The Mission Fly Fishing Magazine Issue #15

ISSUE 15 MAY | JUNE 2019

FREE

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

JEFF CURRIER, THE ST FRANCOIS CANDY SHOP, AFRICAN PACU, MILAN GERMISHUIZEN, IN TRANSIT IN DUBAI, BEERS, BEATS & MORE

the next generation

T&T Ambassador, visionary flyfishing guide and permit aficionado Justin Rea likes nothing more than spending time on the water with his son Ryan. Handing down our knowledge and passion for the outdoors to the next generation is key to the survival and growth of flyfishing. At T&T we see a world of possibilities out there and believe the next generation should too.

82

whatever your saltwater endeavor, we have you covered.

Exocett Series - 7 models, 9’ 6-12 weight

Exocett SS Series - 5 models, 8 ‘ 8 ‘’ 160 -450 grain

Exocett Surf Series - 2 models, 11’2’’ 10 & 12 weight

Exocett Bluewater Series - 2 models, 8’6’’ 13 & 14/16 weight

ZONE Series - 9 models, 7’6’’-10’ 3-10 weight

Sextant Series - 7 models, 8’2’’ 6-12 weight

est

19 6 9

TH E RO D YO U WI LL E VENTUALLY OWN

www.thomasandthomas.com HANDMADE IN AMERICA W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

83

MISSED AN ISSUE? READ THEM ALL HERE, IT’S FREE

ISSUE 02 | “RECEDITE, PLEBES! GERO REM IMPERIALEM!”

issue 01 | “noli nothis permittere te terere’

WWW.THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

www.themissionflymag.com

smallmouth Bass lose big win small

hatch junKIe

trainspotting on the vaal

hIgh 5s

with mark murray

KeIth Rose-Innes managing chaos

jan | feb 2017

FREE

themissionflymag.com

MARCH | APRIL | 2017

jan | feb | 2017

Issue 01

BACKSTAGE AT

ASTOVE

BLOOD, SWEAT & BEERS

ISSUE 08

MARCH | APRIL 2018

FREE

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

DALE STEYN, GABON, MONGOLIA, EDUARDO GARCIA, FOREST TROUT, OZZIE DEATH, BEERS, BEATS AND MORE...

ISSUE 10 JULY | AUGUST 2018

FREE

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

ISSUE 11 SEPT | OCT 2018

ROLF NYLINDER, THE 40-YEAR-OLD VIRGIN, WITH

“BE READY TO TRAVEL UP AND DOWN, TO DRINK BEER, SHAKE YOUR BOOTY TO THE MUSIC, EAT CATFISH, BURN IN THE SUN, SLEEP IN THE COLD AND JERK OFF TO THE BRAND NEW GEAR YOU CAN DREAM OF! LOCK THE DOOR, GET NAKED, IT’S TIME TO READ THE MISSION, THE ULTIMATE FLY FISHING MAGAZINE!” - CYRIL KAMIR, LE MOUCHING

“WOW! WHAT A BREATH OF (FLY-FISHING) FRESH AIR! I’D SAY THE INDUSTRY IS LONG OVERDUE FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS - A FLY-FISHING SEX DUNGEON IN A WORLD OF “MISSIONARY POSITION” DREK.” - TOM LEWIN, FRONTIER FLY FISHING

DEAD ZONE

PLATON TRAKOSHIS

DESPERADO

PROVIDENCE WITH DRE

MARCO PIERRE WHITE

PIKE, TROUT AND NOSTALGIA

ISSUE 05 SEPT | OCT 2017

FREE

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

H H JUNGLE JUNGLE FEVER, FEVER, FATTIES, FATTIES, BEERS, BEERS, BEATS BEATS & & MORE MORE

ISSUE 12 NOV | DEC 2018

LEFTY

KREH

ISSUE 07

FREE

JAN | FEB 2018

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

FREE

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

A PLASTIC PLANET, NEW ZEALAND, TREASURE ISLAND, MARK YELLAND, TOM SUTCLIFFE, BEERS, BEATS & MORE

FREE

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

CAPE ROCK & SURF, THE FISHING SCIENTIST, EXMOUTH, TOAST COETZER, PAT COHEN, BEERS, BEATS AND MORE...

ISSUE 13

JAN | FEB 2019

FREE

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

PENTZ PREDATOR, JEREMY BLOCK, TIGER MOTHER, CHASING NATIVES, ED HERBST, BEERS, BEATS & MORE

ISSUE 14

MARCH | APRIL 2019

FREE

THEMISSIONFLYMAG.COM

CHASING DRAGONS, TIM RAJEFF, YVON CHOUINARD, NKUPE, FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS, BEERS, BEATS & MORE

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M ISSUE 15 MAY / JUNE 2019

CONTENTS Cover: A St Francois sailfish begins to dive.

Photo Leonard Flemming

22 UP ON HIGH Aaron Wood find redemption in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

36 THE TROPHY WIFE Whether it’s trophy wives or big fish you want, you’ve got to go to the right places. Rhuan Human discovers this firsthand at Matoya Lodge on the Zambezi.

42 WHO GIVES A FIG? A fig-eating African cousin of the pacu? Johann du Preez drives himself crazy figuring out the mysterious Tanzanian Ndungu.

48 THE CANDY SHOP Bills or bones, flats or blue water, numbers or size? Like kids on a sugar high, Leonard Flemming and Ewan Naude run riot on St Francois.

60 THE 400 Has anybody caught as many different species of fish on fly as Jeff Currier? Guide, ambassador, artist and world traveler, we chat to the man and ask him to select a few favourites from the last 40 years, 60 countries and 400 fish.

82 IN TRANSIT Putting the expense account to good use, Jannie Visser chooses fishing over golf and reaps the rewards.

REGULAR FEATURES 14 Wish List Fish 16 Beers, Munchies & Beats 20 Troubled Waters 28 High 5s

Salad Bar 92 Payday 98 Shortcasts 100 Lifer 104

Jeff Currier, binos in hand, scopes out the nudist colony across the river.

