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Casting for Atlantic salmon using surface tactics on a blustery afternoon in Scotland’s Outer Hebrides. Colin Macleod © 2024 Patagonia, Inc.
32. 80% DAGGA BOY
Venturing where very few fly anglers have gone before, Leonard Flemming and Ben Pellegrini unleash their inner furries and take a trip to the Congo River catchment in search of blue yellowfish, aka the majestic mpifu.
50. BANK CREEPER
While experiencing Dullstroom fly fishing in style at Walkersons Hotel & Spa (golf carts, chonky troot, spa treatments and fine dining), Matt Kennedy found himself caught between a noob, a pro and the hard place of his own head.
60. PRE-EMPTION
On repeated, perspective-soaked trips to a remote stretch of the Mozambican coast, Peter Coetzee cherishes what’s there before it disappears.
90. SOLID OCTAGON
While it may be true, most of the time, that there’s nothing new under the sun, when it comes to the solid graphite fly rods produced by Satoshi Maruyama from Eastwind Artisans, there may be an exception to the rule. Having fished two of Satoshi’s Solid Octagon rods Leonard Flemming explains why.
Forget beavers, cormorants or dickheads on jet skis, fly fishing in the Faro River means sharing the water with mega-fauna. Photo. Henry Meade (@meade_flyfishing).
Cover: Fat biking along Mozambique’s remote coastline in search of giant trevally, Peter Coetzee snaps a selfie of his smooth, moisturised legs at 5km/h. Full story on page 60.
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BE THAT GUY OR THAT GIRL
Just over two months ago, in late June, Nic Schwerdtfeger, a Gaula River guide and a regular contributor to The Mission, marched to Norwegian parliament in his waders with his 14foot salmon rod to raise awareness about what is happening in Norway’s rivers. Namely, that Atlantic salmon are more on the ropes than ever, facing huge challenges to their very existence from fish farms, Norwegians’ old school attitudes to catch and kill (despite plummeting populations of this iconic fish), as well as the usual global end-times potpourri of global warming, pollution, acid rain, etc.
I belong to a lot of fly fishing WhatsApp groups (sorry lads, I am cheating on ALL of you) including one populated by South Africans living in Norway. There, the other guys educated me about how despite the great PR Norway and other Scandinavian countries tend to get as modern, smart societies (populated by MENSA mense who give off Francis of Assisi vibes and uplift little people all around the world when they’re not winning beach volleyball competitions) they can be just as dumb, greedy and short-sighted as the rest of us. After initially railing against the incomprehensibility of Norway seemingly willingly destroying their natural heritage by favouring fish farms über alles, what eventually became clear to me was a feeling I first had about six months into the Covid years when the so-called First World was often revealed to be –at base level – as crappy and venal as the so-called Third World. They just had better suits. To be clear, it’s not like before that I thought rich countries were populated by saints. Far from it. But whether it was vaccine hoarding or corruption exposed it was at once obvious, kind of reassuring, and ultra-depressing to see we are all equally as shit in many ways.
So where does that leave all of us? Well, as always, in this issue there are threats to nature and to good fishing. Take Peter Coetzee’s “Pre-emption”, which looks at a beloved stretch of Mozambican coast frequented by giant trevally that, if a Chinese sand mine goes ahead as planned, will likely never be the same again. Leonard Flemming’s “80% Dagga Boy” adventure into the Congo River system in northern Zambia in search of fabled mpifu (blue yellowfish) revealed a fishery so untouched, there are no alien species (though evidence of the odd poacher could be seen). They may be thousands of kilometres away from the fjords of Norway, but places and species like these are lost at all levels of human involvement (or neglect) –individual, governmental, special (as in, at species-level).
Coming back to Norway, aside from the newspaper coverage he got on his march, Nic says, “I got the thumbs up from off-duty cops, a bus driver, had chats with tourists and told them that soon we might not have any wild salmon left in Norway if we continue on the path we are currently on with salmon farming. It’s not just Norway, it’s everywhere, this is a world-wide problem. An Icelandic man also told me, ‘They are coming to ruin our fjords too.’”
So who are “they”, and what can you do? “They” might be the evil tycoon at the lodge bar who raves about how much he loves nature while actively investing in businesses that destroy it, but “they” are unfortunately also me and you. You can do as Nic did and suit up in your waders and rod and march to parliament. If that’s unlikely, he says, “You can speak up. Use your voice. Keep farmed salmon off the table.:” That means being that guy or girl at any dinner when the sushi or other salmon dishes come out and people unthinkingly shovel it into their mouths. Talk to them about the impact, the damage, the zombie fish. Anything. We’ll do the same on this side. As for Chinese sand mines? No idea how to boycott that but when we figure it out, we’ll let you know.
Photo.
Sarah
Fjørtoft
Jacobsen
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EDITOR
Tudor Caradoc-Davies
ART DIRECTOR
Brendan Body
EDITOR AT LARGE Conrad Botes
CONTENT COORDINATOR
CONTACT THE MISSION
The Mission Fly Fishing Magazine for Soutie Press (Pty) Ltd 25 Firth Road, Rondebosch, 7700, Cape Town, South Africa info@themissionflymag.com www.themissionflymag.com
Matt Kennedy
COPY EDITOR
Gillian Caradoc-Davies
MANAGING DIRECTOR
Ingrid Sinclair
ADVERTISING SALES tudor@themissionflymag.com
CONTRIBUTORS #47
Peter Coetzee, Mike Dames, Nathan Pahl, Leonard Flemming, David Taylor, Dave Felce, Jazz Kuschke, JD Filmalter
PHOTOGRAPHERS #47
Peter Coetzee, Mike Dames, Mavungana Flyfishing, Matt Kennedy, Camm McDermott, Leonard Flemming, Ben Pellegrini, African Waters, David Taylor, Corsican Dave, Jimmy Eagleton, Solid Octagon, Fred Davis, Sarah Fjørtoft Jacobsen, Henry Meade
CHUM
PODCASTS, POETS, PROPERTY AND PISCATORIAL PISS-UPS: PLUS THAT POESKET...
ENTER THE… …FEATHERS AWARD
From snapper in Gabon to tarpon in Angola, kob on the Breede and Cape stumpnose on the Garden Route, entries have been flying in all year for The Mission’s annual Feathers Award. Have you or someone you know caught a phenomenal fish on fly on the African continent in 2024? To enter, send your photos and details to info@themissionflymag.com
“HAVE YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW CAUGHT A PHENOMENAL FISH ON FLY ON THE AFRICAN CONTINENT IN 2024?”
CHECK OUT...
...MATT SMYTHE’S SUBSTACK. One of our favourite writers and poets, Matt Smythe, has launched Glorious Mayhem, a Substack with blogs, poems and articles he has written over the years. Be sure to sign up and keep an eye out for Matt’s book (his Letters to Trout Fishing in America was recently selected as runner-up for the William Faulkner-William Wisdom Novella Award). mattsmythe.substack.com
LISTEN TO...
...THE FLYFISH JOURNAL’S NEW PODCAST, SIDECHANNELS.
If you like The Flyfish Journal (and you probably should), then you’re likely to enjoy their new podcast featuring interviews with the likes of guide Hilary Hutcheson, photographer Jeremy Koreski and David James Duncan (author of The River Why). theflyfishjournal.com
THE BEATS - A SEASONAL GEAR-SHIFT
In the Southern Hemisphere spring is kicking through while elsewhere autumn/fall is descending. To usher in the changes, we’ve got this spiffy playlist, featuring everything from Goat to Sleaford Mods, Johnny Blue Skies, Suicide, Allman Brothers Band and more. themissionflymag.com
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BABERMAN SPITTIN’ LIMERICKS
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“DAVE WALKER’S BEARD NOT INCLUDED.”
TAKING A BREAK FROM STAR SIGNS, BABERMAN LEFT US THIS THIS LITTLE GIFT BEFORE HE WENT ON LEAVE.
Fly fishing’s only for some. To me it looks pretty dumb. Tossing a feather in god-awful weather, I’d rather be shagging your mum.
RIVER SONGS BY STEVE DUDA
EDITOR TUDOR CARADOC-DAVIES URGES YOU, NAY... ADVISES YOU, TO GET YOUR HANDS ON WHAT IS EASILY THE BEST FLY FISHING BOOK OF THE YEAR: STEVE DUDA’S RIVER SONGS PUBLISHED BY MOUNTAINEERS BOOKS.
He doesn’t know it, but Steve Duda is partly responsible for The Mission existing. I loved the way Duda, a former editor of The Flyfish Journal, put that magazine together, the contributors he worked with, his own writing and the general outlook on what fly fishing writing could be. It did not have to be a tiresome “how to” (an approach better suited to digital) nor an onanistic “look at me” hero thing (hello, Instagram). Instead, it could be anything as long as it was compelling, entertaining and real-personal stories, snapshots of lives well fly fished, in-depth profiles, piss-takes, you name it. The Mission took bits of that as inspiration then went off in its own regenerative direction, but I have always kept Duda in mind as a sort of editorial talisman.
A collection of Duda’s writing, some published in The Flyfish Journal and elsewhere, some new, River Songs unsurprisingly embodies that feel. Accompanied by 14 illustrations by Matthew DeLorme, longer pieces are
book-ended by shorter “River Songs”, the collection braiding together into a brilliant, hilarious and powerful read that stays with you long after you put the book down. A few of the highlights include “A Long Run With A Tight Crew”, a dedication to a recently deceased fishing dog; “Cue the Tango Scene”, Duda’s account of a magazine gig to Argentina replete with boat banana sacrilege and cleansing ceremonies; “It Pleases Me, Loving Rivers”, literary icon Raymond Carver’s path as a mad-keen fly angler; a beautiful nature boy dedication in “Make The Sky Better, A Meditation on the Western Cliff Swallow”; and “Sir Longballs”, Duda’s epic telling of both an issue he had with his gonads and some impromptu fly fishing camp dental work he endured among drunk, cheering friends.
The kind of guy, by his own admission, more likely to be found shot-gunning beers with the local guides than proselytising on his favourite whisky at the lodge bar, Duda’s got few airs and graces. And the ones he exhibits in River Songs will likely make you appreciate your own time – on the water, in nature, and with your fishing friends – even more. mountaineers.org, stevedudawrites.com
Pressure Drop (Excerpt)
It’s hard to just sit there – waiting. Nothing to do. Drink some more water. Drink a Kalik, but don’t make too much noise rustling around in that cooler. Ponder the fly box and attempt to hide from the determined Bahamian sun. Fret about the wind and the clouds but cheer at the thought of the fried conch with rice and peas that the ladies in the lodge kitchen, fattened by kindness, have in store for dinner. Tend line for Kasper, the fishing bum from Sweden, who won’t stop twirling that pink-assed bonefish fly between his fingers. Comment on the wind. Say something to break the silence: “Man, this point sure looks fishy.” No one responds. Mutter something else to the guide or to Kasper or to the wind. Try to remember the lyrics to “Pressure Drop” by Toots and the Maytals. The Specials covered that song. Keith Richards had a go. So did The Selecter. The Clash put out a ripping version too. It’s the perfect song for a bonefish skiff. The song’s writer, Toots Hibbert, said the song was about karma. The lyrics are straightforward. The melody is insanely catchy, and once your brain queues it up, it won’t stop playing it: “ . . . pressure drop, oh pressure.”
Since grabbing the first bone on the first cast of the morning, I view forty-five minutes of Kasper’s failures, flubs, screwups, and fumbles as a personal attack – a conspiracy to keep me not fishing while he takes forever on the boat’s casting deck. But I shut up about someone else’s bad luck. It’s bad luck to talk about bad luck. It’s even worse luck to take pleasure in someone’s bad luck. It’s fly fishing karma.
“I don’t know how that lead bone didn’t eat that fly, man,” Kasper says, gesturing toward the flats. He shakes his head and looks at his bare feet. “He was all over it. Why didn’t he eat?”
He’s not really asking me, but I answer anyway:
“Sometimes life ain’t fair, dude.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It almost never is.”
“You’re breaking my heart back here. Catch a fish, for cripes sake. For both of us.”
Mikey Bones, our guide, relights his spliff and I spark a cigarette. Even over the mingling smoke, the stink of desperation is acrid and burning. Mikey is considered one of the finest guides on the planet. Long dreads and a big smile make him instantly recognizable – a friendly face in the fly fishing magazines – but out on the flats, he’s all business.
Mikey asks Kasper, “You seen that fish out there comin’ strong to the boat?”
“Yeah, I saw it.”
“Then why you cast so short?”
Silence. Ears burn. Somewhere a gull cackles. The sun continues to punish. “You can’t put the puck in the net if you’re gripping the stick too tight,” I offer. It’s a lame thing to say. I don’t even know if Kasper likes hockey.
“Ya get down, now. Ya take a break,” Mikey finally tells Kasper.
This is no way for me to take back the casting deck, but Kasper just shrugs, sighs, and reels up. Resigned. A failure.
