The Mission Fly Fishing Magazine Issue #42 by The Mission Fly Fishing Magazine

ISSUE 42 NOV/DEC 2023

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MZIMKHULU SCALIES, GREAT EXPECTATIONS, MONK MODE IN MEXICO, ARCTIC DETOX, MICE-EATING TROUT, BEERS, BEATS & MORE

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W W W . T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M ISSUE 42 NOV/DEC 2023

CONTENTS Cover: Nic Schwerdtfeger hops onto a rock on a small river in Norway. Photo Álvaro G. Santillán

44. CABIN FEVER Revelling in a special wild place Nic Schwerdtfeger and Álvaro G Santillán follow both the account and the footsteps of two Norwegians who built a cabin in the woods on a river 40 years ago. 50. GREAT EXPECTATIONS In more ways than one, Ryan Janssens bled his way across the UK in search of pike. When he returned home, it was with a deeper, unexpected, piscatorial passion. 66. MONK MODE Swapping his usual solo, on-foot exploration for a guided skiff at the Palometa Club in Ascension Bay, Peter Coetzee had to get to grips with his mind before he could get to grips with big, flyspitting Atlantic permit. 74. MILKING THE COW Like a Pavlovian piscatorial Pepé Le Pew following the scent of a dairy farm and indigenous fish, Leonard Flemming travelled to southern KwaZulu-Natal, explored the Mzimkhulu River, fought a cow, and grappled with trophy Natal yellowfish. 86. ARCTIC DETOX Driven by both a need for a break from digital connectivity and a dread for the destruction we’re unleashing on the planet, freelance writer Scott Diel escapes to the Arctic tundra with friends to catch char. But first he needs to become worthy of them. 92. OF PIGS AND PLAGUES When he’s not taking clients out on saltwater flats, seasoned Australian guide Eugene Pawlowski likes to lose himself in New Zealand’s South Island backcountry. He tells us about his love for the place and a season he experienced with a very unique “hatch”.

REGULAR FEATURES 16 Ed’s Letter 24 Beers, Beats & Munchies 28 Undercurrents 32 Wish List Fish 34 High Fives

106 Salad Bar 116 Pay Day 118 Fluff 120 Lifer 126 Pop Quiz

As Peter Coetzee discovered, jacuzzis at The Palometa Club in Punta Allen, Mexico include juvenile tarpon and margaritas. Photo. Francois Botha.

T&T Ambassador Alec Gerbec on the Snake River Wyoming

the next generation Ask a group of experienced anglers to name the greatest dry fly rod of all time, and the T&T Paradigm is sure to be mentioned more than once. Over twenty years later, we’ve followed the same inspiration that made the original into a legend to create a new Paradigm for the 21st century.

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T U D O R CA R A D O C - DAV I ES

POINT BREAK

xhausted, burnt out, stressed, needing some rest. This is the general state of Springbok supporters watching knock-out rugby these days (at the time of going to print we do not know the outcome of the 2023 Rugby World Cup, I thought better of calling a win), but it also feels like a fair description of where we are on a species and planetary level. By some metrics, life is better now than it was 50, 100, 500 years ago, but as the planet deals with a fever of record temperatures, the sweats of record floods, and fresh versions of ancient wars, it feels like we have a more uncertain future than ever. The connecting thread in the stories of this issue is about what drives anglers beyond the fishing. To find peace from their thoughts, a cool balm for the heat of the real world, and quiet in the ever-connected roar, they fish. Scott Diel touches on this in his Arctic Detox (page 86), lamenting the state of the planet while trying to catch char in the tundra while he still can. “To survive the digital world, I need to totally escape it. To go where not even a telephone signal can penetrate.” For Peter Coetzee in Monk Mode (page 66), heading to Mexico in search of plus-sized Atlantic permit, the challenge was as much about controlling what goes on in his melon (and switching that off) as it was trying to decipher why permit do (or don’t) do what they do (or don’t do). “My first few days I let it all get to me. I’m on holiday, so I don’t use any of my little brain tricks to clear it out. And then I realise I have to. I’m becoming my absolute worst nightmare; my mind is just questions and no answers.” For Leonard Flemming in Milking the Cow (page 74) it was about toil and redemption, working bloody hard both mentally and physically to bounce back from losing a monster carp and to then catch his best scaly.

Peter Coetzee fighting a mental battle against Mexican permit.

“There were no other fly anglers in sight, just the sound of the river, the odd fish splash and weaverbirds chattering from the thorn trees hanging over the water. This was one of those moments in fishing that I live for, ironically finding glory and peace of mind after getting a proper hiding from a big one that got away.” For Nic Schwerdtfeger in Cabin Fever (page 44), it was about taking long walks down different valleys in search of salmon with his fishing buddy Álvaro, finding perspective and discovering a place where 40 years earlier two guys had similar ideas. “That GT doesn’t care about your six-figure salary, that permit gives no shits about your Rolex collection, and the trout most definitely are not impressed by your latest and greatest gear and your Instagram game. Nature has to be the greatest equaliser.” As many of you head into the summer months and get some time off, I hope you get a bit of what you need, whether that’s a good fish on the end of your line, or just a quiet moment on a rock in the sun with the sound of a river beside you.

“THAT GT DOESN’T CARE ABOUT YOUR SIX-FIGURE SALARY.” 16

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Photo. Stephan Dombaj

With his The Mission cap, his blood and duck guano-stained chinos and his suggestive pelvic thrusts, Ryan Janssens was all the rage with the UK’s pike.

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

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CONTRIBUTORS #42 PJ Vadas, Ryan Janssens, Jazz Kuschke, Scott Diel, Eugene Pawlowski, Leonard Flemming, Peter Coetzee, Liam van der Merwe, The Useless Recrimmercial, Nic Schwerdtfeger, Stu Harley, Andrew Baxter PHOTOGRAPHERS #42 Álvaro G Santillán, Matt Kennedy, Stephan Dombaj, Ryan Janssens, The Useless Recrimmercial, Liam van der Merwe, Francois Botha, Peter Coetzee, Andrew Baxter

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THE MISSION IS PUBLISHED 6 TIMES A YEAR. THE MISSION WILL WELCOME CONTENT AND PHOTOS. WE WILL REVIEW THE CONTRIBUTION AND ASSESS WHETHER OR NOT IT CAN BE USED AS PRINT OR ONLINE CONTENT. THE OPINIONS EXPRESSED IN THIS MAGAZINE ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE MAGAZINE OR ITS OWNERS. THE MISSION IS THE COPYRIGHT OF SOUTIE PRESS (PTY) LTD. ANY DUPLICATION OF THIS MAGAZINE, FOR MEDIA OR SALE ACTIVITY, WILL RESULT IN LEGAL ACTION, AND PJ VADAS RUBBING HEMINGWAY’S SECRET SEASONING INTO YOUR VUNDUS, PLUS AN ALL-EXPENSES PAID VACATION TO PETER COETZEE’S MIND.

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CHUM T H E F E AT H E R S A W A R D , N E W F L I C K S , A C & R T O O L K I T, S C O T T S W I N G , N E W L E AT H E R M A N A N D R I O S P O O LS , P LU S A M U ST- R E A D B O O K

GRAB THE POPCORN FOR… …ALL THAT IS SACRED, a new/old film about the celebrated crew of writers and artists including Thomas McGuane, Jim Harrison, Richard Brautigan and Jimmy Buffett who partied and fly fished hard for tarpon in Florida in the ‘70s. Fillmmaker Scott Ballew used remastered footage from the original Tarpon film by Guy de la Valdéne and Christian Odasso to create the 34-minute All That Is Sacred, which is seen as a companion film to Tarpon and includes interviews with both the last surviving member of the crew, McGuane, and Buffett, who passed away this year. For more on this era, check out our interview with author Monte Burke in Issue 41 and read Monte’s book, Lords of the Fly. youtube.com

SHWING BADDA BADDA… …SWING, because that’s the name of Scott’s new multi-purpose rod for steelhead and salmon. Single, double, thrupple, this rod was made for keys-in-the-bowl swingers who want to be able to do it all – floating lines, sinking lines, dry flies, wet flies, traditional swing, riffle hitch, Skagit, Scandi, even nymph and indicator. Packed with the same tech found in Scott’s flagship Sector and Centric rods, the Swing range includes two single-handed rods, a 7-weight and an 8-weight which are 9’8” long. In the two-hand department you’re spoiled for choice with 12 rods ranging from an 11’8” 4-weight to a 16’1” 10-weight. scottflyrod.com

“THIS ROD WAS MADE FOR KEYS-IN-THE-BOWL SWINGERS WHO WANT TO BE ABLE TO DO IT ALL.”

GET YOUR HANDS ON… …THE KEEP FISH WET TOOLKIT Champions of fish care, Keep Fish Wet (KFW), have come out with a brilliant new free toolkit to re-enforce the guiding principles around proper C&R (catch and release). Most people feel they already know what to do, but it’s common to see seasoned anglers wielding Boga grips, with their fingers in fishes’ gills or rolling fish on the bank. With this toolkit, which includes a mix of physical and digital resources, including waterproof bestpractices cards, principle stickers, KFW stickers, a best practices overview document and briefing template, a rubber fish, best practices video and a post-trip “Thank You and Conservation Causes” email template, the idea is that guides, fly shops and lodges keep pushing the KFW message. Currently available in the USA, with international roll-out in 2024. keepfishwet.org

HAT TIP… …TO RIO for replacing their previous plastic spools with spools made from 100% recycled newsprint that is both recyclable and home compostable. The material looks similar to what egg cartons are made from and retains the same geometry as the plastic spools, which ensures they’ll still work when winding lines onto reels on mechanical winders. RIO says this change will save up to 9 000kg of plastic per year. farbank.com

TIE TWO FOR THE SOUTH AFRICAN SUMMER Heading to the coast this summer and looking to get your rod bent? Then we recommend tying up both of these multi-purpose patterns. Ewan Naude’s Grunter Clouser proves that, if fished the right way, you do not need fancy grunter patterns for Eastern Cape and Wild Coast grunter. It will also catch kob, leeries and other species. Conrad Botes’s Steve Austin was designed for fishing coastal flats for blacktail, but it does the job on wildeperd, kob and leervis too. youtube.com/c/themissionflyfishingmagazine

MAKE SPACE… …IN YOUR EDC for Leatherman have unleashed their latest premium multitool, the ARC. Featuring premium components throughout, the ARC is the first-ever multi-tool to have a MagnaCut steel blade with DLC coating giving you superior edge retention and durability. Using Leatherman’s advanced FREE technology, the ARC uses magnets so features open easily with one hand (no fingernails required, you nervous wreck). The 20 tools it packs include Leatherman’s most popular and highly-requested features like large and small bit drivers, a diamond-coated file, pliers (both needlenose and regular), pry tool, wire cutters and more. leatherman.com, awesometools.co.za

THE BOOK SEARCHING FOR TELOS BY TOM DORSEY Keen for a cocktail of jazz, philosophy and what it takes to build a legendary rod brand? That, in short, is the story of Tom Dorsey, founder of Thomas & Thomas fly rods. We read an early draft of this book and we can tell you, it’s fantastic as not only a memoir but also a history of one of the world’s best rod brands and for Tom’s commentary on the search for meaning and self-purpose (Telos). It’s also full of surprises as Tom, who came from a poor immigrant family, tells his journey from gigging jazz musician and philosophy student into one of the world’s foremost rod designers. thomasandthomas.com

IT’S FEATHERS AWARD TIME. SEND US YOUR FISH.

HOLD ON TO YOUR PANTIES… …IT’S FEATHERS TIME, which is your opportunity to win The Mission’s ever-so prestigious Feathers Award. If you’ve caught an interesting fish on the African continent (size, difficulty, and rarity all count), then submit your entry now. Past winners include Ed and Barns Ghaui for their Niger barbs from Gashaka, Leonard Flemming’s 18,8lb Clannie and David Falck’s nocturnal musselcracker.Judged by our supreme court of experts, cut-off date for entries is December 15. The winner will be announced in January 2024 and will have their name added to the bronze sculpture you see here. Send entries to info@themissionflymag.com.

THE BABER SCOPE YOUR FISHING FUTURE ACCORDING TO YOUR STAR SIGN AS READ BY BABERMAN, THE LEGENDARY GRUMPY CATFISH. Scorpio (The Scorpion) October 23 - November 21

A scorpion wants to cross a river but cannot swim, so it asks a frog to carry it across. The frog goes, “Tsek bra, you’ll naai me with that spyker.” The scorpion promises not to. Midway across the river, the frog does a reverse frontside noseblunt slide off a lily pad, snaps the scorpion’s stinger off on a bulrush, eats his body and, using the ripped-off claws as props for his mates, tunes them, “Look at me, I’m a crab, ribbit, ribbit.” Moral of the story? Do not fish frog patterns in the months ahead. Bad things will happen.

Sagittarius (The Archer) November 22 - December 21

You Saggies like people and people like you, but there is a but. Clinginess. You attract clingers. Stage-5 Klingons if you will. “What time will you be home?” “Why do you never fish with me?” You simply can’t stand a cling-on. In fact, when it comes to fishing, clinginess is your worst thing. You hit the water, you want space, so much of it in fact that you are happy heading off in one direction only to re-connect at the end of the day. I approve of this behaviour, but at the risk of seeming – gasp – unfriendly, you might want to let people know why you are the way you are. A free-spirited clown and all that.

Capricorn (The goat) December 22 - January 19

You know by now that easy fish are not your style, goat. Your hard-working, determined hustler extraordinaire stereotype is going to be in full swing for you this summer, but in order for you to be the angling GOAT you know yourself to be, you are going to have to prove it. In the words of 2 Unlimited and their 1993 hit “No Limit”, there is no valley too deep, no mountain too high. Push yourself beyond the next-next-next bend in the river and have a 100 last casts. There’s a piscatorial pot of gold awaiting you there.

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Photo: Mark Seacat

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BEER, BEATS & MUNCHIES Photos. Matt Kennedy

H E M I N G WAY ’ S G O - T O B U R G E R , C B C L I T E L A G E R A N D D J PJ ’ S B E AT S

“If I had to change anything about this recipe, it would be the red wine. You can taste it in the patty, so I would either reduce it beforehand or leave it out.” “He was sharing a patty recipe. For the burger itself, you can add all the trimmings and build it the way you like it. I added a bread and butter pickle, tomato, and lettuce, but you could add cheese or other toppings.” “The end result is great. Quite savoury, the spices come through well, especially with the garlic and spring onion. If you like garlic, you can up that a bit. It’s quite a spiced patty so it tastes quite meatballish, like a frikkadel, but it’s very nice and brings out the flavour of the beef well.”

THE BURGER - PAPA’S PATTY Along with being one of the finest writers of his, or any, generation, Ernest Hemingway was also a mad-keen angler and a serious gourmand. In a trove of personal documents released by the John F Kennedy Museum in Boston was a typed page with his preferred burger patty recipe complete with Hemingway’s handwritten notes. We roped in chef PJ Vadas of Vadas Smokehouse (vadas.co.za), South Africa’s pre-eminent BBQ joint, to make up some burgers according to Papa’s specifications. For the beef he used the phenomenal grass-fed, growth hormone-free beef mince from Farmer Angus (farmerangus.co.za) at Spier where Vadas Smokehouse is based. For the two discontinued Spice Island mixes PJ did some homework online and made near-identical blends.

INGREDIENTS 1 lb. ground lean beef 2 cloves, minced garlic 2 little green onions, finely chopped 1 heaping teaspoon, India relish 2 tablespoons, capers 1 heaping teaspoon, Spice Islands sage 1 egg, beaten in a cup with a fork About one-third cup dry red or white wine 1 tablespoon cooking oil

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Spice Islands Beau Monde Seasoning - ½ teaspoon This has been discontinued but you can make your own from salt, ground bay leaf, ground allspice, ground black pepper and ground cloves (1 tablespoon of each), plus onion powder, white pepper, ground nutmeg, ground mace and ground celery seed (1 teaspoon of each). Mix all the ingredients together and store in a jar with a tight-fitting lid. Spice Islands Mei Yen Powder - ½ teaspoon This has also been discontinued, but make your own by mixing nine parts salt, nine parts sugar, and two parts MSG. Or, as PJ says, “Just use braai spice.”

