At 4am I was awoken by the sound of pouring rain which left me wondering if our trip to the Umkomaas was still on the cards. Thankfully as I lay there the downpour slowly abated and by the time I climbed out of bed there was just the slightest drizzle. I made a few rolls, packed the car, and then waited for Keegan and Nick to arrive so that we could head for Richmond.
After a quick coffee stop we were soon descending into the Umkomaas valley. It was a chilly 10 degrees when my car started pulling to the left and I was forced to pull over. As I feared my front left tyre was flat and so began my first ever tyre change in the Fortuner.
Apparently you’re meant to lower the tyre using a meter long tool which you insert into a slot in the boot. Problem 1 – the tool is stored in sections which require a screwdriver to assemble and the tool kit provided doesn’t contain a screwdriver. Fail! Anyway, after trying to thumb tighten these screws and nearly losing section of the tool into the innards of my car, I remembered that my fishing Gerber has a screw driver on it.
Rather than getting us moving this just introduced a new problem – how do you align a meter long tool, through a tiny slot (no giggling or comments boys), with a tiny groove, completely blind? A fiddly few minutes later, having used several phones as torches, I finally connected and managed to lower the tyre.
Jacking up the car ran smoothly and soon I had the flat tyre off the vehicle. Surely this was the end of it and we’d be fishing soon? Sadly not! Having got the flat tyre off the vehicle we quickly realised that the car was not jacked high enough off the ground to put on the fully inflated tyre. Problem number 3; after further cranking the jack to it’s maximum height the tyre still didn’t fit on. Realising this was since the car was parked on a steep downhill, and that the weight of the car was therefore on the front tyres, we needed to move the car to flatter ground. This meant putting the flat tyre back on and driving down the hill to a more level section.
Problem 4; with the flat wheel back on I started to lower the car only to discover that the jack was now stuck in position. I was physically unable to lower the car. It seemed the jack had been extended too far and had come off it’s thread. Now we were truly stuck and I was left wondering what my options were. My first idea was to dig a hole under the wheel so that I could get the spare tyre on. This however wouldn’t help with lowering the vehicle. Plan 2 was to push the car off the jack. This could however cause damage and the car and as it was still on 3 wheels would be tough.
Finally I remembered the other car and we fetched Keegan’s jack. The plan was to lift the car higher using his jack, thus allowing us to remove my jack. It seemed like a good plan until we discovered that his jack was far smaller and couldn’t extend high enough to even touch the chassis. After a little pondering we found a large rock and mounted the jack on top of it. This allowed us to jack the car up higher, and to get my jack out. It also meant the car was now high enough to get the spare wheel on. The only problem was that the rock was cracking under the weight so we were forced to work under time pressure. None the less we got the job done and were finally back on the road.
Five minutes later we arrived at Hella Hella, paid the rod fee, and headed for the river. Paul and Tom had waited patiently and were busy brewing fresh espressos when we arrived. We kitted up our rods and cleaned the oil off our hands while they sipped lazily on their coffee. And then we finally headed down to the river.
 A nice view of the Umkomaas Knowing the beat better this time we headed further downstream before beginning the fishing. The water was lower and clearer than the month before, and it clearly made fishing more difficult. All the usual spots were dead, with no signs of fish. In fact an hour in none of us had had so much as a bump. I was beginning to think that perhaps the tyre incident was going to be the most excitement we had all day.
Eventually we decided to regroup and sat down to a small snack and more freshly brewed espressos (well, Paul and Tom did anyway). With the river being lower than before the new plan was to go in search of bigger and deeper pools. This led us further downstream and we soon found ourselves on new water and, better yet, deeper water.
Keegan was the first to reach the new water and got into a few nice scallies fishing off the cliffs of the deeper pool. Soon the rest of us were in on the action and within 30 minutes we’d all landed multiple fish. Well, everyone except for poor Tom who was battling away with no luck.
