Undercurrents

After a few competitive cold beers with fellow guide Greg Ghaui on the banks of a Tanzanian river some years ago, I had an epiphany. The initial catalyst for this thought came up earlier that day after watching my guest land yet another good-sized Brevis Tigerfish after he had made a surprisingly short cast, a surprisingly slow retrieve and (contrary to tiger norm), fought the fish on the reel and without a care in the world.

In that moment it dawned on me that, as we improve our angling technical competencies and abilities, we may be fishing less intuitively and effectively. That may sound quite controversial but hear me out.

Too Much!

As our fly-fishing expertise grows, we suddenly have the desire to cast a million miles. Quite often we cast directly over the fish that was unaware of our presence until we dumped 100 feet of line over its head. I say, ‘we’ because I have done the same. Think of how, when we are on the bank, we want to cast to the middle and beyond. And when we are on a boat, we suddenly want to cast as close to the shore as we possibly can. Too much moving, making too much noise, making too many rod angle changes, with a few too many ideas.

TOO MUCH, TOO FAST, TOO SOON

THE MOTTO OF THE OLYMPICS IS ‘FASTER, HIGHER, STRONGER’. VIN DIESEL’S IS ‘FASTER, MORE FURIOUS…BOET’ (OR SO WE IMAGINE). IF GUIDE, STU HARLEY, HAD A MOTTO IT WOULD PROBABLY BE, “LESS, SLOWER, I SAID SLOWER.” HERE’S WHY.

Photos. Stu Harley, Johann Vorster

Don’t get me wrong. I truly believe that the more we observe, the more we learn and the better we fish and open ourselves to experiencing the beauty many fly fishing destinations offer. I also believe that one can do all this, ‘nice and slow’. Too much can also mean too many. Instead of focusing on a great fish count why not savour that one special fish? For this reason I talk to my clients about moving goalposts so that we can make it our aim to catch one special fish together and enjoy that special moment having taken the time to work on, catch and admire that fish.

Too Fast!

This one is easy and points straight to the possibility that we may be stripping too fast. I don’t say this like I’m a 400 year-old, waving my finger at you astride some high noble steed. Perhaps we think of predatory fish as mindless killers zooming around murdering everything as they go. In the case of giant trevally I have often seen where the fast strip might get the fish moving but, in all honesty, I believe it was where the fly landed that got the fish to take, rather than the speed of the strip. With GTs, even if you saw the fish come from two kilometres away and it stopped for coffee five times on its journey, you still wouldn’t have enough time to sort your shit out. More often than not, after a brief clusterfuck of some description, you hurriedly lob a four metre-high, out-swinging loop at the fish.

Try to imagine being prepared as best as you possibly can be for that fish, having walked or stood with your fly ready to go, your line neatly organised for a good, well-placed cast, your drag set to adequately break his spirit on his first post-fly, murdering dash. Basically, by slowing down at the beginning, you have put yourself in a position to make the cast you’ve made a thousand times before, but when it matters the most … C.T.F.D (calm the fuck down)

There has to be something to the fact that, over the years, many of the huge fish I have netted in Tanzania have been caught by clients who themselves were older, ‘wily old trout’. Although they were stripping as fast as they could and fighting the fish as hard as they could, this was generally ‘quite slow’. It was not that strong, but perhaps just the right speed for a fish that had eluded some of the world’s finest anglers. Generally, just in going too fast, wading too fast, walking too fast, tying knots too fast, they were missing, spooking or losing the very thing we are so feverishly looking for.

Too Soon

This is most easily explained by using anchor fishing as an example. I always try telling my clients to imagine the area below the boat as a grid and to make sure their fly finds itself in every little box before I lower the boat another metre.

“THE MORE WE OBSERVE, THE MORE WE LEARN AND THE BETTER WE FISH”

One of the greatest and most beautiful aspects of fly fishing (and fishing in general), is the element of exploration. There is not much new or undiscovered left in the natural world but nothing will lure you more effectively than that deep, instinctive desire to see what’s around the next bend in the river, or the next bay around the corner. Over the years, I have been very fortunate to be a part of explorations to new fishing waters across Africa and I have always had to remind myself to juggle the need to take in and see the whole place versus fishing it well to establish what the hell is in the water. No regrets! But I probably raced over plenty of fish-saturated water to see what was coming up next. Having said all of this, I know it is true that we all fish for different reasons. Some fish to escape, some to be with friends, some to be alone … the list goes on, but whatever that ‘why’ may be, if you find yourself scratching for a fish on a slow day, maybe that’s the day to go slow.