THE BEER - CBC LITE LAGER Over the last 10 years the Cape Brewing Company (CBC) has established itself as one of South Africa’s premium craft breweries, thanks in large part to the original brewmaster, Wolfgang Koedel. The man is a perfectionist who spent decades working for Paulaner Brauerei opening breweries all over the world before settling in the Cape. So, when he turned his attention to the market trend towards light beer, it was never going to be what Monty Python said when referring to American beer: “Like making love in a canoe” (fucking close to water). PJ Vadas’s beer of choice for the Hemingway burger and for hot summer days, this delicious all-day quaffer is light on calories (less than 100 per serving) and alcohol (3.5%), but strong on flavour. capebrewing.co.za

THE BEATS - DJ PJ’S PLAYLIST Perhaps befitting a braai/BBQ guru, PJ’s playlist is strong on country, both of the South African variety (Zinkplaat’s “Karoo Poison” and David Kramer’s “Royal Hotel” spring to mind), but also American (Sturgill Simpson, Colter Wall, Dolly Parton, Kenny Rogers and Johnny Cash. Being a chef, he’s even thrown in some Meatloaf. “MAAAAA, the Meatloaf!” Listen at themissionflymag.com

“ T H E F I N E S T S H I T H O L E S P E C I E S I N T H E B E S T S H I T H O L E D E S T I N AT I O N S .”

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THIS IS SPARTA O N E O F O U R FAV O U R I T E I N S TA G R A M A C C O U N T S , T H E USELESS RECRIMMERCIAL ( I N S TA G R A M . C O M / DURBANRECRIMMERCIAL), RIPS INTO THE FUNNY SIDE O F F I S H I N G . B U T T H AT D A R K H U M O U R C O M E S F R O M H AV I N G S E E N S O M E S H I T. H E R E , H E WRITES ABOUT THE WORST ANGLER HE EVER GUIDED. Photos. The Useless Recrimmercial

had an amazing teacher in my final year of high school. In between the clichéd Dead Poets moments he showed a twinge of cynicism which made him just a bit more real than a silver screen portrayal. A gruff man, he used to line up a supply of worn tennis balls that would ping out across the classroom at furious speed towards any misdemeanour. He caught me reading a book under my desk one day. After the obligatory bouncer to the dome, he saw that the book was an old copy of Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. He told me I might as well return it to the library. I didn’t quite understand what he meant at the time. “Read that again when you’ve had a little more experience of how bad people can be.” Marlin in the spread! In another life, I cleared the left teaser as a pack of white marlin revved in, lit up in electric blues. A Mongol horde, their arching brows showed a focused frown of anger and aggression, determined as they were to take out anything in sight. Our guest, a woman, expertly dropped her fly in their path and the lead fish keyed straight in on the skipping, winding fly. “FISH ON!” echoed the shout from up on the bridge.

Inevitably, Phil came barging across the deck. “Get out my way and give me the rod,” he bellowed, pushing our guest back from the transom and wrenching the rod out of her hands. As he settled into the rod and butchered the fight, his frantic attempts at retrieval were matched, concerto style, with his panicked and childlike screams of instruction. Scenes of Michael Scott (from The Office) in full flight could not match the comedy of this sight. Between the huffing, the abysmal technique and the barely legible shouts, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

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“I TOLD YOU SOUTH AFRICANS I WOULD SHOW YOU HOW A REAL MAN CATCHES A FISH.”

After making a 45-minute mountain of a five-minute molehill, the small fish was next to the boat, on the leader and away, seemingly none the worse for being on the other end of this deliriously mismatched equation. Lighting a fat gwaai and sitting back on the transom, Phil turned to us. With a huffing rasp and a seriousness borne purely of narcissism, he roundly announced: “I told you South Africans I would show you how a real man catches a fish.” I worked out the angle fairly instantly and my kick was easily placed. I mean, he presented a large enough target. Spartan style. It was almost too easy. Gerard Butler himself would be proud.

Phil’s shocked little beady eyes seemed confused as he sank away into the depths. The mood on the boat lit up as everyone on board realised we would never have to fish with Phil ever again. Who is the worst fisherman you have ever met? There is a depth to this topic. It’s one I’m deadly serious about after a few years of guiding. I don’t mean a guy who occasionally sends his flies into the nearest willow or has the odd off day. I mean a man (because somehow it always is) who is the antithesis of the fishing spirit. It can’t just be a bad angler who knows it, either – those guys are very often the nicest guys on the beat and equally as often pick up some skills along the way. It has to be someone whose lack of angling skill is inversely related to his misplaced confidence in his abilities. Once in your life you have to have the experience of meeting “THAT GUY”. A wanker whose very presence causes Gaudian overwinds. That guy who “can never find crew”. That yokel thrashing up a pristine Berg ravine with a 10-weight. The rich guy who thinks a fat wallet does a skilled angler make. The muppet whose library of catches came from a drone drop. In my case, “that guy” was Phil. I was unlucky enough to join a team guiding Phil through a marlin season in a dusty, decrepit African city. This was a journey and location straight out of old Conrad’s books. Phil’s requests and demands quickly evolved from the usual rich client fever dreams into a Kafkaesque netherworld of fishing purgatory. The crazy Hungarian, Kafka, offered up a fairly straightforward definition of the situation we found ourselves in. “You’ve entered into a surreal world in which all your control patterns, all your plans, the whole way in which you’ve configured your own behaviour, begins to fall to pieces. You struggle against this with whatever you have – but of course, you don’t stand a chance.” In Phil’s surreal world, there was no control. Up was down. Black was white. He “held records”, but bait jig after bait jig proved to be too complex for his skills. He scoffed at our answers to maintenance questions – apparently, we had no clue about boats. He demanded to know why we weren’t running certain teasers, when we had had them going for hours. In an unfathomable display of homophobic fragility, he told us not to use pink teasers, as they “looked gay”. Fish after fish made it off the hook, but Phil was fortunately never responsible.

The captain (a renowned NSRI skipper) hadn’t driven right. The lure was too big, or too small. We, the deckhands, were in the way. We had “messed with his drag”. Trying to help in any way was met with fierce resistance – there was simply no fathomable possibility that the universe could align in a way where Phil could be wrong. Here was a truly caustic motherfucker who could send catatonically burned-out guides into a twisting, cursing paroxysm of furious rage. True Apocalypse Now shit. Common sense had long ago left the building and I started to question my sanity in the face of this onslaught of strange data points. At first I thought it was the beers. Then I thought it was the hash (still do at times). Then it was the heat or the combination of all the above.

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“EVERYTHING IN FRONT OF ME SEEMED SUDDENLY BRIGHT AND ROSY.”

How could one man cause such a fugue of confusion and rage? Then through the insanity came that comment. “I told you South Africans I would show you how a real man catches a fish.” Instead of succumbing to my violent Spartan daydream, the red fog cleared. The complete disconnect from reality in this statement, in a roundabout way, brought a sense of normality back to my world. Everything made sense. Chaos turned to order. Sanity was restored. What evil lies in the heart of man? I saw it in front of me. A man who can attempt to twist as fine a sport as ours is a toxin, all rust and flowering corrosion. It’s a rule of the

universe that you will, at some point, encounter someone whose very presence on the water represents a walking clusterfuck of contradictions and bad karma. I had met that person. Everything in front of me seemed suddenly bright and rosy. Never again would my piscatorial endeavours be intruded upon to such an extent. Like a child, everything in front of me was exciting. This was a U-turn away from the heart of darkness. I was naked and free in a brave new world, wildly and ecstatically so. Mr Johnson, I feel like I’m ready to check a certain book out again. I’ve seen how bad a man can be.

WISH LIST FISH

MASSIVE SLAPPERS V U N D U , A F R I C A’ S B I G G E S T F R E S H WAT E R F I S H , C A N B E TA R G E T E D O N F LY. E X P E R I E N C E D A F R I C A N F LY F I S H I N G G U I D E S T U H A R L E Y T E L L S U S H O W T O D O I T. Photos. c/o Stu Harley

WHAT: The vundu (Heterobranchus longifilis) is the largest true freshwater fish in Africa. Adults can grow to a whopping 1.5m in length and can weigh up to 55kg, although local fables inflate these measurements. A key feature is the large fleshy adipose fin posterior to the dorsal fin. Vundu, like most catfish, are generalists, extremely well suited to adapt to any ecosystem and with the ability to survive outside of the water for extended periods. Almost all wild populations of vundu share habitat with a number of crocodile species, which presents a few research challenges… But what is known is that they can live for more than 12 years and in some systems have been known to hybridise with African sharptooth catfish (Clarias gariepinus) resulting in bastard offspring known as Hetero-clarias.

Tanzania and also come across some sitting at depths of 30m in the African lakes that they call home.

Depending on the habitat, they fill the niche of deep-water scavenger, feeding on animal remains, but in some rivers they are considered an apex predator. Using their long barbels for detection, they actively hunt and capture most prey in proximity, from baitfish to small ducks.

HOW: As for the kit, a 9-weight with a sinking line, or standard 300 grain shooting head line, and a 35-40lb leader will do. We fish large bulky flies that hold a significant presence in the water. Vundu are able to zone in on the turbulence created by these larger flies.

WHERE: Vundu frequent and occupy most freshwater systems in subSaharan Africa. Habitat preference is not really considered due to their generalist nature, but most will almost always be near a deeper/ slower moving piece of water, having the option to retreat if threatened or wanting to hold. I have seen vundu aggressively hunting yellowfish in shallows, riffles and rapids throughout

The best way is to find an area or barrier that the fish are hunting in, and to slap your fly onto the water’s surface repeatedly. The vundu (if present) will investigate the disturbance. Then comes the exciting part of feeding a fly to a very visible and potentially massive freshwater fish. Surprisingly, I have never seen or heard of vundu showing interest in surface flies or lures of any kind. They are best targeted in

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moving river water, because hunting a free-swimming vundu in a lake would be too vague and more than likely too unproductive. A small handful of lodges in Africa are suited for actively targeting vundu. WHO: The vundu’s size makes it a highly obtainable source of protein in Africa, which is why this widespread species is sadly quite scarce. All of the ideal rivers for targeting vundu are few and far between and all inside national parks under the custodianship of private tour operators. Tanzania is your best bet, but there aren’t really any DIY options. In my opinion the best place to target a trophy vundu on fly is Majestic Rivers (majesticrivers.com) on the Kilombero River in Tanzania. For more from Stu, check out his Instagram account at @stuart_harley_

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HIGH FIVES

LIAM VAN DER MERWE COMING OUT OF THE COMP SCENE AND INTO THE CAULDRON OF PROFESSIONAL GUIDING, OVER THE LAST FEW YEARS L I A M VA N D E R M E R W E ’ S C A R E E R H A S TA K E N O F F. W I T H THE ORANGE RIVER, ANGOLA AND THE SEYCHELLES ON HIS C V, T H E S K Y ’ S T H E L I M I T. Photos. c/o Liam van der Merwe

5 best things about where you guide? 1. Chatting to the locals in the areas that I’ve guided has always excited me to the core. The wild stories they have about the fishing in the area over the years always blow me away. 2. The wildlife. I’ve always been a sucker for incredible wildlife; creepy crawlies and specifically scorpions are my thing. 3. Fellow guides. Building relationships with different guides is the best. Listening to their experienced knowhow has brought me tremendous growth. Former X-Factor Angling head guide Luke Pannell contributed greatly to my guiding etiquette. 4. The fish. Without them I’d be jobless! 5. My clients. I’ve met some legendary clients in my short career and I can’t wait to meet more. 5 fishing-connected items you don’t leave home without. 1. Fujifilm X-T2 with a 35mm prime lens. 2. Fishpond Thunderhead Submersible Lumber Pack. All the good stuff goes in there. 3. Lucky pair of medical forceps. Gifted to me by a fellow nurse, they have been with me on every one of my guiding seasons. Nothing like that medical-grade stainless steel. 4. Rip Curl Mirage boardies. I have a couple of pairs going on six years of use. 5. Box of gwaais [cigarettes]. For those times you need to go back to the drawing board, or for great celebrations!

5 bands you listen to on a road trip? 1. Kings of Leon. Who doesn’t like them? 2. Red Hot Chili Peppers. 3. Green Day. Have listened to them from a young age. 4. alt-J. Makes me feel like going for a fly fish. 5. NTO. I enjoy a bit of techno every now and then to get the blood pumping. 5 things you’re loving right now? 1. Fly tying. I’ve been tying for years now but the saltwater flies are my favourite. Rupert Harvey’s printed crab bodies and beast fly cones are game changers. 2. Conventional land-based spinning, queen mackerel and garrick are great fun. 3. Exploring new fishing locations locally on the fly. This offseason has been eye opening as to what’s on my doorstep! 4. Videography. I’ve been enjoying filming recently (fishing films of course). 5. Golf. I recently played my first round and found out it’s not that bad. 5 indispensable flies for saltwater? 1. Clousers, in all different sizes and weights. It’s the oracle fly for me. 2. Bucktail baitfish. From small to big, these flies have incredible movement. Fish can’t say no. 3. Alphlexo crabs. Everything eats them. 4. Crazy Charlies, in every colour imaginable. 5. The J.A.M fly. One of my favourite estuary prawn flies.

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Liam van der Merwe with a little tank of a chiselmouth from the Umzimkulu.

in between massive boulders on a steep gradient. 3. Cosmoledo, Seychelles to get your GT numbers. 4. Lobito, Angola. I caught small dorado on fly literally off the dock in the harbour. 5. Vltava River, Czech Republic, memories of catching over a hundred wild browns in a single day amongst a bunch of different whitefish species at the World Championships. 5 of the most difficult guiding/teaching experiences? 1. Teaching the double-haul. I’m still trying to work out a speedy method of doing this for someone who’s never done it before. 2. Trying to explain how it’s going to feel when a largemouth yellowfish eats your fly to someone who’s never felt it. This matters when you only get three or four eats a week. 3. Explaining to clients how to get a drag-free drift while still having contact with your flies, while nymphing for trout and yellows. 4. Having to tie countless 7x leaders during a day guiding the Bushmans River, only to break off in another tree on the next cast. 5. Setting the hook on a GT. When I tell you to keep stripping after he eats, that’s literally what I mean.

5 indispensable flies for freshwater? 1. Zonkers. Anything with rabbit zonker is always my go-to when fishing new and old trout water. 2. Pheasant tail nymphs. Countless species have been caught on these. 3. Jig Buggers, the equivalent of heroin to most freshwater species. 4. CDC parachute dries. Pink Antron posts on these are my favourite. 5. Spanish Perdigons have been my top performing flies in many river competitions. 5 favourite fly fishing destinations across Africa? 1. Barkly East, this is the equivalent of Jackson Hole and Colorado for trout in South Africa! 2. Richtersveld, Orange River, the Mecca of large- and smallmouth yellowfish. 3. Lobito, Angola, sailfish and dorado on fly for free. It’s too good! 4. Queenstown, South Africa, this is where all the 10lbplus trout live. 5. Umzimkulu River, South Africa, most sections of this river are great for Natal yellowfish (scalies) and definitely one of my favourites for them. 5 favourite fly fishing destinations globally? 1. Alphonse and St François atolls, Seychelles. These atolls have out of this world bonefishing. 2. Devil Stones, Czech Republic, hundreds of wild browns

5 of the best things you have picked up from guiding? 1. Great people skills. Meeting random people every week and entertaining them for hours each day has enabled me to get on with almost everyone. 2. An even greater appreciation and obsession with fish, not a bad thing. 3. Being seriously pedantic about my gear. I’m a perfectionist at heart, and this adds that extra 1% at the end of the day. 4. Learning to respect the elements and the creatures within them (not just the fish). 5. Some great business and money ideas from hours spent with successful entrepreneurs. 5 of the worst things you’ve picked up from guiding? 1. The severe abuse of my bank account, due to fishing tackle, etc. 2. Some wildly funny mannerisms. 3. Comparing life situations to fishing (e.g. if your girlfriend leaves you it’s equivalent to losing a grander blue marlin). 4. A love/hate relationship with Marlboros. 5. Some wicked back pain. 5 people, alive, dead or fictional, you would like to guide or fish with? 1. South Africa’s President Cyril Ramaphosa (who actually fly fishes). I’d love to see that guy double haul! [Ed: After he has formed a commission of inquiry on how to do it]. 2. Florida tarpon legend, David Mangum. I’d kill to have him guide me onto my first tarpon! 3. Stu Webb, I’d love for him to guide me on Cosmoledo Atoll.