The sun seems even more intense on deck. The winds never abate. But things are brighter, more in focus. Even the smells – mangroves and mud – wet or baked, soaked or withering, are easier to perceive. The clouds play hide and seek with the sun. I try to remember the names of the clouds. Stratus, cirrus, alto. I think of the word cumulus and let it roll around my mouth. It feels cloudlike. I put names to the clouds lining up to cover the sun – Snoop Dogg, Godzilla, Beast Mode, The Cathedral. I congratulate myself for thinking of the cloud word nimbus even as that cloud – a huge bird shape about to swallow the sun – is whisked away by the wind.
The light splotches across the flat, and somehow a fish sneaks past our famous guide’s famous eyes and glides left to right across the skiff’s bow – a mere thirty feet away. The wind has somehow receded into a slight howl. Even I can see that fish. Even I can make that cast. I put the fly out there before the guide sees the fish and can claim it, but it looks too far to the right. He’s never even gonna see it. But no. The bone slows, turns, and starts tracking the fly. Yes. I give a long, slow strip. I can’t imagine stripping this fly any slower or any smoother. Long strip. Smooth strip. Looooong strip. Smoooooth strip.
“Stop stripping. Stop the fly. Cause dem a crash,” Mikey whisper-shouts. “Make him bump into it. He gon’ take or he gon’ turn and run. Right in they face, man.”
I stop the fly. One more tiny twitch and he’s on. I don’t even have time to trout-set. The bone is well hooked and bolts on his first run, speeding off with everywhere and nowhere to go.
That is ridiculous luck for a mediocre angler. I wash the bonefish slime off my hands and shirt, and reach for a victory Kalik. Kasper steps up on the deck whistling “Pressure Drop.” He’s got the melody right. He’s doing a sassy little skank dance. We all join together and shoutsing the chorus to the clouds and the water and the fish. Things are about to get even better.
“DUDA IS THE KIND OF GUY, BY HIS OWN ADMISSION, MORE LIKELY TO BE FOUND SHOT-GUNNING BEERS WITH THE LOCAL GUIDES THAN PROSELYTISING ON HIS FAVOURITE WHISKY AT THE LODGE BAR.”
WHAT - We call them otolithe or Senegalese kob (Pseudotolithus senegalensis), yet the name changes throughout their distribution along West Africa from “corvina” in northern Angola to “casava” and “law croaker” in Senegal. Even the Latin name gets confusing between P. senegallus and P. senegalensis.
The otolithe strikes home with us South Africans as they resemble our beloved dusky kob (Argyrosomus japonicus) in so many ways, both being part of the worldwide drum family Sciaenidae. They are silver in colour and wear the same sheens of purple and pink as our dusky, which no photo will ever capture, but are pimped out with darker diagonal rows of spots along the flank and a dotted dorsal fin.
Little is known about their life history and biology. The maximum recorded size is 230cm (tail length), yet that is probably not accurate as the specimen was most likely a close relative A. regius, which also occurs along the West African coast. The IGFA record is 20.9kg, yet there are potentially bigger specimens. We encounter them from several kilos up to double-digits with a mid-teen considered a stonker.
OTOLITHE
DRUMMING A SIMILAR BEAT TO ITS COUSIN THE KABELJOU, THE SENEGALESE KOB CAN BE HEARD ALL ALONG THE WEST AFRICAN COAST. MIKE DAMES OF AFRICAN WATERS WEIGHS IN ON WHAT IT TAKES TO CATCH THEM ON FLY.
WHERE - Although they have a wide distribution, Gabon is arguably your best bet to catch them on fly. They seem to shy away from freshwater as they are more common along open surf or adjacent to estuary/lagoon mouths, especially during big spring tides which push marine water into the systems. We have seldom caught them in the day but, come nightfall, they arrive to hunt in their masses. Like our dusky kob, they can surprise you at how shallow they will hunt in the white wash.
HOW - Where we are, otolithe aren’t the only fish that will hammer a fly, so we only use 12-weight setups at night, in case a tarpon or big cubera snapper takes instead. Intermediate lines are the mainstay but heavier sinking lines have their place depending on formation. Bigger bulky andino-style flies tied with natural materials are always the first choice. If the surf and/or skill level allow, then you can target them in the rolling waves, but most are caught on the swing in the mouth, where the waves wash over the dropoff.
WHO - You can try tackling Gabon DIY, but African Waters’ operation at Sette Cama realistically gives an angler the best shot at one. africanwaters.net
Photo. C/o Mike Dames
At midnight on a remote beach, guide Tyron Knight performs the advanced ballet move, the Gabon-Gnoeff relevé.
NATHAN PAHL
WHETHER BUILDING ONE OF THE ONLY DRIFT BOAT RAINBOW TROUT FISHERIES IN SOUTH AFRICA ON THE ASH RIVER, GUIDING CLIENTS INTO TROPHY YELLOWS ON THE ORANGE, HEFTY TIGERS AT PONGOLA, OR EVEN ATLANTIC SALMON ON OVERSEAS JAUNTS, MAVUNGANA FLYFISHING’S NATHAN PAHL IS FAST MAKING A NAME FOR HIMSELF.
Photos. C/o Nathan Pahl, Mavungana Flyfishing
5 best things about where you guide?
1. The uniqueness of the Ash River and surrounding Eastern Free State.
2. The starkness and silence of the Richtersveld that will forever haunt my soul and call me back.
3. Guiding in Norway (albeit briefly) has etched itself on me. It’s a lodge unlike any other I’ve experienced, entrenched in tradition with annual clients stretching back six decades, and then there’s simply the allure of Atlantic salmon.
4. Pongola, or Jozini Dam, offers you a bush experience through a different lens. Encountering incredible wildlife from the water is simply the cherry that makes the cake, on top of the tigerfishing, of course. Not much in fresh water beats a double-figure tigerfish on a 7-weight setup in between heavy structure.
5. The people, from fellow guides to clients, and lodge staff.
5 fishing-connected items you don’t leave home without before making a mission?
1. Canon EOS R paired with the Sigma 24-70mm.
2. Leatherman Wave+ Multi-tool for fixing boats (or anything else), making food in the bush or removing a 1/0 Gama from the jaws of a tigerfish.
3. Pocketknife – fishing or for everyday use, it never leaves my side.
4. Yeti Rambler filled with strong French press coffee.
5. First aid kit.
5 bands to listen to while on a road trip?
1. Chance Peña.
2. Mumford & Sons.
3. Ben Howard.
4. Bakermat, to get amped for the mission.
5. 80s rock – Bon Jovi, Journey, Bryan Adams.
5 things you are loving right now?
1. The Orvis Helios 3D. I am yet to fish the new Helios, but I’ve loved every Helios Orvis has released, and the 3D in a 6-weight and 7-weight has served me well across South Africa.
2. The VT (Vusi Thembekwayo) podcast which covers topics ranging from business to inspiration coupled with the genesis of things.
“‘Cause
“EVERY NOW AND THEN YOU GET SOMEONE WHO, REGARDLESS OF HOW MANY TRIPS THEY DO, SHOWS NO IMPROVEMENT.”
3. The access to hiking trails in Clarens and Golden Gate Highlands National Park.
4. The evolution of editing and photography. It’s a familiar journey but one I am far from mastering.
5. Patagonia’s Rio Gallegos waders. I’ve used and abused them for over three years and they still endure every trip I do on the Ash River.
5 indispensable flies for saltwater?
1. Bucktail Clouser.
2. Sculpting fibre and craft fur baitfish.
3. Mini Semper.
4. 10mm Foam Flipper.
5. NYAP.
the eyes of a Ranger are upon you. Any wrong you do, he’s gonna see. When you’re in Texas, look behind you, ‘cause that’s where the Ranger’s gonna be.“
“ONE OF THE BEST THINGS ABOUT WHERE I GUIDE IS THE UNIQUENESS OF THE ASH RIVER AND THE SURROUNDING EASTERN FREE STATE.”
5 indispensable flies for freshwater?
1. PTN variation.
2. Shuttlecock.
3. Stimulator tied with CDC.
4. Feather Changer.
5. Sculpting fibre and craft fur baitfish.
5 favourite fly fishing destinations across Africa?
1. Richtersveld.
2. Pongola Dam.
3. Breede River.
4. Ash River.
5. Koue Bokkeveld for Clannies.
5 of the most difficult guiding experiences so far?
1. Guiding an 82-year-old, stone-deaf client on the lower Orange River for five days. It was challenging but I would do it again in a heartbeat. Dave, you’re a legend!
2. When your client decides to polish off a bottle of hard tack on the boat by himself before the day ends.
3. My first week on the lower Orange, having never rowed a raft before or seen that section of the river. Aged 19 I was like a deer in headlights.
4. Guiding or giving casting lessons to the “unteachables”. Every now and then you get someone who, regardless of how many trips they do, shows no improvement.
5. Having almost every pool and section of river that produced the majority of trophy 10-20lb largies in one season, not produce a single trophy fish the following season.
5 of the best things you have picked up from guiding?
1. I’ve always been a patient person, but guiding took that to a new dimension.
2. The ability to be a chameleon and have a conversation with both a billionaire and the man on the street.
3. A drive and appreciation for the need to conserve.
4. To listen more than I speak.
5. To embrace the energy of the client. If you’re there to have a good time, look at birds, talk about life – I’m all for it.
5 things you didn’t expect about your career in fly fishing?
1. To have met the people I have.
2. The involvement in retail and business and all the other “behind the scenes” things that make the guiding possible.
3. That I didn’t pursue the allure of guiding in the Seychelles.
4. A newfound obsession for anadromous species (fish that live in the sea and migrate into freshwater to spawn).
5. Quite honestly, the pushback from multiple people when I first wanted to make this my career.
5 flies to pack (in the smuggler kit under your driver’s seat) to cover most species?
1. Double Barrel Popper.
2. Bucktail and SF Clouser.
3. Woolly Bugger variation tied on a B10S with a gold tungsten bead.
4. Tuscan Bunny.
5. CDC Emerger.
5 people you would like to guide or fish with?
1. Stephan Dombaj.
2. Tim Leppan.
3. Tim Babich.
4. April Vokey.
5. Brendan Becker.
5 fish on your species hit list?
1. Permit.
2. 20lb sea run brown.
3. Golden masheer.
4. 30lb Atlantic salmon.
5. Golden dorado in Bolivia.
5 shower thoughts that have occurred to you while fly fishing?
1. How active are largemouth yellowfish really at night on a full moon?
2. How long would it take before someone “saw the other side” after getting bitten by a black-necked spitting cobra?
3. A helicopter fly-in would have made life so much easier.
4. Why did that 26lb salmon refuse two small patterns and then decide to eat an 8-inch Sunray Shadow after the same pool had been fished for an hour?
5. Damn those stars are insane (literally while showering under a new moon in the Richtersveld).
5 of the most underrated species in your book?
1. Clanwilliam yellowfish.
2. Atlantic salmon (for South Africans specifically).
3. A 10lb smallmouth yellowfish on a swung streamer. That thing boxes hard.
4. Ash River rainbow trout – not only the biggest wild river trout in South Africa, but they’re gorgeous.
5. Grunter (for international clientele).
5 things (outside of the fishing) that make where you fish so special?
1. The sandstone mountainscape of the Eastern Free State.
2. The fauna and flora leading up to Namibia in Spring.
3. Once again, the people.
4. An African sunset.
5. Stars too numerous to count under the darkest sky.
“TRUST THAT THE INFORMATION GIVEN IS WELL CONSIDERED AND MORE THAN JUST A SUGGESTION.”
Things that make Nathan smile, include bus largemouth yellows (above) and chonky rainbow troots (below).
5 destinations on your bucket list?
1. Yokanga River, Russia.
2. Alta River, Norway.
3. Iceland for the fishing and photography.
4. Providence Atoll.
5. Bolivian jungle.
5 things you would take up if you weren’t always fishing?
1. Professional photography.
2. Certified Master Casting Instructor.
3. Artist.
4. Game ranger or PH (professional hunter). Anything outside of an office.
5. YouTube and cinematography.
5 essential ingredients for an incredible mission?
1. Planning.
2. Music.
3. A good camera but an even better photographer.
4. Uninterrupted time alone, or damn good company.
5. Reacting to the destination with the bewilderment and awe of a child. Appreciation of the resource, not just the fish in that resource.
5 common mistakes that most clients make?
1. Assumption. Do your research, it won’t be time wasted.
2. Expectation is much like assumption. Like the saying, “I’m a guide not a god” – certain factors are not controllable.
3. Not reading their pre-trip info. No one knows better than the operators of the given destination, so trust that the information given is well considered and more than just a suggestion.
4. I know every guide so far has included this, but not practicing or going for a casting lesson before the trip of a lifetime.
5. Not realising that a 22-year-old guide that has guided the same destination since he was 18 knows more than most about that destination.
5 flies that to look at make no sense but that catch fish all the time?
