21 June 2014
Skimming through fishing magazines, websites and books, I can’t help but notice the prevalence of articles espousing the wildness of the fishing. The secret location is so remote that a helicopter was the only way in. The bigger fish are in the headwaters above the waterfall, and it takes several hours to hike in. For the best fishing, you have to walk further. And so it goes. And we want to be the one who DID walk further. The one who went higher into the mountains, beyond where your unfit mates would ever go. We hope that the fishing there
I recently came to the realisation that I have something of a penchant for fishing waters other than the "blue ribbon" ones. That is to say that I end up exploring lesser known waters or waters that are passed over by others as being second class. I can’t quite work out why I do that. Maybe on some level I dream of re-discovering a long forgotten gem. Or maybe it is because these streams are less likely to be occupied by other fishermen. While we seldom encounter other fishermen on the river here, there is something to be said for
Do you remember that scene from “a River runs through it” where the camera swoops across a rocky ridge, and reveals the two boys running across the open grasslands? Here in the KZN midlands, our landscape, notwithstanding its beauty, is lined and dotted with trees. Not only trees of course, there are fence-lines and farmhouses and roads too, but the trees are significant. Early writings by explorers in this area reveal the extent to which this place was a sea of grass. A world with the dew still on it: there are still patches to be cherished. I read somewhere
On Friday, as I lowered the back door of the aircraft, turned and reversed down the steps onto the tarmac, I felt cool dry April afternoon air swirl around me and lift my spirits. I had come home. Home to Southern mountains, to prospects of winter frost, to Trout, and good coffee. I had left behind sticky Mozambique, with it’s potholes, humidity, train ambushes and sugarcane. I had left behind Tanzania’s red earth rivers, it’s bribes and mosquitoes. I had left behind Lusaka’s dust, incomplete buildings, and broken machinery. We had retreated to the place with good freeways, neatly laid
the 4th September 1988. The farm “Avon” on the Mooi River. It was one of the best spring fishing years that I have had. The diary records it as being a dry spring, with the river not flowing all that strongly, and plenty of algae around. On this particular day PD and I were only on the water around 10 am. It was cold, clouded and blustery. I remember we went up to the top boundary, and fished downstream from there, although we were of course upstream nymphing. I know, it is illogical, but were were younger then, and it
To reconnoitre:To Survey, make a reconnaissance of, explore, scout (out), make a survey of, make an observation of. Something I like to do from time to time, is to go and find a “new” piece of water, to give it a look over, and to “plan the attack”, so to speak. These expeditions steal precious fishing time, so they are best undertaken on those hot blustery days when, if you were out there with a fly rod, you would be sleeping under a tree anyway. Stillwaters seldom need this kind of work….they are by their very nature, easy things to
I don’t know about you, but I sometimes have to check myself. I have to take note and avoid falling into the trap, the lazy trap, of going through the motions, and not fishing properly. Typically at day’s end, or when fishing in less than ideal conditions, ones mind starts to wander. The most classic symptoms of this are probably: starting to retrieve the fly too fast lifting off to cast earlier than you should: not fishing the cast out Moving to a new spot and failing to fish the water under your feet, but just casting “out there” not
On Saturday we were out fly-fishing in the Underberg area. We had a storm in the early afternoon. Nothing special: just some wild wind, and 10mm or so of rain, and later the front moved in with a cool wind, a rumble of thunder and some rolling mist. Back home in Hilton that night I could hear a little rain on the veranda roof. That was it. On Sunday, we took a drive under grey skies up to the Mooi River. Wow:
A selection of mid-summer images from the Trout streams of KwaZulu Natal. I have mixed them up: The Bushmans, The Umgeni, and the Mooi. All beautiful streams. All worth a visit. The water sometimes runs high, and could be discoloured at times.
