Our annual Midmar camping and bass pilgrimage got off to a rocky start on Friday afternoon when I received a photo of a decimated gazebo from Nick. He’d taken a half day and had headed up early with the family to get a small advantage over me [...]]]>

Carnage during a hail storm at Midmar

Our annual Midmar camping and bass pilgrimage got off to a rocky start on Friday afternoon when I received a photo of a decimated gazebo from Nick. He’d taken a half day and had headed up early with the family to get a small advantage over me with the bass bashing. Much to his dismay however all that this had resulted in was him setting up camp amidst a huge hail storm, which in turn had left his gazebo looking like nothing more than a trodden on spider with too many legs.

Not deterred by his cries Sharon, Emma and I packed up the car and headed for Midmar with the new Cassa da Priors. We arrived shortly before dark and began setting up the new tent. It was a race against time and sadly the tent was not what we had hoped for. It was poorly designed, broke while putting it up, and leaked. None the less we were now committed and therefore sat down to an ice cold beer, ready for the stormy night ahead.

Clearly the storm had left everyone fatigued and we all headed off to bed early. But I guess it wasn’t too bad an option since, after many sleepless hours in a flapping tent, we were up early and ready to head out on our first bass bashing session.

The new Cassa da Priors

After kitting up the rods and prepping the boat we launched and headed for our new favorite spot. Sadly the water was exceptionally muddy and low, and we were left guessing as to where to go next. We opted for the old location X where the water was at least clean and finally got down to it.

Although we could see a lot of fish (carp and bass) they weren’t in the least bit interested in our flies. Eventually however Nick hooked into a small bass which saw him getting onto the board. Things remained quiet and eventually we opted to head back to camp to spend some time with our families.

Much to our surprise we were greeted by an empty camp and so, after flicking off the bank for a while, we opted to head out once again. We fished some of the nearer bays which were equally as dirty and came up empty handed. The fishing was clearly going to be tough.

Warren’s first bass of the trip

Back at camp we picnicked on the grass with our wives and daughters while mulling over our options for the afternoon session. Sharon, Emma and I also took a drive out passed the Mandela capture site where piles of flowers had been left in honor of Madiba’s recent passing. We stopped for an ice cream at the Piggly Wiggly and then headed back to camp for the afternoon fishing session.

The wind had picked up but it looked positive in that, due to its direction, we were hoping it would clean up some of the bays. Sadly however we were wrong. Thankfully we did eventually find some clean water but were forced to share it was a fly fisherman on a float tube. He wooed us with his tales of the previous day, claiming he’d caught and seen so many fish that it was like being in an aquarium. That however was no longer the case as we all fished the weed beds without so much as seeing a fish.

Back at camp we lit the fire and braaied up some rashers and steak for dinner. The weather played ball and we had a slight drizzle, but thankfully no big storms. That night we all slept like babies, well, until 5am when Mila politely woke us up for an early morning session.

Sadly the biggest bass of the trip

By 5:30am we ‘d launched the boat and were at location X. Almost immediately I picked up 3 average sized bass on the surface. And then, for some reason, we decided to move. Bad idea! Our next venue had muddied up overnight and showed no signs of producing any fish. On the up side I was finally on the board and we’d seen some action.

Back at camp we cooked up some egg and made egg, steak and onion rolls. It was a beautiful day but the wind was up so fishing was no longer an option. Instead we found a sheltered area on the grass and relaxed while our daughters played in their splash pools.

Since Monday’s weather was predicted to be heavy rains we opted to pack up while the tents were dry. It meant heading home a day early, but it also meant not having to dry tents at home and a morning session to Inanda Dam where the fishing would hopefully be better.

Definitely not our most productive Midmar weekend, but a great weekend none the less.

After days of planning (ok, a cold beer and an idea) we left at 4am for the Mountain Kingdom of Lesotho. Tents and sleeping bags were packed, firewood was at the ready, and the Captain Morgan was prepped for an adventure worthy of Kingsley Holgate.

We stamped through the SA [...]]]>

Top of Sani Pass

After days of planning (ok, a cold beer and an idea) we left at 4am for the Mountain Kingdom of Lesotho. Tents and sleeping bags were packed, firewood was at the ready, and the Captain Morgan was prepped for an adventure worthy of Kingsley Holgate.

We stamped through the SA border at 7am and were proudly the first car up Sani Pass for the day. It was at this point that the adventure was downgraded by a level or two. Since our last trip up Sani a lot of work has been done. The road has been widened, retaining walls have been erected, drainage has been installed under the road, and ice corner has been defeated. The pass as we knew it is no more. In fact I’m pretty certain I could’ve driven a Golf up there despite the rain and misty conditions.

Thankfully, despite the emancipation of the road, the view was as spectacular as even so we stopped to take a few photos of the misty African mountain pass.

A dry Sani River

Nick fishing the Pholela River

Once in Lesotho we headed straight for the Sani River, ready to begin a weekend of fly fishing and camping. Sadly however our adventure ended there. The river was lower than I’d even seen it. In fact there were stretches of dry riverbed 100 meters long without so much as a damp patch.

We weighed up our options and decided that heading further into Lesotho in search of water would be frivolous. Instead we chose to turn around, head back down the pass, and camp at Cobham while fishing the hopefully fuller Pholela River.

Thankfully when we parked at Cobham things looked up. The river was higher, flowing steadily and definitely fishable. We kitted up our trust two weights, pulled on our hiking boots, and got down to it. With the campsite being empty and the weather a little damp the river was free of humans. As such we started fishing from the swing bridge and immediately missed a fish or two in the first pool.

Excited by fish rising to the dry fly we continued upstream and missed a few more fish. I then switched to a smaller dry and cast to a fish I could see rising in the head of a pool. Fish on! It was a recently spawned rainbow of no more than 2 inches, but it was a fish none the less.

Nick meanwhile had headed back to the car in search of cellphone reception. Sadly his dog was in pain and had been taken to the vet, and he was desperately trying to find out what was going on.

He rejoined me half an hour later and we continued fishing upstream. I picked up two more small fish but the river was quickly thinning. We therefore decided to head into Underberg and to fish a still water in the afternoon.

From Cobham we headed for Alan’s house, hoping he was in, so that we could get a good club water. Thankfully he greeted us with his usual cheery smile and insisted we stay with him for the weekend. We enjoyed a quick lunch of chicken rolls while catching up and deciding on an afternoon water. The wind was quickly picking up so we eventually decided on Turner’s Cottage in the hope that the trees would offer a little shelter.

Rainbow over Lake Ringstead

Warren with a small troot

By 2pm we were at the waters edge and kitting up our trusty 5 weights. We could see the wind on the water but thankfully the low water conditions meant that the wall provided some shelter. Since the trip had been planned around fishing the Lesotho rivers neither of us had a float tube. We therefore climbed into one of the club’s handy boats and rowed up to the wall.