T U D O R CA R A D O C - DAV I ES

TO KAKBROEK KLOOF & BEYOND EDITOR’S COLUMN

A

few weeks back, a Ugandan “explorer” declared that he had discovered a new river in the heart of “Queen’s Land” and that, because the locals do not have a proper name for the nature that surrounds them, he had named it River Gulu. He was of course talking about the River Thames running through London in the UK. Milton Allimadi, who suggested he should now be called “Sir Milton” for his discovery, was mocking the arrogance of Western explorers like Johannes Rebmann and Johann Ludwig Krapf who are credited with discovering Mt Kenya in 1849, despite the fact that locals had lived in the area for millennia.

While Sir Milton was clearly taking the piss, in the niche of the fly fishing world, this kind of colonial, pretendexploration still exists at some level.

Take the framing of “Africa” in many of the highoctane fishing TV shows. While they channel the ego of Livingstone and the resilience of Joseph Conrad’s Kurtz and make out as if they’re discovering new, unchartered territories in the dark heart of Africa, the truth is most of these TV shows go to well established areas. After all, you can’t go all that way and not catch fish.

Take this nugget from a recent press release (comments are mine).

“The guys head deep into Zambia (daily flights from Johannesburg to Livingstone with a flight time of one

hour, 40 minutes plus a transfer to a lodge of let’s say three hours max), chasing reports of large tigerfish (standard) - a fierce freshwater predator - in an uncharted river (lol!). The only thing standing in their way is 400 miles of unpaved roads (are the country roads and national park jeep tracks of your country paved?), crocodiles (like alligators but seen in while rather than later), hippos (standard, with a largely successful inter-species accord to avoid each other) and a serious lack of fuel (you need to fire your producer).”

We call bullshit. Like tarpon and bonefish in the Keys, the Zambezi tigerfish scene is a well-established industry with a defined season and excellent lodges. Despite all the wide-eyed whooping (because tigerfishing on the Zambezi is some of the best fun you can have with your pants on), I wager the TV team in question had a smorgasbord at every meal, beers on tap all day and a swimming pool at their disposal. The biggest danger they faced? A clouser to the head and sunburn.

We get it. From bugs to viruses, critters to toothy beasts, rebels, terrorists and more, places that are not like home can seem exotic, primitive and downright dangerous.

We also get that TV shows need to create drama, action and suspense. Nothing wrong with that. Just don’t make it out as “REMOTE-DANGER-DANGER-DIY-TO-THEEXTREME!” if it’s not.

Let’s flip it on its head. Later this year, we’re considering taking our lives in our hands with a visit to the USA. The team has heard reports of mouse-eating trout in an uncharted wilderness area and despite the threat of a recent measles outbreak, ferocious bears and guntoting natives, we will be fearlessly heading into what the locals call, “Yellowstone.” Channeling Sir Milton, we are thinking about renaming it Kakbroek Kloof. Stay tuned.

“FROM BUGS TO VIRUSES, CRITTERS TO TOOTHY BEASTS, REBELS, TERRORISTS AND MORE, PLACES THAT ARE NOT LIKE HOME CAN SEEM EXOTIC, PRIMITIVE AND DOWNRIGHT DANGEROUS.” 10

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

"Granny", aka Yvonne, Jeff Currier's much better half scopes the surf for roosters in Baja, Mexico. pg 60

EDITOR Tudor Caradoc-Davies ART DIRECTOR Brendan Body CONTACT THE MISSION The Mission Fly Fishing Mag (PTY) Ltd 20 Malleson Rd, Mowbray, 7700, Cape Town, South Africa Info@themissionflymag.com www.themissionflymag.com

EDITOR AT LARGE Conrad Botes COPY EDITOR Gillian Caradoc-Davies ADVERTISING SALES tudor@themissionflymag.com brendan@themissionflymag.com

THE MISSION IS PUBLISHED 6 TIMES A YEAR. THE MISSION WILL WELCOME CONTENT AND PHOTOS. WE WILL REVIEW THE CONTRIBUTION AND ASSESS WHETHER OR NOT IT CAN BE USED AS PRINT OR ONLINE CONTENT. THE OPINIONS EXPRESSED IN THIS MAGAZINE ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE MAGAZINE OR ITS OWNERS. THE MISSION IS THE COPYRIGHT OF THE MISSION FLY MAG (PTY) LTD. ANY DUPLICATION OF THIS MAGAZINE, FOR MEDIA OR SALE ACTIVITY, WILL RESULT IN LEGAL ACTION AND BEING EATEN BY JEFF CURRIER’S PE T BENGAL TIGER.

12

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

CONTRIBUTORS #15 Leonard Flemming, Aaron Wood, Mark McGlothlin, David Tejedor, Matt Gorlei, Nick van Rensburg, Milan Germishuizen, Rhuan Human, Johann du Preez, Ian Couryer, Chris Dombrowski PHOTOGRAPHERS #15 David Tejedor, Matt Gorlei, Flycastaway, Rhuan Human, Johann du Preez, Leonard Flemming, Devan van der Merwe, Kyle Reed, Jim Klug/Yellow Dog Flyfishing, Jim Harris

@THEMISSIONFLYMAG

The all new

High performance, pure fun.

Glass done right.

When we set out to design the all new F Series rods, we laser-focused on high performance. We tested, scrutinized, and fine tuned everything – right down to the most exacting details.

After all, just because these fiberglass rods are optimized for shorter casts and smaller fish, doesn’t mean you should ever give up an inch of performance. In fact, under those conditions – precision, control and feel matter even more. If you miss your target by a foot in a creek that’s only two feet wide, you’re not even in the game.

We relentlessly pursued our goals, honed our craftsmanship, and sacrificed hours of office time to fish the high county... all of that, just to make sure these rods advance performance and maximize fun.

So, if you’re in to fishing small pristine waters, and jewel-like wild fish, treat yourself to the ultimate fishing tools – F Series rods from Scott – High performance, handcrafted, and pure fun.

