Despite poor fishing reports I was excited to get knee deep in a crystal clear stream, missing my home country rivers, like the Bushmans and the Pholela, 

In preparation for the trip, and at the advice of local fishermen, I invested in a pair gaiters to protect me from the various venomous creatures Australia has on offer, and bought a fresh supply of dries, nymphs, and other trout flies. A new trout net sadly eluded me.

We arrived at Turon Gates at 10pm on Friday evening, and I got my first glimpse of the river as we crossed the rickety wooden in the dark. The river appeared thin, which was to be expected considering the ongoing drought. Admittedly I had never seen the river, and could only see a few meters in each direction, but the river bank told a dire story. That said, the water was at least flowing which gave me a glimmer of hope.

I opted not to fish the next morning, and to rather spend some time with the family. So by 4pm, just as the heat of the day was dissipating, I was itching to go. I pulled on my gaiters, packed the snakebite kit, and headed out with my 20 brand new flies.

Having driven a stretch of the river earlier in the day, as well as having gone for a swim in one of the more popular holes, I planned to head upstream to a deeper pool. Sadly this plan was quickly ruined by swimmers and their dogs. As such I turned around and headed for a long, deep stretch of water downstream of our cabin. My only concern with this area was the thick bush on the banks, which was going to make accessing the water difficult.

I was lucky to discover a wide track, which appeared to be used for horse rides, running along the far bank, making my walk downstream and through the forest far easier.

Eventually I found a beach near some deeper water, and finally got a fly into the water. I was immediately put to shame as a group of 3 gents wandered past me, wading through the thick ground cover in nothing but thongs and shorts, leaving me hiding my gaiters in shame. So much for being a tough African?! I had a quick chat with them about their morning session, which was unfortunately unsuccessful.

I fished the slow run for a while without so much as a bump. I also saw no rises, nor any other signs of fish. Eventually I pushed on downstream in search of deeper water (and fish). In truth the water felt far too warm to me for the trout to have survived the low levels caused by the drought. I was already starting to look for cruising carp or bass from higher ground.

I spent short periods of time roll casting from between trees, when I could access the bank, without any luck. Eventually, frustrated with the tough conditions, I decided to head back to the deeper pool I’d originally planned to fish, in the hope of finding it deserted.

On route I passed our cabin, and was spotted by my 2 eagle-eyed daughters. They came running down to me, and we spent the next few hours swimming in the river. I may have caught no fish, but I’d loved every minute of my afternoon.

The next morning I took my eldest daughter down to the river with her spinning rod – she was beaming from ear to ear. I snuck a quick few casts into the deep pool I’d planned to fish the day before, sadly with no luck. We then switched to her rod, and I spent the next hour teaching her how to cast. We caught nothing, but it was a magical moment.

I can’t recommend Turon Gates as a fly fishing venue. I can however recommend it as a magical venue for a weekend’s getaway. I’ll definitely head back, potentially with the tent next time. And who knows, maybe once the drought has subsided the trout will return. Oh, and I have heard stories of brown trout coming out…so there’s always a chance. You can’t catch a fish without a line in the water. 

Putting the embarrassment aside for a second, I was massively excited to step out onto the beach, fly rod in hand, with the only 6 flies I own in my pocket. My target? Tailor (that’s shad for my South African friends)? Luderick? I wasn’t really sure to be honest. I just wanted to wet a fly.

My family and I were in Toowoon Bay on camping trip, and I’d managed to sneak away for an hour in the early afternoon. The wind was howling, straight onshore unfortunately, but I didn’t care. I was going to succeed no matter what.

I walked north as I knew Toowoon Point, specifically the rocky outcrop at the end, would give me my best chance of success in the wind. On route I found a beautiful gully where I could cast across the wind and decided to give it a try. I tied on an orange Crazy Charlie, and threw it out behind a wave. 

Two cast lasts later I hooked into a very average fish, which certainly got my heart pounding. Sadly I was only on for about 10 seconds before my line went slack as it bit me off. For once I didn’t care. There were fish around, and I had high hopes for the rest of my afternoon. I was however concerned that I was down to just 5 flies, and didn’t have a second orange Charlie.