Fishing was slow but it was midday so we were hoping that things would pick up. Nick got into one fish of around 800g, otherwise it was far too quiet. Eventually, when the wind dropped, we opted to head over to our first choice of water, Lake Ringstead.

After a quick drive down the road we rowed out onto the water. We’d been in 2 countries, had visited 2 rivers, and were now at our second still water. What a day!

Nick and I both missed fish on our first casts, and both landed fish on our second. I use the word landed in the loosest possible sense since neither of us had packed a net. Trying to lift a feisty rainbow trout out of the water without snapping a light tippet is somewhat trickier than expected. That said we did eventually master it after a fair amount of pointing and laughing as we lost the odd fish.

Our afternoon at Ringstead was hugely productive and we produced 14 fish in the couple of hours we were there, all in the region of 1 – 2kgs. We got to fish under a rainbow and then, as the sun set, under a beautiful full moon. You really can’t complain about the places our fly fishing takes us to.

We arrived back at Alan’s house to a roaring fire and lamb riblets at the ready. Cold beers were cracked and we got down to some serious braaiing. Eventually Alan headed off to bed when he saw the Captain Morgan getting opened…a wise move I think. We finally made it to bed well after midnight.

Warren with a moonlit trout

The next morning we dragged our corpses from bed for some hot coffee and another still water session. Alan wanted us to fish his private dam so that’s where we headed.

Sadly we’d only just made it out onto the water when a hurricane arrived and started with it’s nonsense. Our anchor proved somewhat useless and we were washed into the bank time after time. We did eventually manage to lodge it in some weeds and fished for around 30 minutes before breaking loose. In that time I hooked into one nice fish but sadly it spat the hook on an energetic jump.

The gale continued to strengthen and eventually we washed up on the wall and were unable to paddle against the wind and waves. And that, as they say, was the end of that. We walked the boat back to the car, packed up our kit, said our goodbyes, and headed back to Durban earlier than planned (much to the delight of our wives).

It wasn’t the adventurous weekend we’d planned but the fishing at the UHTFC was spectacular and we had a great time catching up with Alan. Lesotho will have to be tried again in a few months after some rain.

Once a year the UHTFC host their AGM and, in order to make it more exciting and to improve attendance, they throw in a small fly fishing festival as well. The general format is a meet and greet on the Friday evening (where waters are drawn), fishing on the Saturday, [...]]]>

The New UHTFC Banners

Once a year the UHTFC host their AGM and, in order to make it more exciting and to improve attendance, they throw in a small fly fishing festival as well. The general format is a meet and greet on the Friday evening (where waters are drawn), fishing on the Saturday, and then weigh in followed by the AGM and dinner on Saturday evening.

Not wanting to miss out on any fishing time Neill and I planned to leave Hillcrest at 1pm in order to get in a short afternoon session. Sadly things went a little pear shaped from the start. Firstly, on my way home, I stopped off to pick up some new Baha decals only to discover they weren’t finished yet. Neill then got stuck in traffic which meant another small delay. As such we finally made it out of Hillcrest closer to 2pm.

I suppose we did worsen the situation ourselves when we stopped of at the Nip Inn for a quick beer before driving the final 20kms to Underberg. But hey, what’s a fishing trip without a beer?

Since we were running somewhat late we skipped Alan’s house and headed straight to the waters edge. Our dam of choice was Trelevans 2 since it was fishable from the bank and didn’t require a key.

Alan had warned us of the low water levels but it was worse than I’d expected. The dam was down by a few meters but was still very fishable and I spotted several rises as we parked the car. Since I was in shorts and slops I made my way through a marshy area and fished a small, shallow bay hoping the fish would have moved in to feed as the sun dropped in the sky. This didn’t seem to be the case and things were annoyingly quiet.

Neill fly fishing at sunset

I therefore opted for the other extreme and waded back through the marsh, picked the leaches off my feet, and headed for the dam wall. Fishing wasn’t easy as the water was a few meters below me and a couple of meters in front. Thankfully however that didn’t seem to matter and I’d soon landed 2 fish of around 1kg each.

We then called it a day and headed to the Himeville Arms for the meet and great and the drawing of the waters. By the time we arrived the pub was full of eager fishermen, most of whom had not had the opportunity to fish that day and were nibbling at the bit.

The evening was spent making new friends and sharing stories from past fishing experiences while sipping on cold beers. Once the waters had been drawn people started slipping out of the pub in the hope of making an early start due to the predicted 35 degree weather. We therefore headed back to Alan’s place and enjoyed a 10pm braai and a few more beers. Life’s tough in Africa!

Warren with a nice rainbow trout

The next morning we were out of bed at a lazy 5am. We enjoyed a quick cup or two of hot coffee and then headed for our water, Lake Ringstead. The water was exceptionally low and clear. There was also a large abundance of weed which was strange for the end of winter (ok, we’re quite far into spring, I know).

The three of use began to target various areas of the dam. Neill and I fished from float tubes while another UHTFC member fished off one of the clubs boats. We quickly got into fish although most of them were small in the 1 to 1.5kg range. Neill was the first into a nice cock fish of 2.5kgs. I followed shortly with a bright cock fish of 2kgs.

By this stage it was 10am and already well over 30 degrees. The wind also suddenly picked up and we were sadly blown off the water. We relaxed by the car for a while eating a late breakfast and hoping that the wind would die down. Sadly however it was not to be and eventually we headed home to relax and wait for a short afternoon session.

The wind was still pumping at 3pm but there were fish to be caught and so we headed for the hopefully sheltered Trelevans 2. It wasn’t as sheltered as we’d hoped for but by “hiding” behind the wall fishing was at least an option. Things started off quietly but once we cracked the code we quickly got into fish. Sadly they were all stockies but we still had great fun. And Neill claims to have dropped a bus in the corner.

A smaller UHTFC trout

Eventually we were forced off the water by the 5pm weigh in. We grabbed a quick shower and then again headed for the Himeville Arms. After a quick weigh in, of which the results were kept secret, we grabbed a beer and headed into the chapel for the AGM.

Thankfully the AGM itself was short. The chairman gave his report, followed by Alan’s report on the conditions of the water. And finally Wolf Avni gave a brief talk on the eradication of trout and how to support the cause to stop it. I was also asked to give a brief talk on the NFDS and their push to get themselves up and running again. It would’ve been easier had I been prepared, but it went off well enough.

After the AGM we all gathered in the dining hall and had a fantastic dinner. Ilan Lax was kind enough to do a short talk on NEM:BA which was brief, to the point, and well received by everyone. His talk was followed by a short prize giving for the day’s fishing. Neill came second while I scrapped in at fourth. That said we both only weighed one fish and if we’d just kept another stockie we’d have taken first and second.

Slowly the evening wound down in the pub and eventually everyone said their goodbyes and headed home.