Colorado, USA | 970-249-3180 | scottflyrod.com

WISH LIST FISH

WELS CATFISH N O N O R M A L P O E S K E T, T H E W E L S O R E U R O P E A N C AT F I S H I S A F R E S H W AT E R B E H E M O T H T H AT F E W D A R E TA C K L E O N F LY. P H O T O G R A P H E R D AV I D T E J E D O R ( A K A @ D AV I D P I K E F LY O N I N S TA G R A M ) I S O N E W H O D O E S , F R E Q U E N T LY. H E W E I G H S I N O N W H AT I T TA K E S T O L A N D T H E J A B B A T H E H U T T O F T H E P I S C AT O R I A L W O R L D .

What: Growing to 170kg and living for up to 60 years, the Wels aka European catfish (Silurus glanis) is the biggest catfish of its kind. It’s also known as the sheatfish – as in “shite, that’s a big fish!”

Where: A solitary predator except during spawning, these beasts are widespread throughout Europe.

Spain-based Tejodor says, “Originally from central Europe, today the European catfish invades some of

the rivers in France, Italy, Spain and other countries. It can be found in the lower stretches of the Po river in Italy or the Ebro river in Spain. Spring and autumn are the best seasons.”

How: “The best equipment to catch medium (180-190cm) catfish is a 10-weight and a floating line. For big catfish, 2 metres or larger, a 12-weight, floating line and powerful leaders between 60-80lbs are required. Sight fishing is difficult because the water is not usually clear, so you need flies with

vibrations. Wiggle tails for example work perfectly. Usually you hunt the catfish on a belly boat/float tube and when the strike happens, it’s in shallow waters. The fight with a big two metre fish is incredible.”

Who: While David does not consider himself a professional guide, he will guide those interested in these catfish.

If you take a look at his Instagram account, you’ll see that he also catches massive pike and carp. Email him on davidpikefly@gmail.com.

“Spank me daddy! Spank me.” The Spanish fetish scene features some next level shit.

14

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

DESIGNED WITH INTENTION THE TROUT ANGLER QUIVER

sageflyfish.com X

MULTI-APPLICATION

IGNITER

TECH CONDITIONS

MOD

PRESENTATION

DART

SMALL WATER

ESN

EURO NYMPH

For your nearest dealer contact Frontier Distribution on info@frontierflyfishing.co.za

FODDER

BEERS & MUNCHIES THE BEER – DUVEL TRIPEL HOP CASHMERE Do you like strong, pale blondes with a creamy white head? Then consider flirting with Belgian beer gods, Duvel’s latest Tripel Hop release. Brewed using US-grown ‘Cashmere,’ a new generation hop varietal made from crossing a female ‘Cascade’ hop plant with a ‘Northern Brewer’ hop plant – like the bastard offspring of Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee, the Limited Edition Duvel Tripel Hop Cashmere is pretty special. Expect a full-bodied fruit wallop (9.5%ABV) of peach, citrus, melon and coconut with a long dry finish. duvel.com, belgianbeercompany.co.za

THE WHISKEY – LAGAVULIN 11-YEAR-OLD OFFERMAN EDITION “I have travelled the world and sampled many attempts at pleasing nectars, but it is solely this distillation of Islay; a tiny charismatic Scottish isle, that has claimed my palate. Yea, and my heart into the bargain.”

Thus spaketh Ron Swanson in hit show Parks & Recreation.

While the loveable grump of a character may be fictional, the actor who plays him, Nick Offerman, truly does love Lagavulin, and he’s outspoken about it, appearing in the brand’s promo videos. Taking it a step further, the label for an 11-year-old (yes, eleven) ‘Offerman Edition’ Lagavulin was recently given the green light by the USA’s Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau. We approve. malts.com

16

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

THE MUNCHIES – TEXAS RED JALAPENO HARISSA One of the inspirations for this page was the Friday Feast section of the fantastic ChiWulff.com fly fishing blog run

by Texas-based Mark McGlothlin, so it made sense to go full circle and ask the maestro for one of his go to recipes.

“Exceptional sauces and salsas are some of life’s simplest and most valuable additions to the table, making good foods great as they deliver layers of flavour and spice, most often as the best supporting actor and not stealing the scene from the star of the show.

“Texas offers a fascinating and eclectic food culture, melding influences from early settlers hailing from across the world, but leaning heavily on Mexican, Germanic, and Irish roots, with a healthy scoop of Vietnamese and Asian influences thrown into the mix as well over the past several decades.

Distracted for years by delicious salsa verdes, fresh table salsas, and more guacamoles than I can count, of late we’ve been playing with different harissa recipes, including this Texas Red Jalapeno Harissa featuring a pepper unique to these parts – the Dulce Mediterraneo, which you can readily substitute with a red bell pepper.

“Harissa, a Tunisian hot chili paste, makes just about everything better, from the morning’s scrambled or fried eggs, to seafood, lamb, pork, beef or wild game hot from the grill.”

Ingredients 2 large red Dulce Mediterraneo peppers 1/4-pound red jalapeño chilies 1 dried chipotle pepper 1 tablespoon coriander seeds, whole 2 teaspoons cumin seeds, whole 2 teaspoons caraway seeds, whole 4 cloves garlic 2 tablespoons organic tomato paste ½ to1 teaspoon salt 1/4 to 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil (additional for storage)

Method Blacken the skins of the Dulce Mediterraneo peppers (over an open flame or under a grill). Place in a paper or plastic bag and let steam for 20 minutes or so. When cooled, stem, seed, peel, and place in a blender. Toast the dried chipotle, then crumble into the blender.

Stem the jalapenos (green jalapenos will do in a pinch) and place in the blender.

Toast the coriander, cumin, and caraway seeds in a dry non-stick skillet over medium heat for 4-5 minutes until fragrant, then coarsely grind in a mortar and pestle and

add to the blender. Toast the whole garlic cloves in the same pan until browned (lightly), then add to blender.