Looking at my tippet I’m assuming it was a tailor that bit me off, but being new to Australia I can’t be sure as I don’t know the fish species. It did cross my mind that perhaps my tippet material had gone brittle in the heat in the container, but I quickly pushed that thought aside since I only had a single roll of tippet on me.

I fished the gully for another 15 minutes, without any further luck, before moving on to my next spot. The small bay to the north, known as Little Bay, was cut off from the sea by a rocky ledge which was exposed at low tide. As the tide was pulling, the water was rushing out of this bay through a small channel, which looked ripe for the picking. I fished the white water in this area for another 10 minutes, but sadly to no avail, despite my effort casting into the strong onshore wind.

From Little Bay I moved onto the small island of Toowoon Point. Here I got distracted by my drone and ended up taking more photos than fishing. The protected side of the island was probably not worth fishing, due to the lack of structure on the bottom, as well as the distinct lack of wave action or currents. The exposed side of the rocks however, looked far more promising. But in this instance fishing would have been tough due to the wind direction and the size of the swell. 

Just over an hour from when I walked onto the beach, I climbed the stairs up to Swadling Park. My feet were battered from the barnacles (I had forgotten to pack booties), I’d lost a fly, and had landed no fish. But it was an incredible first outing none the less.

I’m not quite sure if I’d recommend this as a fly fishing spot, but it certainly appeared to have potential, and is worthy of a fish if you’re staying in the area. 

Back in February I sadly got rid of all of my flies, as well as all of my tying material, when immigrating from South Africa to Australia. It was perhaps a little drastic, but considering the volume of natural fibre in both, it seemed like the most logical and simple thing to do. After all, I didn’t want to be the next victim of “Border Security.”

Now while this may have made the packing process easier, it was perhaps little short sighted. With a weekend planned at Toowoon Bay, I headed down to a local fly fishing shop on my lunch-break. Much to my dismay each of the flies I purchased cost around $10 (R100). Considering these same flies would sell for around $1.50 in South Africa, I walked out of the store feeling a bit hard done by, and with far fewer flies than I’d hoped for.

The good news is that the quality of the flies seems fantastic, so I can only hope I land my first fish on fly soon.

And my plan of action…to replenish my fly tying material stock, and to get back behind the J-vice (although I’m not sure buying materials will be much cheaper).

A family wedding meant that Sharon, the kids, and I boarded a plane and headed to Brisbane. Nick picked us up from the airport and, much to my wife’s dismay, immediately started discussing the day’s fishing plans. We dropped the family off at Nick’s place, had a quick cup of coffee, hitched up the boat, and headed for Moreton Bay.

Conditions on the bay were near perfect – well, for us humans. A warm autumn day with sunny, blue skies and not a breath of wind. The water looked like glass as we skimmed across, it heading for some structure between Peel Island and North Stradbroke.

We started the day with some bottom fishing, using squid and pilchards as bait. Fishing was tough due to the strong current and the abundance of rats and mice. Perhaps tough is the wrong word, since within seconds of your bait hitting the bottom it was being picked at by multiple fish, something not many people would complain about. We both managed a few hook ups, but nothing substantial came out, other than a small rockcod (picked up by Nick) that was a little more interesting as it had been tagged.

Itching for bigger fish we headed for the water between Moreton Island and North Stradbroke Island. We dead drifted close to the breakers, dragging baits along the bottom while chucking spoons at the slightest ripple. Sadly nothing came of this and soon we found ourselves wondering if the conditions were just a little too good. On the up side we did get to see a lovely dugong pottering around in search of sea grass.

By this stage it was midday and we needed to freshen up. This involved a quick stop on Moreton Island for a toilet break, followed by a failed attempt to swim with a turtle, and an ice cold beer. 

Feeling rejuvenated we headed back out. After a complex half an hour creeping over the sand banks (enjoying the abundance of starfish and rays lurking in the shallows) we found some deeper water. Almost immediately we spotted the thing we’d been looking for all day – absolute pandemonium! The water began to boil as a shoal of mackerel smashed into a school of baitfish. 