My first fish came midway down the pool where I leaned out over the edge and the cliff and somehow manage to cast around a corner and into a pocket of water protected by reeds. Almost instantly I saw the tip of my line pull slowly underwater and I struck, sadly too late as I lost the fish. I put in a second perfect cast and thankfully landed a beauty of a fish seconds later.
Paul and I then decided to rest the pool and headed further downstream where we found even more pristine water, and picked up a handful more fish. The rest of the boys sat at the main pool where I assume they made pigs of themselves.
An hour later we rejoined the group who were still targeting the pool, although things had slowed substantially. Sadly Tom was still without a fish as we sat down for lunch. He enjoyed yet another cup of coffee (yes, I’m jealous) and then started flicking his fly in front of us as we relaxed on the banks. Thankfully he connected with a fish and was on the board, It was his first ever Natal scaly.
I then decided to call it a day and headed home, leaving the rest of the boys plugged away for more fish (I believe successfully).
 Releasing a Natal scaly
“I can safely say that the Boston Fly Fishing Festival is by far my favourite festival.” Yes, it’s a line that I often start my annual Boston post with, but it remains true. And this year was no exception, despite what were very tough fishing conditions.
We got off to a great start by entering two teams instead of our usual one. The more the merrier proved to be true, although sadly we were unable to find a farmer who was able to accommodate all eight of us at a single venue. Neill, Bruce, Keegan and I therefore stayed with Helen, who had put up Team Baha for several years, while Andrew, Richard, Dan and Dave stayed in what became known as cat cottage. Now I’m not 100% sure what that meant, other than to say they shared the house with several cats, and that Dave got an unexpected surprise when one pounced at him from under the bath at an inopportune moment.
The first night of the festival was as festive as always, perhaps due to being kicked off by a bagpiper. Baha 2, or Baha South as they preferred to be called, had arrived early to hunt down their accommodation. This meant that they were several beers in by the time we strolled into the pub at 6pm for registration. Thankfully it didn’t take us long to collect our jackets, sticks, mugs, and other odds and ends, so soon we were playing catch-up. This didn’t prove too difficult as free shots (milk tarts) were handed out, and the Jagers were flowing.
 Neill kicking off the Boston Fly Fishing Festival 2016 During dinner on the first night it was announced that the format was changing. Rather than running the traditional longest bag type scoring, it was moved to a more complex, nobody really got it, type system. To try and explain it, the system was meant to favour quality (read big) fish over stocky bashing. As such only your longest fish would count, and not all fish. To accommodate that fishing generally got tougher over the weekend it worked on 4 fish from your first water, 3 from your second, 2 from your third, and 1 from your last. These sessions were further weighted, although we weren’t told by what percentage, so that some sessions counted more than others. It definitely seemed to work in that we gave quickly up on pockets on stockies, and instead headed out in search of bigger fish once we’d got to our limit for the session.
Another change in the system was that waters were drawn rather than being assigned. This added a little more fun and laughter to the first night’s dinner, and we were glad to get a relatively good draw in Good Hope, McKenzies 1, Tillietudlem 2, and Rivendell.
Back in the pub, Baha 2 were definitely the smarter team as they snuck off home at around 10pm. I say snuck, but in truth I believe that for one or two of the team members they were probably dragged, kicking and screaming. Baha 1, or Baha North (I guess), partied it up in true Baha style until the early hours of the morning, and then kept the party going by attempting some minor cow tipping at 2am. Thankfully the cows were quicker than expected, potentially saving our lives, meaning we eventually crawled into bed well after 2am.
 Bruce fishing McKenzies These late night shenanigans led to an early morning text clearly stating, “Baha 1 is down. I repeat, Baha 1 is down!” Now while Dave may have found this amusing, most of Baha 1 was feeling well under the weather as we parked alongside our first water – Good Hope Dam. Sadly we’d lost around half an hour tracking down the water as we took a wrong turn off the main road. We then lost a further 10 minutes to unplanned roadside stops to steady our legs and catch our breath (okay, so this one may have been our fault).
