Waters & words

Posts tagged “Riflespruit

Sir!

It was during a Rhodes trip a few years ago, that I learnt of the death of Tim Wright.

Tim was an outdoorsman, an educator, and a gentleman. He was also a flyfisherman. I had the good fortune of benefitting from the fact that he taught and mentored both of my sons at junior school.

Tim was one of those guys, like my old friend Win Whitear, who punished schoolboys with what modern rules might decree as “cruel and unusual punishment”….(things like making them carry a rock, for rocking on their chair, or famously once throwing all a boy’s books out the window in the rain for some or other misdemeanor)…..and got away with it because the boys respected him so much.

He fed boys yellow Smarties ,from a tub labeled by his friend the pharmacist, as “homesick pills” , while on bush camps. Bush camps that he arranged and lead without profit, during his well earned school holidays. It was after a return from such a camp that he acknowledged me with a fleeting nod and a single sentence indicating that my boy was an accomplished outdoorsman. That eye contact, and brief appreciative nod, live with me as clearly as the lump in my throat that I felt all day on the upper Riflespruit on the day following his death.

On that day, and I remember it well, I was fishing with my friend Rhett. Rhett who I have no doubt would acknowledge the influence of his teacher, Pike.  Pike hadn’t joined us that day. His legs were mountain weary, and I do believe he was in the pub while we did the Riflespruit. In Pike’s defence, he had brought Rhett along on the trip when he was a schoolboy, and I reckon he needed to be in the pub. On that trip we also had along some guys touching an undeclared age somewhere over 60. They were a little worried about the social dynamics of a schoolboy on our fishing trip.

Rhett

Pike defended the judgment call, citing an assurance that Rhett would bring them beers and coffee. Rhett didn’t disappoint. Pike’s mentorship and judgment was as solid then as it is now.

Rhett now has children of his own, and he is coming along on our trip next month. Rhett had to eak out the money for the trip because he has school fees to pay. School fees which would have won over the fishing trip if it had come to that, because Rhett knows the value of a good school teacher.

In flyfishing circles in these parts, I reckon the value of a good school teacher is known. Countless fishermen have related to me how Win was such a great influence to them in their school years. The same Win who one year sat in my boat with a fly rod and a creased brow beneath his beanie and listened intently to one or other parenting problem. It is a good listener who says nothing until you have got it all out, and then delivers a few well considered sentences at the end of it all. Sentences that proved correct and apt and comforting to a parent sitting  on an ice cold lake with a fly rod in his hand.

Win

The other day I got a call from Murray. He wanted to clarify the identity of a man named “Pike”, who had taught his friend years back, and had introduced him to flyfishing. The friend wanted to look Pike up, acknowledge him, and thank him for getting him started with a ‘the fly’. The fact that he wanted to do that speaks volumes about his character, and also, might I suggest, the mentorship he received somewhere in his youth too.

It was indeed the same “Pike” . The same one who, when we are about to head out fishing,  holds us back, chatting at the roadside to a farmer about his children, their schools and their progress.  He does so with an intense interest, care, and attentiveness.  It is no surprise that the farmers remember him. I am just the one with the strung up fly rod pacing a few yards away.

pike

Pike once arrived on just such a trip as the aforementioned Rhodes trip, having taken a group of schoolboys fishing in East Griqualand. He related this story:

On a particularly slow day, he had elected to take an afternoon snooze in the vehicle while the boys fished a little way off. One youngster…a little guy called Leo who couldn’t open gates, and forgot a lot of stuff at home, and needed a lot of looking after …declared that he would stay back with Sir in the vehicle, out of the wind. He fidgeted. Pike tried to sleep. Leo then found a cable tie and asked Pike if he could place it on his wrist as a bangle.

“Not such a good idea” said Pike.

“Just loosely Sir” said Leo.

………..

“don’t pull it tight now Leo! ” said Pike.

Pike dozed for a while…….

Then there was a high pitched “Sir!”  from Leo.

You guessed it!

Pike has taken countless schoolboys fishing over the years. He says he is going to write a book called “looking after Leo, and other stories”

I sure hope he does.


Golden threads

A little photographic trick:  Look for opportunities where the fly-caster has a dark background behind him, or at least a patch of dark, across which his fly line will pass when he casts. You might have to ask him to step forward out of the shadows just a little in order to get the sunlight to catch his arcing line. Then take pictures on continuous shooting , in order to get the line at the perfect spot. These opportunities will present themselves more in the early morning or late afternoon, and more so in steep river canyons, where shaded vertical walls are common.

In this first image, I had to wait for PD to fish the run properly (he was hidden in the shade), and then I asked him to step forward  just a step or so to get the line into the sunlight. We were on the Riflespruit, and it was the first pool of the day.

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The picture is special because my father, an artist (oils), painted the scene, and PD now has it hanging in his house.

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Going back

Once every two years we go back to the North Eastern Cape.

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It’s not often enough, I know, but we figured, when we started this thing all those years ago, that we could sell every second year to wives and family. In fact we were confident that we could ensure the event would take place if we did it seldom enough. And we were right I suppose, because we have indeed been back every second year like clockwork.

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Doing the hills: a photo essay

 

As river fishermen, we inevitably do a fair amount of clambering up and down steep hills.

Sometimes it is the walk in on a goat track.

 

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Paul De Wet and Rhett Quinn heading up the Riflespruit valley

 

At other times it is just part of making your way up and down a river valley.

 

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Roy Ward looking for good footing in a river valley in KZN

Either way a certain quota of sure footedness is an asset, as is a reasonable degree of fitness.

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