We ripped our rods from the holders and tossed our spoons into the feeding frenzy. Immediately a large fish picked up my lure, but sadly I was broken off. This gave Nick the freedom to let out a large, “BWAHAAHAAAAA!!!” as he landed a decent sized mackerel, while I was left sprawled on the deck, frantically tying on another lure. Thankfully the tables turned and soon I was landing fish (leaping bonito) while Nick dug through the tackle box in search of any remaining spoons.

Eventually the fish went off the boil and, rather than being greedy, we decided to call it a day and headed home to our families and a fresh bottle of rum.

Although Neill and I were fishing in the festival, we were also partially responsible for putting the event together, and therefore had to do our due diligence. As such we drove up early on Friday morning and spent the day checking the condition of the festival waters, unlocking the various gates and boat houses, packing goodie bags, and setting up the evening venue. One of the waters was slightly off-colour, and we therefore removed it from the festival, otherwise all was looking good.

With the hard work out the way we gathered at the Underberg Country Club to welcome the fisherman, give out the goodie bags, hold the water draw, and have a few beers.

The goodie bags were fantastic, courtesy of Xplorer Fly Fishing, and contained various items including a small flask with cups, a beanie, a zinger, a tippet clipper, and more. As for the format of the festival; as a committee we made the decision to make it more social and fun. All prizes were therefore 100% lucky draw, meaning that no fish needed to be measured or photographed. As a result the fish were hopefully released in a better condition, and there was also no need to cheat.

Neill and I drew Turner’s 4 and 5, Goxhill Lake, Curragh Lake, and Roccos. I’d only previously fished 2 of the 4 waters, and was excited to draw 2 of the larger waters in the festival. While some people find larger waters intimidating, as it can be tough to find the fish, I love them and fish them excitedly, knowing they more than likely hold a beast of a fish – quality over quantity.

Having enjoyed a few cold ones with the fisherman, a few of us headed back to Alan’s place for a quick braai and a few whiskeys. It was a chilled evening and we were all in bed at a reasonable hour, ready to hit the waters hard the next day.

Rob and Mike were up first, and were already on route to their water while Neill and I were still sipping on our first cup of steaming coffee. It was a cold, misty morning and I had high hopes that we’d have a good day. Despite the common belief that fish go off the bite when the pressure drops, I still believe that cold, miserable days produce some of the best trout fishing.

Neill and I arrived at our first water in the rain and decided to fish from the bank, rather than setting up tubes in the wet. Turner’s 5 is a smaller water with an ideal wall for fly fishing. I set about replacing an old line with a spanking new one, while Neill was quickly onto the wall. My laziness of not having done this maintenance at home cost me, and Neill was soon into 2 fish while I was still tying the backing to the fly line.

When I finally got my line into the water the fishing seemed to have gone cold, so I headed back to the car to inflate my tube, hoping to have more luck on the water. Sadly this was not to be and a few hours later I kicked back to the shore having not even had a touch. Neill had picked up one more fish on the water, so he was off to a good start with 3 in the bag.

Being good organisers we decided to take a break from the fishing and paid a visit to the fisherman on Trelevans 2, which was just 5 minutes away. We found them hunkered down against the wall, in their float tubes, hiding from the wind and rain. Despite the miserable conditions they were in high spirits having landed a beauty of a rainbow trout, measuring in at 63cms. They’d also lost a monster, and had landed a few stockies.

Having to drive back through town to reach Goxhill Lake, we stopped off at Alan’s house for a quick cup of coffee to rejuvenate. This was followed by a quick stop at Goxhill Dam, one of the club waters, where Richard, Andrew, Rob and Mike were fishing. They’d all had good mornings and their afternoon water was looking promising – good structure, a ripple on the surface, and not a lot of rod pressure. Later discussions with Rob proved this to be true as he’d picked up a good few fish in the 50cm (plus) region.

Goxhill Lake was larger than I’d thought, with ample space for a little summer water skiing. The wind was up and there were some sizeable waves on the surface. Neill opted to relax in the car, hoping the wind would drop. I was however less fortunate and forced my way onto the water, eager to get into my first fish of the weekend.

