9 June 2014
If you carry a camera around on Trout waters long enough, you eventually bump into a co-operative Rainbow. It wouldn’t take a fly, but after I had photographed it, I caught it with my hands. Yes, I returned it. No, there were no witnesses.
At a recent gathering of the Natal Fly Dressers Society (NFDS), Jan Korrubel demonstrated the tying of the well known “Papa Roach“, that excellent Dragonfly nymph pattern that is making it into halls of fame. Herman Botes’ Papa Roach: Photo ex Tom Sutcliffe…see link above Jan has a pragmatic approach that I enjoy. He chatted about the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to leave the hook shank bare under the Zonker strip, “because it just looked wrong”. I Know Herman Botes intended the hookshank to be the flat base of the fly’s shape, but a bit of dubbing finishes
Plain “unsuccessful” days are the ones that don’t make for good magazine stories. They are however part of the tapestry of an outdoor life. The tiny inconsequential events on those days, are some of the the building blocks of a life of fly-fishing. It was the 28th May 2005. The plan was to fish an exclusive private water that Guy had access to in the Mooi River valley. I was excited at the prospect. It was not often that I got a chance to fish this water, and previous invitations to fish it had always turned into those red letter
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
I was on the Eastern shoreline of a small lake that we sometimes fish. For my last minute day off from work, I had been blessed with mild sunny weather. It was April, and the blue sky was dotted with drifting puffy white clouds. There was a slight Northerly breeze. Just enough to ripple the crystal clear water. The fish were small. Tiny in fact. Last year’s stocking had clearly been a success, and as a result we would have to put up with these ankle biters until following seasons, by which time the fishing would no doubt be superb.
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
Look at those long legs! Have you ever had the privilege of watching a secretary bird tackling a poisonous snake? It is quite something to watch! Enough to cause me to pause a while and watch these things strutting around in the veld, in the hopes of seeing it again. (From David Bygott, ”Silly Birds” , Zimbabwe) Clearly I was not the only one to make this association about the leggy secretary!