The next morning Neill and I awoke to a chilly, misty morning with a slight drizzle. Sadly it wasn’t enough to effect the low river and dam levels, but just enough to make us pull on a jacket.

Not wanting to set up kick boats we opted to fish the Grange from the bank. I got into a decent fish on my third cast but sadly it came off the hook before I could land it. Other than that we didn’t sniff another fish all morning. The dam was heavily weeded and fishing from the bank was therefore a little frustrating. We therefore decided to call it a day and headed back home.

A good weekend considering the purpose of the visit was primarily for an AGM. I’ll definitely be back for the festival next year.

The much awaited Vidal trip took place over the weekend of the 6th – 8th of September. With 12 Baha and DFT members booking out two separate cottages we once again had quite a crowd!

Departing from Durban at 4.30 am we made our way to the St Lucia Wimpy [...]]]>

A bad omen perhaps?

The much awaited Vidal trip took place over the weekend of the 6th – 8th of September. With 12 Baha and DFT members booking out two separate cottages we once again had quite a crowd!

Departing from Durban at 4.30 am we made our way to the St Lucia Wimpy for a quick brekkie and a soup bowl of coffee. Spirits were high and there was much excitement from the “Vidal Virgins” who eagerly asked where to fish, what to expect and what flies work.

We left the Wimpy in our hordes to make our way to the beach, knowing very well that a buster was on its way up the coast. While leaving the car park I sadly noticed we had a flat tyre (personally I think Neill Van Rooyen had something to do with that) so Warren and myself had to make a quick pit stop to have that repaired while the rest of the boys raced to the beach.

A rainbow wrasse

Warren Prior with a nice wave garrick

Fifteen minutes later we were on route and talking strategy. We had always heard of Mission rocks but had never stopped in to test the water. Always keen to try new venues and strategies we made a last minute decision and pulled into the car park at Mission Rocks.

We were fishing the outgoing tide and decided to walk south where the gullies looked better. Knowing that the buster was on the way I opted for the trusty T-50 to tame the hurricane. We had kilometers of ledges and gullies all to ourselves but alas only two fish came out. That said there was something special about fishing with an African Fish Eagle calling above you and whales playing behind the waves. We hardly had room to complain.

We headed back to Vidal to meet with the rest of the pack and discuss the fishing. By now the buster was in full swing, blowing at around 35 – 40 km/hr and some of the boys had already called it. We were greeted by the “die hards” – Bruce, Steve and Graeme – walking off the beach empty handed and sand blasted. Nevertheless we went down for a session before checking in.

Walking north the beach was flat with very few holes. This made the walking easy but the fishing tougher. Thankfully every now and then we would find one, only to pull out a small shad or a wavie. Warren however was lucky enough to land a beautiful specimen of a wave garrick, probably weighing close to the 2 kg mark.

Heading back to the chalet for lunch we decided we’d be back for a late afternoon session. To pass the time some guys tied budgies to throw at the kingies while most of us sucked on an ice cold beer. Eventually, at about 3.30pm, we headed down to the beach. By now the wind had picked up even more and backhand casting was the only option to try and get a fly into the water.

Again only a few small shad, juvenille kingfish and moonies came out. Steve Brooks was fortunate enough to hook into a kingie but he was smashed off on the bricks before being able to land it. We fished until around 30 minutes after sunset and then called it a day and headed back to the chalet.

Fishing Cape Vidal at sunset

Hayden’s memorial

The evening was uneventful with most of the guys tucked in early licking their wounds after a dismal first day on the beach. The “boozers” that stayed up late were greeted by the resident bush pigs who, after scavenging the camp, moved off.

Saturday morning saw most of the guys forming groups and walking about 5 kilometers north in search of some fishing grounds. On our walk up the beach we came across Dave Smith who popped out the bushes with his fly tackle. It turned out he had been camping at Vidal since Wednesday.

When we finally got to the ledges, where Neill and co. had been fishing for most of the morning, we were disappointed to discover large swells making the ledges mostly unfishable. Sadly only a few stone bream had come out and things didn’t get much better than that.

At this stage the north easter was in full swing which posed more of a challenge than a problem. We hung around for an hour or hoping the seas would die down but unfortunately that never happened. Fishing back along the beaches a few “rats and mice” were plucked from the surf, but again it was nothing worth righting home about.

Saturday afternoon’s session was called off as the north easter was blowing so hard it was near impossible to cast a fly line. That evening Graeme, Neill, Bruce and Dave held a send-off for their very close friend and Vidal stalwart, Hayden, who sadly passed away while fishing. What a way to go! He will truly be missed, but never forgotten.

That evening we partied hard, many stories (some dodge) were told and although the fishing was not the best new friends were made. I guess that’s what makes Vidal such a special place.

On Sunday morning we were greeted by a howling easterly. A few of us fished the bay and rocky outcrops for a few hours before throwing the towel in. It was great to pick up some rockcod but fishing was generally poor.

A dismal weekend to say the least, with less than a 100 fish coming out between all of us. But hey, that’s fishing. You can’t always dominate!

Till next time tight lines.

A sad day for the rhino

Sadly my Jeep was in the shop so I borrowed my mom’s [...]]]> If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times…no long weekend should ever go to waste. And since it had just been Nick and Tarryn’s birthdays, we decided to do a family trip to Underberg for a little fishing and relaxation.

Sadly my Jeep was in the shop so I borrowed my mom’s Corolla and quickly packed it on Friday morning before the 7am departure time. Amazingly it almost seemed to fit in more than the Jeep and we easily packed all my fishing equipment, including my float tube, as well as Emma’s pram and various other bags. I was truly impressed.

A misty afternoon at Lund’s Dam

We met up with Nick, Tarryn and Mila at our usual garage on the N3 and then headed for Underberg, coffee in hand. The weather was dire with most of the trip being spent in either rain or mist. This meant that rushing for a water was futile since our wives and daughters would be left sitting on a bank in the rain.

So instead of rushing we stopped off at the Pickle Pot, found a table close to the fire, and enjoyed a cooked breakfast and a few more cups of coffee. Rain ran down the windows as we enjoyed the heat, but eventually we paid our bill and got back onto the road.

Our first stop in Underberg was at Alan’s house where he greeted us with yet more coffee. We sipped on the warm cups while discussing our fishing plans for the next few days.

With the weather being a little miserable, and the families therefore not wanting to sit in the mud while we fished, we decided to check in first and to then to head out fishing. Being the adventurous types we also opted to fish a new dam in the form of Lunds which we’d always heard great things about. Saturday’s plan was then to fish Lake Ringstead since Nick was yet to fish it properly. And finally on Sunday we decided to fish one of the dams heading out of town, probably Turner’s Cottage or the Grange.

