THE ITCH

BIG CITY TROUT THE ITCH

BIG CITY FISHING OPTIONS ARE HARD TO FIND. BIG CITY FISHING OPTIONS THAT ARE NOT BASS OR CARP ARE EVEN HARDER. FINDING SOMEWHERE TO CATCH TROUT, WHILE DOING YOUR BIT AS A DAD AND TAKING CONFERENCE CALLS… IN GREATER JOHANNESBURG? UNHEARD OF. OR SO BRAND STRATEGIST JADE DOS SANTOS THOUGHT UNTIL HE WORKED REMOTELY FROM THE HARD-TO-FIND X-FACTOR TROUT FARM ON THE EAST RAND.

Photos. Luke Pannell

When I was younger, I would sometimes fish the Cape Streams over four times a week. Most often twice at least. I also used to take extended 3-4 week-long trips to the North Eastern Cape to indulge my fishing needs, to escape the eternal hustle and bustle of the city, and spend time out of contact with the world to quieten my mind and feel lost in the great big wilderness.

Well… not anymore. Nowadays you most often find me staring longingly at duck ponds in the greenbelts of Johannesburg while I take my daughter for a walk. As I scan the water instinctively, I find myself wondering, between work commitments and fatherhood, how I strayed so far away from something so close to my heart?

Life is busy, but working dads need to be able enjoy a morning off. Without the lengthy piscatorial pursuits I once enjoyed, and especially with the Vaal River being out of action this whole summer, I now find myself trying to carve out a few hours to head to some close-by trout waters, which are so lacking in Johannesburg. A nearby day trip is a far more feasible option than driving three hours to go to Dullstroom for the weekend.

Or I might as well just surrender and take up golf, right? Yeah… right. Dan Factor of X-Factor saw the gap, and through long and hard negotiations, gained access to a spot that could fill that void for many dads and workaholics up here at reef level. This is the story of how a working Dad can get away on a Friday and spend at least part of the day fishing while also working. 5:48pm Alarm is set for 6:00am, but I’m awoken by loud screaming. Remove child from crib, insert in bed between wife and me.

6:12am Slept through alarm, awake with giggling child sticking finger in my nose. 6:18am Give bottle, have coffee, pack fishing and laptop bags into car, and try creep out the house before being noticed.

6:22am I refuse to walk around with one of those bright pink nappy bags, so I went and bought another Camo Range bag, the same as my fishing and hunting pack. Took nappy bag instead of fly fishing bag, so drive back home since I won’t be needing diapers where I am going, at least I shouldn’t.

I was noticed.

7:12am The 40-minute drive from Sandton to Germiston goes by in flash. Having never been to Germiston, I was unfamiliar with the terrain. I somehow was expecting a little urban farm or smallholding, but I find myself wedged firmly between a Builders Warehouse and a McDonald’s, in a big shopping complex. This certainly doesn’t look right. The GPS says X-Factor Trout Farm, but the view around me doesn’t seem to align with the intended destination.

7:13am Call Dan Factor, owner of X-Factor.

“Where the hell am I?”

Dan informs me I am indeed not lost, and that I need to drive down the servitude road next to the Builders Warehouse.

“The one with the tips out back?”

“Ja, that’s it.”

Dan had a sign, but some homeless dudes took it. The challenges of urban fishing are many. 7:13 am More intrigued than anything, yet filled with apprehension that I’ll find Ronald McDonald dishing out handjobs or discover how the Builders Warehouse boerie rolls are really made, I commence down the back alley. A very pleasant surprise comes in to view in the shape of a large clean body of water, with neatly mowed grass, multiple jetties and some guys already bobbing around in float tubes.

The challenge is on! Can I successfully go fishing, and manage to pull off a working Friday from the side of this urban dam, unnoticed by the office? 7:15 am - 7:30 am Set up the gear and have a few casts before the first meeting at 8 am. 7:55 am Put on shirt and jacket, set background to fade, and plan the day’s scheduling with the team. No hitches, no one suspects a thing. Dan joins me, we spend some time chatting. Like the urinal at a porno awards show, it’s a hell of a thing when as a casual angler, a Protea fisherman pulls up next to you and starts to fish.

I’m intrigued by this place and the clarity of the water. Dan tells me that the dam is spring-fed, and he had the water tested and it’s basically drinkable. That’s rare for any water source in the Gauteng region.

“COLLEAGUES SUSPICIOUS. THEY WANT TO KNOW HOW I ANIMATED MY MICROSOFT TEAMS BACKGROUND WITH THE MEN IN THE BOATS BOBBING AROUND AND CASTING.”

Dan quickly gets a few bumps, but can’t manage to stick a fish. I too get a few bumps, and nothing sticks. Dan, stripping a blob booby, and I on an egg-sucking leech. I refuse to use a blob.

Dan makes contact, sticks a fish, and a small stocky comes in. Dan starts telling me about how the dam is stocked with various size fish, rainbows and browns. Some bass and even a few yellowfish have come out of this surprising escape of a trout dam. 9:30am More people are arriving, the place is busy, but not too busy. I get many funny looks from passersby, seeing a man with his laptop out, and casting flies in a jacket and shirt made more for a boardroom than a set of waders.

That’s me. Business on top - quick dry parachute pants below.

10:00am Next meeting. Discussing a new brief from a client. Forget to put on a background fade, have to convince my colleagues that the picturesque dam behind me is just a background I chose. Colleagues suspicious. They want to know how I animated my Microsoft Teams background with the men in the boats bobbing around and casting. I blame Bill Gates and 5G and feign ignorance as to their new background selection technology. Continue meeting. Suddenly, nearby, there is loud shouting of “On Dad!” and almost as suddenly, my WIFI dropped and I was loadshed*.

I WhatsApp client, “We will have to continue the meeting on Monday.” 10:30 - 12:30am After Dan’s success on the blob, I relented and tied on one of those neon abominations that have no place in fly fishing. While casting away off a jetty, after picking up a few small stockies, a 10lber swims lazily passed me, choosing not to eat the blob I throw in front of it. A fish after my own heart. But also, what kind of stockies are these? Might this trophy actually be difficult to catch? In a stockie dam?

12:38am Call from Boss. Discuss new brief while I had the rod in my hand and line out. Get a tug, put call on hold, land and release another fish, pick up call, tell boss the line dropped, which it sort of did... ‘yer honour. “Where are you?” she asks. “On my way to the office,” I say. “Great, I will see you there,” she says. “Great, see you in 40 minutes!” I say, possibly slightly too chipper in tone. Shit. Bluff called. Blob retrieved.

Itch scratched. Mission successful.

1:30pm Back at the office, I give my boss a courtesy wave and sit at my desk, parachute pants sliding off the chair. Another meeting alert pops up in the corner of my screen. I press “Join meeting,” and wait for it to kick off. My mind is still on a dam in Germiston where a blob-hating 10lber swims past me again. *For non-South African readers, this is a unique turn of phrase our government uses to describe staggered power outages by suburb as a management plan for the country’s electricity grid due to decades of their own incompetence and corruption.