1. DDD.
2. Mop Fly.
3. A Clouser after it’s been harassed to death by a tiger, with nothing left but loose-hanging tinsel and three-and-ahalf strands of bucktail.
4. Most salmon flies.
5. Snake Fly.
5 things about fly fishing that you may never understand?
1. Why the fish of a thousand casts (largemouth yellowfish) decided to take the fly on an anything but a “textbook” cast, mend and retrieve.
2. Why have fly rod manufacturers not yet moved away from line weights to grain weight.
3. How certain items of fly fishing gear are five times the price of conventional tackle, and feature far less technology.
4. How so many fail to embrace the idea of conservation while enjoying the resource.
5. Why there’s always one guy on a trip that’s so lucky.
Your last five casts were to….
1. A swung streamer to trout on the Ash River with a switch rod.
2. Largemouth bass on Gnarly Headz poppers in Clarens.
3. Large and smallmouth yellows inside the ǀAi-ǀAis/ Richtersveld Transfrontier Park (Orange River).
4. Atlantic salmon in Norway.
5. Wild brown trout in Norway.
www.gkhuigkhui.com
info@gkhuigkhui.com
ZAMBIA’S BLUE YELLOWS
80% DAGGA BOY
VENTURING WHERE VERY FEW FLY ANGLERS HAVE GONE BEFORE, LEONARD FLEMMING AND BEN PELLEGRINI UNLEASH THEIR INNER FURRIES AND TAKE A TRIP TO THE CONGO RIVER CATCHMENT IN SEARCH OF BLUE YELLOWFISH, AKA THE MAJESTIC MPIFU.
Photos. Leonard Flemming, Ben Pellegrini
Meet the furries
Arecent protest in Cape Town brought to my attention for the first time the phenomenon of furry fandom. To put it mildly, I was absolutely gobsmacked. Young people were protesting for their rights to be recognised as ‘furries’ where, due to an interest in anthropomorphic animals (or possibly some level of psychosis), they dress up as and embody animal characters.
What’s even more mind-boggling is the fact that some furries actually believe that they are not entirely human, but rather an animal trapped in a human body. I mean that makes perfect sense, right, to believe you are a panda, a squirrel or a horny honey badger to the extent that you wear a synthetic animal suit in the concrete jungle? Strange too that furries appear to only ever identify as cute and cuddly critters. Forget HR asking you to choose your pronouns for your email signature when you can identify as a quokka or an otter. Why, I wondered, does no one fight for the right to dress up as a sharptooth catfish or a blaasoppie?
I’ll admit almost all my instincts lent towards dismissing this lunacy, but then I gave it a little more thought. In many ways I’ve always considered myself a bit of an animal, as I crawl on all fours in dense riverside vegetation, like a dagga boy hiding from humans and other unwelcome creatures. Deep in the bush, sloshing through thick mud and Phragmites reeds, that’s where I am in my happy place, while stalking yellowfish of course.
This was exactly what it felt like when Ben Pellegrini and I headed deep into a relatively under-explored pocket of Africa to look for blue yellows on a recent mission. As a dagga boy herd of two, we trudged through mud, tall grass and forest thickets while sipping sweet water from a cool river carving through the Zambian ‘highlands’, channelling our inner animal instincts to stalk these relatively unknown fish.
We were in the upper reaches of the Congo River system, a largely unspoiled place in a national park where signs of logging for charcoal and poaching of wild animals and fish were minimal compared to the landscape in adjacent tribal land. Nowadays there are few places left on Earth that are scantily populated by humans and even fewer that have that ancient feel to them. Apparently, some of these places, reminiscent of prehistoric times, are tucked away in the Old World, like the African forests of the Congo Basin.
After about a ten-hour drive in a 4x4 from the capital, Lusaka, Ben and I finally found ourselves stretching our limbs at the top of a mountain range in northern Zambia. We peered over a tropical forest that seemed endless, stretching to the horizon with foreign squawks of birds and the rush of water echoing against the cliff face below us. Our excitement was uncontainable, and we leapfrogged each other across the rocky mountain ridge to try and get the first glimpse of the river below us, but the tantalising source of the noise of the torrent was hidden by forest thickets towering above the flow.
The landscape was so foreign to me that it felt like we had just descended upon Pandora, the planet in James Cameron’s Avatar. Flamboyant flowers and butterflies popped against the dark forest floor and every second plant I brushed past either had strange insects on them or poked me. I spend a lot of time in wild places but the unexpected and strange terrain suddenly made me feel very nervous and a tad uncomfortable. We were about to embark on a six-day float trip with local expedition leader George Bell covering approximately 40km of river in a gallery forest corridor. Besides a chance to come face to face with a real dagga boy (and leopard, lion, hippo or crocodile), the thought of a giant alien creature, like a mountain banshee descending upon us from the forest canopy at any second, didn’t seem far-fetched.
“THE LANDSCAPE WAS SO FOREIGN TO ME THAT IT FELT LIKE WE HAD JUST DESCENDED UPON PANDORA, THE PLANET IN JAMES CAMERON’S AVATAR.”
“SOME OF THESE PLACES, REMINISCENT OF PREHISTORIC TIMES, ARE TUCKED AWAY IN THE OLD WORLD, LIKE THE AFRICAN FORESTS OF THE CONGO BASIN.”
We set up camp on top of the mountain and cracked a few cold beers to celebrate our arrival. The campfire conversation was energetic on the first evening and many thoughts about fly selection and techniques for blue yellows were shared. The first night, however, was agonisingly long. Even though we hit the sleeping bags late and felt pretty buggered from travelling, I really struggled to fall into a deep sleep. The buzz of the nightlife kept me awake while my mind wandered through the views of foreign-looking trees such as red mahogany, marula, quinine trees and raffia palms choking the river channel and potentially hiding many wild animals.
It was still dark when I woke up the next morning. We set to the necessary tasks of piecing together the raft, re-packing all our gear for the float trip and fly camps and, most importantly, setting up our fishing rods. With limited sunlight in the forest, we also wanted to make the most of the daylight hours to try and spot cruising adult yellowfish in the deeper runs and pools. In my experience, yellowfish are best targeted in clear water.
Waterproof backpacks were stuffed with fly boxes, reels, warm clothing and snacks while we gulped down hot coffee and cooked oats with fresh apple pieces, a delicious breakfast à la George Bell. After clambering down the steep mountainside to get a better view of the river and an idea of what the water clarity was like, we stumbled upon crystal clear rivulets lined with bright green aquatic plants. The most abundant was a beautiful water fern giving a Devonian atmosphere to the aquatic world in front of us.
These rivulets and the bubbling turquoise pools, formed by large rocky outcrops splitting the river into a series of cascades, were teeming with fish of all shapes and sizes. The plethora of fish in front of us had our beady eyes glinting and really made it feel like we had travelled back in time, to the “age of fishes”. Unshaven and on all fours, we crawled like a bunch of lost furries through the bushy islands and over the aquatic terrain to sneak up on pools to try and see a blue yellowfish. After all, that is what we had come so far for.
“WITH LIMITED SUNLIGHT IN THE FOREST, WE ALSO WANTED TO MAKE THE MOST OF THE DAYLIGHT HOURS TO TRY AND SPOT CRUISING ADULT YELLOWFISH IN THE DEEPER RUNS AND POOLS.”
The blue yellow
Blue yellows have been on my radar ever since Edward Truter caught some of these strange fish with his fish scientist friends while exploring the aquatic biodiversity of the Congo catchment in Zambia over the past two decades or so. What made them so special is that the scientists were not convinced that they represented the well-known and better described Congo yellowfish (Labeobarbus stappersii). In fact, the ichthyologists believed that the Zambian blue yellowfish could be genetically distinct, i.e., a new/undescribed species, and that they were also not the only “yellowfishes” living in these smaller, mysterious headwaters.
My initial attempts to target these fish with Garth Wellman in 2019 failed miserably, mainly because of the lack of availability of the right craft in Lusaka to float and fly fish these rivers properly, and then Covid-19 came along and basically terminated the dream for several years. During this time I met Ben, while catching Natal scalies in the Tugela River with Jeff Tyser, and we learned that we had all been interested in these central African blue yellows and had done our homework independently to try and access waters in northern Zambia to catch these fish.
Immediately after the Covid lockdowns came to an end, strings of photos of colourful Zambian fish, including yellowfish, infiltrated my WhatsApp feed from my good friend Russell de la Harpe. He and George had been catching them in the upper reaches of the Kafue River from inflatable Flycraft that they had imported from the United States. These photos reignited the thought of the blue yellows and the possibility of successfully accessing remote areas where they occur with the *Flycraft, the ideal platform for fly fishing. Logistics and costs were discussed and just like that dates were set for a trip to blue yellowfish country with George’s Rivers & Dust Safaris (www.riversanddust.com).
Edward’s biggest blue yellow, which featured in The Mission Issue 03 as part of a Lifer profile on Ed, was basically the catalyst that brought us together and transformed our dreams into a real mission. Sadly, the group of dreamers grew smaller closer to the time and, in the end, it was only me and Ben.
“WHILE WE MIGHT HAVE CONSIDERED OURSELVES
“FROM THE TIP OF ITS FINS TO THE REST OF THE BODY AND HEAD, THE MPIFU TRULY WAS EVERY SHADE OF BLUE IMAGINABLE.”
Mpifu, dagga boys of the river
Fish species George sent our trip photos to Carl Huchzermeyer, one of the fisheries scientists based in Zambia. Carl and Richard Peel have done the most work in the area and believe that the one largemouth bream with a green head and a turquoise body is an apparently undescribed fish. It’s neither a thinface, humpback nor a purple face largemouth bream.
We also caught a weird northern nembwe, which is another strain distinct from your regular nembwe.
My fish senses drew me towards nymphing methods to successfully catch the blue yellows. I learned over many years targeting yellowfish that most, even our own very big largemouth yellowfish living in the Orange/Vaal system, would gladly accept, sometimes even prefer, a nymph imitation of sorts (including caddis larvae, mayfly nymphs, stonefly nymphs, dragonfly nymphs, etc. etc. etc.). Hours, amounting to days, were spent tying various nymph patterns and these were also the first flies I tied on when we finally started to fish.
Muishond
The Muishond is one of the most effective South African streamer patterns for various yellowfish species including largemouth, Clanwilliam and now mpifu. Check out the step-by-step for Ewan Naude’s variation, The Ginger Ninja, at themissionflymag.com
However, while extremely effective for catching numerous dwarf barbs and Brycinus species (including dwarf tigerfish), using nymphing techniques, we only landed juvenile blue yellowfish, or mpifu as the locals call them. The moment of truth came when I spotted a fairly big mpifu casually cruising on its own next to the raft against a fallen tree. We had been covering water with nymphs for hours when, upon seeing this structure-bound fish, Ben decided to switch to a large Woolly Bugger. Minutes later, the evergreen fish slayer resulted in the fall of the first big mpifu, a solitary bruiser that smashed the fly with unexpected aggression on a short cast next to that tree. The fish put up an incredibly powerful and daunting fight, dashing towards structure with uncontrollable runs. The sighs of relief and sweaty faces on the boat after it was landed revealed the stress that it put all three of us through. We stared at this large, alien blue yellow with disbelief. From the tip of its fins to the rest of the body and head, it truly was every shade of blue imaginable, like some waterborne creature from the Avatar movie.
I continued flicking the nymphs out at structure, which varied from large fallen trees to deep undercuts under overhanging bushes to large boulders, convinced that a big mpifu would still eat my flies. But then Ben nailed another big one soon after his first on a large streamer that he calls a Turd Hond. While I was stuck on the nymphs, too hard-headed to change tactics, Ben had already cued in on the mpifu’s nature and realised that these were the top predators of the river and they wanted big food items. Along with his success on mpifu, Ben also started to catch multi-coloured largemouth bream species that also inhabited these waters. His choice of flies proved that everything big in the system, including the mpifu, brownspot largemouth bream, purple face largemouth bream and thinface largemouth bream, were surprisingly aggressive and predatory.
I quickly joined Ben and got with the programme as we progressed from the nymphs to Woolly Buggers and ultimately to the biggest, egregious Muishond streamers in our boxes. Casting at structure became a scary ordeal, knowing that a large mpifu, or something else aggressive and relatively big, could latch on at any minute and give us a hiding of note. We lost several fish to sunken trees and got so frustrated at times that we even considered jumping into the water to try and free the line but, knowing there were crocodiles in the system, we managed these situations wisely and stayed on the boat. While some fish snagged us beyond rescue, forcing us to snap the tippet, others simply opened #2 Gamakatsu B10S hooks on that first unstoppable run.
“SOME FISH SNAGGED US BEYOND RESCUE, FORCING US TO SNAP THE TIPPET, OTHERS SIMPLY OPENED #2 GAMAKATSU B10S HOOKS ON THAT FIRST UNSTOPPABLE RUN.”