Nick with a Lund’s rainbow

Warren with a rainbow trout

At 12pm we headed over to The Old Hatchery since they’d kindly allowed us to check in early. The venue itself is fantastic with a lovely small dam (which is apparently stocked, but we didn’t fish it), a restaurant and bar, and varying levels of accommodation. It is also all interlinked with wooden walkways which are always a scenic favorite.

One of the minor downsides of the venue is the distance between the fisherman’s cottages and the parking area. This meant several trips along the wooden walkways and narrow bridges carrying babies, prams and sterilizers. That said this wouldn’t be a problem on a boys only fishing trip.

Once we’d unpacked the families and had settled in it was time for the fishing to commence. We said our goodbyes to the ladies, climbed into the Terios, and headed for Lund’s. Thankfully Alan had given us a map as the route was a little confusing – especially since we had to drive right through the saw mill buildings.

However once we made it to the water’s edge it was truly a sight to behold. The water was calm with a scenic treeline running along the one edge and a derelict old jetty left rotting in the water which once lead out to a small island. There was a slight drizzle with pockets of mist over parts of the relatively large water. It looked mystical and magical and in need of some fisherman.

We decided that, since it was going to be a relatively short session, we would fish off a boat together rather than setting up our tubes. This turned out to be a fantastic idea and soon we were rowing out towards the wall, rain running down our jackets.

I got into a fish on my third cast and had soon landed a rather sluggish stocky. Feeling the water indicated it was perhaps a little cold and the fish were appropriately lethargic. We then noticed swallows skimming the water and headed over to the area where I picked up another small stocky. Then the real fun began when Nick and I doubled up with a nice pair of 2kg rainbows.

From there the fishing improved as we found a hole near a weed bed which produced fish almost cast for cast. Sadly all the fish were a little lazy but we made up for their lack of enthusiasm in sheer numbers.

View from The Old Hatchery

The Fisherman’s Cottages at The Old Hatchery

As the sun set and darkness fell we rowed back to the boat shed where packing up was an absolute pleasure thanks to the decision to not inflate the tubes. Soon we were heading back to The Old Hatchery, ready to jump into the pub and watch the Sharks game. Sadly it was at this point that Nick realised he’d left his phone back in the boat house. Rather annoyed we stopped in at the Himeville Arms to ease the pain, and then headed back to Lund’s Dam.

Amazingly we still arrived back at The Old Hatchery in time to watch the rugga. Alan met us there and we had a quick shower before heading to the pub. It was at this point that the power in our chalet tripped due to it being linked to the kitchen. Thankfully Alan knew the owners and sorted it out while I finished off my shower in the dark.

In the pub the sharks game against the Griquas was a little disappointing. Alan therefore decided to head home while we walked back to our cottages to braai instead. As per usual it was an over-catered affair consisting of rashers, woopsies, steak, garlic mushrooms, roasted vegetables and more. WOW!

We’d heard from Alan that the fishing didn’t pick up until later in the day so the next morning we enjoyed a skottled breakfast rather than rushing out at the break of dawn. Strong and fill we then headed over to Lake Ringstead where Alan met up with us as we were paddling out onto the water.

Again I picked up a few stockies in the early stages of the session. Nick was meanwhile left sulking about the lack of fish. This however soon changed when, after an hour or two he picked up a lovely 2kg cock fish. I then had a run of bad luck when a bus of a fish snapped my braided leader (the bastard). After that we landed a few more fish before things quietened down and we eventually left that water at around 4pm.

Frozen spider webs

The plans that evening were to braai at The Old Hatchery. Sadly however there was an issue with the water pipes and as such we only had a trickle of cold water, while Nick and Tarryn’s unit had no water at all. Thankfully Sharon had bathed Emma during the day (and I opted for a cold shower) so we were all good. Nick and Tarryn were however left stranded having not bathed Mila. They therefore headed over to Alan’s place to shower and braai while Sharon and I relaxed in our cottage.

We headed to the restaurant for dinner but found them fully booked. Thankfully however they were kind enough to prepare our meal and to bring it to our cottage. So a big thumbs up for the service.

The next morning we again opted for a slow start since the fishing had been better at around midday. Sadly this didn’t seem to be the case on our final day as we arrived at Turner’s Cottage at 10am and rowed out. I immediately picked up three stockies and Nick got into one. Things then quietened down and eventually, at around lunch time, we opted to call it a day.

We picnicked under the beautiful trees lining the bank, chatted to a friend who arrived for a visit, and then called it a day and headed back to Hillcrest. The end of yet another successful weekend’s fishing in Underberg.

It won’t be long until we head back once again.

After having taken part in the inaugural Boston Dargle Fly Fishing Festival in 2011 (and having then missed the second festival due to my wedding) there was absolutely no chance that we were going to miss the third running of this (now) legendary festival. [...]]]>

Sunset on route to the Boston Dargle Fly Fishing Festival

After having taken part in the inaugural Boston Dargle Fly Fishing Festival in 2011 (and having then missed the second festival due to my wedding) there was absolutely no chance that we were going to miss the third running of this (now) legendary festival. So we made sure we got our entries in early and then counted down the days until the festival began.

View over Ivanhoe

When Friday, the day of registration, finally arrived my day in the office dragged. Thankfully I managed to sneak out a little early and headed for my house where two of my team mates, Nick and Neill, were meeting me at 4pm. We threw all of our kit into Neill’s bakkie and hit the road for the Boston. The adventure had finally begun.

As we advanced on Boston the banter grew and the temperature dropped. Slowly it neared the single digits and we were suddenly thankful we’d made a trip to the Columbia Sportswear store earlier in the week where we’d stocked up on a few Omni-heat items to see us through the weekend.

When we arrived in Boston at around 6pm the bar was already abuzz with friendly fishermen enjoying everything from sherry to beer, and rum and shots. We grabbed a quick drink and then headed through to the registration table where we signed in and collected our measuring sticks and festival jackets.

At this point it’s definitely worth mentioning just how friendly and welcoming the local ladies were. They manned the registration and “weigh-in” tables, cooked us multiple dinners, and made up the most amazing breakfast and lunch packs. I can’t image that cooking food for 60+ fishermen is easy, and yet they never stopped smiling. I’m also convinced that they slept far less than the fishermen, so a BIG thank you to all the smiling ladies.

Nick with the first fish of the festival

Warren releasing a fish

Amazingly the entire local community was just as friendly and welcoming as the ladies. The local farmers opened their homes to the fishermen and most of us spent the weekend sleeping in their cosy farm houses and enjoying their hospitality, coffee, and breakfasts. So a BIG thank you to them as well. As far as I know it’s the only festival of this format and I can’t imagine any other community being as welcoming as Boston. In my opinion this is the sole reason that the festival works and is such a success.

But back to the festival; it works on an honestly system and fish are measured rather than weighed. As such everyone is given a stick on which they mark off their fish. These lengths are then totalled and prizes are awarded based on the total length of the bag. This system works well as it promotes a healthy catch and release system and minimises any harm to the fish.