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The perks of being a Seychelles guide include getting the odd chance to catch Giant Trevally like this.

“SETTING THE HOOK ON A GT. WHEN I TELL YOU TO KEEP STRIPPING AFTER HE EATS, THAT’S LITERALLY WHAT I MEAN.” 4. Matt Harris, that guy has fished everywhere. I’d love to pick his brain. 5. Joe Humphrey, he made me fall in love with trout! 5 flies to pack in the smuggler kit under your seat? 1. Clousers and Charlies. 2. Pheasant tail nymphs. 3. Woolly Buggers. 4. Lumo Blobs or Boobies. 5. Shrimp patterns. 5 fish on your species hit list? 1. Tarpon, one of those big Florida boys. 2. Atlantic salmon from Norway! 3. Golden dorado from Bolivia. 4. Massive sea-run brown from Patagonia. 5. Giant African threadfin from Gabon. 5 shower thoughts that occur to you while fishing? 1. Surely I can’t be this addicted to fly fishing ?

2. I really need to find a better alternative to a stripping basket, not quite there yet. The flexi stripper is almost there though. 3. Who was the very first wizard to have the idea of fly fishing? 4. What’s going to be the next fly fishing craze? What species will equate to the permit? 5. I wonder what the next best fly will be that will change the saltwater game forever? 5 of the most underrated species in your book? 1. Yellowfish, I can’t wait for the Americans to figure out how strong they are. 2. Triggerfish, I don’t know why some people don’t like them, they are the best. 3. Tilapia, pound for pound they are ridiculously strong on a light rod. 4. Bonefish, after all they are the pioneers of the saltwater game. 5. Sharptooth catfish. They’re actually quite tricky!

“MEETING PEOPLE EVERY WEEK AND ENTERTAINING THEM FOR HOURS EACH DAY HAS ENABLED ME TO GET ON WITH ALMOST EVERYONE.”

5 thing about where you fish that make it so special? 1. There are literally a handful of people that fly fish on the south coast of KwaZulu-Natal and the waters are basically untouched. 2. The pleasure of living so close to both freshwater and saltwater fisheries. 3. The willingness of the locals to learn the dark arts of fly fishing. I love teaching it. 4. The lack of infrastructure in my small town allows for virtually untouched waterways. 5. The fish have basically never seen flies. 5 destinations on your bucket list? 1. Alta River, Norway. 2. Sette Cama, Gabon. 3. Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico. 4. Bolivian rainforest. 5. Jurassic Lake, Argentina. 5 thing you would take up if you weren’t always fly fishing? 1. Full time photography, I love that shit. 2. Probably study entomology, as I enjoy bugs. 3. Diving, always been interested in it. 4. Sewing, must be from my love of tying flies. 5. Golf. I can’t spend money on that as well though, fishing has my whole bank account! 5 common mistakes clients make? 1. Not practising their casting in windy conditions, huge setback. Practising casting into the wind might also put a few more fish on your score card. 2. Buying flies for a trip that none of the guides like, good idea to contact some experienced guys that have fished the area before. 3. Spending too much money on gear you may never even use on that trip. 4. Not listening to the small details your guide gives you, these could make or break your trip.

5. Casting too close to fish, rather present a cast slightly further away and the fish doesn’t see it, you might get a second or third shot in this way. 5 essential ingredients for any incredible mission? 1. Partners in crime, good banter is essential. 2. Camera gear, people need to see how much fun this is. 3. Couple beers, they always go down well, in good or bad fishing conditions. 4. Favourite rods and reels, I know my gear inside out. 5. Choosing the best spots and weather always helps to get those fish on the line. 5 flies that to look at make no sense but work well? 1. The Blob, these things catch fish for no reason whatsoever. 2. The Boobie, good action but deadly ugly. 3. Rainbow Warrior Nymph. It’s the OG, but I don’t know why trout eat them. 4. The Mop fly, they are hideous things but work alarmingly well. 5. Surf Puff, a really good searching pattern, who knows why? 5 thing about fly fishing that you may never understand? 1. How do flies work better than most conventional lures? 2. How on earth are these new fly lines so perfect nowadays, they basically cast themselves?! 3. How some people are just naturally so fishy and some just aren’t, maybe it’s an energy thing. 4. People actually pay guides to help them catch fish! Incredible! 5. How people disregard dangerous situations (be it dangerous wildlife or weather conditions) in order to catch fish. I am a repeat offender. Your last 5 casts were to...? River perch and ox eye tarpon at the top of the Umzimkulu River.

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BETWEEN A WILD COAST REWILDING IN SOUTH AFRICA AND H I S T I M E S P E N T S TA N D I N G I N M A G N I F I C E N T R I V E R S F O R D AY S O N E N D A S A S A L M O N G U I D E I N N O R WAY, N I C S C H W E R D T F E G E R HAS TIME TO THINK. Photos. Nic Schwerdtfeger

thumb through the pages of the diary/logbook left on the desk of the cabin. The earliest entry is from 1983, a well-documented account of two Norwegians who had walked in here multiple times a day, with all the materials and tools to work, live and build a structure in this remote valley. I drift off trying to visualise the changes in the valley over time and what a behemoth task building this cabin in this location would be. You can tell it was built solidly. Stout. Weatherfast. I imagin it reflected the resolve of the builders. The foundations firm beneath a shaggy veil of fluorescent green moss. A small wood-fire stove in the corner feeds its iron pipe through the roof. Two single beds at staggered heights occupy the opposite corner. With barely enough space to fit two weary wanderers for a limited time, today this wooden shelter cabin will host myself and Álvaro. There’s a bench and rod rack outside made with upcycled pieces of fallen trees from the steep, thickly-forested bank the cabin is perched on. The small fireplace on the rocky ledge makes for a fine outdoor kitchen. Just a few metres

away an absolute pearl of a river that can hold wild, chrome fish runs for a few secluded kilometres through the forest before making its way right past the cabin. I conclude my reading of the Svaerfosshytte (Big Waterfall Cabin) diary, put it back in place and reach for the roll of fluorocarbon leader in my wader pocket. The river glistens with a golden whiskey colour. It seems like a fairy tale. Earlier this year, half the world away in a very remote area on the Wild Coast of South Africa, I spent a few days living in a cave with my sangoma (traditional healer) friend Khanisa. She taught me how to forage for food, identify poisonous plants, locate medicinal plants, prepare them and take care of myself in the wild. I was out of my comfort zone, but as an animal, albeit a highly domesticated one, it occurred to me that I should not have been. It was a rewilding and a reset of sorts. I was really looking for a deeper connection to the earth, to align and be grounded. For some time I had been grappling with this feeling that we, collectively, are moving in a direction that makes being outside seem foreign. That our interactions with the natural world have become so alien. In some parts of the UK, prison inmates are getting more time outside than some teenagers. Personally, I’m frightened that this is becoming the norm.

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“I CAN HONESTLY SAY, SOME OF THE WILDEST AND MOST MEMORABLE ADVENTURES I’VE EVER BEEN ON, THERE HASN’T BEEN A FISH IN SIGHT.”

This brings up a bigger question. Once you strip away money, titles, ego, and all the other bullshit, what makes you, you? And what makes us, us? I believe that one of the key ingredients to our evolution is our curiosity. Our insatiable desire to know, explore, gather knowledge. My curiosity manifests in a way that I am driven to explore wild and sometimes sketchy destinations using fishing as a vehicle to take me there. And I can honestly say, some of the wildest and most memorable adventures I’ve ever been on, there hasn’t been a fish in sight.

If you’re reading this, you’re probably part of the top 1%, even if it doesn’t feel like it at times. You probably have a fly fishing rod, a warm and dry place to sleep, and maybe even a car. For the first time in our existence as a species, your choices as the top 1% are very simple. How comfortable would you like to be today? Order take-out via an app from the comfort of your armchair? Ask Alexa to change the ambient lighting in the living room? Maybe if you change jobs you can work less? Quality of life is generally pretty sweet. If you rewind not that long ago, around the turn of the last century, things were vastly different, definitely less cushy and comfortable. A hundred years is not that long either, considering it took us 8 million to evolve from grubbing around on all fours to being bipedal.

The second part of that question, who are we? As a species we can be kind, we can be cruel, but what I have found to be true is that the more people – my friends, clients, or any other randoms I don’t know – spend time in nature, the better they feel and the more they care about it. So why wouldn’t you, we, us, want to do more of that? I change my fly and stumble down to the next pool. Alvaro is perched atop a mossy boulder, packing his camera away. We get the perfect light that morning. Working my way upriver, I take my last glimpse of the cabin and smile, thinking about how 32 years ago two guys about our age slogged down the hill and, much like us, did not encounter another soul for the entirety of their time here. Little did they know they had hit the El Dorado of remote, close-combat salmon fishing and that all these years later this bastion of tranquillity and beauty would still be standing strong.

In a time when it’s become second nature to quantify everything, to establish order within everything we do, I take great comfort in knowing that the natural world cares for none of this. All these concepts we have come to believe are important, like money, status, ego, possessions, likes, followers, etc. mean nothing in the bush. It’s only you. Fishing does this too. That GT doesn’t care about your sixfigure salary, That permit gives no shits about your Rolex collection, and the trout most definitely are not impressed by your latest and greatest gear and your Instagram game. Nature has to be the greatest equaliser.

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“NATURE HAS TO BE THE GREATEST EQUALISER.”

UNITED KINGDOM

EXPECTATIONS I N M O R E WAY S T H A N O N E , R YA N J A N S S E N S B L E D H I S WAY ACROSS THE UK IN SEARCH OF PIKE. WHEN HE RETURNED H O M E , I T WA S W I T H A D E E P E R , U N E X P E C T E D , P I S C AT O R I A L PA S S I O N . Photos. Ryan Janssens, Stephan Dombaj

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’ve worked in the film and photo industry for close on 20 years now, a career which has taken me to some pretty incredible places. One of my most frequently visited spots has been the UK. Working behind a camera had me travelling there two to three times a month, pre-Covid, during our South African winter. On every trip I would lug around a 9-weight and box of flies tucked into my camera bag. I got some very strange looks from the models and stylists, but despite all that effort I never managed to sneak off from the crew for long enough to actually try my luck at a pike in UK waters. You see, ever since I watched the pike fly fishing film set in Alaska called A Backyard in Nowhere back in 2011, I’ve been obsessed with pike. Big, ugly, bad-ass, toothy crocodile-looking freshwater barracuda, I’ve had them higher up on my bucket list than some saltwater species, even a GT. What’s not to like? They are the absolute apex predator of freshwater and they eat some of the biggest flies you can throw. You know Kant’s line, “Know thyself”? Well, this is me as a fly angler. I have no time to stuff around trying to delicately place a size 20 something in front of a 3-inch trout and hope it doesn’t break my 2-pound tippet. I’m all about throwing big shit at fish that have anger complexes to see how pissed off I can make them. Fast forward through Covid and as the world felt like it was getting back to normal, a UK-based company invited me to the UK during the British summer to shoot their next campaign. This time I wasn’t going to mess around, I extended my stay by 10 days and started reaching out to as many people as I could think of to finally get my pike fix. The trip wasn’t going to be easy. I had to be able to move around, but my bags were full of camera gear before I even packed anything to fish with. Some sacrifices had to be made. No boots, tekkies would have to do. Definitely no waders. It was summer so I figured I’ll just fish in shorts and wet-wade, assuming that the reason Brits don’t do that is because they are not hardy like us Saffers and they don’t have magnificent pins like me. I packed one 8-weight, one 9-weight, both a floating and an intermediate line, and a box of Game Changers and big articulated streamers that I had tied for a peacock bass trip that never happened. I’ll spare you the details but what followed was a painful marathon of planes, trains, tubes, automobiles and photo shoots (complete with heavily loaded bags) until eventually, four days later, I was finally within sniffing range of some fishing. Stephan Dombaj of Fly Fishing Nation comes into the picture right about here. I assumed that at the mention of a pike everyone would froth and jump at the opportunity to catch one of these toothy monsters, but for reasons that would only later become clear, no one seemed that keen.

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Cows, stinging nettles and pike flies - a UK summer medley.

The general response seemed to be that they are “shitty, lazy fish”. Stephan was keen to meet up and fish with me, but he wouldn’t stop talking about how well their salmon season was going. I’d keep changing the subject back to pike, then he’d switch it to salmon, and on we went. Up where Stephan and his fiancée Marina Gibson live, in the north of England, he had a monster pike reservoir lined up and had also organised access to a farmer’s private pond that hadn’t been fished in a year. But first he insisted I need to meet Fergus Kelley, the organiser of the London Fly Fishing Fair, who was going to be my first port of call for pike. Post-shooting, Fergus, myself and Andy Leek, a UK street artist, jumped into Fergus’s Mini Cooper with Union Jack tail lights (straight out of Austin Powers) and bombed out of London for two hours to a town called Biggleswade.

“ I’D KEEP CHANGING THE SUBJECT BACK TO PIKE, THEN HE’D SWITCH IT TO SALMON, AND ON WE WENT.”

We headed over to the main reservoir and took a look over the cliffs. This place is known for its big trout and I soon saw why. From about 40m up we could see a school of rainbows that were easily in the 10lb range, and apparently these were small fish. Sitting directly underneath them were gigantic pike, huge crocodile-like shadows. The excitement had definitely set in. There were a few guys on the water already, and they all seemed to be chasing trout. I rigged up a 9-weight with the biggest Game Changer I had while Stephan rigged up a 5-weight and size-20 nymph for the trout. Most of the old guys on the water had had a pretty good afternoon, reporting five or six fish each. I got a squiff look when I asked about pike. Stephan proceeded to lash the trout, catching 30-odd fish in no time as the other guys started to disappear, their fishinghigh shattered. The main reservoir seemed to be quiet on the pike front, so Stephan suggested we head to the little private dam up the hill. What happened next was one of the best and most comedic afternoons I’ve had in ages. The water at the small dam was dirty compared to the main reservoir, with sunken trees and rocky outcrops. A flock of ducks resting on the dam meant there was a pungent smell of duck excrement. My first cast at a tree stump saw a small pike flying out and inhaling the fly. Stephan was on the other end of the dam out of sight, so I reached down and grabbed the pike and forgot all about the stinger hook on the Game Changer. I don’t know how it happened but I got a 4/0 hook in a pike and a 2/0 hook deep inside my

finger, rod under my arm, line wrapped around my feet, no net, and up to my knees in duck shit. I didn’t really have much of a choice so I gripped the pike by its throat and ripped the hook out of my finger. I was gushing blood and throttling the pike when I heard a noise in the bushes behind me. Burt and his hunting dogs. At this point I just assumed he was going to see me standing there covered in shit and blood strangling his baby pike and put me out of my misery. I quickly blurted out that I’m friends with Stephan as I released the fish and wiped blood all over myself and my chinos. Burt’s quite a friendly old guy, who seemed quite amazed that I’d come all the way from South Africa to catch a pike in his pond in smart pants. As he headed off he told me his best spot is on the other side of a small clump of trees. Farmer Burt definitely knows his water, because after two or three casts at the new spot I hooked into a really nice fish. I landed it and as Stephan and I were looking for a place to take a photo things started to get wild. I was holding the fish by its gill plate and tail when it thrashed out of my hands, ripping open two more of my fingers before heading off back into the dam. The rod was now between my legs, line was everywhere and I was trying to wrangle this angry fish back to shore for the second time. I was bleeding more than ever now; my chinos will never be the same again. In all this chaos my trusty Xplorer T50 broke into pieces and that was the last I saw of the fish.