Species diversity ranged from known bream species (thin face, humpback and purple-face largemouth) to new, undescribed bream (below), Mpifu (above) and another yellowfish on page 48.
“WE ALSO CAUGHT A NORTHERN NEMBWE, A STRAIN DISTINCT FROM A NORMAL NEMBWE.”
While we were in what for us qualified as a piscatorial slice of heaven, this was no easy trip. Every aspect was tremendously physical. Our bodies felt battered from hauling the raft through logjams blocking the entire channel in narrow parts of the river and we also had to drag it over numerous “blind” tailouts, where the river split up into tiny braids filtering through thickets. We’d kick up an awful racket, cursing obstacles and chopping our way through these dense shallow areas with a panga, like a small troop of Old World monkeys in an African jungle, trying to alert wildlife to our presence and hopefully scare off any hippo hidden by the dense bush ahead. Ironically, in the end, it became clear to me that it was not the wild animals in the surrounding bush we needed to worry about, but rather the wild fish in the river. In fact, my wrists got so sore from the unexpected, hard takes and strong fights of these fish towards the end of the trip that I basically gave up fishing for them on the last day.
A relatively harmless, exploratory fly fishing vibe at the beginning of the trip turned into a serious faceoff between three yellowfish junkies in a raft and blue yellows in a log-strewn river. These fish bullied us into a state. They were the blue buffaloes of the river and while we might have considered ourselves 20% dagga boy on land, mpifu topped that with being at least 80% dagga boy in the water. Our experience with the blue yellows of Zambia blew every expectation we had about them out of the water. They were nothing like any of the yellowfishes we had ever encountered before.
What I enjoyed most about this place is the fact that it is so well conserved and an unspoilt fishery. There are no largemouth bass, Nile tilapia or other kak that got in there either from elsewhere in Africa or from North America and other places. It’s in a pristine state with all its original predators. That’s almost unheard of today. You simply don’t get places like that anymore. Pretty much every waterway in our current world has some sort of alien invasive fish in it. Hats off to Zambia for pulling that off.
When we were eventually spat out of this trip, back into car, back to tarred roads, city smoke, airports and the concrete jungles of what we all call the real world, we had become feral furry versions of ourselves. Detached from reality, for days our brains were still deep in the reeds, beneath the trees, following the pools and runs of a wild river and its wild fish. Come to think of it, I really felt at the time that I identified with those fish. Almost as though I was a fish trapped in a human body.
“IT WAS NOT THE WILD ANIMALS IN THE SURROUNDING BUSH WE NEEDED TO WORRY ABOUT, BUT RATHER THE WILD FISH IN THE RIVER.”
DULLIES WITH WALKERSONS
BANK CREEPER
WHILE EXPERIENCING DULLSTROOM FLY FISHING IN STYLE AT WALKERSONS HOTEL & SPA (GOLF CARTS, CHONKY TROOT, SPA TREATMENTS AND FINE DINING), MATT KENNEDY FOUND HIMSELF CAUGHT BETWEEN A NOOB, A PRO AND THE HARD PLACE OF HIS OWN HEAD.
Photos.
Matt Kennedy, Camm McDermott
Ihad split lips, a bloody nose, crusty eyes and a scratchy throat. Those might sound like the symptoms of a tear gas attack, C*v1d or perhaps the virus at the beginning of a zombie movie, but the truth is far tamer. As a born and bred Johannesburger, living in Cape Town for the past five years has cleared my skin, curled my hair and ultimately turned me into a giant softy. When I return to the Highveld, winter takes its toll – a toll counted in Lip Ice and eyedrops.
Grooming issues aside, when I do go back to Joburg the familiar colours of the polluted lower atmosphere and the crispy “fresh” air in my old hometown put me in a weirdly positive state of mind because, for me, winter in Joburg is inexorably linked to the arrival of the stillwater trout season in Dullstroom.
These two places occupy the home and holiday epicentres of my brain. I grew up on the banks of dams and ponds all around Dullstroom, fishing with my brothers and my father on countless family holidays. It’s where I learned most of my basic fly fishing skills. To me, Dullstroom is somewhere close to Paradise or, maybe, a few lefts before the Paradise exit. That’s because this small Mpumalanga town three hours from the Big Smoke of Jo’burg is arguably the trout centre of South Africa. Sure, there are other hamlets that have claims to that title (Rhodes in the Eastern Cape for river trout, Nottingham Road in KwaZulu-Natal for a combo of stillwaters and rivers) but, for me it will always be Dullies. To be clear, no one will ever claim Dullies as anything wild or adrenaline pumping (no 200lb arapaima lurking in the ponds as far as I know) but, if you know where to look, there are fin-perfect fish to be caught as they swim though pristine weed beds in clean, cold water.
When I took up my job at The Mission I swiftly learned that while trout fishing is so often conflated with fly fishing, fly fishing is much bigger than just trout. My species count has grown quickly, in fresh and salt, and I have seen a rapid acceleration in my fly fishing skills and knowledge thanks to the diversity of fisheries, tactics and people I’ve been exposed to. Just a week before Walkersons invited us up to Dullstroom, I was paddling around my local estuary in the Cape, stripping large brush flies through brackish water in the hopes of fooling a late season leerie.
“Dullstroom next week…” I thought to myself, as I dragged my ass off the water after yet another blank early Cape winter session, “…at least the trout there are easy.”
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
“Buddy… Did you Google this place before we got here? This is FANCY.”
As we approached in our rental car, Camm, my partner and camera assistant was taking in the manicured landscaping, the stone cottages and the grandeur of the main lodge at Walkersons. I knew in advance that this visit to Dullstroom was going to be different to any previous ones because Camm and I were going to be doing it in style, staying at the five-star Walkersons eco-estate.
As we drove into the valley and through the gates, I battled to keep the car at the speed limit and on the road while also eyeballing each of the stillwaters for rising trout and trying to make out where the Lunsklip River flowed through the estate.
Unlike any fly fishing trip I’ve ever been on, our 72 hours in Dullies started with booking a golf cart at the front desk. All the better to get around Walkersons’ 11 stillwaters and the river and the spa and the bar... of course.
“BUDDY… DID YOU GOOGLE THIS PLACE BEFORE WE GOT HERE? THIS IS FANCY.”
The late afternoon conditions looked glorious, so the other stuff Walkersons offered would have to wait. Picking the closest dam, I got cracking. After the first 45 minutes generated no fish interest, a glimpse of some commotion further along the freshly mowed dam wall drew my attention. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a man had caught a fish. After an extended fight, he netted it at the water’s edge, marched six paces back up the bank, and commenced with surgery to retrieve his fly. Moments later, the angler, filled with accomplishment while trying to admire his catch and take a photo, let the fish flop free and, after some slimy somersaults down the embankment, it escaped back into the water.
As I looked closer, I could see this guy looked like the cover model for Fly Fishing for Dummies. In other words, a complete noob. “Noobius” was dressed in colourful shorts, tekkies (trainers) and ankle socks, and wore a floppy hat with lekker UV panels. He was fishing a setup that looked like it was straight out of a fly fishing lucky packet. When I watched him in action a little later he cast limp loops that drizzled onto the water and then stripped in a Woolly Bugger like he was weighing anchor. I suppose we’ve all been there, but
regardless of how Noobius looked, HE had caught a trout.
Not to jingle my own jangles, but I like to think that I know what I’m doing with trout, especially with “easy” stillwater trout fishing. But, as I continued to fish and an hour or two passed with nothing to show for it, something here clearly wasn’t going right. Obviously these fish were not as special-needs as I’d assumed. If a guy like Noobius had cracked the code (and he appeared to catch a few more fish as I grew increasingly frustrated), then where the hell was I going wrong?
Initially I blamed the Swedish crew of filmmakers and anglers that I’d hung out with a few months earlier. They are obsessed with dry fly fishing and only ever cast to sighted fish. That had rubbed off on my own game so, on arrival at Walkersons, I’d committed (nose in the air) to fishing only thin tippets and delicate dry flies for fish I could see. I quickly chucked this purist approach as soon as I realised Noobius was having more success than I was blind fishing Woolly Buggers. Having already sold out, my hopefulness turned to desperation as numerous new rigs were put out and rejected.
“TROUT ARE EASY! COME ON! THESE SHOULD BE WORKING?!”
Dual-nymphs, dead-drifting under a wool indicator – fail. Black leech on an intermediate line, stripped – fail.
Small beadhead nymph, figure of 8 retrieve – fail.
Dragonfly edged along the margins – fail.
Long tippet – fail.
Longer tippet – fail again.
My internal monologue raged, “TROUT ARE EASY! COME ON! THESE SHOULD BE WORKING?!”
Eventually my foam chest patch looked like an entomologist’s in-tray from all the flies I’d tied on and nipped off. What’s worse was that I could see fish cruising and rising. Most would be basking in stasis until spooked and, while the odd group cruised the weed-bed fringes, none was willing to eat my flies.
With all the sincerity of an actress playing an understanding partner in an erectile dysfunction advert, Camm asked questions that might excuse my performance, “A bit early in the year perhaps?” “Maybe there’s one of those pressure systems you talk about?”
Deep down I knew that these fish didn’t care about a shift in the Indian Ocean’s climatic conditions, or that an abnormal solar flare had affected their feeding habits. Again, Noobius caught, ergo I should too... right?
I persisted and finally got a late-afternoon take. Problem is, muscle memory from my regular leerie fishing in the Cape engulfed my nervous system and I strip struck instead of lifting the rod, lost the fly and probably dislocated the fish’s jaw. My last tungsten beadhead Minky was gone, and so was my self-respect.
Chastened, we decided to head in, order the turn-down service (having only just learned what a turn-down service was) and indulge the romantic wining and dining that Walkersons’ The Flying Scotsman restaurant had on offer. My woes were swallowed along with a deep merlot and a four-course carte du jour. Life wasn’t so bad.
THE
VOYEUR
Coffee. Brekkie. Kit on. Golf cart.
I knew there were loads of fish around, and big ones too. That’s because Tobie van Niekerk, Walkersons’ estate manager, gave me the low-down. He starts each morning seeing to his brown trout hatchery. Eventually, most of them will be stocked throughout the valley’s stillwaters and a small number are held back for further care until reaching a sizeable three kilos. So, we knew there were some chonky beasts lurking somewhere. Each water body is personally stocked and cared for by Tobie and his concerns extend far beyond just the trout. The dams genuinely feel real here, not plastic at all, and are lined with healthy vegetation
and rewilded indigenous grassland that only improve the food web’s integrity. Dullies’ very own St Francis of Assisi, Tobie believes in managing and relocating rather than annihilating the otters, which threaten trout but control the crab numbers. He considers a dam’s health as a whole system, encouraging insect health, weed-bed structure and water flow, in a holistic approach.
Lucinda, Tobie’s wife, is a Protea fly angler and the office manager at Walkersons. Representing Mpumalanga at Nationals (as does Tobie) and South Africa in the international scene, she has a wealth of experience and it shows.
“That’s the most elegant casting I’ve ever seen,” said Camm, gawking at Lucinda’s tight loops.
Frustrated by my performance thus far, I put down my 4-weight and turned to the Lunsklip River, a small stream that flows through the estate, for the change of pace I needed. The Lunsklip reminds me of a thin stream in the Eastern Cape called the Bradgate, in that it held only one fish per run, making for even more rewarding fishing. The rod I was fishing, Echo’s 2-weight River Glass, cast like a slow-motion, buttery sjambok, as wild fish after fish rose from shady refuges in the stream to nab my RAB. These were hungry wild trout, descendants of those reintroduced by Tobie as fry, but left alone to breed and thrive according to nature. I probably could’ve stood there all day catching six-inchers and left the three kilo stillwater browns unbothered, but then my reverie was broken by an awkward interaction.
On a quiet break, a figure emerged in front of the golden afternoon sunbeams, with all sorts of fly fishing paraphernalia dangling from his torso. Protea fly fishing captain and friend of Lucinda’s, Brett van Rensburg, was training for an upcoming competition in France. He was using the stillwater fishery at Walkersons to test his 22ft, 8x tippet stillwater setup, and the various drifts on the stream to simulate different situations in his river fishing game. In much the same way that I had looked over at Noobius and cast judgement on his fly fishing abilities, here besides Brett and Lucinda, with my abandoned rigs and rudimentary approach to both stillwaters and the river, I no doubt looked basic as all hell. As the two comp anglers chatted and compared fly boxes, I must have looked up, squinting into the sun because, like a well-endowed exhibitionist at the urinal might brag, Brett called over to me, “Don’t worry Matt, you can look.” As he presented all 12 inches of his fly box – with 240 meticulously tied beadhead nymphs that looked identical but that were no doubt separated by bead milligrams and the addition or subtraction of fluorescent yak mane or iridescent dassie ball hairs, I didn’t have the heart to explain that A) I was not worried and B) I had not, in fact, been box-spying.