Having signed in and collected our goodies we gathered around the large map on the wall and took note of where our first day’s dams were. Our fourth team member, Alan, then arrived from Underberg and quickly took ownership of the directions thanks to his local knowledge of the area. As such we quickly found our way back in the bar and the drinks once again began to flow.

The ladies then served a fantastic, steaming stew for dinner which we all scoffed down before gathering back in front of the fire. Nick quickly deemed the fire to be too small and promptly threw pretty much every piece of timber in the room onto it, resulting in a roaring inferno, which he seemed rather proud of.

Slowly, as the night progressed, the bar emptied as the more serious fishermen headed home for some rest before the competition began the following morning. We weren’t far behind, lunch packs in hand, wondering what our accommodation for the weekend would hold.

Thankfully we found our farm without too much difficulty, and were relieved to see that everyone was still awake. Helen, the lady who was kind enough to house us for the weekend, showed us to our room while explaining that her whole family was staying with her for the weekend (her daughter was getting married) so we didn’t have the cottage as she had planned.

Despite the confusion we got a fantastic room with 4 beds, a kettle, coffee, rusks and a heater. We really couldn’t have asked for more. Her hospitality was amazing and we had to fight her off as she tried to do everything for us including cooking us infinite extra meals. So thank you Helen.

Chilly starts

That night we opted not to set an alarm and finally woke up at around 6am. Alan was the first out of bed and quickly set about lining up a hot cup of coffee for each of us. Adequately warmed we all climbed out of bed, packed our fishing kit, and headed out for dam number one.

Our first water was Ivanhoe 1 which was a half an hour drive from our accommodation. We found the farm easily enough but when we got to the dam there was no sign indicating that it was the correct water. Alan therefore headed up to the dam above where there was another group of fisherman. In the meantime Nick and I, in our eagerness of youth, began pumping up our tubes and kitting out our rods.

A few minutes later Alana returned with Andrew in tow to inform us we were at the wrong water as it had been changed at the last minute. Unfortunately Alan also picked up a flat in the process so, after a quick tyre change, we threw our tubes onto the roof and Andrew lead us to our actual dam.

Our “new” dam looked fantastic but was a tad chilly as it sat in the shadow of a large hill. None the less we pulled on our Columbia beanies, slipped onto the water and kicked out to our chosen spots. It took a while but eventually Neill got into a nice fish directly in front of the cars. Nick soon followed suit with a couple of fish of his own. And then it was Neill’s turn again with a few more fish.

A misty Neil McKenzies

A couple of these fish were released into a cage floating in the water and were later used to harvest eggs for a small hatchery located on the farm. It’s always good to help out these initiatives so hopefully these fish were put to good use. Sadly however, with just one cage on the water, it was often difficult to reach and therefore most fish were released where they were caught.

Alan and I meanwhile kicked around the dam trying every fly in our boxes with no success. Eventually, at around 11am, Alan finally got into a fish. Sadly however it was not my morning and I was eventually forced to paddle to the bank fishless, hoping I’d have more luck on our afternoon water.

Neill enjoying a frosty start

We enjoyed a quick roll or two from the fantastic lunch packs provided (which also included muffins, fruit, yogurt, chocolate, water, coke and a panado which I think a few of the fishermen were very happy to find) before shoving our still inflated float tubes into the vehicles and packing up the rest of our kit.

The trip to Tillietudlem, our afternoon water, took 20 odd minutes on very dusty roads with our tackle rattling around in the back of the bakkie. It was a pleasure to finally enter the estate and to drive through the local and international game including eland, wildebeest, nguni cattle, and what appeared to be imported deer with their proud antlers.

It took us a while to locate the parking spot for the dam but, once we’d found it, we were got quickly onto the water. I was incredibly relieved when I hooked into a 45cm rainbow on just my third cast. The pressure was finally off.

Tillietudlem 2 was a lot smaller than our morning dam with a lot of underwater structure in the form of sunken trees. This resulted in a lot of lost flies but thankfully we also landed a fair number of fish so this wasn’t really an issue in our lives. Flies that worked for me were Kamberg nymphs, Mrs Simpsons, and the ever deadly wooly bugger.

When the sun dropped below the treeline the temperature once again plummeted but we continued fishing until 5pm when our time was up. Us youngsters then enjoyed a few beers on the water’s edge while our team’s ballies poured themselves a cup of steaming coffee. Perhaps they were more experienced than us after all?

From Tillietudlem we headed back to our farm where we enjoyed a hot shower (in an outdoor room with around 8 gas heated showers) and a nip or two of Jägermeister to keep the heat in. Then it was back to the Boston Club to catch up on the “friendly” banter and log our day’s catches. As per usual the reports varied from some very good waters to some which produced no fish. On a whole though everyone had caught and the fish were generally in the 40cm+ range and in good condition.

Nick with another rainbow trout

Warren landing a fish

After a few beers we all enjoyed a fantastic chicken casserole, courtesy of the very hardworking farmer’s wives, and then headed back into the pub for further lubrication of fatigued casting arms. The bar-ladies were friendly and the drinks reasonably priced so before we knew it far too much fun was being had.

It was at around this point that Nick continued his self-appointed role as fire master and warmed the bar area to an “acceptable” level. This did of course involve using up the majority of what was a rather large wood pile. I meanwhile took up a few coinage challenges at the bar which should perhaps go unmentioned in this blog.

Eventually however, thanks to our older and wiser team mates, we were ushered from the bar for a few hours rest before the final day’s fishing.

The following morning once again began with coffee and rusks in bed courtesy of Alan. We then rushed over to our morning water, Neil McKenzies, which had been changed the night before. It was a lot closer than our previous day’s waters so we made good time and arrived shortly after 7am.

Thankfully there was cell phone reception at the water and I took the opportunity to phone my wife and wish her a happy 1 year wedding anniversary. Simply put, my wife rocks!

Despite the relatively late start there was a lot of frost around and a beautiful steam rising off the water. Neil McKenzies is apparently a private (potentially syndicated) water and was a lot larger than our previous waters. This made it a little intimidating as there was far more surface area to cover. It would also be difficult to fish the inlet due to the sheer distance required to paddle there.

Nick and I quickly jumped into the water and began fishing a bay close to the parking area. Almost immediately Nick got into a fish and I managed to hook into one while he was still enjoying the fight. Sadly I lost mine as I was in the process of trying to film his fight, but at least it was a good start and the water immediately seemed less intimidating.

Alan and Neill then joined us and opted to fish along the wall while Nick and I decided to take on the mammoth paddle to the inlet. Pretty soon we’d all landed fish and things were looking up for a great morning.