A broken rod, a few arteries nicked and a pike that fought like a wet sock. Ryan Janssens weighs up whether it was all worth it.

“I GOT A 4/0 HOOK IN A PIKE AND A 2/0 HOOK DEEP INSIDE MY FINGER, ROD UNDER MY ARM, LINE WRAPPED AROUND MY FEET, NO NET, AND UP TO MY KNEES IN DUCK SHIT.” W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

I’ll still count it as a landed fish, but there’s no hero photo to show. Just some bashed-up knuckles, bloodstained clothes and a broken rod. Stephan disappeared for a second and came back with a brand new G. Loomis Asquith, still in the plastic. Stephan watched me coat the brand new cork handle in blood oozing from my hook wound and pike knuckles. He could definitely see the funny side of this but I can’t help wonder what a kook he must have thought I am. I kept fishing my spot and managed to get my hands on a couple of decent fish as the sun went down. The temperature dropped and I was starting to wish I had brought some waders. Stephan was on the other side of the dam again watching me from a distance. I snagged my Game Changer on a rock, it was just out of reach and just past waist deep so I was not keen to swim for it. I waded as far as I could to try poke it free with the tip of his brand new Asquith, but then the tip section got snagged and was now stuck on the bottom with the fly. Now I was standing there with three pieces of a fly rod that I could not afford to replace wondering what the fuck I was going to do. There was a small wooden row boat on the bank, which looked like a prop from a vintage film rather than something that floats. I jumped in and pushed myself towards the snagged fly and missing rod tip. Just as I suspected, a slightly different angle and the tip and fly came free. Great success! The boat had not moved too far from the shore, so assuming it was still knee deep I stepped off the front of the boat and sank in over my head into the duck-shit soupy water. It was a drop-off. I could hear Stephan laughing as he asked, “Why the fuck are you swimming?” On our way back to the car I was soaking wet, freezing cold and still bleeding from both hands, but happy as can be that I’d finally managed to tick a proper pike off the list regardless of the absolute chaos that ensued. I think Stephan was also secretly happy that I got a pike, because now it was time to fish for salmon. It was a couple hours’ drive further north to a tiny little town called Northumberland where Stephan and Marina live and guide for salmon. Like I said, my interest in salmon was lukewarm. I was just there to give it a bash. I had heard about how difficult they can be and the bragging rights that came with a good UK-caught salmon. Everything was new to me, I’d never even seen a Spey rod, let alone cast one. I spent hours in the car grilling Stephan on how it worked, what flies we were going to use, where we were fishing, etc. We stopped in a field next to a river that’s part of the local salmon-fishing syndicate. I think Stephan felt sorry for me because he found me a pair of his old waders to wear. If you haven’t met Stephan before, he’s a tall lanky 6 ft 6’ dude. If you’ve met me you will know I’m barely 5 ft 5’. Think Gandalf and a hobbit. His waders come up to my chin and have a small leak in the crotch but it was way better than my soiled chinos.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

“I RIGGED UP A 9-WEIGHT WITH THE BIGGEST GAME CHANGER I HAD WHILE STEPHAN RIGGED UP A 5-WEIGHT AND SIZE-20 NYMPH FOR THE TROUT.”

Stephan was ranting about how good the salmon season has been this year due to the cooler weather and uncharacteristically wet summer they have had. At the same time he was trying his best to manage expectations. One does not simply just go onto a river and catch fish, it doesn’t work like that, he was saying. These fish are here to spawn and their instincts basically shut down any of their feeding habits while they are in the rivers. This is because they would absolutely obliterate food stocks in the river if they were to feed during their spawning season. So we were going to throw flies that look nothing like anything they would normally eat, hoping to find a fish that had a split-second glitch in their basic instincts and ate the tiny little streamer that we’d swung past its face. It was one shot in a million.

I was standing on the bank listening to all this, trying to take in as much as possible, but I knew deep down that today was absolutely my day! I’m generally quite lucky on fishing trips, you can ask most people that have fished with me and they will tell you the same. That day, before I’d even seen the water, I could already feel that it was going to happen. I didn’t doubt for a second that I was going to go home having caught a fish. To top it all off, the stretch of river that we were fishing is called Warden. This past year I’ve been back and forth from the Free State trying to wrap up the family home and move my mom out of a town called Warden. When I saw this, I knew for sure it was going to happen.

fish being spotted but nothing had been caught on the Warden stretch that day. A few flies were traded back and forth between him and Stephan and then he disappeared into the field behind us.

We made our way down to the pool where two old blokes were fishing. We took a seat on the bank and waited for them to finish. It was my turn next as one of the guys made his way off the river. He stopped for a quick chat before he headed off. The first thing I noticed was that I was not dressed the part. He was dressed in tweed from top to toe, apart from his waders. The second thing I noticed was that this is a different kind of fishing passion, nothing like I’ve ever seen before. There were no secrets, he spilled the beans on every single fish he’d seen moving in the river that morning, every fly he’d thrown, as well as the catch reports from all the other beats from that day. He’s on the committee for the salmon syndicate and seemed to have some insider knowledge on all the happenings on the entire River Tyne. Long story short, there were

About 30 minutes after my casting lesson, I was swinging the fly along the far end of the bank when Boom! It happened. “I’m tight!!” Stephan immediately started shouting that it’s a salmon. We hadn’t seen the fish yet but somehow he knew. There had been a lot of big sea trout in the system so in the back of my head I had some doubts, but Stephan’s excitement kept the vibes up. The fish started moving upstream, and I was unable to move it; it was on its own path and there was nothing I could do. Even with a 14ft rod I was feeling very under-gunned.

I was up next. Stephan gave me a basic lesson on how to cast a Spey rod. It seemed simple enough – basically just a very slowly drawn out roll cast with a little extra line management. I had the wind and the current on my side, which definitely helped, and before long I was putting a line almost the full width of the river. That geezer had just fished this entire pool without a bite but I was not discouraged, I knew I was going to get a fish here.

Huge head shakes and big runs. The fish got closer and I got a glimpse of it through the dark tea-stained water and my heart sank, through my polarised lenses and the colour of the water the first flash I saw looked golden brown.

“ABOUT 30 MINUTES AFTER MY CASTING LESSON, I WAS SWINGING THE FLY ALONG THE FAR END OF THE BANK WHEN BOOM! IT HAPPENED. ‘I’M TIGHT!!’” 62

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

One of the luckiest anglers we know, if anyone is going to catch a salmon on his first ever session, it’s Ryan.

I thought this was definitely a big ol’ dark sea trout, but Stephan was convinced it was a salmon. He was now bouncing around the rocks with excitement, cellphone in his hands, filming me and interviewing me while I hung onto this fish. We didn’t have a net; Stephan’s philosophy is that if you can’t wrangle the fish with your hands you don’t deserve to catch it, even playing fields or something like that. We got the fish into the shallows and tall lanky Stephan bounded towards it and tailed the fish, snatching it out of the water. He was extremely excited at this point, shouting “Angry motherfucker!” I still had no idea what was going on. I’d manifested this moment for days but I was still in disbelief. Everything else from here was absolute bliss, we held the fish in the shallows for a few quick photos and a couple of videos and then watched it head back to the river to continue its journey.

One of the older dudes saw the commotion and came over to see what happened. He immediately congratulated me. Stephan mentioned that it was my first time salmon fishing and that this was the first pool I’d ever fished and I saw the guy’s face change. I could still see the joy and stoke he felt for me, but at the same time I could see deep down he just wanted to tell me to fuck off. He gave me an awkward halfhug half-pat on the back and said, “My boy, I don’t think you understand what you’ve done here.” He went on to tell me how many days and seasons he spent trying to get his first fish. I think this was his nice way of telling me that I’m a dick, and to be fair he’s not wrong. This is where everything started to dawn on me. I’d done the impossible. I realised that this was not fly fishing, this was salmon fishing. I’d just ticked off a fish that had never crossed my mind before. I’d just joined a club that I never knew existed. I AM a dick. There are no secrets in salmon fishing and within seconds

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

“I’LL BE BACK IN THE UK SOON… WILL I GO CATCH PIKE? MAYBE. AS FOR SALMON? I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT I WILL BEBACK FOR THEM. WITH MY OWN WADERS THIS TIME.”

of releasing the fish Stephan sent pictures and videos to everyone, uploaded videos to social, and started getting calls and telling people exactly where, who, how, and with what fly. Every fish caught is immediately celebrated by the community. There was a pub down the road so we headed there to celebrate. I headed into the bar in my over-sized waders and boots, still wet from the river, and no one seemed to care about the mud I was dragging through the place. The barman came over and congratulated me on my first fish, the whole town seemed to already know. That was the best beer of my life. We still had two days to fish and we fished hard, I was absolutely addicted by now. My entire fishing bucket list had shuffled. My first fish was absolutely a fluke and most of the credit for that fish goes to Stephan. Now I was determined to get one on my own, but karma had given me the middle finger as pool after pool I blanked hard.

My time with Stephan was over, we had one last session on the river and we were going to be fishing till after dark to hopefully get a sea trout. I kept on slogging, cast after cast, as I navigated the river in the pitch black. Stephan wasn’t fishing. He and Marina were on the river bank preparing a feast to feed an army. Eventually I gave up, it was dark and cold, the leaky waders had made my entire crotch area wet and it was time to admit defeat. We sat on the river bank sharing some red wine that Marina got from Cape Town as we got news of Sixto Rodriguez passing away. It was sad news but at the same time felt like the best way to end the trip as we played a Rodriguez playlist on a cellphone echoing into a plastic cup on the banks of a river that had just beaten me. I’ll be back in the UK soon… Will I go catch pike? Maybe. If the opportunity presents itself I might give them a go. They are lazy but they are huge and angry and that still interests me. As for salmon? I can assure you that I will be back for them. With my own waders this time.

MONK MODE MEXICO

SWAPPING HIS USUAL SOLO, ON-FOOT EXPLORATION FOR A GUIDED SKIFF AT THE PALOMETA CLUB IN ASCENSION BAY, PETER COETZEE HAD TO GET TO GRIPS WITH HIS MIND BEFORE HE COULD GET TO GRIPS WITH BIG, FLY-SPITTING ATLANTIC PERMIT. Photos. Francois Botha, Peter Coetzee

Permit have an acute understanding of proximity that means you’re almost always just out of range.

Chapter 1: Chaos

t took me about two years to learn to meditate successfully. I was absolutely horrible at it. Eventually I learned to recognise the thoughts in my mind. When I did so, I was absolutely shocked at the amount of noise rattling around in the old processor of mine. Laminated cupboards, an embarrassing moment from childhood, the hexagonal lattice of graphene, you name it. In time you learn to acknowledge each of these, and with it, eventually the ability to clear the noise. Of every thing I’ve ever learned to do in my life, nothing has come close to the power of this. I’m engineeringminded, so sometimes I’ll find the most bizarre solutions to problems I didn’t even know I had swirling around in my mind, taking up previous processor power. That feeling of overwhelming anxiety you have in static moments is often just this – too much going on in your head. By now you’re probably wondering where the hell I’m going with this. But, standing on the bow of a 23-foot panga being poled around Ascension Bay hoping for a miracle, presents yourself with an absolute assault on your brain. That first shot of the day is generally not a problem, you’ve overcome yesterday’s demons, you’ve cleared your head, calmed the noise and a big cast at a big fish results in a charge and follow. But forget the zen of solo pursuit, calls coming off the bow are diametrically opposed to your experience and your instincts, and you quickly realise you have an excess of stimulus and a deficit of confidence. “Long strips, bump, bump, loooonng. Stop it. He ate!” You set on the guide’s command, but nothing. You watch that giant permit you’ve been dreaming of your entire life kick away uninterested. Was it the fly? Was it the strip? Did it hear me? Was it hull slap? Could I have really not felt the eat even though I was fully in contact with the fly? You look around at your guide and ask what you did wrong. He shrugs, knowing you followed his command. The pressure builds, and after a few of these moments, everything in you is making that casting arm quiver. You’re now in a war with yourself. Ideas flood into your head. How do I engineer a fly to not be spat? How do I change that strip? I replay every

moment in my head 50 times looking for a hint. There was music playing, was that reverberating through the water? But you have to find that calm, you have to get back to a place where every fish is the first fish, where no guide exists, nobody else exists, you have to get back to monk mode. My first few days I let it all get to me. I’m on holiday, so I don’t use any of my little brain tricks to clear it out. And then I realise I have to. I’m becoming my absolute worst nightmare; my mind is just questions and no answers. The theme of what’s going on inside? Doubt. On foot, solo, I’ve been able to blame myself – blame my lack of distance for lack of shots, blame the weather, blame that wave, blame that bonefish that stole the fly from in front of that fish. Now I’m presented with what was to be the most prolific big permit fishery for Atlantic permit, I’m spoon-fed multiple shots every day, and the only common denominator in not bringing that big fish home is me.

“LONG STRIPS, BUMP, BUMP, LOOOONNG. STOP IT. HE ATE!” W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

Chapter 2: The false hypothesis Permit fishing this way is the least intuitive experiment you will ever run. Yesterday they only ate on the pause, today they’ll refuse whatever stops. The fish from today won’t be in this bay tomorrow, they are an agonising reminder that every assumption is incorrect. Having spent a fair amount of time fishing for Indo-Pacific permit (Trachinotus blochii), I will tell you the two most obvious differences between them and Atlantic permit: speed, and power. My first decent fish was lost in a tragic moment of miscommunication. We had three chiefs that day, including the one Indian playing both roles (me). The head guide on the platform was calling for me to retrieve and reset, the junior guide was calling for me to strip slow. And me? I was staring dead at the face of a fish neither guide had seen, who had just eaten my fly. Waiting for the recast, the junior guide was holding my fly line behind me while looking at the senior guide, neither aware that I’d hooked up. And in a split second, I set, and started clearing line, which lasted until it reached the clasped hands of the junior guide, and broke the tippet before he realised I wasn’t in fact recasting. The power of that fish was absolutely shocking to me. It wasn’t a big animal, but it had an enormous amount of power. The guides are incredibly good, but much of what they will do are one-size-fits-all approaches to making their regular clients’ day much better. Two of these things are obvious issues with the average angler; distance and line management. And so, often times, I was being placed too close to fish for my comfort, and my line was being “reorganised” a little too much. I corrected this by having a quick chat with each guide set on rotation, about distance, time of the shot and line management. It was hard for me to do, because I can imagine how helpful those things would be to someone with range anxiety and a tendency to make nuclear spaghetti with their fly lines, but it improved things dramatically for an introverted soloist like myself. Back to the fish. The problem with speed and power is – movement. These permit move much more erratically and cover considerably more distance, meaning that you’re often times at the receiving end of a constantly closing momentum deficit. This deficit means your nemesis has more time to do what it loves best – spitting flies. And boy can they spit a fly. I was gifted with a shoal of hungry juvenile fish one day, and watched in absolute awe as fish after fish ate and spat my fly before I could put tension. At one moment two in succession spat on the same retrieve.

Paul Puckett. Artist, fisherman, plumber.

Francois Botha trying to convince Pete that beach tennis is in fact Aruba’s national sport.