As in years gone past fishing at Good Hope was tough. I was the first into the water and had a small bump on just my thirst cast. This gave me some hope which in the end it turned out to be unfounded as it was the only bump of the morning. Between the four of us we blanked the first morning session and had to head for our second water with our heads hung low. It was going to be tough to claw our way back from that.
Thankfully our second water was perhaps the best of the festival, which meant we were hoping to quickly raise those lowered heads.The downside was that the wind had picked up heavily which meant that kicking out onto McKenzies was tough work. Bruce was first into the water and quickly got into a fish while the rest of us were still kitting up on the bank. This set the mood and we were soon all rushing for the water, eagerly anticipating that first fish. Sadly this had a negative effect for me as I snapped my rod in the reeds as I kicked out too hastily.
I quickly rigged a second rod and was soon back on the water, making my way for the top end of the dam. Bruce and Neill were meanwhile targeting the wall which had produced some great fish in years gone by. I battled at first as I seemed to be kicking a lot to just stay still, let alone to move slowly. This meant casting was not my focus as I powered my legs, chucking the odd line between heavy breaths. But eventually I got to the top of the dam, slowed the kicking, and focused on the fishing. This led to me landing two rainbow trout over some shallow weed beds around structure.
 Keegan with his first ever fish off a float tube Satisfied I’d covered the spot I kicked for deeper water in search of bigger fish. A few fly changes later, finally ending up on a 2 fly rig with an attractor pattern up front and a damsel in tow, and I started landing fish. They were smaller than in previous years (probably in the 1kg range) but still had great legs on them. And in amongst the smaller fish I did manage one nice fish of 51cms. Bruce, Neill and Keegan were all also in the deeper water and had similar success, all on damsel patterns.
I then moved off to the wall for some (okay, no) shelter from the wind. I managed one or two more fish but the wall was generally slower than the deeper water. That said another team were bank fishing from the wall and got into a fish or two each.
Perhaps due to the wind, or perhaps due to the hangovers, we finished up our final session 30 minutes prior to dark – very unlike team Baha. We slowly made our way back to our farm where hot showers were the order of the day before heading back to the club for dinner and to submit our returns.
The good news (if you can call it that) is that everyone had battled on the water. Perhaps it was due to the warmer conditions, perhaps it was due to the drought, or maybe it was just the dropping pressure. Either way it was interesting to note that over the course of the weekend I never saw a temperature below zero (where in the past I’d seen temperatures as low as -8). There had also clearly been no frost (or very little) as most of the grass was green and alive, rather than brown and dead.
 Float tubes ready for another session That night the pub was quiet with most teams sneaking out before even sniffing the bar. Baha 1 was home by 9pm, while Baha 2 gave it a bit of a go with Dave once again leading the pack.
The following morning we were all feeling distinctly stronger. This meant we got going a lot earlier and were soon at our first water, the main dam at Tillietudlem. Based on previous years catch returns I was expecting good things of the water, and conditions were looking good. There were wildebeest grazing on the hill, the sun was out, and the water was cold and still. Okay, so maybe these weren’t the best conditions for trout, but they certainly were for us. On the water multiple hatches were visible on the surface, but there was no sign of fish.
Team Wooly Buggers soon joined us on the water and we all kicked out in search of fish. Travis was the first into a small rainbow which got the juices flowing. Sadly the rest of us struggled for our first fish on what was, as I mentioned, a beautiful morning. In fact I’d done one full circumnavigation of the dam before missing a fish while eating my breakfast yogurt. This pricked up my ears and I thankfully landed a fish a short while later in the same spot (albeit foul hooked – but hey, who’s counting).
Most people landed fish over the course of the morning session, although they were few and far between, and were relatively small. Travis again showed us how it was done by picking up a nice 50cm fish in the corner just as we were packing up.
From Tillietudlem we headed to Rivendell which was thankfully just over the hill. Rivendell is one of my favourite waters of the tournament, so it was sad to hear that it had been syndicated and wouldn’t be in the festival from 2017. That news further motivated me to enjoy what was probably my last session on this water and to fish it harder than ever.