Team Baha Fly Fishing

The morning was then made even better when we discovered that the small cottage on the side of the water was occupied by a group of young ladies celebrating a birthday. As we fished the fringes near to the cottage the ladies could be seen running down the cottage’s jetty and jumping into the icy water, much to our amusement. So if the fishing ever slowed down there was plenty to occupy our time. Thankfully the fishing never even hinted as slowing.

Nick enjoying the fantastic meals

During the morning I picked up 8 fish, mostly at the top end of the dam, on a small minnow pattern. Neill and Alan each picked up a similar number of fish along the wall while fishing orange flies. In general the fish along the wall were slightly longer than those at the inlet, and Alan picked up a nice 62cm rainbow in the corner. Nick meanwhile moved around a fair bit and picked up 7 fish all around the dam.

By the time 12pm rolled around and we started packing up we’d picked up over 30 fish as a team. It must be said that, chatting to the other teams, Neil McKenzies may well have been the water of the festival with all teams producing good catches on this water.

After a quick roll and Bar-One (while chatting to the team taking over the water) we jumped into our cars and headed for our final water, Good Hope Dam.

Good Hope was one of the waters in the competition that is managed by The Natal Fly Fishing Club (NFFC). It had recently been taken over from the old Mondi Fly Fishing Club and had apparently had 2 good stockings since then. As such we were hoping to get a few more fish in the afternoon. After all, our morning session had been great and for a moment we thought we may be in with a chance of picking up a prize.

We quickly got onto the water and soon discovered that the dam was quite heavily weeded. The wall provided some good weed free water but, as you moved away from it, it quickly got shallow and weeded. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing as weeds provide a good source of food for the fish. That said, you do still need to find some holes or channels in the weed beds, and these seemed few and far between.

Warren fighting a fish

We fished the water for around an hour without any of us seeing the slightest hint of a fish. At that point we decided to fish the lower dam (as Good Hope apparently offered 2 dams) and packed our tubes into the car. It was only then that we discovered that the bottom dam had no road access or paths. It was also surrounded by reeds and would mean carrying our tubes long distances though the bush to fish it.

At this point, have not seen any signs of fish, we opted to call it a day. We sat on the side of the dam and enjoyed a few cold beers while watching the water in hope of spotting a fish. Nothing. We then headed back to the farm and repeated the process of a hot shower and a few shots of Jägermeister before shooting over to the club.

As expected the evening began in the pub and tales of a 70cm fish being caught quickly spread through the room. But once dinner was announced the stories were quickly forgotten and there was a sudden rush for the roast consisting of a horde of famished anglers. And then…once everyone had enjoyed their fill of meet and apple pudding…prize giving began.

One of the nice things about the Boston Dargle Fly Fishing Festival is that there is not a lot of emphasis on the prizes. In fact a lot of the better prizes are either lucky draw prizes or for strange categories such as the smallest fish (which was apparently 10 cms).

After the initial thank-yous, lucky draws, and individual prizes they finally got to announcing the team prizes. At this point we were really hoping for a third place finish after our good morning on the water. But when third place was called, it wasn’t us. Then second place was called – also not us. And finally first place was called – Team Baha Fly Fishing! There was cheering and screams of delight, although admittedly it was all from us.

Prize giving

We proudly collected our prizes and retook our seats. Neill then managed to sneak in another prize when he won one of Mario Geldenhuys’ hand-made nets (http://www.customflyrods.co.za/) – and an absolute beauty at that – for the second longest bag.

With prize giving out of the way there was just one more formality, a talk by Mario Geldenhuys on the intelligence of trout. The talk was based largely on Bob Wyatt’s books  and his theories on the selective feeding habits of trout. It was a fantastic presentation and got most, if not all, of the fly fisherman in the room thinking seriously about their past beliefs in fly selection.

From there our celebrations began in the bar as the festival came to a close and fisherman slowly said goodbyes to friends old and new.

We will definitely be back next year to defend our title.

After a week of nervous weather watching our day of departure for Lesotho arrived and, as expected, it was raining. The four of us climbed in the Jeep and began the three hour journey that would take us up Sani Pass and into the Mountain Kingdom. Although none [...]]]>

Ian kitting up his bamboo rod

After a week of nervous weather watching our day of departure for Lesotho arrived and, as expected, it was raining. The four of us climbed in the Jeep and began the three hour journey that would take us up Sani Pass and into the Mountain Kingdom. Although none of us were new to fishing in the rain, navigating a pass that had been eroded by daily downpours (and was more the likely slippery and wet) was an obstacle that lay in the way of our fishing. We were also a little nervous that the river would be too high and that the trip would be in vain.

We made our usual first stop for fuel and coffee and quickly learned that any slowing of the vehicle would result in Hayden jumping out and sucking down a cancer stick.

After that the journey to the border was fairly quiet other than the incessant babbling coming from the pair of lawyers in the back. As per usual the SA border crossing was quick and easy and soon we were climbing up the famous Sani Pass. The rain had definitely had an effect on the road as the pass was rocky and very narrow in places, thanks to recent erosion. A new waterfall around every corner showed us just how much rain they’d experienced recently. That said the condition of the pass wasn’t terrible and, other than one corner which had a few rocky steps, the drive up was easy and relatively painless.

Thankfully the Lesotho border post was just as painless as the South African one and before we knew it we were unpacking our bags into our rooms at the backpackers. With no time to waste we headed straight from the Sani River (after a cancer stick of course). It was time to get into some fish!

Wild Lesotho trout

Warren Prior with a Sani River trout

Our first port of call was the small bridge which crosses the river. Thankfully this confirmed that although the river was far higher than during our May trip, it was certainly fishable  In fact, it looked absolutely fantastic. We then headed off along the river in search of a safe place to leave the vehicle. Sadly there have been reports of cars being broken into when left unattended. Whether these stories are true I can’t confirm but it’s always worth erring on the side of caution. Although it never ceases to amaze me how in such a barren landscape, which looks devoid of life, you can be surrounded by locals and animals within five minutes of getting out of the car.

Kitting up took longer than expected thanks to Coxy owning every piece of river equipment known to mankind. With the rest of us ready to go we all milled around as he put on his knee pads, kitted up his Tenkara rod, explained to us the beauty of his Stephen Boshoff split cane rod and checked the studs on his wading boots. Hayden had another cancer stick.

And then we were off.

For the morning session we split into two groups and headed off in opposite directions, agreeing to meet back at the car for lunch at 1pm. Nick and I started the session in a long, shallow pool which had proved successful in the past. It was looking good with a decent flow running through it and fish rising freely. I moved away from my usual approach to rivers and opted to nymph the pool rather than fish it with a dry fly. This proved to be a successful approach and I hooked into a small wild rainbow on my second cast. It was looking to be a great day!

We continued fishing the pool with both Nick and I both landing multiple fish. Amazingly the fish were hitting the indicator as often as the nymph and as such Nick turned to a dry and dropper rig which was probably a good idea. I thought about it but had landed so many fish that it didn’t really seem worth the effort.