“LIKE A WELL-ENDOWED EXHIBITIONIST AT THE URINAL MIGHT BRAG, BRETT CALLED OVER TO ME, ‘DON’T WORRY MATT, YOU CAN LOOK.’”
“Woah…” I offered somewhat flatly, waiting a polite beat or two for Lucinda and Brett to return to speaking euronymph before returning my focus to harassing the river fish (unsighted) with a dry fly.
The Swedes would have half-approved.
THE LEERIE LIGHTBULB
Back at the dams, fish were active that afternoon. Subsurface porpoise rises echoed around the water as trout feasted on what I assumed were chironomid-type naturals. I’ve seen videos of trouts’ stomach contents, the vast majority of which were dominated by thousands of identical larvae. I was sure this was a similar case; even if you have the flies (which I did not) it’s a banquet that’s almost impossible to get in on because, if your fly doesn’t precisely represent what they’re eating, then why would they risk eating something that looks only “kind of” like the natural? I think no trout would take that gamble.
On stillwater trips, I tend to have the very same flies I relied on months before on a previous visit still attached to my chest patch – dragonfly nymphs, streamers, bloodworms, small beadheads and the odd DDD. These flies work, that’s why they live on my vest. Only this time they weren’t working. Maybe it was something technique-related, but I was tired of trying yet another Zonker colour in the hopes of a happy ending. Every fibre of my being said it was time for a change in strategy.
“Give them something to eat,” I thought. “Something so juicy, that to a trout it will be a prime steak compared to the bar snacks they’re currently munching.”
SPLAT. I put out a big terrestrial with a large buggy silhouette, gave it a small pop as if I was back in Cape Town fishing Galaxia popper patterns for leeries, and bam! Immediate interest, an audible slurp and a fish on the end of my line. It was the first of many.
“MUSCLE MEMORY FROM MY REGULAR LEERIE FISHING IN THE CAPE ENGULFED MY NERVOUS SYSTEM AND I STRIP STRUCK INSTEAD OF LIFTING THE ROD.”
My yellow/green GFA Hoppers and black Dave’s Hoppers were doing the trick. If they were too small, like those you would use on a river, the fish would refuse them.
To call this the Hopper Popper lightbulb moment would be a little incongruous. A light did come on, but only after I’d attempted something that at first made little sense. Frustrated-finger-in-the-light-socket vibes. Think less hallelujah, and more Hail Mary.
In windless conditions, this technique would only work if I sighted a fish from far enough away, crouched down immediately to avoid detection and presented the Hopper Popper. Fish would come from far and wide to
investigate and, most times, a small pop would trigger aggression and an eat.
The best results came from fishing choppy water. Stealthily sighting fish and creeping the banks, I’d cast on the bank that the wind was blowing towards, then pop the hoppers to incite aggressive takes. My hindsight logic was that the choppier the water, the more broken the large silhouette of the hopper would be, and the less careful a hungry trout would be. Regardless of the theory, I’d finally found my groove. Whatever line of Walkersons trout code I’d stumbled upon, it now felt somewhat cracked and from there on out I felt properly relaxed about the fishing.
We’re all on some spectrum of growth and development as anglers with guys like Noobius still learning skills and lucking their way into fish and others like Lucinda and Brett, the actual South African fly fishing captain, taking detail, preparation and obsession to the Nth degree. Somewhere in the middle you find guys like me. I’ve learned some stuff, even begun to forget some things too (cough... stillwater trout skills). But, while I have the odd purist aspiration, I’m not averse to trying leftfield solutions to get a result. And, the more I fish, I’m finding more and more overlaps on the species spectrum. Like using leerie popper tactics on lockjaw trout.
Who knows? Maybe it works both ways and I’ll try gooi an oversized DDD at a leerie in Cape Town this summer.
STAY
If you continue through town, past the communal dams and wind your way down into the Lunsklip valley, you’ll find the five-star Walkersons Hotel and Spa. Think luxury and fly fishing in one place – excellent service, fine dining and trout on a platter, or in a net. The massages are relaxing (I recommend the Gone Fishing package), the setting is surreal, the fish plentiful, the golf carts charged, and you may come across the most helpful estate manager in existence. What’s not to like? walkersons.co.za
SHOP
Pop in at Mavungana Flyfishing’s fly shop to learn the top five most effective flies of the week from John Thoabala and Colen Shabangu; grab a new Orvis Helios if your casting accuracy needs work and maybe even take a pot shot at their pet pond trout while no one is looking? flyfishing.co.za
EAT
If you’re staying at Walkersons, there’s an excellent fourcourse fine dining option, which will leave you more than satisfied with your life choices. For something a little lighter in town, you’d be hard-pressed to beat a pancake at Harrie’s. harriespancakes.co.za
DRINK
Keen on whizzo? Got a whisky name you think no one will know? I guarantee Wild About Whisky will have it in their selection. The extensive menu of tastings includes the Ubuntu six-dram taster, showing off SA’s finest. If hard tack isn’t your thing, you can whet your whistle at the Anvil brewery. Try the Mjolnir IPA (named after Thor’s hammer... or maybe it was Brett’s flybox, I forget). wildaboutwhisky.com, anvilbrewery.com
MOZAMBIQUE
PRE-EMPTION
ON REPEATED, PERSPECTIVE-SOAKED TRIPS TO A REMOTE STRETCH OF THE MOZAMBICAN COAST, PETER COETZEE CHERISHES WHAT’S THERE BEFORE IT DISAPPEARS.
Photos. Peter Coetzee
-EMPTION
Istood transfixed, my eyes on the horizon, as the birds continued to fall from the clouds like spears, crashing into the moody ocean below. I’d been warned by naysayers not to be here in summer and, today, nine days into a two-week stint riding the beaches, I hoped that these balls of bait stretching the entire horizon would be proof that they were wrong.
It’s easy to bet against a surf fly fisherman, for we rely not only on luck, but on timing and proximity as well. I looked at my watch. The four hours that had elapsed as I’d tracked this shoal seemed impossible. I still had hope that the predators would drive them in and, for moments here and there, it looked possible. I had more hope still that the predators would be of the specific flavour I was here for – giant trevally.
This stretch of beach is mainly barren, its inshore fishery defined by the movement of sand that opens and closes stretches of reef, some convincingly permanent. In reality, the reef is often only a north-easterly wind away from being hidden for months again, its resident fish departing to whatever other watery home awaits. It’s a phenomenon that I found devastating at first but, in time (I’ve now spent four weeks on these beaches), I’ve learned to enjoy these little windows for what they are.
War has shaped this coastline and country, many residents still scarred by their childhood memories. The camp’s chef, Costa, travelled through these exact dunes many times as a kid, never spending more than a few nights in a single encampment for his entire childhood. The dunes carry mountains of skeletons of those who attempted to stay longer.
“IT’S EASY TO BET AGAINST A SURF FLY FISHERMAN, FOR WE RELY NOT ONLY ON LUCK, BUT ON TIMING AND PROXIMITY AS WELL.”
The ecosystem’s flora and fauna still show the evidence of starvation. People evading persecution were forced to scavenge to survive and so anything living, edible and accessible became food. The scavenging way of life became the only way for many of the people who are now nomadic fishers in these parts. Despite that, in the few years I’ve been visiting this stretch of coast, it’s a promising sight that a bird sighting has gone from a rare surprise to a morning chorus.
I spend a lot of time watching these men and women fishing and catching crabs, and the perspective of just how lucky I am to fish for fun often hits surprisingly hard. In stark contrast to these people’s weathered faces is a playful
demeanour that makes suffering seem, at times, almost healthy for the human condition. For companions they have fascinating little hounds that are like short-haired Shiba Inus, that somehow seem to survive drinking the saltwater, and that have a healthy fear of white men.
As a regular visitor now, I recognise certain individuals, and they recognise me. We will sometimes attempt to understand how each other’s day has gone. They will point at a rack of drying fish, and I will shrug my shoulders and laugh. I’m a fly fisherman, the man with no dried fish ever. I do sometimes supply hooks, a highly prized piece of carbon in these parts, usually attached to a Clouser or a simple baitfish pattern.
“YOU MAY ONE DAY BE FACED WITH A WAVE THAT PITCHES PRESENTING A WALL OF MASSIVE GIANT TREVALLY.”
The men seem to age at an accelerated rate here, sun exposure at odds with their omega-rich diet perhaps, or maybe we just all experience time differently. A day out here or anywhere in the wild makes that seem a reality. The same goes for an hour on a treadmill for that matter.
I think about what the Chinese “sand mine”, which has site offices that have broken ground just a few kilometres to the south, will do to this ecosystem. I also think about its effect on these people. Their kids will most probably work in the mine. They will soon favour creature comforts over fish and will trade their current set of problems for ones far more familiar to us. They will be given a window through a tiny LCD screen into another world that will force them to compare their abundant lives against a set of measures that will make their abundance seem like poverty. They will soon be trapped forever in a ruinous economic system. I am a cynic because my generation has seen this play out at rapid pace, no country immune.
If you’re lucky, there is a year or two still to explore this stretch of unspoiled wild coastline. So, you pre-empt the decline and arrive. You might find nothing if the sand tide arrives or if abundance offshore keeps you far from the GTs but, if you’re lucky like I have been, you may one day be faced with a wave that pitches presenting a wall of massive giant trevally, or you might turn a corner and find a fish that has herded bait into a bay and is well within fly casting range. If you’ve the right temperament for a surf fly fisherman, you will enjoy it as much either way.
“IF YOU’RE LUCKY, THERE IS A YEAR OR TWO STILL TO EXPLORE THIS STRETCH OF UNSPOILED WILD COASTLINE.”
LATEST RELEASES
SALAD BAR
- HANDJOB T
Like most of what exists in The Mission’s eco-system, the 100% cotton Handjob T is a bit... skeef. You know... a smidgen left field, a tad off. That’s why we love it. If you do too, then double awkward fist bumps to you and the rest of our tribe of fly fishing misfits. While stocks last, you can get yours at themissionflymag.com
“DOUBLE
RIO - BLITZ FLY LINE
FULLING MILL - BLOBS
Whether you believe that blobs represent eggs, a cloud of Daphnia zooplankton, or are simply the fish equivalent of a well-filled Hooters tank top – the fact remains, these flies work exceptionally well. Fulling Mill’s “must-have” selection features 11 of the most popular blobs. Fish them on anything from a floater to a very fast sinker and congratulate yourself on your skills. fullingmill.com, flyfishing.co.za
Was it not good old Sun Tzu of The Art of War fame who stroked his tache and said, “Opportunities multiply as they are seized”? In fly fishing that means being ready whenever a Whac-A-Mole feeding frenzy erupts, taking your shots quickly and with precision. Rio’s Blitz fly line was designed to chase albacore in the mid-Atlantic, a scene where bait and predators explode on the water’s surface and speed counts when getting your fly in front of fast-moving feeding fish. The Blitz features a 26-foot head to maximise fast, easy delivery and easy shooting, while an extended handling section behind the head allows the angler to carry more line for greater accuracy on long casts and easier pickups for second shots. All you need do is scan the horizon for diving birds, channel Sun Tzu and get ready to cast. farbank.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za
“CHANNEL
XPLORER
- FLOW FLY REEL
SIMMS - CHALLENGER SOLAR HOODY
Giving off big “screw you, sun!” Icarus energy, the Simms Challenger Solar Hoody is ready to throw down with the great glowing orb in the sky. Offering UPF30+ sun protection, it features a combination of highly breathable panels to disperse heat and a comfortable moisture-wicking jersey knit to keep you cool. The built-in hood protects your ears, neck, and the back of your head so you won’t be peeling bits off yourself and freaking your grandkids out one day. Wearing this, you are well within your rights to tell the sun god Ra to bring it. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.co.za
“WEARING THIS, YOU ARE WELL WITHIN YOUR RIGHTS TO TELL THE SUN GOD RA TO BRING IT.”