Finally add the roasted peppers, tomato paste, 1/2 tsp salt and 1/4-cup olive oil to the blender, then blend until roughly pureed (you want some texture in the sauce). Add olive oil if needed to thin, and adjust for salt.

Pour into a glass pint jar and top with a thin layer of olive oil to store in the fridge.

About Mark: A wanna-be chef, wandering fly fisher, commercial real estate dabbler, and former physician who retired early to pursue other interests, Mark and his family have spent most of the last thirty years in the Northern Rockies and Texas chasing salmonids and redfish on the fly. One of the cofounders of fly fishing blog ChiWulff.com, and these days also writing about a new lease on life and newfound health at OlderBolderLife.com.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

17

Ladders Mac Miller

Masego Navajo

Dark Necessities Red Hot Chilli Peppers

Tash Saltana

What’s Golden Jurassic 5

Jungle

Be About You

Winston Surfshirt Ali D Winston Surfshirt

House of the Rising Sun The Animals

Ernie Fat Freddy’s Drop

Hits From the Bong Cypress Hill

Martin Luther-Vandross Christian Tiger School

Confidence Ocean Alley

BEATS FLYBRU

Niniola Maradona

Naive The Kooks

From the Kalahari, where Matt Gorlei guides with Kalahari Outventures, to Kau Tapen Lodge on the Rio Grande in Tierra del Fuego where you’ll find Nick van Rensburg in his rookie season with Nervous Waters, the FlyBru crew have come a long way from their days as students at Stellenbosch University. Though the two members of this fly collective are far apart, they collaborated to put this playlist together. Here’s what they have on repeat.

Dark Necessities Red Hot Chilli Peppers

Ms. Jackson Outcast

Ganja Babe Michael Franti & Spearhead

Wouldn’t Have It Any Other Way The Streets

Is It Because I’m Black Ken Boothe Welcome To The World of The Plastic Beach (Feat.

Snoop Dogg) Gorillaz

Do I Wanna Know?

Arctic Monkeys

T R O U B L E D WAT E R S

WILD SALMON Photos c/o Patagonia

The Waters Wild salmon fisheries in oceans everywhere.

The Wankers Open-water fish farms are big business and, as such, they are backed by governments who should know better. The cost of these farms on ecological, cultural and financial levels is massive. They pollute our rivers and waterways, infect wild salmon and will, ultimately, lead to species extinction. No more salmon means, quite literally, no more salmon roses on your sushi platter, no more salmon on the end of your fly line, no more salmon for orcas to eat leading to more extinctions, destruction and death. Let’s not do that.

The Way Forward What can you do? For starters don’t support commercially farmed salmon. Just don’t eat it. Turn it down and

20

denounce it at every turn. Be THAT guy. Instead, if you have to have salmon, buy wild salmon from hatchery free fisheries. Yes, it’s expensive. Deal with it. Or change the way you eat seafood or give it up entirely. As a rule of thumb, avoid ocean-going predatory species altogether.

Go the small and silver route and eat seafood like mussels and sardines that grow fast.

What else can you do? Wise up and watch Artifishal, the new 80-minute investigative documentary film about the wild salmon crisis by Patagonia founder and executive producer Yvon Chouinard and director/producer Josh “Bones” Murphy. From the conditions of factory fish farms and the damage they wreak on the environment to the sliver of hope that exists when hatcheries are shut down and wild salmon stocks bounce back, this film is not to be missed. www.patagonia.com/artifishal

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

“DON’T SUPPORT COMMERCIALLY FARMED SALMON. JUST DON’T EAT IT. TURN IT DOWN AND DENOUNCE IT AT EVERY TURN. BE THAT GUY.”

UNDERCURRENTS

WAY UP ON HIGH F O R S O M E P EO P L E , F I S H I N G I S A B O U T T H E F I S H W H I L E F O R O T H E R S , LIKE AARON WOOD, THERE’S A SEEKING OF A DIFFERENT SORT G O I N G O N . F R O M H I S I N I T I AT I O N I N T O F LY F I S H I N G I N T H E B L U E R I D G E M O U N TA I N S , T O T H E R I T E S O F PA S S A G E H E ’ S H A D T O PA S S A L O N G T H E WAY, W H AT B EG A N A S A S A LVAT I O N O F S O R T S H A S T U R N E D I N T O S O M E T H I N G M O R E - R E D E M P T I O N . T H I S I S H I S S T O R Y.

permanently across the sky, each one of them a part of my path toward recovery. It wasn’t that I never had the chance to take up fly fishing. My boss and friend was an avid angler and brought me along to a local creek one January morning. After an hour of little excitement, he began to wrestle with a winter rainbow, a combination of stress and nirvana writ across his face. He held it up for me to see: I admired the fish, took a couple of photos, and edged my way back toward the comfort of my truck.

I

was never baptised as a child. Wasn’t dipped in holy water or christened before a crowd of smiling faces. Despite coming from a long line of godfearing Southerners, somehow the window came and went.

I’m alright with that. I tend to do my church-going with a rod in my hand. It’s restorative, meditative, and gives me the clarity to understand that this world is still a place worth placing faith in.

But there were definitely times when I needed saving. In my late teenage years, I went off course. I don’t think baptism as an infant could have changed that. But somehow, somewhere between being a boy

22

and being a man, I got lost down a long and harrowing road. There were drugs, and a lot of them, and I exhausted a lifetime of luck to come out on the other side.

Way up on the mountain in western North Carolina I found solace. A friend pulled me up from the mud and pushed me to my feet, leading me to a mountain just as chock-full of drugs as any other place, but I had decided it was time to move on.

During my years on the mountain, the fly shops were merely a part of the roadside attractions. The anglers, knee-deep in frothy streams, were part of the backdrop in a much larger mural. I glazed over them, missed my chance to join them, too focused on the jagged mountaintops cut

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

Years later, by the warmth of coastal waters, I’d rewind the tape if I could.