Eventually we decided we should explore some of the run and riffles and began working our way up the stream. From a rocky ledge overlooking the Sani River we spotted fish rising in a short run. Nick checked his leader and headed down discreetly to throw a fly. On his third cast his dry was smashed on the surface but he missed the fish. He threw several more casts with similar results. Eventually watching got the better of me and I headed down and threw a nymph into the run. Fish on!

Boys fishing the Sani River

We landed fish all the way up the river until we found another large pool which we dedicated some time to. After landing a few fish in the tail end of the pool I opted to fish the inlet. I quickly landed two small rainbows and then, unexpectedly, something big hit my fly. I saw a quick flash of a large fish, well over 40cms, before it took off down the length of the pool pulling line off my reel. I was forced to pursue it on foot, along the bank, and down the length of the pool. After wrestling the fish from the weeds it took off on another long run and then, as quickly as it had all started, it broke me off. Much swearing and the odd tear later I reeled in my line to the sad sight of a fly without a point. The fish had snapped the hook.

Hayden and Nick fishing the Sani

Underwater rainbow trout

We fished for a short while longer before hiking back to the car for the agreed upon lunch time rendezvous. Ian and Hayden were nowhere to be seen so, after a brief wait, we ate our lunch and then headed down to the stretch of river in front of the car. The plan was to fish the short section while we waited for them to make their way back. The clouds were meanwhile darkening and the odd drop of rain fell from the sky. In the distance thunder could be heard grumbling about my lost fish.

Eventually, over an hour after the agreed meeting time, we decided that a search party was required and headed off down the river hoping not to have to carry Coxy back. Thankfully we found them around the first bend fishing a good run feverishly. They quickly confirmed that the fishing had been so good that returning to the car was the last thing on their minds. Thanks guys.

By now it was after 2pm and the question was whether we should have an afternoon session or head to the pub for a cold beer instead. No question really, an afternoon session it was.

Although I had originally planned to head off in the opposite direction for the second session, the lure of my lost fish was too high and I once again headed off upstream. This time all four of us fished together, hop-scotching one another and taking turns at pools. The fishing remained good but sadly my pool did not give me a second chance at the lunker I knew it held.

At around 5pm we decided to call it a day and headed slowly back to the backpackers. The plan was to have a quick shower and then to head over to the bar for dinner and a few drinks. Sadly our plans were foiled when we arrived and discovered that our bags were no longer in our rooms. This was made worse by the darkness and lack of electricity in the backpackers. Eventually we located them in the lounge and decided to head to the office to sort out the confusion. This however meant skipping our much needed shower but was sadly necessary. It turned out that, despite have booked those two rooms and having booking slips for them, we still needed to check in first.

Ian giving hooks to a local

Nick And Ian On The River

Now in the pub we decided that we’d have dinner and a few beers before heading back over the rocky road to the backpackers. This is when our well planned trip began to fall into disarray. We each ordered a Maluti (a local Lesotho beer) and were charged R100 for the round. That worked out to a whopping (and ridiculous) R25 per beer. Querying about other prices we discovered it was R18 for a coke and between R20 and R40 for a shot of whiskey. This news was further worsened by being told that dinner was R200 for soup, a pork chop, and chocolate pudding.

If you take into account the fact that the backpackers cost us R195 per person and that the rondavals can cost you over R1000 per person per night, it was hardly surprising that the bar was empty (as were all the rondavals). The days of a packed pub running merrily into the early hours of the morning seems to be a distant memory, as was sitting around the fire with other guests chatting about their adventurous trips through the Lesotho Highlands. How sad.

So after begrudgingly ordering the cheapest item on the menu we sat in the bar that lacked atmosphere, finished our meals, and then headed back to the backpackers wishing we’d packed a few beers. The vibe of the Highest Pub In Africa is gone.

The next morning we were all up at 6am and exceptionally glad to find that the showers had hot water. Our original plan had been to eat either a big breakfast or an early lunch at the Sani Top Chalet but, after the previous night’s experiences, we decided to snack on what we had left in our backpacks  instead. We then moved our bags out of our rooms and headed for the river for what would hopefully be another good day’s fishing.

Once we’d gotten down to the river my first observation was that the water was a lot colder. In fact after our first crossing I could feel that well known cold water ache in my legs. As a result the fish were a lot less active than the previous day and there was very little (if any) activity on the surface. Fishing was tough for the first hour or so but we all got into the odd fish which kept us going. Slowly the water warmed as the sun rose in the sky and, eventually, the river came back to life.

The Sani River, Lesotho

Soon we were all catching fish freely and having the time of our lives. Ian, Hayden and I kept heading upstream while Nick opted to fish the area near the car.

Hayden with a Lesotho trout

My lunker once again alluded me but, on the up side, Hayden swears he saw it jump later in the day. Fishing further upstream also revealed a lot of good pools which showed the potential to also hold bigger fish. It was in one of these pools that I had the pleasure of throwing a few casts with Ian’s Stephen Boshoff split cane rod. I must admit that it was an absolute pleasure to cast. The action is incredibly slow (as one expects from bamboo) but the presentation of the line and fly is flawless. The truth of the matter is that for small streams you just can’t beat a slow rod. The moment was further improved when I hooked into a feisty little rainbow which gave me a spectacular fight on the rod. I would say I’m converted, but then I can’t justify fishing with such a beautiful piece of craftsmanship just yet.

At around lunch time the three of us turned around and headed back towards the car, fishing the odd pool (of course). We landed several more fish before reaching the vehicle and having a quick bite to eat. From their we headed back to the backpackers where we picked up our bags, packed the car, and made our way carefully down the pass.

The drive home felt long as the Underberg road usually does. The lawyers continued their banter in the back while Nick and I chatted about fly fishing and future trips.

The Sani River is definitely worth another visit although I certainly won’t be staying in the Sani Top Chalets (now called the Sani Mountain Lodge) or supporting their pub. It’s a real shame considering the fun we used to have there. I can only hope they notice their mistake, after all, the echos in the empty chalets should quickly point it out.

Amazingly it had been 8 years since Nick and I last visited (and camped) at Midmar Dam in the Kzn Midlands. Yes, it’s not as scenic as the mountains and bass are not as fondly thought of as trout by most fly fisherman; but we’re not most fly fisherman! So when [...]]]>

Launching At Midmar

Amazingly it had been 8 years since Nick and I last visited (and camped) at Midmar Dam in the Kzn Midlands. Yes, it’s not as scenic as the mountains and bass are not as fondly thought of as trout by most fly fisherman; but we’re not most fly fisherman! So when a long weekend popped up just before Christmas we packed the vehicles, hitched the boat, and took the families up to Midmar for a relaxing weekend with a “little” fly fishing.