This proved to be a good move as I dropped a decent fish on just my third cast, straight in front of the car. At first I stayed close to  the car, not wanting to be blown kilometers down the dam. Thankfully I eventually braved the kick across the dam to a promising looking bay on the far bank. I picked up a few fish on the way across, all in the 30 – 40cm region. But the majority of my luck came on the far bank where I picked up multiple fish on an olive green woolly bugger (yes, I know it’s cliche). Being a big water, another 2 teams joined us, and soon all of us were landing fish all around the dam.

After a great first day we all headed back to the Underberg Coutry Club to catch up on the day’s fishing. The club served up a fantastic meal of roast beef, roast potatoes, veg, rice and gravy. I’m not generally a huge fan of roasts, mostly because the meat is usually very dry, but the club however cooked it to perfection (and made possibly the best roast potatoes I’ve ever eaten). Pudding was also spectacular, being my favourite dessert, consisting of malva pudding with ice cream.

But the best part of the evening wasn’t the dinner, but rather the great fishing stories we heard in the pub. It certainly sounded like the fishing had been good. Everyone had picked up fish, including some lovely 5 – 8 pound rainbows. There wasn’t a single sad face at the bar.

The following morning Neill and I headed to Curragh Lake. It was our second big water and was new to both of us. The weather had changed significantly and, after the morning mist burned off, we were treated to massive blue skies with not a breath of wind.

Curragh Lake (also known as Valley Lakes) is situated 25kms outside of Underberg, on the Swartburg Road. It’s one of the larger lakes in the district and has produced some beautiful brown and rainbow trout in the past. Although stocking can be a problem in larger waters (due to the massive costs involved), it’s not an issue here as the trout spawn naturally in the Ndawana River.

Fishing was tough and we took an hour or so to find the fish on the vast water. But once we did, we landed around 4 fish each in a very short space of time. For me it was once again the olive green wooly bugger that did the trick, this time in the shallows around the fringes of the dam.

From Curragh Lake we headed to our final water of the festival – Roccos. Last sessions in festivals are generally tough, as the waters have seen significant rod pressure from consecutive days of competitive fishing. Roccos was no exception, and neither Neill nor I managed to land any trout in this session. I did pick up one small bass in the shallows, but this did little to remove the sting of blanking in the final session.

Sadly we were forced to leave the water early to go and assist with setting up prize giving, logging catch returns, and doing our general duties as committee members and organisers.

I’m very happy to say that the catch returns were spectacular. Well over 300 fish were caught over the 2 days, which is an average of almost 7 fish per anger. This works out to roughly 2 fish per angler per session – a very good result indeed. Ever better were the size of the fish. Although a lot of stockies were caught, at least two 8 pounders landed, and a large percentage of the fish were well over 5 pounds. 

Prize giving was a great affair with every angler receiving a prize. Prizes included a float tube, a rod, multiple reels, wading boots, weekends away, jackets, bags, and so on. We also handed out some of the club’s trophies for the year, including the biggest river fish, still water fish, and junior fish.

With the festival all but over, everyone was given a braai pack and we gathered around the fires to tan our meat. The beers and rum flowed, and so the stories followed.

The festival continues to grow from strength to strength, and I’d definitely recommend anyone who can book their spot for next year. It’s a “not to be missed” on my calendar.

Having spent the weekend fishing the Boston Fly Fishing Festival this was intended to be a family trip. I did however manage to pack the  fly rod and to sneak away for the odd hour here and there. And I’m certainly glad I did – the fishing was great. 

For the full (family) trip report please head over to my personal website. This blog post is going to be more focused on Castleburn’s fly fishing, as well as any activities related to fishing.

The Venue

Castleburn is a Gold Crown RCI resort located just outside of Underberg, in the the foothills of the southern Drakensberg. Accommodation consists of thatched cottages scatted amongst the various small dams, or along the banks of Lake Madingofani, beautifully nestled beneath the rocky summits of Garden Castle. The chalets are self catering consisting of a multiple heated bedrooms – some with on suite bathrooms – a kitchenette, a lounge come dining room with a much needed stone fireplace, and a patio with braai facilities. The units also offer DSTV for those not wishing to miss out on their favourite sporting event or series.