Place myself in a pair of waders in that passing stream, toes frozen, teeth chattering, an hour or two of watching my line drift by, failing to tie knots with fingers stiff with January’s kiss, only for that one adventurous fish to make time stop.

But those years came and went with the current. It was only until curiosity became too severe that I finally tried my luck by the sea, whipping wind knot after wind knot into my leader, stopping most casts with a wayward foot planted square atop the line beside me.

But I’d challenge most anyone to stop once they have landed a red on fly. Such was my good fortune, blind casting into a passing coastal river.

Those bronze shoulders erupting from the depths turned every

“THERE WERE DRUGS, AND A LOT OF THEM, AND I EXHAUSTED A LIFETIME OF LUCK TO COME OUT ON THE OTHER SIDE.”

frustration, every tangled line, into nothing more than a series of fence posts along a never ending road of learning.

After a couple of years of coastal fly fishing, it was time to head back up the mountain. I spent weeks tying bulky nymphs and wooly buggers, reading up on techniques. I bought a new rod, reel, a sling pack, and enough freshwater tying supplies to keep me occupied for years to come. Like any fishing trip, I counted down the minutes until the day was upon me.

Coming back up the mountain was like stepping back into the past, each bend in the road like a paragraph from the greater storybook of my redemption. And once I stood upon the passing froth of Wilson’s Creek in Pisgah National Forest, I realised that, in the mountain’s air, I found healing but, in its waters, I discovered wholeness. The stockers were waking up with the sun. My friend and I were shaking off the cold and once we both relaxed into the world around us, we began to hook up. I marveled at a couple of rainbows caught on egg patterns and pheasant-tail nymphs before letting them slip back off to the river’s pebbled bottom.

It wasn’t all magical. I spent close to an hour battling tippet tangles, snapped lines, and flies lost to the brush. Unaware of my own superstitions, I carried on an internal monologue of how to shake off the bad vibes. I told myself to snap out of it, deciding to change my approach and move upstream. On the third cast I hooked another. My misfortunes were behind me, a size 16 olive wooly bugger working its magic. I began to walk the fish to the shallows, reeling in the slack line pushing downstream.

As I stepped backward, I snagged my heel on a rock and lost my balance, collapsing backward into a couple feet of freezing water.

26

I’d been warned about my wading belt, but it was practically useless. My rented waders were large and didn’t fit my slender frame. As I landed, the water rushed well past the belt, down my legs and collected in my boots.

Cursing, I propped myself up with my left hand, my right holding onto the rod still taught with a fighting trout.

I reached into my pocket, cast my soaked phone onto the shore, and stripped the modest rainbow to the shore. I pulled the fly from its mouth and watched as it swam away, laughing as it went, anxious to tell his friends about how “he got another one” in whatever native tongue trout speak.

AFTER SO MANY YEARS, I WAS PURIFIED BY THE MOUNTAIN WATERS, RINSED CLEAN OF MY PAST AND GRANTED A BRIGHTER FUTURE. I pulled off most of my clothes and walked soggy-bottomed and dripping back to the car, fortunate to have another shirt and some pyjama pants to change into. The veteran fly fisherman we were with smiled as I walked up and told me, “Welcome to the club.” Squeezing cup after cup of frigid creek water from my clothes, I lay them in the sun to dry.

The experienced angler I was with snacked on palmfuls of peanuts and, between swallows, consoled me about falling in. “There isn’t a fly fisherman I know who hasn’t fallen in a few times. At least you didn’t take a facial,” he laughed. “It happens to everybody. You’re part of the

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

club, now. You’ve been baptised.”

I’ve learned how to laugh at myself so I made self-deprecating jokes while sliding my wet feet back into my waders. I had three more hours of fishing on the mountain, and wet socks weren’t going to get in the way.

In the coming hours I pulled a few more rainbows out of the water, one of them a fat fellow I hooked on a San Juan worm I had tied the day before heading up the mountain.

I hooked another at the same moment my friend and former boss, the same one I’d stood with on that cold, winter day, hooked a rainbow downstream. He laughed and shouted “Ddddddoooooubbblleee Hoooookupppp,” as we stripped in the fish in unison. I had long made peace with my squishy, freezing toes, aware that life could be a whole lot worse.

As I drove back to the coast the next day I relived my experience, the peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains standing tall above patches of dense fog. I had lived in this place for three short years I thought, but those years reshaped my life.

In that time the mountains saved me from myself, bestowed on me a second chance, challenged me to look up and beyond the ground beneath me. Despite missing out on years of time on the water, I at least had the opportunity to right my wrongs.

Once dry, I chuckled at my tumble into the icy creek. I hadn’t intended it nor expected it, but I recognised that it was the final chapter in a long storybook. After so many years, I was purified by the mountain waters, rinsed clean of my past and granted a brighter future. Baptised by the mountain waters, I coasted down toward the low country, singing praise for that land way up on high.

SIZE MATTERS At Matoya Lodge on the Barotse Floodplains, we’re lucky enough to consistently have some of the biggest tigerfish in the Zambezi river with regular catches of fish surpassing the 20-22lb mark. Let that sink in.

20-22lb. TWENTY TO TWENTY-TWO POUNDS. TEN KILOGRAMS.

That’s the weight of 16 basketballs – in one fish, jam packed with teeth and a bad attitude. You stand a chance of catching that size fish and plenty of respectable 8-10lb tigerfish while fishing from our lodge and off our boats on the Barotse Floodplains.

That’s the why. The when? That’s up to you.

Matoya has three distinct seasons:

• FLOOD SEASON (May & June) The best time to target tigers on fly and art lure.

• RUN OFF SEASON (July & August) As the floodplains drain, the tiger fishing goes full throttle. The bream fishing also gets more consistent.

• LOW WATER SEASON (Sep-November) The river is at its lowest and warmest. This is when you stand the best chance at a trophy tiger or bream.

Get in touch today to book your spots and find out about our specials and packages!