Now I love a hypothesis, and I began thinking that to nudge the odds slightly in my favour, I’d have to engineer against this. But confirmation bias worked against me. I know this fly works, I know that previous fish ate this, why won’t this one? If I’m quick enough on the eat the spit won’t matter? So I became fixated on the one small concession Neptune gifted us on the XL version permit: a white mouth on an often dark face. I was determined to watch that mouth. Cast, get the follow, make a logical visual change, then change focus to the animal in pursuit. Another mental trick I’ve found (and maybe this only works on noisy-brain humans) is to constantly reinforce what I’m looking for verbally. Back in South Africa, if I’m walking on grass looking for grunter, I’m telling myself I’m looking for colour, looking for colour, looking for colour. And somehow it works. This is easier done solo, and there are definitely a few Mexican guides left with some slight concerns for my wellbeing on drop-off at day’s end. “White mouth, white mouth, white mouth.” “Esta gringo esta loco.” [This gringo is crazy.] I’d now pieced together some form of hypothesis. At 70 foot I would be ready to present, pending fish direction, but I would refuse presentations with the fish moving away (though I’m sure they sometimes work). Forget leading by long, you can almost never judge trajectory, so that cast needs to be on the numbers, five foot or so in front of the fish (this distance determined by the time it takes for the fish to get where the fly was hopefully on the floor). The retrieve would be the textbook long permit strip with short pauses in between. On presentation, visual focus would move from fly location to fish that reacts (if a pod or shoal). The only modification to the retrieve would be a response to fish body language. I’d pieced together all the little things that made sense, and of course, it didn’t work.

“WHITE MOUTH, WHITE MOUTH, WHITE MOUTH.” “ESTA GRINGO ESTA LOCO.” [THIS GRINGO IS CRAZY.] 70

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

Trying to decide if juvies (or as Pete likes to call them, “ candidates for fly experiments”) still count.

“WELCOME TO PERMIT FISHING, WELCOME TO HELL.”

Chapter 3: I dare you Doubt had mutated to apathy, and eventually even the buck fever subsided. “I fucking dare you to eat this fly, on this cast. You won’t, but I dare you to.” In a weird way that also took pressure off the cast, and so my presentations improved. I even did an avatar day, where I told my guides that I would get the shot right, and they could call it all thereafter. They call the strip, the set, the works. Nope, no cigar either. And then one day, you do exactly the same thing it feels like you’ve done every day. You’ve even analysed your strip using drone footage, and analysed a missed eat. You’ve adjusted your stripping stance for more contact, you’ve cleared your head, you’ve got a fly on that you hate, but you’ve seen it in photos on the walls and you’d seen the guides nodding.

A pod of six to eight big fish swim towards you. They’re way off but you don’t care anymore. You shoot the last of the line with no control, they’re closing the distance. They will probably change direction anyway, you’ve got some time. This time they don’t. For the first time in nine days they don’t, and the lead fish just simply charges and eats as the fly comes off the bottom of Ascension Bay. You’re left with sheer ecstasy, but then as that fish kicks away on the release, the questions flood back. Why the hell didn’t that work every other time? And it won’t next time, I promise you. The only thing you saw that you knew you’d see was that white mouth. Welcome to permit fishing, welcome to hell. I left the Palometa Club with four fish and 400 questions. For enquiries contact francois@palometaclub.o.za

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

MILKING THE COW MZIMKHULU SCALIES

LI KE A PAVLOVIAN PISCATORIAL PEPÉ LE PEW FO LLOWI NG T H E SCEN T OF A DAIRY FARM AN D I ND I G E NO U S FI S H , LEO NARD FLEMMING TRAVELLED TO S O U T H E RN KWAZULU-NATAL, EX PLORED THE M Z I M KHU LU RI VE R , FOUGHT A COW, AN D GRAPPLED WI T H T ROPHY N ATAL Y ELLOWFISH. Photos. Leonard Flemming

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

hen you walk into a dairy – the place where they actually milk cows and not the farm stall where you buy your cheeseburger pie on a Sunday drive – the first thing you will notice is the sweet smell of fresh milk mixing with the foul odour of cow poop. Then, you will see the cow faeces, everywhere. Initially, it grosses a newbie out, but since I worked on a dairy “station” in New Zealand for seven months just to get by so that I could fish for big brown trout whenever I got a gap, for me the stench became synonymous with good fly fishing. When I recently walked into the dairy of Dale Hutton on the banks of the Mzimkhulu River in KwaZulu-Natal, the pungent odour of the cows filled my nasal passages and mouth, but instead of being unpleasant it immediately brought back fond memories of cool rivers carving through mountainous terrain. Dale, a dairy farmer and dead-keen fly fisherman, had invited me and Garth Wellman to fish for Natal yellowfish, i.e., the scaly, in the Astretch of river running along his property. After introducing ourselves at the dairy, he took us down a rough dirt track leading to the pumphouse pool and at first glance it was like travelling back in time, back to New Zealand’s South Island more than 10 years ago. What lay before us was a perfect trophy trout river, and although a stray rainbow trout was caught there last year, this section of the Mzimkhulu was inhabited by a healthy population of indigenous scalies. Dale then started giving instructions, pointing us to all the good runs and pools up- and downstream. We had the green light to criss-cross the river freely for several kilometres to follow the winding channel on both banks, ideal when targeting yellowfish. Before setting up our rods, one of the party members took a stroll to the edge of the pumphouse pool and watched a 1.5kg scaly spook from the shallows. Those that have fished for scalies across KZN will know that a 1.5kg fish is not tiny, and the news got me very excited.

“THIS SECTION OF THE MZIMKHULU WAS INHABITED BY A HEALTHY POPULATION OF INDIGENOUS SCALIES.”

However, Dale and his friend Tom Stokes (another dairy farmer from the area) informed us that fish over 60cm had been caught in that stretch of the Mzimkhulu. I was yet to cross the 60cm mark with a Natal yellowfish, so that info had me absolutely frothing! I had caught scalies on dry fly in the Cathedral Peak area, upper Tugela River scalies on tiny pheasant tail nymphs, lower Tugela scalies on mainly fat gomphid dragonfly nymph imitations, and scalies on tadpole and caddis larvae imitations in the tiny Palmiet stream in central Durban, but none had crossed that magical 60cm mark. What we didn’t realise was that the scalies of the Mzimkhulu were fussy eaters, generally taking smallish nymph and caddis larvae patterns. It was a difficult and hard lesson for me to learn and get used to. While some fell for a small streamer, these Mzimkhulu fish behaved more like bushveld smallscale and largescale yellowfish, mostly taking #16-20 nymphs tied on 5-6X fluorocarbon tippet. Dale did warn us about their finicky feeding habits, but we had to find out for ourselves just how stubborn these fish really were. After two days of working up a sweat trying to catch decent numbers of Khulu scalies by hiking up and down the steep terrain and slipping our asses off on the ultra-slimy rocks

in the river, we had only landed a couple of biggish fish up to about 50cm and many smaller fish in the faster water. While comparing notes over a cold one around the dinner table at the Smithfield Guesthouse (conveniently located in the centre of scaly territory, smithfieldguesthouse. co.za), the striking similarities we established were that these fish mostly ate small, drab nymph patterns. Besides these fish playing hard to catch, we also experienced some “weather” on the trip with temperatures dropping from 37 to 17°C overnight when a cold front moved over. That didn’t help. A dramatic drop in temperature and air pressure are probably the worst things to experience when targeting yellowfish. They like stable, warm weather, and the cold spell certainly contributed to the temperamental nature of these fish. However, with a gap in the weather and rising temperatures predicted after the rain had passed, we knew we were in with a chance to see and catch a few good fish on the last two days of the trip. Clear skies enabled us to spot numerous fish species, which included largemouth bass, carp, chiselmouth and scalies visiting the shallows for food. Getting more shots at these fish also meant a bit more luck with catching as we could clearly make out which flies got refused and which were readily taken for food items.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

“THE SCALIES OF THE MZIMKHULU WERE FUSSY EATERS, GENERALLY TAKING SMALLISH NYMPH AND CADDIS LARVAE PATTERNS.”

It was while sneaking up on a cruising scaly that I suddenly spotted the fizz of a big carp grubbing between boulders along my ambush path. I had to make a quick decision. I knew out of experience that the carp could be long gone by the time I had tied on the right fly for it, but with the low percentage of sighted scalies taking even a well-presented fly I opted for the easier target. Besides that, I hadn’t caught a carp on the trip yet and I simply enjoy catching a diversity of fish species on any fishing trip. Slowly dropping to my knees, I slipped my backpack off and scratched in it for a fly box. The first fly box I pulled out had numerous weighted and unweighted Black Zulus in it, my carp fly of choice for shallow water. I considered it a good omen. There was no time to change tippet so I tied the unweighted Zulu to the 5X fluorocarbon tippet that was meant for skittish yellowfish. Still on my knees, I reached out to place the Zulu neatly in front of the feeding carp with my 3-weight. “I’m gonna milk this cow,” I thought. The carp stopped slurping mud, twitched its fins, and slid forward to inhale what looked like a red “peeping” midge larva suspended in front of it. When I set the hook, the startled carp accidentally bolted towards the bank and “climbed” over semi-submerged bedrock before finding its direction back into deep water. At this point I realised that the fish was much bigger than I initially thought and that I was indeed attached to a runaway farm animal heading for the opposite bank. It found a fallen tree on the first run and my heart sank, but after giving the fish some slack it somehow cleared the line from the dead branches and I got the oil drum back to my feet with heavy hauls on the light 3-weight. Then the carp saw me, for the first time I reckon, and simply swam across to the other side of the river again, dragging the entire fly line with it to the point that I could only see backing disappearing into the river. As if it knew exactly where it was going, it then buried itself deep into the only clump of reeds on the far bank. I was surprised that I was still attached to the fish at that point. For a second time I gave it slack and after a few minutes it started swimming out of the reeds, freeing the line once more, which suddenly gave me hope and I committed to landing it. Some experience with biggish carp on light fly tackle made me realise that this would become an endurance test and I simply had to be very patient to tire out and win the battle with my opponent.

“CLEAR SKIES ENABLED US TO SPOT NUMEROUS FISH SPECIES, WHICH INCLUDED LARGEMOUTH BASS, CARP, CHISELMOUTH AND SCALIES VISITING THE SHALLOWS FOR FOOD.” W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

“OVER A PERIOD OF FOUR DAYS THE MZIMKHULU REVEALED SOME OF ITS SECRETS TO US, BUT IT FELT LIKE WE HAD ONLY SCRATCHED THE SURFACE”

“STAGING YELLOWFISH CAN BE VERY AGGRESSIVE AND OFTEN TAKE FAIRLY LARGE STREAMERS.”

One and a half hours later the carp had keel-hauled me to the tail of the pool over approximately 350m of snotty rocks where we were still battling it out, minus the fly boxes that fell out of my pockets into the river on route. It would swim to my feet, circle in front of me for 15 minutes or so and then simply cross the river again like it was getting a good workout from its gym instructor. If anyone was getting milked, it was me.

out into the middle of the school. The fish rushed the fly aggressively as I expected and on the second cast one of the biggest fish engulfed the fly and shot off towards the head of the misty blue-green pool. Unlike the monster carp, the big scaly tired after the third long run and I had her in my net within minutes. This was a cow of different sorts, athletic and sexy, a long slender female scaly over 60cm long.

I could feel the midday sun burning my skin and my stomach growling for food. For like the freaking hundredth time the carp was circling at my feet and suddenly the frayed 5X parted. To be honest, this came as no surprise. What the hell was I thinking? Properly beaten, I loafed around the tail end of the pool for a bit before heading back to where I had left my backpack. While I was standing there at the back of the pool contemplating my losses, I saw several carp swimming into a small bay nearby, the odd big scaly hanging around with them.

A local came running down the bank to observe my catch. His smile said it all. This was indeed a very large scaly and he congratulated me with high fives on arrival. He couldn’t speak or understand much English, and I have no Zulu, so I explained with sign language how my DSLR camera worked and got a decent shot of what I considered a fish of a lifetime for me. After a brief photo session, I set the scaly free and my photographer disappeared into the bushes again with the same big smile that he had when he rocked up.

When I recollected all my lost goods I sat down on the bank, opened the drenched fly boxes to dry, rubbed in some sunblock, had a sandwich, desperately gulped down some water and then boosted my energy levels with a Bioplus sachet. Feeling somewhat more refreshed I headed straight back to the tailout to settle the score.

Feeling overwhelmed by everything that had happened – getting sunburnt and beaten up by fighting a massive Khulu carp, and then catching my best scaly to date – I sat down on the rocks to enjoy the moment and scenery around me. There were no other fly anglers in sight, just the sound of the river, the odd fish splash and weaverbirds chattering from the thorn trees hanging over the water. This was one of those moments in fishing that I live for, ironically finding glory and peace of mind after getting a proper hiding from a big one that got away.

Expecting to find the school of carp when I reached the spot where I had lost the cow, I was surprised to find a school of big scalies instead. I couldn’t believe my luck, after all the commotion caused by the hooked carp, the “staging” yellowfish that I was clearly unaware of re-gathered to get ready for the upcoming spawning period. Staging yellowfish can be very aggressive and often take fairly large streamers, so I tied a lightly weighted #8 Woolly Bugger to the 5X fluorocarbon tippet and cast it

Over a period of four days the Mzimkhulu revealed some of its secrets to us, but it felt like we had only scratched the surface and that there was a lot more to learn and discover about the place. It is not an easy river to navigate, physically or mentally, yet I believe that there is nothing like a bit of challenging fishing to relieve you from work stress and stimulate the mind.

SHOP THE MZIMKHULU SCALY MISSION

Vision Nymphmaniac 9’6” 3-weight visionflyfishing.com, streamandsea.com Scientific Anglers Absolute Fluorocarbon Tippet scientificanglers.com, frontierflyfishing.com Echo Ion Reel echoflyfishing.com Elite Rio Perception farbank.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za

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THE ARCTIC DETOX A NG LI NG AS ANTIDOTE TO THE D I G I TA L WORLD. “… THEIR MIN DS WE RE RES HAPED TO THE J ITTERY, M O O DY P SYCHE THAT RULED THE D I GITAL REALM.” T HE EVERY , DAVE EGGERS Story. Scott Diel Photos. c/o Scott Diel

ust a month ago I found myself sitting next to an earnest young man of 35 who passionately made the case for, of all things, emojis. It requires extra effort on the part of a user, he explained, to click on anything beyond a thumbs-up or smiley face. I should therefore take it as high praise when someone uses a laughing emoticon to react. The scariest part: I found myself listening to him.

As a non-digital freelance writer, I’ve tried to remain openminded about social media. I use LinkedIn, though I find it to be a grand celebration of the largely meaningless, full of vacuous stories of personal journeys, corporate blood drives, and team building. To survive the digital world, I need to totally escape it, to go where not even a telephone signal can penetrate. For 15 years now, I’ve gone to the Arctic tundra. Farther faster It’s a two-day, 1 500km drive across the entire length of Finland, and we reach the trailhead at three o’clock in the afternoon. The younger anglers in our group of six insist on covering 10km on the tundra itself. The hills we face are only around 400m, but to get to where we want to camp requires going up and down a dozen of them. The 60-somethings in our party bitch about it but relent because even we don’t want to spend an evening near water that doesn’t hold fish.

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In this case we’re after Arctic char, a fish as tasty as it is beautiful, and the tundra lakes are its home, deep enough they won’t freeze in a -50°C winter. My dream is a windless evening, a lake surface like glass, and a 2kg char caught on the dry fly. These perfect conditions are not out of the question, though it’s even money they’ll happen at all, with windy and wet often the rule. Five kilometres into our hike we encounter a pool 6m square and a metre deep. In it is a lone char, dashing from one end to the other, gulping down every available insect. He probably came here during high water and won’t be able to reach his home lake without dragging belly over rocks. This one has enough troubles and is left alone. We sit and watch him feed a while and then move on.