Rob’s Talk

Every Tuesday night from 5 – 7pm a good friend of mine, Rob Pretorius, does a fly fishing talk at Castleburn. Rob manages the hatchery at Giant’s Cup and is most definitely a trout bum (no disrespect Rob, I’m just jealous). 

Rob’s talk is relatively fluid and feeds off  the audience- the more you ask the more you learn. The talk covers flies, trout vision, fly fishing strategies, entomology, fly tying, and so much more. 

Other than Rob’s immense knowledge, there is also some beautiful photography in the presentation thanks to Wolf Avni who is the owner of Giant’s Cup. 

So if you’re ever staying at Castleburn I’d certainly recommend skipping the Tuesday evening rise to attend Rob’s talk, and to enjoy a Castle Milk Stout with him afterwards while wracking his brain. It’s a worthwhile investment and is sure to improve your catch rate.

The Fishing

After arriving at the venue I spent some time talking to the staff, the manager, as well as various guests as to how the fishing had been over the past few weeks. The news wasn’t good; fishing had been tough and a lot of the guests had been complaining to management.

Knowing not to take fishing reports at face value I also chatted to Rob Pretorius. He had a very different story and said that the dam was full of fish, and that he’d been catching some lovely 45cm rainbow trout over the past few weeks. 

With 2 very conflicting stories I decided it was up to me to make up my own mind.

Castleburn has a variety of fishing options, ranging from 7 small dams (I’d call them ponds as you can literally cast across them) to the large, beautiful Lake Madingofani.

The 7 ponds are stocked monthly and are intended (primarily) for fishing for the pot. If I recall correctly you are allowed to take as many as 5 fish per angler per day from these waters. I didn’t eat any myself, but I’d imagine they taste great as they’ve come directly from clean hatchery water and (probably) haven’t been in the dams for too long. These ponds are also a great learning location for children and beginners as the grounds are well maintained, and conditions are very forgiving. That said, fishing can be tough as the ponds are shallow and it’s relatively easy to spook the fish.

I didn’t fish the ponds myself, but I did spend quite some time watching a flock of fishermen flog the water with no fish coming to hand. Chatting to Rob after his talk he did mention that small and obscure flies seemed to work best in these ponds. More than that I can’t tell you.

Lake Madingofani was my focus, and is a spectacular looking water. It covers an area of around 16 hectares and is surrounded by reeds and trees. The water is crystal clear and the dam is up to 5 meters deep in places (judging from the wall). There are weed beds galore and an abundance of food meaning the fish should be well fed and large. The dam is stocked with both rainbows as well as ever elusive brown trout. In my opinion, any (good) water of this size is sure to hold some trophy fish – it’s just a matter of finding them.

Being a family weekend I only fished a total of 3 times over the course of the week. And of these 3 sessions, only 2 were of any value as the third was a quick 30 minute, midday flick as we had activities planned that afternoon. 

My first session began at 3:30pm with my 4 year old at my side. This meant that the first hour was spent primarily forging Emma a “fly rod” out of a stick and some spare tippet material. We had great fun but I didn’t get much fishing done. I also didn’t get so much as a bump, or see a fish during this hour. Eventually Emma decided she wanted to head back to the chalet. After dropping her off I headed back down to the water and was amazed by what I saw. 

By now it was 5pm and the sun had dropped behind the mountains. Some form of hatch appeared to have begun and the once still surface of Lake Madingofani had come to life. There were fish absolutely EVERYWHERE. At first the fish eluded me, but then I downsized to 6x tippet with a small white death and suddenly I was on. With my new setup I was hooking into fish on every third or fourth cast, and soon my daughter joined me to witness the fun. All of the fish were rainbows and ranged in size from 30cm – 45cm.

My second (valuable) session was off one of Castleburn’s boats. I got onto the water at around 4pm and fished the fringes of the lake for an hour without seeing a fish and then, as with session 1, the water suddenly came alive at 5pm. Again I fished with a white death on light tippet material and picked up multiple fish. Strangely the fish were all smaller and most fish were in the 20cm – 30cm range.

I certainly never cracked the daytime code, and I didn’t get to fish the mornings, but between 5 and 5:30pm I was able to pick up a multitude of fish on light tackle. Rob was right. The fish are there! So don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise and give it another try yourself.