EMAIL bookings@matoyalodge.com or CALL 0027 82 253 1814

GUIDES

HIGH 5S N I N J A F L AT S M O N K , M I L A N G E R M I S H U I Z E N , O N H I S C H U R C H T H E FA B L E D S T B R A N D O N ’ S A R C H I P E L A G O N O R T H E A S T O F M A U R I T I U S , G A N G WA R FA R E W I T H B U L L S H A R K S , T H E S P R I N G B O K I N S I D E C E N T R E P O S I T I O N A N D S O L I D A D V I C E F R O M W I L L I A M S H AT N E R .

Photos Milan Germishuizen, Flycastaway

5 items you don’t leave home without before making a mission?

1) My Van Staal pliers.

2) My Costa low light sunglasses.

3) A Lighter. You never know when you might need to light a braai (BBQ) on the flats. Plus, ciggies.

4) That Cortland Tropic All Purpose line, WFF9 5) A good rock and roll playlist 5 bands to listen to while on a road trip?

1) Fokofpolisiekar, the best band on earth. Full stop.

2) Led Zeppelin.

3) Felix Laband.

4) The Strokes.

5) Tame Impala.

5 indispensable flies for saltwater?

1) A tan merkin, everything in the Indian Ocean eats a merkin.

2) A clouser, tan over white, tied long so that you can trim if you need to.

3) A gurgler. Noise brings angry fish.

4) A tan brush fly.

5) Spawning shrimp. Bonefish crack.

5 indispensable flies for freshwater?

1) CDC and elk, or if you have klipspringer, even better.

2) Stimulator with rubber legs.

3) A wooly bugger in brown, black and olive.

4) Again a clouser in any natural colour.

5) A nymph called a Zulu 2.0. It’s my cousin Roan’s pattern and it slays.

5 things you are loving right now 1) My vellies (desert boots) from Sapmok, I’ve been looking for good

28

vellies for a while and they’re the best. Go check them out.

2) My JBL Charge 3 speaker. I don’t go on a mission without it.

3) The Leatherman Wave. I can fix my engine on St. Brandon’s with it so that helps.

4) Cape Town. I’m not going back to Pretoria during an offseason again.

The burgers and the beach dude.

And the girls. (Biting fist emoji) 5) The Fokof Bar in Pretoria, lekker beer, amazing music and everything you want from a punk bar. If I get married one day that’s where we’ll have the after party.

5 favourite fly fishing destinations across SA? 1) The Eerste River in Stellenbosch.

When it’s good it’s amazing.

2) Sterkies (Sterkfontein dam). World class.

3) Vanderkloof Dam, the best sight fishing with terrestrials you’ll ever have.

4) As tough as it is, the Gouritz River.

Close to the mouth, there are fish eagles and so many grunter. If only I could catch them.

5) A private still water in the Kamberg - big angry trout in crystal clear water.

5 best things about where you guide?

1) A flat called Julies on St. Brandon’s on the Neap Push. You will lose track of how many tailing permit you see.

2) My phone is an iPod for six months of the year.

3) The fact that at any time during a full spring tide you can walk around

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

Raphael Island (where we live on St. Brandon’s) and have at least ten shots at tailing permit while wearing only boardies with a smoke in your mouth.

Plus, all the locals are watching.

4) Seeing huge golden trevally tailing in thigh deep water during a sunrise session with Russell De La Harpe. Those sunrise sessions are my favourite. The wind dies down and the light is great.

5) I love the bushveld but when it comes to sheer beauty and biodiversity, St. Brandon’s has it all.

Dit is die mooiste plek in die hele wêreld (“It’s the most beautiful place in the whole world”).

5 favourite fly fishing destinations globally?

1) The Ruakituri River, North Island, New Zealand. Big browns in pocket water eating big terrestrials. Too good.

2) The Rangitikei River, North Island New Zealand. Sight fishing to 6lb plus trout all day.

3) St. Brandon’s. Permit and huge bones.

4) Idaho in summer. Dry fly heaven.

5) Pittwater in Australia. The wildest yellow tail and elf you could ever dream of.

5 of the most difficult guiding experiences so far?

1) Dan “Rooster” Leavens almost got eaten by five bull sharks at the same time. I hit one with a piece of coral, he kicked two in the face and we managed to scare the other two off, but if they had been a foot longer there would have been serious kak.

A fin perfect Indo-Pacific permit from St Brandon’s.

“WHY HASN’T RASSIE PICKED JAN SERFONTEIN AT CENTRE FOR THE BOKS? THE GUY IS CRUSHING IT IN FRANCE.”

A psychedlic blue fin trevally fresh off the flats.

2) Guiding in 30 plus knot winds. St. Brandon’s can throw some serious weather your way.

3) My second crossing back to Mauritius from St. Brandon’s. It was rough.

4) Dirty fuel, both engines down.

I guess we’re stopping here boys!

5) We were stuck on the island for 26 days without the supply boat because of a cyclone. We ran out of smokes, drinking water, fresh food and rum. It got primal.

5 flies to pack (in the smuggler kit under your driver’s seat) to cover most species?

1) A Rubberleg stimulator. (you can always trim) 2) A MSP. 3) Tan over white clouser.

4) Black wooly bugger with an orange bead (speed cop).

5) A merkin. Because everything eats a merkin.

5 people you would like to guide or fish with?

1) Rene Harrop.

2) Jono Shales.

3) Mike Kirkpatrick.

4) Chris Dore.

5) Paul Boyers.

5 fish on your species hit list?

1) Those big tigers in Tanzania.

2) A double digit brown from the South Island of New Zealand.

3) I really want to catch a Clanwilliam yellow.

4) A big barramundi from the top end of Australia, on a NYAP. 5) Golden dorado.

5 shower thoughts that have occurred to you while fly fishing?

1) Why hasn’t Rassie picked Jan Serfontein at centre for the Boks?

The guy is crushing it in France.

2) How good it is to see a cutthroat trout chewing on a massive foam fly.