In the 5- to 6-weight fly rod range you have the greatest freshwater versatility. Trout, yellowfish, bass, carp and various other species can all be handled in that zone. You’re going to need a reel plus a few spools to match with those rods and Xplorer’s new lightweight, large-arbor Flow is a beaut. Made from die cast aluminium, it has a secondary machine cut cage with a built in counterbalance on the spool to assist in reducing the overall weight of the reel. A rear-adjusting burnt orange anodised drag knob controls a smooth drag. Available in a 5/6-weight only with spare spools available. xplorerflyfishing.co.za
XPLORER - LAUNCH FLY ROD
Thinking of getting yourself or a frothing (with enthusiasm, not rabies) friend or family member into fly fishing, but cannot or will not fork out for a premium rig? Look no further than Xplorer’s new entry-level fly rod, the Launch, which comes in that freshwater all-rounder 5-weight. Offering
TOPO - POUDRE RIVER CORDUROY TRUCKER HAT
Named after a river in their home state of Colorado, this schweet cotton and corduroy trucker from Topo Designs features a 5-panel soft-structured silhouette, with a medium rise, an adjustable quick-release back closure, a paracord brim and a lekker embroidered troot design. 10/10 would totally wear. topodesigns.com, outsiders.co.za
great value and performance, the Launch is built on a matt black carbon blank to reduce rod flash and offers a moderate-to-fast action. It has a reverse half wells cork grip with an up-locking reel seat. Available in a 9’0” 5-weight four-piece with a rod bag. xplorerflyfishing.co.za
SIMMS - FLYWEIGHT VEST AND VEST PACK
New in the Simms Flyweight range, the Flyweight Vest and Vest Pack are for nudists. Ok, but seriously… they are for anglers who hate feeling weighed down either on the hike in or on the water. The 5L capacity Flyweight Vest weighs in at a mere 1.2lb while the 15L capacity Flyweight Vest Pack is only 1.5lb. Both are made from lightweight, ultra-durable and water-resistant 150-denier robic nylon fabric with HDPE yarns so should withstand years of abuse. On the vest expect a single-entry rear compartment with enough storage for an extra layer or lunch, while the pack has a single-entry backpack main compartment which provides 15 litres of long-term storage. The front storage is much
REDINGTON - ACE FLY REEL
Huzzah! New large-arbor reel alert from Redington with the launch of the Ace, which builds on the success of their Rise series and even improves a few things. Expect an ultradurable, first-of-its-kind lattice-patterned spool design giving increased strength, durability and line breathability. When combined with a rigid frame and an improved drag braking system, the overall result is a lot more confidence on the water. Available in 3/4, 5/6, 7/8 and 9/10 weights. farbank.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za
“FIRST-OF-ITS-KIND LATTICEPATTERNED SPOOL DESIGN GIVING INCREASED STRENGTH, DURABILITY AND LINE BREATHABILITY.”
the same on both with two quick-access drop pockets, four zippered pockets and two small stretch mesh pockets. Spacer mesh back, side and chest panels provide padding and breathability in warm conditions and both feature dual rear pockets for stowing water bottles or extra tackle. They both feature dual sternum straps and side compression bungee for a fine-tuned fit and an interior sleeve for hydration bladders up to 2L (bladder not included). The vest pack has the added bonus of a stowable stuffit pocket that can be deployed from the bottom zippered pocket and used either as a net holster or extra gear carrier. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.co.za
STEALTH - EXISTENCE FLOATING LINES
Looking for an all-rounder floating line that ticks both the value and performance boxes? Then take a gander at Stealth’s Existence Floating lines. Ideal for stillwaters and streams, the braided core ensures low stretch as well as less memory than our art director Bod has of the 90s. Manufactured with a high-tech PVC coating in hi-vis orange to ensure a high floating line, the Existence floating line’s weight forward taper allows for easy loading. The taper also allows efficient energy transfer to ensure leaders roll out properly for precise fly presentation. Welded loops on both ends allow for easy and convenient attaching to backing and leaders. Available in 3- to 6-weights. stealthfishing.co.za
FULLING MILL - RAZOR SCISSORS
In the market for some proper fly tying scissors? Then take a gander at Fulling Mill’s top quality Razor scissors. With long lasting, super-sharp blades, these nifty scissors also feature an adjustable blade tensioner that allows you to set the cutting action just the way you want it. fullingmill.com, flyfishing.co.za
“SOME PROPER FLY TYING SCISSORS.”
FULLING MILL - DUBBING BOX
Digging around in a musty dubbing packet like you’re searching for shrooms (that you already took) at Vortex? Clean up your act with the Fulling Mill dubbing box, which comes with 12 separate compartments for holding your special dubbing selections. Designed to facilitate an “easy pinch” design that allows quick access with strong magnetic closures, the boxes are stackable and come with a blank card to match the compartments, allowing you to label what you are sorting. fullingmill.com, flyfishing.co.za
“DESIGNED TO FACILITATE AN ‘EASY PINCH’.”
ROSS - EVOLUTION LTX
You know how you get Rolex watches and Tudor watches and both premium brands are owned by the same company (the Hans Wilsdorf Organisation)? That’s kind of how we see Abel and Ross reels, both coming out of the Mayfly stable – two premium sister reel brands with legendary aesthetics, performance and histories. In the new Ross Evolution LTX the storied Colorado reel makers combine the feel of their original Evolution LT with the performance of their Evolution R reels. That means an ultrasmooth drag that they claim is now four times stronger than its predecessors’, while retaining the sound and feel that helped make the Evolution an icon. While originally designed with trout in mind, it comes in 3/4, 4/5, 5/6 and 7/8 sizes and that drag in the bigger models (along with a handle machined from canvas phenolic rod which reduces weight, adds durability, and increases grip when wet) can easily cope with bonefish, snook, redfish, grunter etc. rossreels.com, frontierflyfishing.com
SIMMS - RIVERKIT WADER TOTE
Before one can fish one must clobber up. And before one can go home, one must clobber down. To do either usually requires an awkward ancestral boot dance where one stands at the back of one’s car attempting to put on or take off waders, boots and other accoutrement with a minimum of fuss and mess. Simms’s compact, gear wrangling Riverkit Wader Tote helps with all of that by keeping waders, boots and raingear — wet or dry — in check and always at the ready. Made from heavy-duty 600D polyester fabric with backside PU coating it’s water resistant and durable. Breathable mesh panels allow for ventilation when wet gear is stowed inside while a padded lid doubles as a fold-down changing mat. Dance monkey. Dance. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.co.za
GARDEN ROUTE
Come and join us for a world class saltwater flyfishing experience. Target the elusive Grunter and the renowned Garrick (Leerie) on our customised super-lightweight shallow-running skiff.
FULLING MILL - ZONKER
Mavungana Flyfishing have just received two massive shipments of Fulling Mill fly tying materials including dubbings, chenilles, naturals, etc. Perhaps the most exciting is the range of zonkers. Available in their standard and big game sizes, this is the prime stuff, packaged properly so the zonker lies straight and you get zero wastage due to bent zonker. Curses be upon bent zonker. fullingmill.com, flyfishing.co.za
EWING - FEATHER DROP
LOON - BENCH BOSS
One of the most frustrating elements of fly tying is undoubtedly staying on top of your shit. Tie one fly, then get distracted and it can look like a bomb hit your tying table. Loon’s Bench Boss is designed to help with that by organising all your favourite tools, resins, beads and hooks in one sturdy, well-designed home. With hook/bead sorting tubs, multiple gaps for bottles of cement and resin and feather bender slits, you’ll never struggle to find what you need ever again... That’s the theory, at least. loonoutdoors.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za
“ALL YOUR FAVOURITE TOOLS, RESINS, BEADS AND HOOKS IN ONE STURDY, WELL-DESIGNED HOME.”
Like that time a bunch of doves got incinerated in the Olympic flame at the Seoul event, a large amount of feathers has just dropped at Xplorer HQ. Keep an eye out for the XL Schlappen with long webby feathers great for tying saltwater and tigerfish flies. Then there are the Saltwater Streamer Patches, mini-rooster saddle patches on the hide, which provide a nearly 100% usable selection, making them ideal for a variety of fly patterns, from Flatwings to Deceivers. On the freshwater side of things, they also have Dry Fly Saddle Patches, perfect for dry flies in the 10-16 size range; Dry Fly Mini Packs for flies size 10-12 and 14-16; Top Cape Dry Fly Patches which give you a great selection of dry fly hackles ranging from size 1018 and smaller; and lastly, Tailing Packs which give you the ideal feathers for tying tails in various fly patterns, from dries to nymphs. xplorerflyfishing.co.za
AIRFLO - EXTREME 40+ LINES
“IF YOU’RE HITTING THE ORANGE RIVER, YOU’RE GOING TO WANT TO LOOK AT IT.”
Need extra-long casts and the ability to cover a range of depths throughout the water column? Airflo’s Extreme 40+ lines not only have a 36-foot (10.96 metre) head, but they also incorporate Airflo’s Superflo ultra-thin running line and super-slick coating. That translates into extremely easy long-distance casting. Perfect for single hand/switch casting, this line is available in South Africa in floating, slow intermediate, fast intermediate, and type 3, 5 and 7 sinking options. If you’re hitting the Orange River, you’re going to want to look at it, especially in 7 and 8-weights. airflofishing.com
DEEP WANTS
PAY DAY
THERE’S A NEW PLAYER IN THE FISHING EYEWEAR MARKET IN THE FORM OF VALLON, THE RECOGNISED ALPINE SUNNIES SPECIALISTS. JD FILMALTER AND JAZZ KUSCHKE HAVE BEEN TESTING OUT THEIR NEW FRESHWATER AND SALTWATER REVIVALS FOR THE LAST FEW MONTHS. HERE’S THEIR TAKE.
Model: Vallon Freshwater Revivals
Reviewer: Jazz Kuschke
Waters fished: Small streams, bass ponds and Eastern Cape estuaries.
Key takeaways: Effective, versatile, comfortable and stylish enough that my wife doesn’t hate me wearing them casually (which I can’t say for many previous fishing-specific eyewear models).
As an eyewear nerd with a penchant for detail, I was immediately intrigued by the look of Vallon’s Freshwater Revivals. The wraparound design fits snugly your face, which is great for preventing those “Oh shit, there they go…” moments when you’re shaking your head like a lunatic after missing a strike.
Now, let’s get technical. The Vallon V52 lenses have a brown tint with 13% visible light transmission (VLT). Brown and amber lenses are well known to excel during variable light and overcast conditions, when they help increase depth perception and enhance contrast. I used them for about three months and found them great for distinguishing rocks, stones and those fish shadows we’re all after. I wear contact lenses and have had problems with “too dark” lenses in the past. These are not so dark that you feel as though you’re fishing in a cave. I’ve used them extensively on freshwater streams but also found them highly versatile. Don’t be fooled by the “freshwater” name. As with all polarised
lenses worth their tag, these lenses cut through surface glare, letting you see underwater topography and fish movements not only on the streams but on the estuaries too.
Coming from a cycling background where eyewear needs to perform all day, comfort is a big thing for me. Thanks to their interchangeable nose pads and the snug design, the Vallons are “a great place to be.” There’s no itching, scratching or pushing them back up your nose and they fit well under a hat. Weighing just 33 grams, they’re so light you’ll forget they’re there until you take them off and realise the world looks like a bad Instagram filter.
What about durability? Made from sustainable nylon-6 (85% recycled fishing nets, pretty rad in anyone’s book), I’ve knocked them around for only three months but, so far, they’ve held up well and it looks like they will withstand years of adventures. The soft/hard hybrid protective case with clip-on hook and belt straps is a nice touch, especially for travelling when you need to throw them into your carry-on.
Model: Vallon Saltwater Revivals
Reviewer: JD Filmalter
Waters Fished: Western Cape estuaries, Cape Point inshore and offshore.
Key takeaways: Comfortable, great glare reduction, crisp lenses. Fit well. No complaints from the wife either (mine, not Jazz’s).
The Saltwater Revivals feature grey-tinted lenses to improve colour perception and are fully mirror-coated to protect against strong sunlight. The lenses eliminate glare completely and offer exceptional polarisation, allowing me to spot fish with ease. I’ve even worn them while driving, where they eliminated the glare from my dashboard effectively. On open water, the clarity and sharpness of the lenses are impressive. Another huge plus is that they’re damn good in low light. Even if it’s that low cloud with some glare, I’ll wear them and it doesn’t impede my vision at all. The lenses are also highly scratch-resistant. I’ve put them through some tough situations, including a few falls, and they still look good as new. Despite the rough use, there’s no sign of wear and tear. I fish for a living so I’m generally super-hard (and unforgiving) on gear and, so far, these have proven super-durable.
As Jazz says, comfort is key, and the Saltwater did not disappoint. They’re super comfortable although, if you have a narrow face, they might slip a bit when you look down. But let’s be honest, you’re usually looking straight ahead, trying to outsmart those slippery fish, so it’s a minor gripe. I’ve used them extensively
GEL-TAC - STICK-ON BIFOCAL
offshore, and I can confidently say they’re incredibly comfortable. The case is compact and easy to carry, with straps that let you attach it to the interior of your bag for quick access.
Find out more about the brand and these sunnies at vallon.com
LENSES
Post 40? Chances are you’re taking longer than ever to change flies on the water. Instead of dropping some hefty moolah on prescription polarised sunnies, you can just get Gel-Tac’s bifocal stick-ons for your regular shades instead. frontierflyfishing.com
THE MISSION BUFF
Featuring the iconic The Mission wallpaper design by Conrad Botes, the versatile Original Ecostretch Buff® in Sea Mint is as at home on a river or creek as it is on baking-hot flats or up a frosty fjord.
Jimmy Eagleton patrolling the West Coast flats. Photo Matt Kennedy
THE PEANUT AND THE PAW
CAMEROON’S FARO RIVER IS HOME TO SOME SERIOUS AQUATIC BEASTS, THE BEST OF WHICH CAN BE CAUGHT ON FLY. AFTER A FEW SEASONS DECODING THIS FISHERY, AFRICAN WATERS’ DAVID TAYLOR SHARES TWO OF THE GUIDE TEAM’S MOST SUCCESSFUL FLIES.