 Eland at Tillietudlem The wind had picked up but was far from the howling gale of the day before. I altered my approached of generally heading for the inlet first, and instead made my way to the dam wall in search of bigger fish. As I said earlier, only 1 fish counted from the last session, so it needed to be an impressive fish.
The wall proved to be unproductive and eventually I decided to head slowly for the inlet, up against the far bank. This proved to be a good choice as I found a school of stockies and landed 3 fish in just 3 casts. Sadly none were big enough to put us in contention, so I left the spot and carried on in search of bigger fish. Up at the inlet I ran into Neill and Bruce who had been struggling and were en-route to the wall. I too battled at the inlet and eventually made my way to the shore for a quick snack.
Bruce had beat me there and whipped up a much needed espresso complete with cream, using an old portable hiking stove. We’d meanwhile been joined by the Cheese and Wine team who kindly added to the snack by pouring us each a shot of Jager. Refreshed and reinvigorated I got back to it.
Back in the water the fishing seemed to improve. Bruce landed his first fish of the day, and probably the fish of the session, in the form of a very fat cock fish. Keegan also cracked the code using a faster retrieve with large black flies, and had soon landed several fish in a very short space of time.
 Warren landing a fish at the Boston Fly Fishing Festival As the fishing drew to a close we all headed back to the bank one by one and began packing up our kit for the final time. We cracked a cold beer and crossed our fingers that we wouldn’t get locked in as we had on our previous two visits to this water. That said, this time I was prepared and had packed a hacksaw for such an eventuality (which I was secretly hoping to use). Sadly this was not to be and we drove out easily to the sound of the Springboks being thumped by Ireland (again).
After a quick shower we headed to the pub where we were surprised to hear that the Springboks had clawed victory from defeat and had beaten Ireland. We submitted our catches and then caught up with the other anglers on their days. Again it seemed that most people had struggled. Wayne, who was logging the catches, confirmed that fishing had sadly been a LOT slower than in previous years.
Prize giving was held over a fantastic dinner of roast beef and veg. But as is the norm with this festival, it was a relative non event. This festival is not about the prizes, but is rather about meeting like minded people and spending a weekend living your passion – they achieve this every time. The bar was relatively quiet, but we still managed to have a few drinks and listen to the local bagpiper play “Flower of Scotland” to end the festival.
I must once again extend a huge thank you to the organisers of the festival as well as the local farmers and their wives. They work tirelessly throughout the event to create an amazing experience and atmosphere. The dinners were exceptional as were the breakfast and lunch packs. Staying with the local farmers was a treat and the waters were in great condition. So a big thank you to all involved. It was once again great, and we will definitely be back.
 All good things come to an end
With Leo heading for the UK we decided to do one last outing with the fly sticks prior to his departure. Our chosen quarry was the Natal Yellowfish, aka the scaly, on the Umkomaas River just outside of Richmond.
We had a great turnout with 6 of us making our way to Hella Hella via the mandatory coffee stop. Although I’d fished the Umkomaas on multiple occasions it was the first time I’d been to this particular stretch, and I was suitably impressed. Hella Hella boasts a beautiful section of river, nestled under looming cliffs and running through thick indigenous forest (complete with far too many thorns).
The conditions were good, although not perfect. It was perhaps a little chilly with the air temperature measuring 12 degrees on arrival. I unfortunately didn’t measure the water temperature but it was definitely colder than I would have liked. The river was crystal clear with a lot of algae growth on the rocks, making the river extremely slippery, especially as the day wore on and we all got a little tired.
I was the first to take a fall just minutes after stepping into the river. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad a fall as I landed on dry rocks, meaning I wasn’t cold and wet for the remainder of the day. Some of the others were less lucky and by the time we left that evening everyone had taken at least one fall, normally into the drink. Amy’s hip waders served more use a canteens as they spent half of the day full of water. And Leo took out his frustrations at a slow start by head-butting a rock in a rather manly fashion (well that’s his story).