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“WE’VE GOT FOUR MORE DAYS OF FISHING LEFT. FOUR MORE DAYS TO BECOME WORTHY OF CATCHING ONE.” The antidote Depression is at a record high in the community where I live. Media reports, as well as anecdotal evidence from both doctor and patient friends, say that anti-depressants are being prescribed at record rates. Fishermen are hardly exempt. My friend, Jaanus, who’s along on this trip, has come across three suicides while fishing, all of them hanging by the neck from trees by the river. While social media probably can’t be blamed, it’s saddening to see people so overtly obsess over how others perceive them, their public profiles curated to be full of passion and commitment, even when their job is total dogshit. But here, on the Norwegian tundra, there is no desperation, and I attribute that to no phone signal and not a single tree high enough for anyone to hang himself.

The dream Today the winds are gusting to 15m/second and there are white caps on the more exposed lakes. It’s supposed to be four degrees this evening, so it’s a good day to cover ground, to untwist our intestines from 15 hours in an automobile. We pitch our tents at midnight on a stream between two lakes. It’s so idyllic that I’m hoping these lakes produce fish because you rarely find a campsite this picturesque. But these lakes aren’t deep enough to hold our dream char, so we move on in the early morning. It’s a 5km hike to the point Siim, who planned this route, declares that we’ve arrived. Dozens of deep lakes are within a several kilometre radius. It’s three in the afternoon. We crack a beer and pass it around.

The McChar The spin fishermen immediately catch fish, but this is no surprise. Cast enough times in this environment and you’ll drag up a char or a traout. While I don’t get a thrill catching fish that way, I am not above eating fish caught on a spinning rod. I make a McChar: fresh arctic char between rye bread, garnished with onion and topped with a squirt of lime. After dinner, I hook a couple of trout on a small stonefly imitation, but I don’t think the fish are seeing it due to the choppy water. I try a team of three flies, a size-10 foam thing with rubber legs, followed by a size-12 Goddard caddis, and then a size-16 Royal Wulff. At the outflow of a lake, I land two trout at the same time on the two outside flies and realise a three-fly rig is more trouble than it’s worth. The spin fishermen seem to pity me. They offer me their spare rods. They don’t understand why anyone would carry only a fly rod. They’re catching more and bigger fish, and it appears I’m just playing around. To say I don’t care about catching fish wouldn’t be accurate. That’s just not why I came. I’m here to gaze at the cloud formations, sip whiskey from a tin cup, and watch fish take insects off the surface.

As a fisherman, I don’t need a newspaper, virtual or otherwise, to know what we’re doing to the planet, what we’re doing to ourselves. I come to the tundra to see the natural world as it once was everywhere and never will be again. I know it’s only a matter of time before humans will come for this place, too. I just want to take it all in before it’s gone. The code I re-rig with one fly, this time a lightly weighted hare’s ear nymph. While I like the idea of a dry fly, this almost-dry approach will perhaps be more visible in broken water. I’m right. I’ve cracked the code. I have a big char on the line and he’s racing back and forth making my reel scream. All this plays out right in front of the camp. “Beautiful fish,” someone remarks as I bring it near shore, the white on its fins bright against the red underbelly. But he thrashes, somehow spits the fly, and returns slowly to the depths. I swear at the loss and realise I’ve got more detoxing to do. When all is right with the world I will laugh at losing a fish. We’ve got four more days of fishing left. Four more days to become worthy of catching one.

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THE ALIBABA ANGLER

SHOP THE MISSION On our trip to the Arctic Circle, we gave Ali Express camping products a try with satisfying results. Everything is made in China. Well, a lot of stuff, anyway. My friend, Siim, has made a hobby of scouring Ali Express for camping gear that he believes is made in the same factories as the stuff we pay hundreds of euros for. He claims most of the stuff is absolutely identical to the name brands, though the Ali stuff carries brand names like Toaks, Wide Sea, or Fire Maple. We’ve extensively debated whether the English names are randomly selected from a dictionary, but Siim is bound to the theory that Ali uses Google translations of terms that hold profound meaning in the original Chinese. Here are a few of the things we’ve used and are willing to vouch for: Tundra tents. Found under the name Knot Gear, these tents held up to 15m/second winds and heavy rain. Siim’s model is under 2kg, including stakes and pole. They aren’t suitable for every climate, though you can make them so by adding a ground cloth and mosquito net, either your own or those that Ali sells. I can’t locate the tents we use on Ali at the moment, but these Mountain Cattle (stifled laughter here) tents appear similar.

“THIS KNOT GEAR BRAND TENT FROM ALIBABA HANDLED 15M/SECOND WINDS. AND IT LOOKS GOOD, TOO.”

Titanium cookware. Lixada isn’t the sexiest name, but for under 20 euros for a cup with cover, you can’t go wrong. The similar brand Toaks also has a presence on Amazon and REI at roughly the same prices. Sleeping pads. We’ve used the Wide Sea and NatureHike brands, which, at 30 euros, are a bargain compared to a 160-euro Therm-a-rest. All the Ali mattresses we’ve tried have held up three seasons on the tundra. Cooking stoves. Marketed under the Fire Maple name, you can’t go wrong for 40 euros. Compare to Primus’ stove at 100 euros. Fly holder. No flykeeper on your 1 000-euro Vision XO? It’s a problem solved for 83 cents.

OF PIGS AND PLAGUES WHEN HE’S NOT TAKING CLIENTS ON SALTWATER FLATS, SEASONED AUSTRALIAN GUIDE EUGENE PAWLOWSKI LIKES TO LOSE HIMSELF IN NEW ZEALAND’S SOUTH ISLAND BACKCOUNTRY. HE TELLS US ABOUT HIS LOVE FOR THE PLACE AND A SEASON HE EXPERIENCED WITH A VERY UNIQUE “HATCH”. Photos. Eugene Pawlowski

y first ever trip to Aotearoa, aka Land of the Long White Cloud, aka New Zealand, was back in late 2008 with my best hermano outlaw. What a trip that was. We had a copy of John Kent’s South Island Trout Fishing Guide and like a couple of see-you-next-Tuesdays, for some reason we decided to fish all the water in the book that was unfavourable. Just shitty sections of rivers that were devoid of fish. We had none of the correct gear, cheap wading boots, and the finest Columbia fishing vests, that Henry’s Fork model where we’d lose shit constantly with all those pockets! Every situation we fished had to be a dry dropper rig, come rain, hail, or shine. We had some bloody cracking sessions and did catch fish, but we never fished with guides which was probably a mistake. We just enjoyed working things out ourselves. It took us a few years to get into a groove. Would I change any of it? Hell no! That 2008 trip started a lifelong passion for chasing trout in New Zealand and I have returned every summer, until Covid stopped me for a couple of years. Our techniques, gear and preferred fishing locations have evolved, and we got to understand the weather patterns. It rains a lot in New Zealand. If you go for three months you will likely lose a month to rain, so you learn how to try and avoid the rain, which rivers blow out in flood the fastest, and which ones clear the fastest. These days I consider South Island one of my favourite fisheries and destinations. Sure, I love wading a warm tropical flat or connecting to a poon or a perm, but there is something about trying to fool the big brown and rainbow trout in those gin-clear rivers way back in hills deep in the majestical wilderness. The trip tattooed into my memory bank is from the 2019/20 season. After a significant rain event as the rivers were just starting to clear, I packed a few days’ worth of gear and

supplies and started the trek in. The river was still high and dirty after days of rain. The first pools I checked out after hours of walking did not look great; I could only really see a foot into the water from the edge. I pushed on, higher into the system for several more hours. I found a hut, dropped my pack and went for a quick arvo session. The river was looking much better; if there was a fush (Kiwi for fish) around you’d see it. I found a couple small fish that afternoon but having walked 15km that day I went back to get the fire going, warm the hut, and grab a bit of tucker (food). Waking up the next morning to a fresh, perfect sunny day, I strapped on the boots and pushed upriver for an hour. I found a fish, made a good cast and bingo, fish on. He

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was a beat-up, slabby old brownie who looked like he had been battling the flood waters for the past winter. I was expecting a bit better than him. After I pushed on for two hours more without seeing a fish I reluctantly trekked back to the hut. I grabbed a bite to eat and decided to go back downriver and fish the water that was too dirty the day before. A good four hours later I slowly walked up next to a good pool. The water clarity was better; not perfect, but you could see a bit more. It was around 5pm. I sat on a boulder and was having a drink when I noticed an odd smudge in the run. I locked on with osprey-like vision! Yes, it’s moving. Finally, here was a decent-looking fish.

“THESE DAYS I CONSIDER SOUTH ISLAND ONE OF MY FAVOURITE FISHERIES AND DESTINATIONS.”

I rigged up the trusty 6-weight with a decent stonefly nymph, something that would get down in the high flowing river. I crawled into position and made a couple of half-arsed casts that were too wide and a touch short. Finally, I stopped casting like a Bruce and put a decent cast in the zone, watched the fish swing and he took! I set and this thing cut loose.

had no control. The river was pumping and you can only put so much hurt on a fish with 6lb fluoro. I was not going to be able to cross as I would get washed away into the gorge. The brownie was more dogged than a tuna doing circles under a boat. I could not budge him, but finally, just as I got close and could see it was a proper tanker, he surged again, found a submerged log and it was game over.

It was a proper toad, the biggest trout I had ever connected with in New Zealand. It dragged me three pools downriver. I was running out of pools as the fourth went into a scarylooking gorge. Even the maddest white-water rafter would be having a good hard and long think before entering it. I

To say I was shattered would be an understatement. In a scenatio like that, every emotion hits you at once. I sat at the water’s edge with sandflies attacking me, as I tried to work out what just happened. What could I have done better? What would I do next time? Would I ever

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“FINALLY I STOPPED CASTING LIKE A BRUCE AND PUT A DECENT CAST IN THE ZONE, WATCHED THE FISH SWING AND HE TOOK!”

encounter a fish like that again? All the signs of PTSD were there. I walked back to my pack upriver were the whole rodeo started. I stood next to the pool staring at the water when, “WTF!” there was another smudge swinging in the current. I was a little reluctant initially. Did I really want to put myself through all that stress and heartbreak again?

like 10) I had the big boy in the skinny water. When I attempted to net the hog, only half of it would fit in the net. I had not dealt with this before. Once half-secure in the net I collapsed to my knees in the river gazing at the fish and trying to come to terms with the events of the last hour. What a rollercoaster!

“Get in there Bruce!” I rerigged and rustled up another stonefly. Made a few shots until I got the right lead and, bingo, fish on. This fish was slightly better behaved, and I did everything in my power to keep it in the soft water on my side and from getting too far downriver. The plan worked and after what felt like 30 minutes (but was more

I checked the weight of the fish with the net, which has a built-in scale that goes to 13lb. The scale bottomed out at 13lb. It took me a moment to comprehend what was happening and why this fish was so huge. This bad boy had been on a gluttonous high protein mouse diet, as had the fish I lost earlier.

“A GOOD FOUR HOURS LATER I SLOWLY WALKED UP NEXT TO A GOOD POOL.”

THE MOUSE HATCH The South Island trout season of 2019/2020 stood out because of the insane gluttony of the fish that year. That was down to the mouse plague. I had heard rumours of this phenomenon happening from time to time, but that was my first time seeing the effects. It needs a few specific things to get the plague party started. The big player is the native beech trees, which go into seed every few years when environmental conditions are just right. This creates an abundance of food for the mouse population which goes into full plague proportions in certain locations. The Department of Conservation try to go into full prevention/ eradication mode, which includes dropping poison from helicopters to try and slow the plague down. Sometimes this works, sometimes it doesn’t.

“I STRUGGLED TO GET THOSE POONS OUT OF MY MIND, ESPECIALLY WHILE TALKING TO CLIENTS”

Where it does not work is where you see trout that are of already good proportions start to look like bulked up, steroid-abusing weightlifters. A trout with 23 mice in its stomach has been recorded. It’s those trout with the big humps on their heads and stomachs that look out of proportion to the rest of their bodies that turn your seasoned trout fisher into a deranged trout bum looking to encounter the trout of a lifetime.

But it’s still New Zealand and these trout are no fools. They may have gorged themselves on mice, but they are still highly attuned to their waters above and below. You need to be on your A game and do the hard yards. If you don’t mind stumbling around at 2am, or you’re one of those people who doesn’t sleep, there’s good mouse-fishing to be had skating or dead-drifting them over big water in the dark. Once the sun rises it’s a different game, long fine leaders, small nymphs and stealthy presentations are standard. And that’s if the fish are in feeding mode. Trout go into a food coma on the mouse diet. You can spend hours on a fish that is just logging it out on the bottom of a pool, trying to work out how he is going to crap out all those mice bones. But, when you’re in the right place at the right time, you will be one happy Bruce.

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After a couple of glamour shots I let him swim away strong – to terrorise more mice, most likely. I set up camp, made a fire and cracked into some single malt and just sat staring into the flames processing the last 24 hours as mice ran around the base of the fire. The following day I rose with the morning mist and decided to keep fishing up from my camp as that was where I had found those two fatties the previous afternoon. Stalking up to the next pool, my osprey vision in full effect, I found another fush. Running a similar game plan to the last fish from the day before, it was on and before long it was in the net. Well... half in the net. The net bottomed out the scale again and this fish had a half-digested mouse protruding from its arse. When they’re on the mice the trout look like they have a bad case of haemorrhoids (picture a baboon’s arse on a trout). It is a sight to behold.

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About an hour or so upriver I found a dark smudge on the bottom sitting pretty deep. This bad boy took some work to get the drift and depth just right as it was not moving far to eat. There was just a slight movement from the fish so I set and came up tight, but it did not feel alive, more like I snagged rock. Then the rock started swimming upriver. This fish took me four pools downriver and all I could do was run and stumble over river stones. Finally the fush tired, I got it in some slow water and had another goodie half in the net. If you’re like me, you probably like spending most of your time in the wilderness trying to avoid contact with others and putting in many kilometres to see what that next pool holds, whether the next stretch of river is even better or if you can find that next special campsite. By the end of my two-month 2019/2020 season, I was

pushing 500km on my feet. Those months included many highs and many lows, many river crossings where I just about got washed away, many slips and trips on tree roots, blisters so big they had their own blisters, shit loads of sandfly bites, I probably ate my body weight in quick oats and pasta with sprinkles of Sandfly’s and the odd sip of Macallan. But nothing came close to those 24 hours when I experienced some of the most ridiculous trout fishing you can dream of. For a few days after, I was in a bit of a strange emotional space trying to process what had happened. After giving the feet a day’s rest, I laced up the boots, put the mobile home on my back, and went off in search of more gluttonous trout. For more from Eugene, check out his Instagram @genefly80.

L AT ES T R E L E A S ES

SALAD BAR PATAGONIA - QUANDARY BRIMMER It’s hot out there and thanks to humanity, it’s only getting hotter. Caps are cool and all, but for sun protection you need a wider brim. The challenge is not looking like the high school B team cricket captain. Enter Patagonia’s Quandary Brimmer, which is built to keep the sun off you on hot days and dusty trails. It features a wide, glarereducing brim, quick-wicking sweatband, breathable crown, and a secure toggle closure to ensure it stays on your head. Fair Trade Certified™-sewn. patagonia.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za

THE MISSION X BUFF® More than just formidably functional, The Mission Original Ecostretch Buff® in Sea Mint featuring our iconic wallpaper design by Conrad Botes UPF50-certified sun protection, is a work of art. It offers UPF59-certified sun protection, is made with 95% recycled content, and is extremely comfortable to wear when fishing. Thanks to its seamless four-way stretch construction, this neck gaiter is versatile and can be worn around your neck, over your face, under your eyes, as a bandana, a beanie, a hairband for your man bun, a wrist covering… Whatever floats your tube. It’s as at home on a river or creek as it is on baking-hot flats, up a frosty fjord or robbing a bank. themissionflymag.com

“THIS BUFF® IS A WORK OF ART.”