While many of the rivers in West Africa are completely ruined through overgrazing, illegal mining and netting, this portion of the Faro River, one of the last remaining healthy habitats in the Sahelian savannah, is almost pristine. Home to some 72 species, the water is crystal-clear, so at times you’re practically sightfishing. During the day, if you’ve had your fill of the three tigerfish species on offer (Hydrocynus brevis, Hydrocynus vittatus and Hydrocynus forskahlii), then the Niger barb (Labeobarbus spp.) is an excellent sight-fishing target.
After dark, you break out the 12-weights and take shots at triple-digit Nile perch (Lates niloticus) while keeping an ear out for crocs and hippos. Although a lot about this littleexplored fishery is still be uncovered, our team at Gassa Camp have at least figured this much out when it comes to flies: colour and bulk do the trick.
THE PEANUT
How do you catch Africa’s largest freshwater fish? If you answered “using a pink and red Peanut” then you’d be spot on. The Peanut, a huge streamer that might be mistaken for a feather duster with its deer-hair head that is shaped to look like a bell end, has all the right attributes to trigger the Faro’s monstrous Nile perch.
A lethal feather duster
Built on a #6/0 – #8/0 hook, this fly is all about bulk, from the back end up to the front. First off, a flared clump of the longest hollow bucktail fibres you can find forms a base and provides support for the tail. The rest of the tail is made up of exactly eight saddle hackles in whatever colour combo necessary, all of which curve outward from the hook shank, improving the water displacement of the fly.
At this stage, you can play with colours, replacing the pink with orange and red, but I just like how the pink feathers contrast with the grizzly. In general, we want a contrast of some fluorescent and non-fluorescent materials, and we mostly use lighter rather than darker colours. Adding a few strands of thick flash to the tail seems to work well too. It may just be a confidence booster but the going theory is that ice blue, pearlescent or holographic gold flash reflect the slightest bit of cosmic light radiation on a moonless night, helping the fish pick up the fly.
Turbulence
The long tail, which is tied in a bulky fashion, is blended into the deer-hair head with a thick collar. To achieve the bell end-shaped head, ideally you want to tie in enough deer hair, using the premium long stuff, to result in a whiteboard marker-thick head. The biggest trick here is cutting a symmetrical head. I use my trusty shaver, when it’s not being put to work in the camp ablutions, to get the rough cylindrical shape, and then go in with small sharppoint scissors to do the fine sculpting, leaving a thin layer of deer hair points near the collar. Apart from making a noise under the water, the head generates turbulence that works its way back down the fly and causes the incredibly long tail to wiggle and give off a huge amount of movement. After all, we are fishing at night, and the biggest giveaway in this case is the target species’ ability to sense movement.
Shots in the dark
We fish on moonless nights, so we’re relying on our other four senses to firstly keep us safe from predators, and secondly to not trip up over the harsh terrain on the riverbank. We fish the Peanut with a long, slow strip, or I often do a gentle double-hand retrieve using just my wrists. Considering that it is nighttime, and that Nile perch
Photo. Matt Kennedy, African Waters, David Taylor
“WE ARE FISHING AT NIGHT, AND THE BIGGEST GIVEAWAY IN THIS CASE IS THE TARGET SPECIES’ ABILITY TO SENSE MOVEMENT.”
have sensitive eyesight, the two main factors we rely on are the colour and bulk of the fly. Fishing a 12-weight with 8.9mm fluorocarbon (that is somewhat resistant to the sharp freshwater oyster beds that the perch use for cover) means we are pretty much straight-sticking them and trying to hold them out of any holes in the riverbed, which often involves chasing them downstream.
After about half an hour, out of nowhere, the line will almost be ripped out of your hand. The perch hit very, very hard because they create a massive suction with their huge mouths, which just inhale the fly. So it doesn’t just get stopped, it actually pulls back. The fish aren’t fast, but there’s no way of turning them. While anything over a metre puts you straight onto the reel and anything over 125cm requires some luck to land, the Peanut, for the last two seasons, has been the most successful fly and the pink-and-red the most successful colourway.
THE PINK AND WET NYMPH (PAW)
As far as nymphs go there is nothing that special about this fly, but we have found that it stands out in terms of the barbs’ commitment to flies. The barbs here are technically a species of yellow fish – a labeobarbus – that shoal all along the river. We found that the big ones tend to sit in the slow, deep pools, the same pools that we fish for perch, where we estimate the biggest at 20 pounds.
They are quite spooky, they refuse flies like nothing else, and every season we’re learning more about how to get them to commit to flies, especially the big ones. The fly we use doesn’t resemble anything in particular, but for some reason the barbs react to pink. The two main triggers we’ve noticed so far are that they like a pink hot spot and they like a “plop”, but we still have a lot to learn about them.
A lekker plop!
Basically, the PAW is a nondescript buggy nymph, the likes of which you can easily use for trout and/or regular yellowfish target species. The key in the Faro River fishery is using a 3mm or 3.5mm copper or tungsten bead on a #14 hook to generate the plop, and tying a small tag-tail using pink UV dubbing. To keep the buggy appearance, dubbing with a fur that has guard hairs will do – like hare or squirrel. You don’t want this fly to sink too fast, so the extra bugginess coming from the dubbing helps. You might think that if you don’t want it to sink too fast, then
you would put on a smaller bead, but in fact, with these fish, the plop of a bigger bead is important. So you’re trying to get a fly that’s going to make a lekker plop, but that is going to hang in front of them just long enough for the eat.
The body tapers wider towards the bead, where we incorporate some cul de canard (CDC). Often when it comes to tying nymphs, you really want to limit the amount of CDC used because it slows the sink rate down. But again, in this case, you want a little bit more CDC, preferably with long fluffy fibres that have a lot of movement, to aid in suspending the fly in the water column.
Top of the plops
Armed with less than 5m of fly line, you want to sneak along the riverbank, using boulders for cover, casting to shoals that are mostly under your rod tip, plopping the nymph onto the barbs’ heads without them noticing that you’re there. Your fly will sit in the water for a maximum of three seconds, then you’re lifting it up and plopping it down again, just watching for the reaction of the fish. They’ll always react positively to the plop, and as long as they aren’t suspicious that someone might be on the bank, they’ll eat. When you do hook them, for the most part, they’re fairly slow, but they’re very powerful and they don’t give up.
“YOU DON’T WANT THIS FLY TO SINK TOO FAST, SO THE EXTRA BUGGINESS COMING FROM THE DUBBING HELPS.”
WANDS
THE GOLDILOCKS ZONE
WHILE IT MAY BE TRUE, MOST OF THE TIME, THAT THERE’S NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN, WHEN IT COMES TO THE SOLID GRAPHITE FLY RODS PRODUCED BY SATOSHI MARUYAMA FROM EASTWIND ARTISANS, THERE MAY BE AN EXCEPTION TO THE RULE. HAVING FISHED TWO OF SATOSHI’S SOLID OCTAGON RODS LEONARD FLEMMING EXPLAINS WHY.
Think “bamboo fly rods” and the association you probably make is one of a more traditional fly fishing genre, because the craftsmanship these rods demand dates back centuries. Building bamboo rods also requires skill and takes time, attributes usually reserved for artists. Being such a time-consuming labour of love and skill, good bamboo rods typically carry heavy price tags too. Then there’s the matter of “feel”. The materials that go into making bamboo rods typically make them feel heavier and give them a slower action than modern carbon fibre fly rods.
On the other side of the spectrum, you get the general human obsession with modernity and progress, something we all do, whether it’s cars, phones or sports equipment. In the production of equipment like graphite tennis racquets, carbon fibre mountain bikes and the latest fishing rods, we’ve “evolved” to believe that the future is about producing lighter things that are faster and give a higher performance compared to their more “sluggish” historical counterparts. I totally get it. Futuristic stuff almost always sounds exciting (save for having bloody AI write you a
novel). While featherlight graphite frames make perfect sense when compared with the burden of trudging a heavy steel mountain bike up a hill, the thought has occurred to me and, no doubt, to many other people, that maybe we Gen Xers, Millennials and Gen Z peeps are missing something with our eternal obsession with wanting lighter, faster fly rods. In my opinion, many of the faster modern fly rods lack casting ability and accuracy at close range. These are exactly the kind of distances we frequently cover to reach fish in our bushed-in rivers.
“IS LIGHTER, BETTER?”
That was the vital question that jeweller turned rod maker Satoshi Maruyama asked himself when he started to build a solid graphite rod. His goal? To build a rod that, in contrast to the ever-lighter weights and faster actions of modern, hollow, carbon fibre rods, exhibited a casting stroke that closely resembled a bamboo rod.
As an artist majoring in sculpture at Tokyo Art University, one of the top art schools in Japan, Satoshi took a natural interest both in crafting jewellery and his own fly rods. He’s made a name for himself as one of Japan’s top wedding band makers, but he admits that, “Ninety-five per cent of my brain is occupied with fly rods.”
Photos. Leonard Flemming, Jimmy Eagleton, Solid Octagon, Matt Kennedy
Over years spent experimenting with fly rods he observed how bamboo loaded a short line better at close quarters and also how a bamboo rod naturally fought the fish with the bend of the rod and protected light tippets. However, on the downside, these rods were heavy, sometimes a tad too heavy for his liking. So, Satoshi set out to produce something in-between, a Goldilocks-zone graphite rod neither as heavy as bamboo, nor as light and stiff as modern carbon fibre rods.
He realised that the quality of a product is weightdependent, and that weight adds power to a tool, like a hammer, but that it should not be too heavy. Either way, being too heavy or too light, it would not be very useful or durable. It should rather be an ideal weight most suitable for its purpose. I like the way that Satoshi compares building hardware with fishing tackle, i.e. fishing tools, and, from what I have experienced fishing his rods, I think he hit the nail on the head with that theory. Although Satoshi’s intention was to construct solid graphite rods for streams, I was also interested in the performance of these rods in saltwater. So, he went out of his way to build two Solid Octagon saltwater fly rods and I was lucky enough to receive the custom 8- and 9-weights to try out. Here’s what happened…
FLATS TEST
There are few true saltwater flats areas that are a comfortable daytrip from Cape Town. The vast sand flats along the West Coast are probably the closest thing you’ll find to a Seychelles flat, but unlike the tropics there is not an abundance of bonefish along our Atlantic coastline. So while we are limited to mostly cartilaginous flatfish like the lesser guitarfish, common eagle ray, thorn ray, electric ray and other rays, it is still true flats fishing in the sense that you are stalking relatively big and powerful fish with a 9-weight and thinnish, fluorocarbon tippet.
While fishing the flats, unpredictable, strong winds often pick up during the day so I prefer a 9-weight. The fishing also requires surprisingly quick reactions and accurate presentations otherwise often limited opportunities are easily missed to present a fly at a sighted fish cruising in very shallow water.
The Solid Octagon 9-weight performed surprisingly well in these conditions. It proved to be a supple but powerful rod, loading a short line quickly, managing both roll casting and longer casts over distances of 15m-plus to cover feeding fish really well. Although not necessarily designed for this, it even handled with ease relatively big, weighted crab flies cast at a fair distance to eagle rays “mudding” behind the wave zone.
The most interesting thing for me was how the solid graphite blank still conducted takes, like an electric pulse travelling through the line and through the rod, one of
“ONE OF JAPAN’S TOP WEDDING BAND MAKERS, SATOSHI ADMITS THAT, ‘NINETY FIVE PER CENT OF MY BRAIN IS OCCUPIED WITH FLY RODS.’”
the key signs to set the hook with a strip-strike with these fish. I really enjoy a rod that detects that “pulse” through the blank, and although the Solid Octagon’s medium-tofast action may be comparable to helical construction carbon fibre rods, the “pulse” from a fish eat is something I have found helical carbon fibre rods struggle to transfer. I’d imagine that bamboo may be similar or even worse? Nevertheless, you’ll have no problem picking up takes through the Solid Octagon rods.
As with most tropical fish targeted on vast sand flats, you must let guitarfish and eagle rays do their own thing on the relatively thin tippet. They also run you well into your backing after feeling the pressure of the hookset. It was such a pleasure fighting big fish on the Solid Octagon. It’s more like a bamboo or glass rod and gives with the slightest resistance, protecting the tippet. The rod also bends nicely into the fish and the bend has enough power to guide a fish away from reefs and rocky outcrops that may cut the line. That suppleness means that you can bend the rod with peace of mind when landing big fish in the shore break, often a crucial situation where faster, stiffer carbon fibre rods can snap.
PELAGIC TEST
If you read up about Solid Octagon rods and the reason why the designer chose a solid graphite blank, you’ll realise that the intention was not to build a fast-action rod that could potentially cast an entire fly line at fish in the open ocean. Instead, Satoshi strove to produce a slightly “softer” rod that could load accurate casts over shorter distances, such as those required to catch yamame (landlocked cherry salmon) in small streams in Japan.