 Warren Prior with a Natal scaly on the Umkomaas Fishing was initially tough (although Keegan did pick up a small scaly on his first cast) as we tried to locate the fish. Being winter they had not yet moved into the rapids and we were forced to nymph the deeper, slower sections in search of fish. As we perfected this approach we started picking up fish frequently and probably landed between 30 and 40 fish throughout the day.
All fish were picked up on nymphs, with black and purple being the colours of the day. Keegan probably picked up the most on a 3 nymph rig fishing mainly Czech style. I fished a New Zealand setup and bounced between using and not using an indicator (although I must admit that more fish were produced without an indicator).
We finally left the river at close to 5pm, wet and exhausted. Despite the cold weather it was a great day out and we managed a few decent fish among the rats and mice.
Amazingly it’s been quite some time since I’ve had the pleasure of fishing the upper Bushman’s River. It’s always been one of my favourite stretches of river despite the fact that it generally produces smaller fish. I guess this is because for me it’s not about the size when it comes to wild brown trout, but rather about the beauty of the surroundings. To be fishing under the Giant, with the Drakensberg looming above you, while ankle deep in cold, crystal clear water is hard to be beat.
I’d wondered the whole drive about the water level after a season of low rainfall. When I got to the water’s edge it was immediately obvious just how low the river was. My mind rushed back to a session on the Umzimkulu earlier in the season where I hadn’t even seen a fish, and my concerns that the drought had hit the rivers hard grew. On the up-side I immediately spotted two fish cruising in a pool and was quickly distracted from my negative thoughts. I decided to let the fish relax for a while longer and continued on downstream, making note of the their position for later when I’d approach from a better position downstream.
For the first hour I didn’t manage to raise any fish to the fly, although I did spook a fish or two from unexpected lies in extremely shallow water. When I reached the 2 fish I had spotted earlier I put in a few perfect, drift free casts, none of which produced the slightest interest. I even downsized to 7x tippet and smaller flies in the hope of improving my luck. It did not.
 Warren enjoying views of the Bushman’s River The fish appeared to be more skittish than usual, perhaps due to the low water levels throughout what should have been the rainy season. I quietly questioned myself on how many fish had died due to the low levels, heat, or even the limited shelter the fish currently had from predators. The fry especially must’ve taken a big knock.
Thankfully, as the sun lowered in the sky, I managed to pick up a few small fish in one of the larger pools. They rose to a small elk hair caddis drifted under the shelter of overhanging bushes. Their small size didn’t matter in the least as each of them felt like a major victory over the harsh conditions. It was a trip worth having made.
It’s worth noting that we spent the weekend in the mountain view chalets at Giant’s Castle, which were a tad disappointing. We generally do at least one visit to the park a year and it’s therefore sad to note that its seen a steady decline over the years. The thatch on the chalets was aging and falling out in places. The table and chairs were faded and needed a coat of varnish to protect them from the elements. The sliding door was sticking and nearly impossible to open. Although not major issues they did have a sting since we were charged R45 for a rock shandy, and R25 for a can of beer. At those prices I’d expect the maintenance to be far better.
That said they were working on one or two chalets, and the staff at both the check in counter and in the restaurant were exceptional with massive smiles on their faces and jokes in hand. I can only hope that they plough some of the money back into the venue so that it returns to it’s former glory. It’s far from down and out, but now’s the time to act.
 Leo with a nice gurnard It’s been a while since I’ve fly fished the harbour. In fact, according to this blog, the last time was back in January 2013 when we got some nice pompano and kingies. News was that it was fishing well so Keegan, Leo, Amy and I headed down for a quick flick.
Spring lows were at around midday so we arrived at the harbour at 10:30am. The not uncommon first challenge was that Leo forgot his basket. This was (relatively) easily solved by lurking behind the restaurants and hunting down an old beer crate. This combined with a piece of soggy harbour rope made a great stripping basket and we were back in action.
