Close encounters with Trout

Several years ago I was lucky enough to join a Kombi load of fly-fishermen, and travel down to the unlikely destination of Somerset East in the Cape to get some trout. On that trip, Maurice Broughton and I were assigned a beat on the tiny Naude’s river, and with our guide, we had an enjoyable morning hunting trout in the better pools. At lunchtime we found a lovely willow tree growing in a patch of lush grass beside a pool in the stream. We settled down to some sandwiches, and if memory serves, a chilled bottle of wine! While we

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Old hands and new

    I recently spent a few days with four friends on some magnificent trout rivers. On that particular trip we made a point of dividing ourselves differently each day, and heading out onto our booked beats, only to regroup at lunch time, or perhaps in the evening. Over those days we fished long hours, and all caught many good trout. However, despite the long stretches of time on the water, I found myself watching my colleagues fish for many enjoyable hours, particularly after I had caught a few trout, and settled into the day in question.

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A photo essay

  A memorable day on the Bokspruit at Carabas. One of the most beautiful pieces of water I know. View Full Album

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Breaking with convention: GTFITW

For many years now, there have been a great many advocates of the upstream nymph. No one has dictated that you should fish that way, but there have been the odd derogatory remarks about the downstream boys. “I’d sooner be sitting on my arse plunking for Bass, than turn around and fling my fly down this here river!” said the old codger in Robert Traver’s story.

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An old spot revisited

  I was out the other morning on a piece of water I hadn’t fished in a while. It was one of those peculiar days when everything seems quite on its head. I had set my alarm for five minutes to four on that Sunday morning. At around three I couldn’t stand the suspense any more and looked at the clock to see how long it would be before the thing went off. No luck….still another hour. Barely enough time to get sleepy when you’re sleepless. Too long to sit around waiting for a decent departure time. After what seemed

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Rich days

On Sunday I awoke to my alarm clock at the ungodly hour of 3:45am, and flopped out of bed into my waiting ‘fish clothes’. I had prepared everything the night before, so having pulled on my clothes I eased myself into the pickup and set off upcountry. In mid summer you don’t want to be late. I speak of that time of year around Christmas when most people are on holiday, and when by breakfast time you might just encounter the first bead of sweat running down your face. Its hot and rainy and humid. Sunrises over crisp wet lawns

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An early morning on the river

I am not immune to the vagaries of laziness and the inability to arise from my warm bed before dawn. However, when I go fishing on a summer’s morning I tell myself that I will never remember the morning that I slept in. My mornings on a river are however unforgettable. On Saturday I went out before dawn and made my way up to the Umgeni as I am inclined to do from time to time in the summer.

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A magical day of boats and beetles

“Because only in the woods can I find solitude without loneliness” Robert Traver. On Saturday my boys & I headed out to a lake that lies amongst the pine trees, at the very end of a fine long ridge that runs all the way from Mooi River to Greytown. We reached the top of that same ridge by driving up from Howick, through the Karkloof, on what you might call ‘the scenic route’. This is a wonderful drive, taking you up a narrow snaking road through the Karkloof forest. After cresting the ridge you descend to the junction with the

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