THE MISSION - THE CORAL GRUNTER T-SHIRT There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for the mythical spotted grunter. So we’ve put Conrad Botes’s rendering of it from Issue 2 on the back of a coral T-shirt, made from 100% combed cotton, with a soft-to-touch feel. Stock is limited so move on this. themissionflymag.com

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STANLEY - THE ADVENTURE TO-GO COLLECTION Bankside lunch: why choose tin foil, a leaky Tupperware or a garage pie, when Stanley’s Adventure To-Go Collection of leakproof, insulated bottles and food jars give you a solution where after negotiating cliffs, currents and large fish, you still get to have some lunch and a hot coffee. With stainless steel double-wall insulation, a pourthru stopper and insulated lid that doubles as a cup on the flasks, each style is available in two sizes and in three colours – polar (white), abyss (blue) and black. stanley1913.co.za

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Xplorer Hosted Trips – Local and International Destinations

HOWLER BROTHERS - PRESSURE DROP CORD SHORTS Think “pressure drop” and you either think of what the weather is going to do to the fish, or you think of Toots and The Maytals. Either way, you might want to add these comfortable beauts from Howler Bros to your thoughts. Or your pins. With an elastic waistband and stretch cotton corduroy softness they’re designed for hard chillaxing. Available in lichen green at Upstream Flyfishing in South Africa. We be lichen that. howlerbros.com, upstreamflyfishing.co.za

CORTLAND - 50+ SERIES CANNON Want a bazooka-like cast? The angler and the rod play a role, yes, but the right line is arguably more important. The Cannon from Cortland’s special 50+ Series is the fly line equivalent of a bazooka/MANPADS, designed to effortlessly cast large flies, battle windy conditions, load fast-action fly rods, all while targeting the most bad-ass fresh and saltwater species in the world. Built on a 50lb braided core for ultimate stopping power and durability, it’s the kind of line you want when tackling arapaima and dorado in the jungle or chasing giant trevally and blue-water species in the Indian Ocean. Featuring Cortland’s Grip Set (GS) Technology for exceptional feel and consistent hook sets, it is finished with their signature Tropic Plus coating that can withstand the hottest temperatures while remaining slick, supple, and fast-shooting. Boom! cortlandline.com

DANCO - PREMIO PLIERS We have absolutely no idea who Danco are (we picture a factory of little elves all called Dan), but we can tell you that their Premio titanium pliers are the berries, because The Mission regular, Peter Coetzee, raves about them. Made from 100% machined titanium with a sleek matte finish they’re extremely light workhorses designed for decades of fishing missions. Featuring replaceable cobalt-titanium side cutters that make short work of braided line, fluorocarbon, monofilament and even light wire, the Premio range includes a 304 stainless-steel D ring, an elastic cord (non-coiled) lanyard and a belt-loop sheath made from quality leather. More importantly, they come with a full lifetime warranty. Who doesn’t love a brand that backs itself? Available in a 5.5” (14cm) and 6.5” (16.5cm) model. dancopliers.com, upstreamflyfishing.co.za

SIMMS - FLYWEIGHT PLIER If you want a bit more grunt than a pair of haemostats, but don’t want to go the full hog on heavy saltwater pliers, consider the Flyweight from Simms. Sporting a unique ergonomic shape so you can grip it any which way with your lobster claws, it features an anodised aluminium body with stainless steel jaws and cutters. The jaws are textured for crushing barbs and split shot, while the cutters let you make precise cuts in nylon or fluorocarbon tippet. The holster is designed to be attached to Simms’ HEXGRID, MOLLE webbing, 38mm wading belts or wader suspender straps. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.com

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AHREX - NS156 TRADITIONAL SHRIMP HOOK Forget shrimp on the barbie, rather put your shrimp patterns on this stunning chemically sharpened hook from Scandinavian hook gurus, Ahrex. As used by Conrad Botes when tying his lethal Steve Austin black tail pattern (check our SBS video on YouTube), with a curve that mimics the body of a shrimp, the black nickel finish NS156 also features a slightly upturned point for better hooking ability. Available in sizes 4 to 10. ahrexhooks.com, upstreamflyfishing.co.za

“AS USED BY CONRAD BOTES WHEN TYING HIS LETHAL STEVE AUSTIN.”

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FRESHWATER TROUT SERIES

TROUT BOSS For versatile anglers who target trout in every season.

TROUT ALL PURPOSE Durable, high-floating, general-purpose fly line available in a weightforward taper.

SPRING CREEK 444 Spring Creek remains supple in the coldest conditions.

COMPACT FLOAT A full floating short, compact, aggressive head design that shoots an extreme amount of line.

FULL SINK TYPE 6 An easy handling sinking line that will get your fly down fast and effectively.

COMPACT INTERMEDIATE Designed to be our most versatile intermediate fly line.

CLEAR CAMO The 444 Clear Camo line disguises itself extremely well in a variety of different water types.

FULL SINK TYPE 3 Great for subsurface tactics in lake and river applications.

Cortland is distributed through Catch | Contact: sales@shiltonreels.com | cortlandlines.com

SHILTON - FLY-BRAID Well hello there! Shilton, South Africa’s home-grown, world-beating high-end reel brand has branched out into the stuff that goes onto the reels too, starting with their Fly-Braid and Shock leaders. It took a year and a half of solid R&D. Shilton’s Keith Rose-Innes says, “We set out to create the perfect braid for fly fishing, one that matches the Shilton brand. It had to be 9-strand so it could be robust over any coral, but it also needed a diameter that is not so thin that it’s dangerous, but not so thick that it drags in the water. It needed to come in great colours to match our reels and retail at a great price. In a nutshell, that’s what we have done.” Shilton’s new Fly-Braid also has a superior life span because the Ultra-High Molecular Weight Polyethylene it’s made of does not rot. It comes in 30lb, 50lb, 80lb and 120lb and in 300 - and 3 000-metre rolls for shops that want to load clients’ reels (the 120lb is only available in 3000m). The 30lb is available in olive, yellow and red, while the 50lb and 80lb come in green, yellow, blue, orange and red. shiltonreels.com

“THE PERFECT BRAID FOR FLY FISHING.”

SHILTON - SHOCK LEADER Like the Fly-Braid, Shilton’s new shock leader came about because their R&D team could never quite get the right kind of leader they wanted for GT and blue-water species. After a ton of research playing with soft monos (bite-offs even on 150lb) and fluorocarbon (more robust but it sinks), they eventually found a combination that works. The result is a stiffer mono with a diameter equal to soft monos, has good knot strength and a better bite-off ratio than soft monos. Bonus? It comes in at a reasonable price, even for South Africans with our randelas. Available in 100lb, 130lb and 150lb at a fly store near you or from shiltonreels.com.

“A STIFFER MONO WITH A DIAMETER EQUAL TO SOFT MONOS, HAS GOOD KNOT STRENGTH AND A BETTER BITE-OFF RATIO THAN SOFT MONOS.”

SIMMS - DAYMAKER LANDING NETS “Go ahead, dunk, make my day.” Available in medium and small, the poetically named Daymaker nets from Simms are compact, lightweight and durable, made from a carboncomposite construction with a clear, UV-stable, fish-friendly bag. A Thermoplastic polyurethane overlay on the net handle offers extra slipresistance when wet so your buddy cannot blame Simms if he misses the scoop. The medium is 38” long with a hoop width of 13” and a hoop length of 18” making it more suited to a boat or to covering bigger water on foot, while the small is 23” long with a hoop width of 11” and a hoop length of 15”. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.com

C&F DESIGN - FISH EYE “Mayfly mayfly on the water, how doth thine hackle lie?” Fear not milords, you no longer need ponder whether you’ve tied a perfectly floating dry fly or not, because C&F’s one-of-a-kind Fish Eye lets you look at your fly the way a fish would by letting you observe the fly’s floatation in a water-filled tank through a built-in mirror. From the top of the tank, you can view the fish window’s exterior through the mirror, and from the side, you can see inside the fish window. Keep it on your tying desk to test new flies. Top tip: if you use boiled and cooled or distilled water, bubbles are less likely to form and you can observe more clearly. Change the water often and let it dry to avoid water scale. c-and-f.co.jp, frontierflyfishing.com

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PICK YOUR COLOUR S H I LT O N R E E L S . C O M S A L E S @ S H I LT O N R E E L S . C O M

SCIENTIFIC FLY - GRIP UV CURE LIGHT Loadshedding (the South African government’s cute term for not being able to supply electricity) can get in the way of your fly tying production line. Grip’s UV Cure Light gets around that. The LED light charges with a normal USB connection (two hours for a full 10-hour charge) from a PC/wall/laptop. It then connects to the pedestal with a magnet which gives a “hands-free use” option. With a built-in battery and a 60-second timer, you can cure platoons of Perdigons, Eskom be damned. scientificfly.com

XPLORER - XXL SUITCASE FLY BOX If you’re going to be on a boat, fishing for yellows perhaps on a drift or tigerfish anywhere in Southern Africa, you don’t have to be as economical as you might if you were on foot. The XXL Xplorer Suitcase allows you choice and then some. With carefully designed compartments and dividers you can keep everything organised. Built to withstand the salt too, this box is constructed from durable, corrosion-resistant materials. An ergonomic handle ensures comfortable carrying, and the sturdy latches keep the box tightly sealed, preventing water or moisture from entering. Three hundred Tiger Clousers in black and purple and black and red? Don’t mind if we do. xplorerflyfishing.co.za

RIO - MAINSTREAM STRIPER LINE Couple of weeks at the coast on the cards with the possibility of a saltwater smorgasbord of leeries, kob, kingies, etc.? Consider the Rio Mainstream Striper Line. With a powerful weight forward taper for casting a variety of fly sizes this intermediate line is an excellent, affordable all-rounder for the coast. Available in 8-, 9- and 10-weights from Xplorer Fly Fishing. farbank.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za

ORVIS - SHADOW CAMO, REEL LOGO, RAINBOW TROUT TRUCKERS Three spiffy caps from Orvis just landed at Mavungana Flyfishing. Featuring performance fabric that wicks moisture to keep you cool, a dark underside to the brim to reduce glare off the water and a moisture-wicking sweatband, they’re made from recycled fishing nets, promoting cleaner waters. Choose from the Shadow Camo Bent Rod Trucker, the Reel Logo Trucker or the Rainbow Trout Print Trucker. One size fits most melons. orvis.com, flyfishing.co.za

RENZETTI - TRAVELER 2300 SERIES VICE The vice Johnny Cash would probably have chosen, the Renzetti Traveler 2300 Series fly tying vises are the “blacked out” version of the iconic 2200 Traveler. Other than the anodising of all aluminium parts, which ensures a longer lasting finish to the vise, not much has changed and that’s because you don’t need to mess with a classic. A 7” stem on the base adds more comfort for the tyer, a larger base adds more balance, and a polyurethane O-ring on the jaws adds longer wear to your tying experience. rdflyfishing.com, flyfishing.co.za

“A POWERFUL WEIGHT FORWARD TAPER FOR CASTING A VARIETY OF FLY SIZES.”

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GARDEN ROUTE GUIDING

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“IT’S GOT EVERYTHING YOU NEED WHEN YOU NEED IT.” FISHPOND - ELKHORN LUMBAR PACK We find that the best products are the ones that become an unobtrusive extension of your body when fishing. The Fishpond Elkhorn Lumbar Pack fits the bill. Lightweight, yet packed with smart, easy-to-access features, it’s got everything you need when you need it and then it’s out of your way when you want to fish. Made from 210D recycled Cyclepond fabric, expect 5 litres of storage space, including an interior water-resistant stash compartment, and an exterior quick-access pocket and Hypalon attachment points for tippet holders, retractors, and floatant. fishpondusa.com, frontierflyfishing.com

ST CROIX - CONNECT SERIES Rumour has it, St Croix is pushing hard in the fly fishing world, setting up a separate fly fishing division, bringing out new models (including proper premium rods) and head hunting top talent from across the industry. The all-water Connect Series is one of the first new offerings. Designed for everything from trout and bass to light saltwater applications, Connect’s medium-fast action, from the high-modulus SCIII and SCII carbon fibre blanks results in a lightweight, strong, and ultra-responsive rod. Expect chrome single-foot guides (3- to 6-weight, chrome snake guides [7- to 9-weight] as well as chrome stripper guides with aluminium-oxide rings, a hook-keeper, a snub nose premium grade cork handle on the 3- to 6-weight models and a modified full wells premium grade cork handle in weights 7 to 9. An uplocking machined aluminium reel seat completes the package with a fighting butt with composite end cap coming in the 7to 9-weights. stcroixfly.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za

SEMPERFLI - EGGSTATIC EGG FRITZ 8MM TROUT AND BASS PACK Best in Show at the recent Confluence industry event in Salt Lake City, Semperfli has taken Egg Fritz or Chenilles to the next level with their Slush-Fibres giving amazing life and colour to your egg flies. Said Slush Fibres are micro-thin fibres that, when, tied give an amazing slush puppy ice drink-like look to the EggStatic. They’re translucent allowing light to travel through the egg/blob and they provide great movement. Each Eggstatic Pack includes three Extreme String, three Sili Leg Strands, one Fry Chenille, and one Tungsten Beads. semperfli.net, xplorerflyfishing.co.za

EWING - BOMBER SADDLES Fresh from the US, this batch of bomber saddles from Ewing looks amazing. Available in olive, red, purple, chartreuse, and grizzly, work them into your sempers and other baitfish patterns for deadly effect. xplorerflyfishing.co.za

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E: fish@upstreamflyfishing.co.za

www.upstreamflyfishing.co.za

T: +27 (0) 21 762 8007

Visit the new shop - The Boulevard Office Park. Block C. Searle Street. Woodstock. Cape Town. South Africa. 7925

FLY FISHING ADVENTURES

CAPE STREAMS

BOLIVIA

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TANZANIA

SEYCHELLES

L AT ES T R E L E A S ES

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A MICRO-SKIFF FOR MACRO MISSIONS AND... THE CAN CRUSHER OF YOUR DREAMS.

THE MICRO-SKIFF BOTE ROVER AERO BUG SLINGER Just imagine the estuaries and still waters you can explore, properly and stealthily, and the fish you can stalk with the Rover Aero 12’6’’ Bug Slinger Silver King Inflatable Micro Skiff. Here skiff meets paddle board meets booze-cruise-for-one, as it can be outfitted with an outboard motor allowing you to go much further than a traditional paddle board, and then when you get to shallow waterways, you can trim the motor and paddle closer to stalk that tailing Garden Route grunt or that cruising largie at Vanderkloof. With only three inches of draft, the Rover Aero Micro Skiff allows you to get into hard-to-reach places where other boats don’t stand a chance. Plus, because it’s inflatable, you can disassemble and pack it away in a travel bag in minutes. geartopia.co.za, boteboard.com

THE ACCESSORY ALU-CAB CAN CRUSHER Hot weather = lots of cold beer = lots of cans, which take up lots of space. If you’re overlanding, you need to take out all your rubbish and space in the vehicle is limited, which is why the “pimp your 4x4” experts, Alu-Cab, developed the Can Crusher. Reducing 500ml beverage cans by 80% of their size, it features an integrated bottle opener and two hooks to handle a waste bag. Supplied with mounting hardware, it mounts easily to a molle plate on your ride, but will also look pretty schweet next to your braai or bar wall. Make sure to crush each can while staring at the next six pack in order to intimidate your opponents. alu-cab.com

“HOT WEATHER = LOTS OF COLD BEER = LOTS OF CANS.”

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“WHAT IF IT’S ” A SQUIRMY WORMY… LeRoy Botha FLUFF

THE TIES

THAT BIND US J A Z Z K U S C H K E TA K E S A T R I P BACK THROUGH HIS UNIVERSITY SOCIOLOGY AND ANTHROPOLOGY T E X T B O O K S A N D A R R I V E S AT S O M E T R U T H S T H AT M I G H T E X P L A I N T H E E V E R Y D AY E V O L U T I O N O F F LY T Y I N G .

ewind to 1987. The first episode of The Simpsons airs. Smallmouth bass are gaining in popularity among flyrodders, Bob Clouser is making the most of what the Susquehanna River has to offer, and the late, great Lefty Kreh is in his prime. The iconic Clouser Minnow is born.