We started fishing near the concrete block and I quickly found a school of small kingies. It seemed like a good start to the day but it was the end of the fish for me. Leo then started schooling me on gurney bashing by landing 5 or so in the same spot (I’m sure it was the same fish). To prove me wrong we moved locations and soon he was into another nice gurney.
Keegan and Amy had meanwhile headed off in the opposite direction and came back with similar stories. Keegan has targeted the kingies while Amy had outfished him and landed a few good gurnies.
It was a great day out and great to be back in the harbour.
Being Valentine’s weekend granny was kind enough to offer to look after Emma so that Sharon and I could get away for a weekend of solitude. Since this opportunity presents itself so rarely we decided to kill several birds with one stone by organising a relaxing, hiking, romantic, fishing weekend away. As nonsensical as that sounds we found the perfect venue in the Umzimkulu River Lodge, located 22kms outside of Underberg.
We had a little hiccup getting there as we made use of Google Maps rather than following the sign I’d seen on so many occasions. This saw us taking the second Coleford road rather than the first and then left us guessing when we crossed the Umzimkulu with no lodge in sight. After driving backwards and forwards for ten minutes with no cellphone signal to be rescue us, we headed back to the main road and called the lodge for help. They apologised profusely, explaining that someone had incorrectly marked their location on Google Maps and that they’d been unable to change it. After giving us the correct directions we swiftly found the lodge and were greeted warmly upon arrival.
As the name suggests the lodge is located on the Umzimkulu River (which is what I was most excited about) with enough luxury for the ladies and adventure for the men. There are 8 cottages on site (named after the various Kingfisher species) ranging in size from the small Pied and Pigmy cottages, to the large Giant Cabin overlooking Thrombosis Gorge.
 The Umzimkulu River Lodge When we saw the activities which were on offer we were sad to have left Emma at home. There was a petting zoo for the kids, along with a good selection on jungle gyms, and a games room. There was also a small plunge pool complete with a tame duck enjoying the cool water in the midday heat. For the bigger kids there was a small putt-putt course and tubing down the river. And finally for the even bigger kids there was a driving range, hiking to the gorge, fly fishing, a restaurant overlooking the river, and a bar complete large screen TVs. We were truly spoiled for choice.
Our unit, Pied A, was a beautiful little cottage which consisted of two floors. The ground floor consisted of a small kitchenette, an open plan dinning room and a couch in front of a small fireplace. While upstairs there was a bedroom with a large double bed, a shower, and a large bath that overlooked the river. There was of course also a small garden, filled with sunbirds, and a braai place to suite all South African’s needs.
There were only 2 downsides to our cottage. Firstly the stairs were so steep that I’d consider them a ladder (it certainly wouldn’t have been suitable for Emma or granny). And secondly the walls were paper thin and our neighbours for the weekend were anything but quiet.
We spent the midday heat sharing the pool with a duck and chatting to the manager and owner who were extremely down to earth and welcoming. I then headed out with my fly rod for what I was hoping to be my first session in the river. I walked downstream to the start of Thrombosis Gorge and then climbed into the river and started fishing back towards the lodge. The water level was good which was surprising amidst the ongoing drought. That said there had been some recent rains which had raised the level, but which had also left the water murky and off colour.
Fishing was tough and I hadn’t so much as seen a fish as I approached the lodge an hour later. What I had however managed to do was to dunk myself neck deep in water when I stepped off a ledge into a hole without noticing it. Thankfully my phone, which was in the upper pock of my fly vest, seemed to survive the ordeal and so I continued on happily. I bypassed the section in front of the lodge and finally called it a day at the bridge as darkness fell. Sadly I hadn’t had so much as a touch, but the section looked magnificent and is certainly worth another fish.
 Relaxing with Puddles That evening, while braaiing, I heard a scream from our bedroom. Sharon had gone to fetch something from upstairs only to discover a bat circling the room. I may not have been able to catch a trout, but my trusty net came to my aid and soon I’d landed my first ever bat which as safely released on the lawn. My phone meanwhile decided that the water was too much for it and gave up the ghost, thus ruining an otherwise great day.
