes. We’re talking filled to the brim with thousands and thousands of flies. You know… just in case. Later, I’d check out Alan’s fly shop around the corner from The Angler & Antelope and it would all make sense. About the size of your average family SUV, his shop is better stocked than many shops three times the size. My folks left Mountain Dam shortly after lunch and by the time I got back on the water the afternoon session switched on properly. The fish were hammering the tiny green Cormorant flies Alan had palmed me while packing up the braai. We stopped fishing when we lost the light and started to miss strikes. Plus I wasn’t sure if my hands were still attached to my arms, it was that cold.
W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M