3) Why do wave garrick always inhale a fly? Even when fishing barbless, they’re a mission to unhook and they always bleed.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

4) Why have I allowed Indo Pacific permit to get under my skin? I always tell myself to picture a 4lb bone. It never works.

5) What is it about Raphael Island that makes me dream of my ex-girlfriends?

5 of the most underrated species in your book?

1) Bluefin trevally. They are the tits.

2) Golden trevally. They tail hard and eat flies. They make me so happy.

3) Yellowspot trevally. It’s like fighting a pitt bull terrier.

4) Grunter. I bled for four years and finally caught my first one in December. I think that in the Gouritz, they’re tougher than a tailing permit.

5) Shad/Elf. The little ones are dumb but the big ones eat aggressively and fight really hard.

5 destinations on your bucket list?

1) Exmouth. I like permit.

2) Bosnia. Big browns and hucho that eat grayling…get in!

3) Oman. The biggest geets and those permit on those cliffs look wild.

4) Tanzania. Wading in a river and catching 20lb tigers. That’s basically the African dream.

5) Patagonia, Throwing big hoppers at those colossal brookies in the tiny spring creeks.

5 things you would take up if you weren’t always fly fishing?

1) My first love is the bush so I still want to be a game ranger/field guide.

2) Ornithology.

3) I like working with my hands so carpentry would be pretty cool.

4) I braai a mean steak and a chop so, somewhere down the line, I’d like to open a beach/bush bar where we can watch the Bokke klap the All Blacks, have ice cold draughts and the best “kuier” (hang out) possible.

5) Not sure if this counts, but I love tying flies. The whole process behind it and adding your own spin on things. It’s my way of being creative and it’s always good with some very loud rock playing in the background.

Plus, a beer.

33

A moose of a spotted grunter from the Garden Route.

5 essential ingredients for an incredible mission?

1) Good music and a rechargeable speaker.

2) A wild destination that scares you a bit. In the right way.

3) Good mates. Life is too short to surround yourself with people who aren’t lekker.

4) Enough cold beer.

5) A Land Cruiser so you can drive wherever you want.

5 common mistakes that most clients make?

1) Not practicing their back cast. The wind is serious on St. Brandon’s so it’s crucial. It allows you to present to fish that you would never be able to reach otherwise. It will improve your fishing wherever you might be.

2) Unrealistic expectations. Just because you saw a big geet on Instagram doesn’t mean you’re going to catch one.

3) I’m a big fly tier so whenever I go on

34

a mission I tie a couple of flies I know will work and some experimentals.

You’ve saved up for this trip of a lifetime so come prepared, whether you tie your own flies or you get someone else to strap them for you.

Make an effort.

4) Like William Shatner said in that Baz Luhrmann song, “wear sunscreen.” I’ve seen many clients that look like a steamed Kreef (crayfish) after day one.

5) The fish won’t always be there. You might run into warm water or serious current. Enjoy your surroundings and appreciate where you are. Flyfishing takes us to far-flung and exotic places. You’re lucky that you can see them while they’re still wild.

5 flies that, to look at, make no sense but that catch fish all the time?

1) The DDD. 2) A Mrs. Simpson.

3) The Blob. FFS.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

4) A Pillow Talk.

5) A Poodle. It looks kak but I’ve been told that everything in the Seychelles eats it.

5 things about fly fishing that you may never understand?

1) The fact that, to some people, it’s become a dick measuring competition. Fishing is fun, lets stick to that.

2) Why do clients arrive with rusty flies?

3) How do the more loud-mouthed, arrogant types always get so lucky?

4) How the hell it can infuriate me and make me happier than anything else at the same time? So basically, why is it so lekker?

5) Who keeps on snipping off the welded loop that attaches the line to the backing and ties an Albright?

You’re making my job so much harder.

Your last five casts were to….

Picky carp at the Vredehoek quarry in Cape Town with Andre Van Wyk.

DUBAI ON THE FLY 2019 The epicenter of the planet, Dubai is both a springboard to other places and an amazing destination all unto itself.

Unique in so many ways from boasting the world’s tallest building to the world’s only 7-star hotel, the world’s largest shopping malls, some of the world’s best sports events, indoor ski slopes, fast cars, the natural wonders of the surrounding deserts and much, much more. As if all that wasn’t enough, Dubai is also an incredible fly fishery.

When the Dubai Palms and World islands were built they created an ideal marine environment that attracted a huge amount of fish species many of which are excellent targets on fly. The queenfish action is so good that it has to be one of the most consistent queenfish fisheries in the world. It’s not just ‘queenies’ that chase the fly, you also stand a good chance of catching Kingfish (Spanish Mackerel), Golden Trevally, Cobia and Bonito.

Whether you are on your way to fish in the Seychelles, Sudan or Tanzania, heading home or simply visiting Dubai for its own delights, make sure you allocate a day to get over jetlag and experience urban fly fishing at its best.

We call it ‘Dubai on the fly’. Visit oceanactivefly.com and book now.

@oceanactivefly

Facebook @oceanactivefly PARTNERS WITH

D ES T I N AT I O N

THE TROPHY WIFE M A R R Y I N G VA R S I T Y - L E V E L W I S D O M W I T H T H E C H A R M S O F O L D B L U E E Y E S , R H U A N H U M A N H E A D S T O M AT O YA L O D G E O N T H E BAROTSE FLOODPLAINS FOR SOME DOUBLE-FIGURE TIGER TROPHIES Photos Rhuan Human

A

s a “koshuis” student in my first year of varsity, I learned a lot. Not so much from an academic standpoint but a lot of those valuable life lessons you tend to acquire at tertiary education institutions.

I learned that campus security staff are not trained special ops and are generally slower and more unfit than the average Uni student. I learned how to make “pap” in a microwave oven, how to boil eggs in a kettle and how to have a hell of a night out on a total budget of R50.

Valuable, as I said.