The next morning I tried to change my luck by heading for Lake Ringstead with Sharon. She relaxed on the bank reading while I took out my new Xplorer Journey Deluxe. It was a hot day, and the water was low, warm and off colour. That said I felt confident I’d manage to produce at least one trout to end my weekend’s dry spell. I fished hard for two hours, circling the dam and trying everything from the deep, cooler water to the weedy shallows. Sadly neither of these strategies produced fish and I eventually called it a day as the sun rose high into the sky.
With neither the river nor the dam producing trout, Sharon and I headed into Himeville and had a much needed lunch at a small coffee shop. The tough fishing, as well as the onset of flu, had clearly gotten the better of me and I gave up on my healthy eating plan for long enough to enjoy a fantastic scone. We then headed back to the lodge where we decided to try a few of the other activities on offer.
The plan was to “hike” into Thrombosis Gorge. Having done a fair stretch of this walk the previous day while fishing, and knowing there was a concrete path, neither Sharon nor I decided to put on shoes. Big mistake! Firstly an afternoon storm meant that every ant in the world had left it’s nest and had gathered on the path. So what started as a relaxing walk fast became an agonising jog as we were eaten from the ankles up. We then reached the gorge, which meant climbing over a stile before starting a tough rocky section sans path. The slops once again came into play as I slipped off the top and cut my arm open as I tumbled to the ground. The swearing that followed was made somewhat more awkward when a crowd of fellow hikers popped up from behind a rock.
 Thrombosis Gorge Now in the gorge we made use of the well laid out ladders and ropes to navigate to a large flat rock where we relaxed amidst waterfalls and took photos. Despite my bleeding arm and itching ankles it was well worth the walk.
The next day, as we drove back to Durban, I was left thinking that perhaps the fisherman’s honeymoon curse also applies Valentine’s Day. I’d caught no fish, broken a phone, been attacked by bats, and had gashed open my arm. On the flip side I’d had eat fun doing it, and would do it again.
Considering everything on offer, both at the lodge and nearby, I’d certainly recommend this venue to everyone from fisherman to photographer, and even those just looking for a place to relax. Take the kids, or leave them at home; either way you’re going to love your stay.
At one stage Casino beach was probably my most fished venue, being en route to work and close to home. However for some reason this seems to have come to an end and I’ve barely fished this stretch over the last couple of years. It’s never produced large fish, but I’ve picked up a variety of species here from wavies to African pompano, and shad to thornfish. Even the odd garrick has been known to come out. And since it’s sometimes just about getting out there Neill and I decided to have a quick pre-work flick in the waves.
Fishing was tough as it was spring highs and the water was dirty from recent rains. Despite this we put in an hour or two and were rewarded with a few small wave garrick between us. As I said, it’s sometimes just about being out their and perhaps our biggest reward on this particular morning was the beautiful sunrise we arrived to.
 Sunrise at Casino beach, Durban
For many years my wife’s watched my vibrant blue Fishcat Deluxe fade into something she deemed unworthy of floating on a dam. To right this wrong she gifted me with a brand new Xplorer Journey Deluxe for my birthday and Christmas presents. At first I was torn, not wanting to discard my still buoyant Fishcat, however curiosity soon got the better of me and I decided to give it a try at my local bass dam, Inanda.
After convincing my wife that Emma would love a morning of sun, water and open spaces we climbed into the car and headed for the dam. So far all was on track. There was a short queue at the gate but it didn’t take long and soon I’d setup a small picnic spot for the family. And then came the fut bit, unboxing my new float tube.
It started off well as I lay everything onto the grass and inserted the foam seats. Things then took a turn for the worse as I discovered that none of the nozzles on my standard pump fitted into the tube’s summit valves. Two bass fisherman wondered over to assist or laugh at me, I’m not sure which. Thankfully they too were soon sucked into the puzzle as we tried 3 different pumps with no success. The instructions didn’t offer any assistance other than the hope that the tube could be inflated by mouth. Now I’d love to see the person who could inflate this tube by mouth as all I succeeded in doing was bursting a lung.