Good luck!

The 7th annual Boston Fly Fishing Festival was once again held on the weekend of the 16th June. And for the 5th year in a row this meant missing my wedding anniversary in favour of the event. Thankfully I have a forgiving wife, and had booked a week-long family holiday at Castleburn, and was therefore given the much needed pink slip.

Baha Fly Fishing entered the same 2 teams of four as the previous year. The South coast team was once again made up of Dave, Dan, Andrew and Richard, while the Durban team consisted of Neill, Bruce, Keegan and myself. Now while I named the team’s Baha North and Baha South, the South Coast boys had other plans. They arrived at the festival early and used their spare time (wisely) to rename their team to Baha 1 and our team to Baha 2 – a name that they did not let us forget for the rest of the event.

Keegan and Neill had spent the day fishing one of the Underberg waters, namely Trelevans 2. It had been a tough day with Neill producing just 3 small rainbows in a relatively strong wind. From Underberg they headed straight through to Boston to meet us at the registration and water draw.

Bruce and I were the late starters and met at my house after work, only getting going close to 6pm. Thankfully I don’t live too far from Boston and we made it to the club in time for registration, dinner and the water draw. Sadly we did miss the team photos, so we won’t be up on the wall next year.

The “freebies” were great, although there was no pack of flies this year, which I’ve been collecting since the start of the event. On the up side the charcoal grey fleece jacket we received was awesome and I’ll get far more use out of it than previous jackets which tend to sit in the back of my cupboard. We also got an Xplorer beanie with a small peak which I was incredibly excited by. Sadly however it was a little small for my head and creeps off my ears. So close!

The festival followed the same format as in 2016, which is meant to favour catching large fish over stockie bashing for numbers. To explain, your largest 4 fish counted from your first water, the largest 3 from your second, 2 from your third, and so on. So once you’d picked up your limit, it’s worth heading off in search of larger fish as less is more.

During a delicious dinner consisting of lasagna, garlic bread, and salad, they held the water draw. One by one the team captains would go up and draw an envelope. The festival’s waters had been divided into A, B, C and D class waters. Each team got at least 2 A class waters, while some were lucky enough to get 3. Baha 2, as we were now know, drew Geldart 2, Star Dam, McKenzie 2, and Mount Shannon (a NFFC water). Sadly there was no McKenzie 1 on our list but, as my daughter says, “you get what you get and you don’t get upset!”

The pub was surprisingly quite and by 9pm we had left the club and were heading to Virginia Farm where we were all staying. Helen had hosted the original Baha team for 5 years, usually in a small cottage on the farm. This year however she was kind enough to vacate her home to accommodate all 8 members of the 2 Baha teams. Helen’s kindness sums up perfectly what the Boston Festival is all about – an event with a sense of family and camaraderie.

Back on Virginia Farm we fought over the 4 bedrooms – not being too eager to share double beds – and then discovered the table tennis table. I use the term “table tennis table” loosely since this particular version was literally made up of a table tennis net strung across an old, pitted dining room table, half the size of a normal table tennis table. Hours were lost to this table – whisky in left hand, bat in right.

Dave was meanwhile trying to sneak off his lounge mattress and onto one of our beds. We however were having none of this and spent the next 2 hours giving him a hard time using well placed Bluetooth speakers. But eventually even we called it a day and headed off to bed, ready to start the fishing.

The Fishing – Day 1

After years of being closed, the Boston Garage was once again open and have undergone some significant renovations. The most essential to us was the addition of a bean-to-cup coffee machine filled with Terbodore coffee. We stopped by briefly on route to our first water, Geldart 2, and therefore got to (carefully) enjoy a steamy capucinno as we navigated the bumpy road to the water.

The temperature was 2 degrees as we pulled up to the small cottage overlooking the dam. It was a misty morning with no sign of the sun burning through anytime soon. There was also a stiff breeze which, combined with the single digit water temperature, meant we were in for a very chilly start to the day.