So, unlike flats fishing, which is quite intimate and I guess better suited to the purpose of Solid Octagon rods, I took the Solid Octagon 8-weight well outside of its intended limits and targeted Cape yellowtail (aka giant yellowtail or yellowtail amberjack) on an offshore fishing mission with Jimmy Eagleton. We were fishing with clear intermediate lines, 15lb fluorocarbon tippet and #4 olive Clouser Minnows to skittish yellowtail feeding on schooling anchovies swimming close to the surface. This was not exactly the place even for a powerful 10-weight G. Loomis, for instance.
The Solid Octagon 8-weight presented a full Rio Premier AquaLux clear intermediate line with minimal false casting and, instead of a medium-fast action, this blank felt really fast. Though still a supple rod, its casting action was closer to my fast-action Sage rods, like my 8-weight Sage Method. I had no trouble reaching fish rushing past from a few feet next to the boat to an approximate 100ft distance (±30m) from us and, while properly under-gunned with an 8-weight targeting >10lb yellowtail, I was still able to land the majority of fish that I hooked on this rod.
In short, the 8-weight Solid Octagon really impressed me and, besides the stunning detail in the rod and the very professional finish, it proved itself to be a tough and versatile fishing tool, even suitable for targeting offshore saltwater species. Like the flats fishing experience with the 9-weight in blue water, this rod ticked all the boxes for me.
CARP TEST
Being a carp fanatic I simply had to go and try one of these rods out on a stillwater with a booming population of carp in it. It was already late summer and the dam levels were actually too low, but this did not stop me from at least trying.
I went a tad against my usual carp strategy and presented a small crab pattern to carp feeding a few rod-lengths from the bank in about 6 feet of water with a clear intermediate line. Only the fizz was visible on the surface where carp were stirring up the bottom as they presumably sucked up silt, dragonfly nymphs and bloodworm.
I covered the fizz with a short cast and, as with the flatfish on the West Coast, the Solid Octagon detected the carp eat exceptionally well and I was quickly into my first freshwater
“SOLID OCTAGON RODS FEEL AND FISH LIKE NO OTHER FLY ROD I’VE EVER OWNED OR TESTED.”
fish on these rods. I fought the fish mostly with the bend of the rod, keeping it close and preventing it from running a “mile”, which is generally not possible when fighting carp with standard carbon fibre rods as they are too stiff and you typically get flat-sticked and see backing almost straight away.
FINAL SCORE
My limited experience with the Solid Octagon rods, and especially with testing different rod weights beyond the potential saltwater range that I was provided with, makes it hard to place them. What I can say about these rods is that they feel and fish like no other fly rod I’ve ever owned or tested. They are unique, possibly not even comparable to other commercial fly rods out there, but lethal tools for the job.
They delivered beyond expectation and executed the job very well in every scenario that I tested them in. Although the subtle nuances of these rods compared to the more conventional stuff out there may take a session to get used to, you will undoubtedly fall in love with the feel and craftsmanship of Solid Octagon rods. I rate them highly and most certainly recommend owning a few weights in this new genre of fly rod design.
Satoshi Maruyama, I salute you! You’ve created something really special here and many of us are looking forward to future developments of the Solid Octagon fly rods.
Find out more about the manufacture and sale of Solid Octagon rods at eastwindartisans.com and solid-octa.com.
LIFER
CORSICAN DAVE
ONE OF FLY FISHING’S TRUE CHARACTERS, PERHAPS YOU’VE SEEN HIS MOUSTACHE BEFORE OR MAYBE IT WAS THE UBIQUITOUS CIGAR. MOST LIKELY YOU’VE SEEN OUR SCOTLAND-BASED FLY FISHING LIFER DAVE FELCE (AKA CORSICAN DAVE ) THROUGH HIS MANY CARP AND PIKE-ON-FLY PURSUITS AND HIS ADVOCACY FOR THESE SPECIES. HE TALKS TO US ABOUT A LIFE WELL FISHED.
The first fish I remember catching was a roach from the Grand Union Canal when I was five. My auntie Thelma “borrowed” my uncle’s fishing gear and we fished bread paste under a bobber, between the narrow boats at the bottom of my grandad’s allotment. No one went fly fishing in Milton Keynes. That was for rich folks on another planet. My first fish on fly gear was actually a pretty decent chub (4lb-plus) from a tiny river, using freelined bread flake. There were a couple of lessons in there.
I’ve had a few jobs, too many to list... I had a very senior international job in the chemical industry for a number of years, but I’ve also worked as a mountain guide, a fishing guide and in outdoor retail (so don’t even think about asking me, “What’s the best...?” ’cause I actually know, and you won’t like the answers!). Somewhat bizarrely, I’ve also put up Christmas decorations in shopping centres as a rope access technician.
The story behind my nickname, Corsican Dave, is that my family are originally from Corsica way back, and it’s a lot easier for folks to remember than my surname! Besides which, Porno Dave (long story) isn’t quite as socially acceptable.
A typical day for me looks grey, wet and cold. Hey! It’s Scotland!
As far as home waters go, on my doorstep I have fantastic pike fishing, both in big lochs and in squitty little duck ponds that no one gives a second glance. Watching a vee wake appear behind your fly is a heartstopping moment every time. I’ve caught way in excess
of 1 000 pike on the fly. I prefer to use surface lures (I’ve got a fly that imitates a duckling), which allow me to target some really tight spots.
My spiritual home is Extremadura in central Spain. Most folks say, “Where?” But that’s kinda the point. Sightfishing to big, wild carp and barbel in gin-clear water. Plus the people, the food, the scenery: I have some very good friends there who’ve been very kind to me over the years. I should also mention the high-altitude reservoirs on Gran Canaria. Phenomenal scenery and truly huge wild carp!
My go-to setup on these waters is the Gouldfish Car’poon 7’9” 10-weight S-glass with specialist compound taper, 8-weight Barrio GT90 (a long-bellied WF) and fluorocarbon tippet up to 22lb. Abel cork-drag reels; super-smooth and totally reliable. This gives me the ability to present delicately both at distance and close in, smoothness to cushion the initial surge of big fish (much more difficult with stiff carbon), and power to control in tight situations. I can actually cast a full 6-weight line with this rig, or a 12-weight; so it’s very versatile.
The best advice I have ever been given was, “Don’t do that, Dave! Oh fuck… too late.” Joking aside, there’ve been a couple. My English teacher always told me to write what I know. So I mostly write about not catching fish. I know a lot about that. Folks seem to like it. Fishingwise: “There’s no point casting for the horizon when the fish are at your feet.” From a guy who promptly launched a 90-footer and hooked into a trout I couldn’t see. I learned both lessons pretty well, and worked on my stalking and casting.
“I AM MOST PROUD OF MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY, ALL WONDERFUL PEOPLE WHO HAVE PUT UP WITH ME FOR A VERY LONG TIME!”
Photos. C/o Dave Felce (AKA Corsican Dave), Marek Sidor (portrait)
I am most proud of my friends and family, all wonderful people who have put up with me for a very long time! I’m also immensely proud of being involved in the development of the amazing Car’poon fly rod. It was created from the ground up by Chris Gould, who designed the tapers, commissioned the mandrels, etc. There are 30 or so around the world, and it’s subdued trophy fish of all kinds; from huge carp to 200lbplus arapaima and sharks. It’s the first, and to date the only, production fly rod designed specifically for carp.
I’ve tried not to work very hard at anything at all, to be honest! Although that approach was doomed to failure. At school I was one of the smallest kids for many years, so I had to work very hard at sport, eventually becoming quite successful. Observation: a thirst for knowledge and asking questions came naturally, which certainly helped me as a biologist, and also with stalking fish.
There have been so, so many satisfying fish. A mid-20s pike from a tiny village pond that folks throw shopping carts into comes to mind. “No fish in there, mate…” Uh huh… More recently, a couple of big carp from an overgrown river in Spain. Years spent watching fish and practising casting
finally got me in the right place at the right time. Every fish is special, and a privilege.
My go-to drink is a dark malty ale. Or a good porter. I can’t be doing with “tropical” IPAs! Deep, woody Riojas, too. I did also get a taste for Caipirinhas while hunting arapaima in Brazil
One place, never again: Inverness airport. Without question the rudest, most draconian and inefficient I’ve ever come across. Unfortunately, it’s kinda inevitable…
One place I have to return to is Spain. Time and time again. There’s so much to explore. Pirarucu Lodge in the Mamirauá Reserve of the Amazon was pretty special. All my savings gone, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
It is OK for an angler to lie when your client offers you a spectacularly shit cigar. Every angler lies. It goes with the territory and non-anglers expect it. All part of the fun! An old sherpa saying is, “Maybe true, maybe not; better you believe.” But being honest with yourself and to your friends is essential.
“IF I COULD CHANGE ONE THING IN FLY FISHING, IT WOULD BE THE PERCEPTION THAT IT’S ELITIST, SALMO-CENTRIC AND DIFFICULT.”
The handiest survival skill I have is the belief that manners maketh man. Smiling, politeness, respect and being able to say “hello”, “please” and “thank you” in a number of languages will get you a long way. That and a pocketful of cigars.
A skill I would like to master is flash photography. Never got my head around it. Any offers of help would be greatly appreciated! That, and being able to put pictures up straight.
The biggest adventure I’ve ever been on was about 40 years ago when I persuaded a friend to join me on a cycling holiday to the Picos de Europa in northern Spain. We had one out-of-date climbing guidebook and a Spanish phrasebook. No one we knew had heard of the area; pre-internet, of course. Rolling down the ferry ramp alongside heavy goods vehicles and huge overland trucks was definitely a “Fuck! This is something else” moment. We rode through high mountain passes, pushed our bikes through deep snow, were held at gunpoint by the police for camping in a bus shelter… the usual stuff for teenagers. It was a real eye-opener to travel in remote communities, and sowed the seeds for the future.
The best way to face one’s fears is full on. Or run away. Hesitate and it’s probably gonna hurt.
Before I die, I’d like to get some new knees!
If I could change one thing in fly fishing, it would be the perception that it’s elitist, Salmo-centric and difficult. It’s just a different, and often more effective, way of putting something that looks like food in front of a fish. Any fish. It’s also far less complicated than a lot of people would like you to believe. Too much dogma and too many vested interests.
Looking back on my life thus far, there is plenty I would do differently, and a couple of things I wouldn’t have done at all! I’d definitely have taken a fly rod on my mountaineering adventures. That might sound strange to other outdoors folks around the planet, but here in the UK the two activities are rarely combined, even nowadays.
Something I have changed my mind about is that kayakers are not the enemy.
The last fish I caught was a tiny little jewel of a brook trout on a miniscule dry fly (although for me, anything under a #12 is miniscule), in the Dolomite Mountains of Italy. An idyllic setting, spotted and netted by a great friend. What could be finer?
“THE HANDIEST SURVIVAL SKILL I HAVE IS THE BELIEF THAT MANNERS MAKETH MAN.”
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POP QUIZ
DRICUS OR WICUS? STINGER HOOK OR EMPTY BOOK?
RAYGUN OR STINGRAY? TAKE OUR RAPID-FIRE QUIZ TO SEE IF ANYTHING FROM THIS ISSUE STUCK IN YOUR MELON.
1. Which of the following are not traits in clients that guide Nathan Pahl has had to deal with (page 24)?
A. Gluttony.
B. Inebriation.
C. Deafness.
D. Inability to improve.
E. Lechery.
2. What would Leonard Flemming’s “furry” animal persona be (page 32)?
A. A quokka.
B. A sharptooth catfish.
C. A blaasoppie.
D. An otter.
E. A buffalo.
3. The most frustrating part of Matt Kennedy’s getaway to Walkerson’s five-star country hotel in Dullstroom was (page 50)?
A. Being out-fished by a noob.
B. Having his partner make excuses for his performance anxiety.
C. Losing his self-respect (along with his last beadhead minky).
D. Being told he could look at the Protea captain’s fly box.
E. All of the above.
4. If the locals were to describe Peter Coetzee, it would be as (page 60)?
A. The man from Del Monte.
B. O homem solitário.
C. The man from Uncle.
D. The man with no dried fish ever.
E. The man who sold the world.
5. The way African Waters guide David Taylor describes it, the Peanut, a Faro River Nile perch fly is shaped to look like... (page 84)?
A. A love truncheon.
B. A bell-end.
C. An elephant’s fifth leg.
D. An Apple Headed Beef Basher.
E. Russel the One-Eyed Wonder Weasel.
6. Which of the following are our Lifer, Dave Felce’s, nicknames (page 98)?
A. Sardinian Dave.
B. Sicilian Dave.
C. Corsican Dave.
D. Porno Dave.
E. Devastatin’ Dave (The Turntable Slave).
Even from a young age, our Lifer Dave Felce’s moustache was impressive.