By this stage the bass fishermen had lost interest and wondered back to their fully inflated tubes. I battled on and eventually worked out that I could lock the valves open, pump the bladder to near full, and then shut the valves without loosing too much air. I then managed the last few pumps by getting Sharon to hold the nozzle against the valve while I pumped like crazy. An hour later and the tube was finally ready; I kicked out onto the water a little frustrated but glad I was finally going to get some fishing done.
Since writing this post I’ve visited 2 fishing shops neither of whom were able to assist in pumping up the tube. One assistant was so kind as to get out a tube and to open a pump, boasting it was an easy task, only to discover it was near impossible. After leaving them flustered in the shop I taped the attachment Xplorer provide onto my pump’s tube and the tube now goes up with ease. I wouldn’t however want to open this v-boat for the first time at the dam, far from home.
The dam itself was low (80% according to a local website) which meant that the water was 10 meters back from the reed beds I usually fished against. There was therefore very little structure available other than a few sunken trees. I’m guessing this is why the fishing had been tough as neither of the two fisherman who’d assisted me had caught, and neither had any of the small boats bobbing around me.
 A small bass at Inanda Dam Being quite busy near the picnic sight I kicked my way north-west searching for structure. Eventually, after about an hour, I found a section with some weed and picked up my first small bass of the day. Feeling better about my outing I decided it was a good time to u-turn and head back to the picnic sight. Amazingly my journey back was more successful and I picked up several more small bass over the sandy bottom.
The tube itself performed well. Coming from a Fishcat with inflatable seats I was worried that the foam seats would be uncomfortable but, although they are firmer, this certainly isn’t the case as I fished happily for two hours. The stripping apron is fuller than on the Fishcat which I loved as my line got snagged less often. Otherwise it was much of a muchness to be honest. The pockets were roughly the same size although the built in drinks holders take up a little space once holding a drink. The boat moved easily though the water which is a must. And the stabiliser bar didn’t worry me although some say it’s a safety concern if the tube ever flips. That said Nick and I have tested this before and it didn’t cause us any issues (read our tube myth busting here). All in all I found it to be a great tube which I’d happily recommend to a friend.
Since this is primarily a fly fishing blog, I’m not going to spend too much time describing (or justifying) my bait fishing outing. Suffice to say it was a great day on the water despite tough conditions, mostly due to strong winds. Fishing was tough with only a handful of grunter coming to hand, of which only 1 was of size. This poor fellow was unfortunate enough to make it home to my pan and went down well with chips and a side salad. You really can’t beat fresh (mercury filled) fish.
 Warren with a spotted grunter caught on bait
While there may be occasions where overlining a fly rod is a worthwhile endeavour, this isn’t always the case. I recently made the mistake of packing my gear far too quickly for a family trip to Ifafa beach. While the wife wasn’t watching I grabbed my rod, reel, and flybox, and hid them cunningly in the back of the car. I should however mention that when fishing the salt I often bounce between a 5 weight and a 9 weight rod, depending on my target species and the conditions. This chain of events led to a very interesting experience.
One evening, when Emma was relaxed and Sharon was enjoying a glass of wine, I grabbed my rod and headed down to the beach to try for a few shad, or whatever species I could muster in the gullies and along the beach. Sadly the beach was busy with bait fishermen in most of the good holes and gullies. This meant I walked quite some way (roughly 1kms to MacNicols) before I managed to put in my first cast. I stripped my line onto the beach, flicked it out behind me, let the rod load, and then stood there confused at just how much the rod loaded and how close it felt to a piece of spaghetti.
A quick look at the rod confirmed my worst fears; I was fishing a 5 weight rod with a 9 weight line. FAIL! Now while overlining a 5 weight rod with a 6 weight line may have some benefits, this combination felt more like the end result would be a snapped rod. So with my lip dragging on the beach I reeled in my lose line and headed back to camp for an ice cold beer. Lesson learned!
 Ifafa Beach
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