Bruce and I set about inflating our tubes for the first time, while Neill and Keegan got off to a speedy start as they’d fished off them the previous day. It was Keegan who was first onto the water, and he quickly hooked into a stockie to kick off our festival. I joined him on the water and soon had picked up a fish of my own. Game on! 

As predicted, conditions in the mist we frosty and soon all 4 of us were huddled up against the eastern back, hiding from the wind. Thankfully this didn’t stop us from catching fish and, before we knew it, the sun started to break through the mist, providing some much needed relief to our frozen hands.

Oddly, we chose this time to kick to shore where we brewed a fresh pot of coffee to further warm our hands and ready us for the next few hours on the water. My line had also been misbehaving so I spent some of this time stretching and cleaning lines.

Keegan, ever eager, fished the shallows where we could see multiple good fish cruising over the spawning beds. He hooked into a beauty of a fish but lost it when the braided loop pulled off his line. The humorous side of him losing this fish (well, for us anyway), was that he had borrowed the line from Neill. I guess Neill ows him a beer or two. Or does he owe Neill a leader? Who knows?

I chose to fish the rest of the session from the bank rather than getting back onto the tube. Unfortunately this didn’t prove to be successful and when we left the water an hour or two later I’d landed just the 4 stockies from the morning’s session. Keegan had landed 3 fish, while Neill hooked just a single stockie.

From Geldart’s 2 we drove past the Everglades hotel, passed Mavela, and around the back to Star Dam. Star has long been one of my favourite waters of the festival and we’ve been lucky enough to fish it most years. I love it for 2 reasons. Firstly I find it to be one of the more scenic dams, with a wide variety of water to chose from, and lovely dam-side vistas. And secondly, it’s always produced fish for me, with the larger specimens sitting at around the 50cm mark. Other anglers haven’t been quite as lucky and it’s certainly not everyone’s cup of tea.

This year however things were slightly different. Construction on the housing estate had kicked off and 6 or 7 properties now spanned the once barren shoreline. Most of these units were midway though construction so there was rubble and dust where there had once been natural grass and bush. The dam had also been surrounded by an electric fence ruining some of the feeling. All in all the ambience had been (slightly) destroyed. Perhaps this will change once construction is complete and the vegetation has regrown. I also heart rumours that the builders may be poaching the water, and the fishing definitely appeared to be a lot tougher.

As is the norm we shared the water with another team and so there were 8 of us on the dam. I headed straight to the wall as it was midday and I felt the fish would be sitting in the deeper water while the sun was directly overhead. This proved to be a good strategy and I promptly hooked into a beautiful cock fish of around 47cms, fishing deep and slow with an egg sucking leach.

Sadly things slowed after that and for the next few hours I didn’t get so much as a bump. Neill, Keegan and Bruce were also struggling and only at around around 4pm did the fishing start to pick up slightly. Bruce landed his first fish of the festival near the wall, while Neill picked up a fish or two in the shallows.  Keegan sadly left the water with nothing to show for the hours of effort he’d put in.

Bruce and I braved the cooler conditions as the sun dipped below the horizon, driving everyone else off the water. The two of us fished the shallows under a pink sky, on a glassy dam. Whether or not we caught fish it was certainly worth being out on the water in such a perfect scene. Thankfully I was rewarded for the extra hour and picked up 2 fish in the shallows as the evening rise kicked off. Neither of them were as large as my morning fish however, but a fish is a fish.

We finally kicked off the water at the close of fishing (5:30pm) and packed up quickly as it was getting dark. From Star Dam we rushed through Tillietudlem, knowing that the gates were closed at 6pm and that we’d been locked in before. As it turned out we got lucky as we intercepted the man who’d locked the gates. Without this we would have been stuck for another 30 mintues, trying to track down someone with a key.

Being so late there was no time to stop at Virginia Farm for a shower as catch returns needed to be in by 6:30pm. We therefore headed straight to the club where Bruce huddled around the fire as he only had a pair of shorts on, having anticipated us stopping for a shower and to change.

Dinner was fantastic as per usual – chicken al a king if I remember correctly – thanks once again to the hard working farmer’s wives. This was followed by a beer or two in the pub where we caught up on the day’s fishing stories. As is the norm there were mixed bags, with the biggest fish of day 1 coming in at 54cms.