We arrived at around 6pm on Friday evening which left us just enough light to pitch the tents and get camp ready before darkness fell. Then the beers came out, the fire was lit, and we began the usual discussions of fish in waiting, what tactics we would use, and which bay we would fish first. The first night was of course a little heavy on the rum, but then again, first nights always are.

Saturday morning started at an early 4:30am when Mila woke up thanks to a rather rabid crow. Not realising how early it was I climbed out of bed, grabbed my camera, and started firing off a few shots of the painted sunrise. Eventually I was alerted to the time and climbed back into my sleeping bag for another quick hour of rest.

Our First Spot At Midmar

Nick Fishing In The Rain

Nick With A Fish At Location X

When we got up for the second time at 6am we kitted up the fly rods, launched the boat, and headed for the horizon (or in our case, in search of our old favourite bay, last visited 8 years before). After realising that the water level was far higher, and that we weren’t going to locate our old stomping grounds, we picked a spot with good structure and got fishing. Being early in the morning we opted to fish the surface and were soon pulling poppers across weed beds…plop, plop, plop…

Sadly this yielded no results and so we tried fishing some deeper water around sunken trees with sub surface flies. This too left us empty handed and with the wind picking up, and realising that the water was a tad dirty, we opted to head off in search of a more protected (and cleaner) bay.

Eventually we found a sheltered bay with good structure and got back to fishing. To cover all aspects I fished the surface while Nick pulled a strip leach through the weeds. Nick was the first to connect with a fish, and what a beaut it was. Sadly, after a relatively short fight, the fish somehow managed to detach itself from the hook and swam off looking rather smug. We gave it a few more minutes and then headed back to camp to meet up with the girls for a skottled breakfast.

When we arrived back to camp the girls were nowhere to be seen. A quick phone call revealed they had visited a local farmers market and were still out and about. Seizing the opportunity we jumped back into the boat and fished a nearby bay for a few minutes. This yielded the first fish of the trip for me, a VERY small largemouth bass.

Knowing that things could only improve we headed back to camp where we had a quick breakfast and then got down to relaxing.  For me relaxing meant tying up a few strip leeches in different colours as they seemed to be the fly of the morning.

Location X

Nick Retrieving His Favourite Fly

Eventually the afternoon rolled around and we headed out in search of bigger and better bass. We headed for the small bay where Nick had lost a good fish in the morning and slowly drifted along the weed beds casting at likely holds. Then, almost unexpectedly  the heavens opened and we were left fishing in belting rain. Thankfully we had our Columbia jackets with us and they kept us 100% dry and happy to continue fishing.  Sadly however the storm grew and soon bolts of lightning were flashing over the hills.

We quickly packed up our kit and headed for shore. Boats could be seen rushing back to camp from all edges of the dam as a colossal storm bared down on us; it was actually a rather funny sight. Thankfully we’d just pulled the boat out of the water as the winds grew and the storm passed directly overhead. We hunkered down in Nick’s tent, rain somehow finding its way in, and waited it out.

When the carnage had passed Nick and I took a walk around the camp assessing the damages. We found several collapsed tents and gazebos, some unidentifiable and left discarded under trees. Several people were also packing up and heading home muttering swear words under their breath.

Impressed we’d survived unscathed we launched the boat once again and went out in search of bass. We opted for a new bay and finally had some success. This time Nick was fishing the surface while I fished sub surface with my newly tied leaches. It took only 5 casts and Nick was into his first first of the afternoon, a largie of around 500g. I quickly changed to a flipper and promptly missed 3 fish on the surface.

Warren Prior With A Nice Bass

Having found the fish we frantically pulled our poppers over the surface and watched them getting smashed over and over again. Things then took a dire turn when Nick managed to hang his flipper high up in a tree. After snapping it off he quickly realised that he’d left his bag (and flies) back in camp. I rummaged through my boxes and managed to find an old, small flipper which he tied on. Sadly it proved ineffective and sunk rather than plopped. Fail!

Focus filled Nick’s eyes as he began to devise a plan to rescue his key fly. Finding a piece of anchor rope he quickly tied on a few shackles to form some form of primitive batarang. We pulled the boat up under the tree and he began tossing his contraption at the offending branch. After hooking and pulling several other branches off the tree and into the boat he finally connected with the correct branch. Yelps of joy could be heard from across the dam as his fly fell into the boat, branch still attached.

Fishing promptly commenced and we landed a few more bass on our prize flippers as the sun dipped below the horizon. As evening fell we started the motor and headed back to camp where the girls had a roaring fire ready to cook a delicious dinner. We pulled the boat out of the water and got down to tanning some meat and enjoying a few cold beers. Slowly we wound down and eventually crawled into bed far earlier than the night before.

Out Running Storms

On Sunday morning we climbed out of bed at 6am to a nasty wind and white horses covering the lake. The boat was also low on fuel so a morning session was out of the question. In preparation Nick and I headed to for the nearest petrol station and then in to town to stock up on food.

Back at camp we skottled a fantastic breakfast and then took shelter in the gazebo from the relentless wind. Fishing sadly wasn’t an option.

Once again I passed the time by tying flies (flippers in various colours), thereby lowering the risk of Nick pulling branches into the boat when he hung his like a Christmas decoration. We’d also purchased a bat and ball which sufficed in entertaining us for short periods as we moaned about the weather. Dinner was once again braaied but Tarryn had headed to bed feeling ill and the wind was getting the better of all of us, so it was a short lived evening.

Thankfully the wind hand dropped when we climbed out of bed on Monday morning. We quickly launched the boat and headed back to our favourite bay for a quick morning session. Things were quiet but I managed to pick up one largie before heading back to camp for another late breakfast with the ladies.

Warren Sorting Out Prop Problems

Egg and bacon rolls, with left over braai meat, was the order of the day and went down swimmingly. And then it was time for one last session…

We opted to explore a few new areas but found only muddy water from the recent heavy rains. After fishing them for a while we decided to make the most of the weather and headed back to location X. Almost immediately I got into an average bass on the surface. Nick on the other hand missed one whilst trying to navigate the boat around a submerged tree that suddenly appeared before us. This left him somewhat annoyed. We continued our drift and he missed another fish in the weeds. I immediately put in a cast to where he missed the fish and landed the biggest bass of the trip. His annoyance grew and comments of poaching flew from his mouth.

Feeling the pressure Nick’s fishing gained intensity and before he knew what was happening we’d drifted deep into the weed beds. Trying to get us out resulting in a very jammed prop which saw me jumping into venomous adder territory, knife in hand, to cut us free. After we’d eventually freed ourselves we decided to call it a day and headed back to camp.

Impressively the girls had started packing up and drying out our kit. This made life a lot easier and, after pulling the boat out of the water, we finished packing up the site and headed home.

One of the best things about Midmar is just how close it is to home. Forty five minutes later we were back in the comfort of our house and wondering where our next trip would be too…