Could I, dare I, ask whether another pattern of a similar nature had been birthed somewhere else in the world at roughly the same time? We’ll never know. Now, this isn’t something that keeps me up at night but the nerd, conspiracy theorist, and student of the human condition in me ponders it from time to time. More so recently. I guess it’s a journalistic thing. Truth is, it simply cannot be coincidental because it happens too often to ignore. I’m talking about those moments when independent fly tyers stumble upon strikingly similar ideas. There must be something of a collective consciousness at work, some form of subliminal, combined thinking guiding their creative endeavours. To radically paraphrase the sociology textbooks… Collective consciousness is like a shared mental playground where beliefs, ideas, and attitudes emerge within a group. It transcends individual thinking, giving rise to a collective identity. Mark Twain once remarked, “There’s no such thing as a new idea.” When it comes to fly tying, I tend to believe he was onto something. “We simply take old ideas,” he said, “and give them a whirl in a mental kaleidoscope. The result? New and curious combinations. We keep turning and creating endless variations, but they’re still the same old coloured glass pieces used throughout the ages.” Or are they?

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“I find the concept of parallel thinking, specifically in fly tying, to be incredibly intriguing,” explains Yaqoob Tarmohammed (@ JoziFly on Instagram). “It’s fascinating to consider that two individuals, located on opposite ends of the globe, could independently come up with identical or highly similar fly patterns or ideas without ever having communicated with each other.” UK craftsman extraordinaire Rupert Harvey (@rupertharveyflies on Instagram) shares a philosophical perspective. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a case of ‘great minds think alike’,” he ponders, before adding, “But honestly, it’s happened to me several times where I thought I had something entirely original, only to find out someone else had done the exact same thing.” The origins of the concept of “collective consciousness” can be traced to the works of early sociologists, notably Émile Durkheim (not on Instagram). He argued that collective consciousness “merges through social interactions and cultural processes, forming a shared representation of a society’s beliefs and moral values.” It’s a mouthful, no doubt, but Émile believed that collective consciousness acts as a social glue, uniting individuals and guiding their actions and social structures. Can this be applied to the realms of fly tying? Fly tying is a curiously competitive space where intellectual property is all too often completely disregarded. Official trademarks do not exist. Think of art or music. One artist cannot sample another’s work without an official collaboration or royalties changing hands. I digress. “In today’s world, it could simply be the influence of social media and people wanting others to believe their idea is new, even if they’ve never done it before,” says Rupert, reflecting on the current dynamics where an idea can easily be “stolen” and claimed through the instant publication channels of the social media age.

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“…WITH A F

ETTUCCIN E FOAM BOD Y…” Yaqoob Tarm ohammed

Yaqoob agrees. “While this phenomenon has no doubt existed forever, the internet and social media have made it more noticeable and easier to pick up on.” LeRoy Botha (@leroy_botha on Instagram), unofficial chief of fly tying innovation along South Africa’s Garden Route, shares a similar sentiment. “As a so-called ‘pro’ tyer, you’d be lying if you claimed you’ve never experienced the benefits of this,” he admits. “Sometimes it stings, but if you let that negativity consume you, you’ll go crazy in no time. Trust me, I know. And actually, why bother? It’s not going to make you rich, it’s not going to make you a better person, and very importantly, it’s going to make you unhappy.” LeRoy has countless stories that illustrate this point, but one of the most poignant involves the evolution of his grunter flies, starting with the peculiar origin of the Gas Hed Prawn. He recounts, “One night, while tying flies and yearning for deer hair to create turds, I had a lightbulb moment: ‘What if I cut foam into thin strips and spin it like deer hair? Pure wizardry! Utter genius! Eureka!’” LeRoy spent the entire night at his tying vice, crafting what would eventually become the Gas Hed Prawn, and subsequently, the Ironman – the now-famous woven foam-headed grunter fly for the Breede and Swartkops rivers. However, the very next day after his “invention” of strip foam, he stumbled upon an article in a newly released local magazine. It turned out that spun foam, also called “fettuccini foam”, had already been born, nearly simultaneously, on the other side of the planet. LeRoy quickly shrugged it off (the spinning foam, not the disappointment) and went on to develop the Ironman. “I’m grateful for the existence of Ironman, and I owe it to this peculiar story,” he remarks. Returning to the textbooks then, we learn that collective consciousness plays a pivotal role in shaping societies and influencing their trajectory. It moulds social norms, defines moral boundaries, and shapes institutions. When collective consciousness aligns with positive values like compassion, equity, and justice, it becomes a driving force for progress, fostering a more harmonious society. Conversely, collective consciousness can also perpetuate harmful beliefs and practices. LeRoy explains, ‘The journey of my other well-known grunter pattern, Shawn (shrimp x prawn), has followed

REE “…AND TH L EYES DUMBBEL TLE!” AND A RAT vey Rupert Har

a similar twisty road to what it is today. Without prior patterns by others, I might never have even considered ‘developing the presentation’ because, you see, Shawn fishing is all about the presentation, not just the pattern.” LeRoy’s Shawns and Ironmans have taken on a life of their own, much like Rupert and Yaqoob’s patterns. “These patterns are now frequently tied by others,” LeRoy says, “including some commercial setups, whether well or not so well, and it’s increasingly rare to see my name associated with posts featuring them, even in commercial contexts. Some have even attempted to rename Ironman and claim it as their own. I could shed a tear, but really, why bother?” “I used to be bothered by seeing others replicate my fly patterns under their names,” Yaqoob adds. “However, as I’ve matured in this craft, I now enjoy seeing the expertise and skill of other fly tyers. So, while it can sometimes be a pain, I’ve found a different perspective.” According to Yaqoob, with the ease of access offered by Instagram and other platforms today, we have a vast gallery of fly tying content and knowledge at our fingertips. “Social media allows us to absorb ideas, draw inspiration, and stay motivated. For example, seeing someone implement a unique wing case on a stonefly nymph or wings on a mayfly can spark creativity and encourage us to explore innovative techniques.” Apart from social media, he believes the competitive fly fishing scene has also played a significant role in driving advancements and pushing the boundaries of fly tying. “It’s a constant pursuit of improvement and staying ahead, which further fuels the convergence of ideas.” Perhaps we need to rewind far further than the ’80s to simplify this and understand it all. If you delve all the way back, artifacts unearthed at sites around the world have shown that solutions to similar problems were figured out by a range of pre-Homo sapiens cultures at similar times. Flint and steel, the spear, the bow and arrow, art, clothing, and shelter. All have evolved independently through different species of humans in the past. We’re just at the stage where in our niche it’s feather and fur, fettucine foam and deer hair.

LIFER

THE LEADER H AV I N G B U I LT A S U C C E S S F U L O U T D O O R B R A N D I N C A P E S T O R M A N D H E A D E D U P N U M E R O U S W E L L - K N O W N C O N S E R VAT I O N O R G A N I S AT I O N S , W H E R E D R A N D R E W B A X T E R L E A D S , O T H E R S F O L L O W – W H E T H E R I T ’ S T H E WAY F O R WA R D F O R A N E N V I R O N M E N TA L C A U S E O R T H E B E S T R O U T E U P A N I C O N I C WESTERN CAPE BROWN TROUT RIVER.

The first fish I remember catching was a klipvissie, caught with a handline and a smashed periwinkle as bait off the admiralty pier in Simon’s Town, circa 1976. I remember the moment as if it were yesterday. It had spiney things and flapped around a lot. I managed, somehow, to disengage it from the hook and plopped it in a bucket – and then promptly caught a few more. Eventually, to my chagrin, I was “encouraged” to toss them all back into the sea – a seminal moment in terms of inculcating a catch and release philosophy. I have had 14 different structural “homes” spread between Windhoek, Somerset West, Paarl, Wolseley, Cape Town and now, Babanango (babanango.com) in KwaZulu-Natal. I have, however, spent thousands of nights under the stars in the wilderness and mountains across southern Africa, and elsewhere, and consider these places to be my spiritual home. The different jobs I have had include salesman at Camp & Climb; bicycle mechanic; boarding school housemaster (SACS); research assistant, Etosha National Park; assistant lecturer at UCT, Dept of Environmental Science; founder and MD, Capestorm; co-founder, The Cape Leopard Trust; executive at Cape Union Mart; head of business development at the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF), chief of

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staff of an international solar energy company; independent change management and strategy consultant (multiple clients); interim CEO, Cape Town Cycle Tour Trust; CEO of the Wildlife and Environment Society of South Africa (WESSA); various board positions (NGOs and government); CEO, Babanango Game Reserve. There is no such thing as a typical day on a developing Big Five game reserve located in the heart of Zululand. I rise to a cacophony of bird calls and a classic Zululand sunrise. I apply liberal dollops of sunscreen and tick repellent, and put on a thick skin. I drink a superlative cup of coffee with

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my superlative lady. I consult with my oversubscribed diary. I dispatch and receive 30 or more WhatsApp messages and make multiple calls. I scan business-critical emails. I ignore everything that can be solved by others. I prepare for meetings. I expropriate an appropriate mode of transport – could be a game viewer, or a Hilux, or a Robinson 44 helicopter. I could meet with community leaders, local government officials, or labour union representatives. I consult with colleagues and board members, I make a point of stopping on the reserve to engage with visiting guests as well as our staff operating on the ground: APU rangers, gate guards,

lodge staff, researchers, health and safety officers, spa therapists, school facilitators, wildlife monitors, tractor drivers, and alien invasive clearing teams. Whenever possible, I try to get out onto the reserve around golden hour 4-6pm. Photography is my ultimate indulgence. I grew up in the Western Cape at the base of Mostertshoek Twins (the mountain) where the Witels River joins the Upper Dwars to become the Breede River. I have been fishing for browns up the Witels consistently for over 43 years, logging more than 100 fishing trips up and/or down this river since 1980. In total, I have spent more than 280 days fishing this cascading mountain river. I also like the Jan du Toits, the Witte and the Visgat (upper Oliphants) a lot too. I never nymph on these waters. I only fish barbless dries. On the Cape streams I fish a custombuilt 2-weight 9-foot G. Loomis coupled with a Marador Evolution 145 small arbor reel and a Cortland floating line. The best advice I have ever been given is to always double check my knots. Incredibly useful advice for a rock climber and fly fisher, but the advice was given in a figurative context and implied that one should not always assume certainty without first conducting due diligence and proper fact checking. I have tried to apply this to all aspects of my life. I am most proud of my children: Tasmyn, Kyle, and Jamie. I hope they read this. The greatest party trick I know is the remarkable disappearing act... which I have studied over many decades and now fully embrace. This entails disappearing from a party without anyone noticing. I’ve had to work hard at most things in life, but mostly on accepting my

“IF I COULD DO ANYTHING DIFFERENTLY IT WOULD BE TO WORRY LESS, TAKE MORE RISKS.”

many shortcomings. I struggle with perfectionism which in turn leads to procrastination. Accepting this has enabled me to recognise that others can achieve far more than I can by just getting the job done. I have learned to surround myself with capable and efficient implementers and I try not to fixate on minor details. Fortunately, I am able to communicate well so this has made the passage of life a bit easier for me. The most satisfying fish I ever caught was a surprisingly large largemouth yellowfish in the Richtersveld (Orange River) on light tackle – a 5-weight.

“ONE SHOULD NOT ALWAYS ASSUME CERTAINTY WITHOUT FIRST CONDUCTING DUE DILIGENCE.” My go-to beverage is a long drink from a fresh mountain stream where you can taste the sediments and the tannins. One-place-never-again would be South China. An industrial wasteland where the lifeless Pearl River serves as a stark reminder of the ecocide that is unfolding in response to rapacious human consumption and the associated toxic waste that is destroying the very fabric of life. One place I have to return to is the Okavango Delta. It is so precious and yet so fragile. I’d like to return to the panhandle and flick a fly at some tigers at Ncamasere. It OK for an angler to lie when another angler asks if there are any fish in the river. This could go both ways.

unceremoniously depositing me on the floor like a box of misplaced eggs. I strive daily to improve my craft and perhaps one day I’ll get to the point that I can say, “I am... a photographer.” The biggest adventure I’ve ever been on is this life of mine. Each day presents a new opportunity, a new challenge, and a new learning experience. I hope daily that the finish line is still some way to go. The best way to face one’s fears is front on. Our fears, if left unchecked and allowed to grow, can become crippling. The sooner we learn to confront them the quicker we can neutralise their toxic and limiting effect.

The handiest survival skill I have is navigation, without tools/aids.

Before I die I’d like to become a better version of myself, travel to the far-flung places that top my bucket list, build a small off-grid cabin, cycle another 200 000km, be nicer to people.

A skill I would like to master is photography. It’s a dark art that draws me in and titillates my ego before

What I get out of fly fishing has changed over the years. I can fish the upper Umfolozi for hours and hours

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and not catch a thing but be totally in the groove and as happy as Larry. If I could change one thing in fly fishing, it would be to revert to split cane rods – what an artform! I recently acquired a rod built circa 1950 by the legendary rod builder from Zurich, Fritz Schreck. Schreck was a self-taught craftsman having given up a career as a barber. He crafted rods under the Kingfisher logo, and his rods are highly regarded for his eccentric way of using only the power-fibres of the cane, and assembling up to 36 individual layers to make each section, instead of the more common six-layer method (typical Swiss engineering). Looking back on my life, if I could do anything differently it would be to worry less, take more risks. I have changed my mind about emigration. I have more reasons to stay in South Africa. The last fish I caught was a scaly (Natal yellowfish) on the White Umfolozi River in KwaZulu-Natal.

Largest variety of styles for an even larger variety of patterns

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POP QUIZ L O S T I N T H E W O O D S O R F I N D E R O F PAT H S ? TA K E O U R R A P I D - F I R E Q U I Z T O S E E I F YO U A R E A C H A R L ES I N C H A R G E O R A L L AT S E A .

Fergus longed to be a daywalker but with his ginger pubes and milky skin to step outside would be death.

1. According to Stu Harley, the bastard offspring of vundu and sharptooth catfish are known as (page 32)? A. Hetero kukuliverlavras. B. Giant painusinanus. C. Hetero normitatus. D. Hetero clarias. 2. In The Useless Recrimmercial’s fantasy while guiding for marlin in Morocco, what does he do to his terrible client (page 28)? A. Straps a depth-charge to his fat ass. B. Rolls him in bait and uses him as chum for something bigger. C. Kicks him off the back of the boat, Sparta-style. D. Forces him to read the complete works of Joseph Conrad. 3. If you were a British farmer and you caught a guy in your pond wearing smart trousers, covered in duck shit and blood throttling a baby pike, you would say... (page 50) A. “I thought you were already initiated into the Bullingdon Club, Boris?” B. “I know it hurts getting dumped out in the semis Owen, but if you don’t put the fish down I will call PETA.” C. “Are you the odd chap from South Africa?” D. “Have you paid the day rate?” Answers: 1. D, 2. C, 3. C, 4. E, 5. B, 6. E 126

4. When the New Zealand mouse plague is on, what won’t you find (page 92)? A. The beech trees have gone into seed. B. Mice swimming across the rivers at night getting eaten by big browns. C. Fish sitting on the bottom during the day trying to digest mice. D. Fish, struggling as if they have haemorrhoids, to poop out mouse bones. E. So many mice that they form rafts to cross the rivers. 5. For Leonard Flemming, what sort of animal faeces is synonymous with good fishing (page 74)? A. Baboon turds. B. Cow pats. C. Klipsringer bokdrolle. D. Wild cat scat. E. Egyptian goose guano. 6. When fishing alone, Eugene Pawlowski refers to himself as (page 92)? A. Gino. B. Gina. C. Eugi. D. Sheila. E. Bruce.

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