The pub was again quiet and so we headed back to the cottage for a few more games of table tennis, a relaxed whisky, and an early night.

The Fishing – Day 2

Day 2 once again began with a cup of coffee at the Boston Garage. How we survived without this in previous years I don’t know? From there we headed to our third water, McKenzie 2.

McKenzie 1 is perhaps the most loved dam of the festival, with everyone crossing fingers to draw it. It’s not uncommon to pick up 10 fish each on this water, all in the 35 – 40cm range. McKenzie 2 however is a completely different beast. It’s nestled behind McKenzie 1 and I’m guessing is stocked (and fished) far less.

Fishing is generally tough and most anglers are happy to come away with just a single fish. That said, when you do hook into a fish on this dam it tends to be a beast, worthy of the many tough hours spent on the water.  I’d lost one such fish on this dam during the 2016 Boston Fly Fishing Festival.

Baha 1 had fished McKenzie 2 on day 1 and all four of the boys had blanked. The team fishing afternoon session on day 1 had suffered the same fate. This however did little to ruin my enthusiasm and I attacked the water with vigour when we arrived, hoping to find the bus I’d dropped the previous year.

Sadly this was not be and despite fishing the full session, all 4 members of Baha 2 blanked on this water. Not wanting to put this dam down, it’s worth mentioning that the winning fish – 65cm if I remember correctly – was picked up in this water during the 4th session. So we all missed our opportunity.

We then headed for our fourth and final dam – Mount Shannon. 

Mount Shannon is an NFFC water owned by Mondi. Despite having been a member of the club for around 10 years this was the first time I’d fished the water. It looked good upon arrival but we were aware that it wasn’t marked as one of the festival’s A grade dams.

Fishing was tough although Neill, Bruce and I all picked up stockies over the afternoon. Generally the recipe for success was to cast to rising fish in the shallows, and then to strip slowly until the fish took. The fish were definitely being selective and even this strategy working only 1 time out of 10.

The evening rise looked promising as the water began to boil with fish rising absolutely everywhere. It was clear that the majority of these were small fish, but beggars can’t be choosers and so we targeted them eagerly. Neill was the only one who seemed to crack the code using a small white death. Despite the rest of us trying similar tactics we were all left more frustrated than satisfied with the rise.

As the sun set we all clambered back onto the shore and packed up for the last time. Again we headed straight to the club where we enjoyed the traditional final meal of roast beef and potatoes followed by ice cream. Prize giving was held during the meal although it was a relatively minor affair. Again, the festival is more about the entertainment and camaraderie than the prizes, and so I feel they play prize giving down intentionally.

The bar was far more festive that night and the tequilla and rum were certainly flowing. Having been well behaved the previous two nights we treated ourselves to a night of mischief and finally crawled out of the put at close to midnight. I’m not going to go into too much detail, but most of the night was spent trying to slip R5 coins into Dan’s various pockets without him noticing. Don’t judge us.

Heading Home

As is the norm we were up early on the Sunday, and were packed and ready to leave by 7am. We thanked Helen for her hospitality and then climbed into our cars and headed home. Baha 1 headed straight for the south coast, while we headed for our customary breakfast at the Howick Wimpy. What would these festivals be without these traditions?

The festival was once again a stellar success. A big thank you to the farmer’s who share both their waters and their homes with us, as well as to their wives who look after us impeccably. No other community could host a festival the way Boston does!

On Friday morning Neill and I took to the Durban beachfront for a pre-work fish. Despite being winter the water was warm and conditions looked promising for a few wavies. Consistent offshore winds in the preceding days had flattened the swell, other than a rather large shore-break which did hinder fishing slightly. Durban itself put on a great show with a beautiful orange sunrise illuminating the glass-like surface on the ocean.

We fished for between an hour and an hour and a half, with not so much as a bump from the smallest wave garrick. This was irrelevant though, as it was great to just be out there with the sand between our toes before a tough day’s graft.

Fishing was followed by a mandatory cup of coffee at the Bike & Bean where we watched a handful of body boarders fighting over a long wave, and listened to a group of runners discussing the strategy for Sunday’s Comrades Marathon.