Another life lesson I got as a “Jar” (a name given to a worthless first year student), was dating advice from a 5th-year senior. Standing outside a dodgy sports bar in Melville, with all the wisdom and virtue that one can summon from a bottle of Wellington VO brandy, he said to me, “Jar, if you want to nab yourself a trophy wife you have to look in the spots where trophy wives hang out.

Don’t expect to find one in a place like this.” Now despite the fact that no first-year, sober or otherwise is actually looking for a wife in a bar, his words were quite profound.

Even though it was after midnight, alcohol-induced counsel, it was advice I took to heart and in the years to come managed to adapt it for different scenarios in life.

It’s a simple concept. If you want top shelf wine, you’re not going to look for it from a vineyard somewhere in the Free State. Or if you’re in the mood for good sushi, you’re going to want to find a joint with a waving cat statue and a chef with an accent that could be Japanese, not that kak in clear containers at the Pick & Pay fish market counter.

Anyway, you get the point.

The same applies to fish. If you want to catch a trophy fish, you need to go where trophy fish hang out, and the Barotse floodplains are where trophy tigers hang out. In the past two years, I have been fortunate enough to visit the floodplains twice, staying at the high-end Matoya Lodge in Zambia which our crew returns to annually to film the WildFly Fishing Series television program.

36

It’s a sweet gig. While the heavyweights that roam these waters are the undeniable main attraction, the Matoya Lodge itself is an oasis and a welcoming place of comfort to return to after a long day of casting and playing tug of war with Barotse’s aquatic freight trains. Technically I go there for “work”, but I can’t help but relax and unwind when I step off the boat and take up a position at the infamous Matoya bar before the fishing activities start. Especially after just driving 11 hours on something that Google Maps say is a national road, but I imagine the Opportunity Rover would struggle with. For the record, us film crews don’t always travel in style, but there are way more comfortable travel options when visiting Matoya. A charter flight from Joburg to Lukula and a 15 min boat ride to the lodge is the preferred mode of travel and no chiropractor sessions needed afterwards.

And the Trophy Wife hang out (as that pissed 5th year would have put it)? The Barotse Floodplain sits at the heart of Barotse Land on the Upper Zambezi river in the western part of Zambia and is home to the proud Lozi people, the custodians of the upper Zambezi. The large floodplain catchment is the perfect breeding habitat for smaller fish species which during the receding period stocks the river with an endless food source for the apex predators to feast on. This is one of the main reasons why the tigerfish in this part of the river grow to such enormous sizes.

The ideal time to be casting flies would be around May/June, early in the season when the plains start to drain off into the river. I haven’t witnessed this event personally, but according to the guides and crew at the lodge, it’s a Tiger Mardi Gras when the tigerfish line the banks of the river, literally funnelling baitfish down as they come off the plains into the main channel. It’s a feeding frenzy with fish spraying all over when packs of tigerfish charge the bait balls. The upper Zambezi predators are not on any special diet, and if you’ve ever had the pleasure of holding a Barotse Tiger you quickly realise they are a different animal, especially the notorious eight pounders, or as the folks in these parts call them “the Barotse rats”. Stubby tails and tiny little heads lined with baby teeth, these fish carry all their weight right in the middle.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

Swimming with tigers, nembwe are a fantastic secondary target.

Their appearance is downright strange looking, and if you write the words “Gilbert” down each of its flanks, you could pass one of them as the game ball in the Currie Cup final.

My latest visit happened over the August period, by then the floodplains were fully drained with the last trickles of water running off here and there. It’s not the prime fly fishing time, not because the fish aren’t there, those big bastards are still around and still hungry, but because they are less concentrated to specific areas and of course you have those rotten August winds that come about to ruin a fly angler’s day. When you have a 300-grain shooting head with a packet of SF blend, a 4/0 hook and dumbbell eyes tied to end of it, it becomes a blood sport. For you.

The mission for me was to break into the lodge catch record book, something I failed to do on my previous visit.

The lodge only enters fish over 10 pounds and every time I was just shy of the mark, my fly (now dubbed Sinatra) somehow always ending up in and amongst the “Rat” pack. I tell you what though, if there’s a place where you don’t mind catching “rats” it’s on the Barotse Floodplain, those eight and nine pounders are bruisers. There’s a reason why the Welter and Middleweights are often the main events at UFC, those athletes are quick, have lots of stamina and they bliksem hard. On my second attempt, however, I was determined to jump onboard the Barotse express and catch a double-figure Zambezi tigerfish.

I teamed up with Marvin Sissing one of the owners of the lodge, and together we were going to shake that monkey off my back. It didn’t take long for us to find the first takers and, of course, they were of the rodent variation, but I needed to sharpen my skills and stretch the lines anyway before tangling with the big ones. Marvin is the ultimate wingman in the hunt for a trophy, he makes sure you never go without liquid courage, and he laughs at every rat you pull keeping you honest, motivated and focused on the task of landing the ultimate prize.

38

“IF YOU WRITE THE WORDS “GILBERT” DOWN EACH OF ITS FLANKS, YOU COULD PASS ONE OF THEM AS THE GAME BALL IN THE CURRIE CUP FINAL.“

Along the way, we even put in practice on some different species. Neither Marv or I had ever caught nembwe (yellow belly bream) on the fly and needed to tick it off our bucket list. The nembwe are the less noticeable ones at the Barotse jol, not because they are ugly, they are quite easy on the eye, but because they share the space with the slightly more appealing tiger. We came right with two Nembwe each on a bank that has now become renowned for its bream catches. Next time I go there I will invest more time on the bream fishing.

Nembwe ticked, we were now ready for the main event.What that 5th year senior neglected to add to his lovely “trophy wife” speech all those years ago is that going to the right spot to find her is one thing… landing one is a whole different story. Ask a drunk first year.

I was three days in on this trip and by now the selfproclaimed king of the rats, a king without a trophy wife.

I didn’t want numbers. I wanted (metaphorical) nuptials!

I was practicing my excuses - the usual tackle failure, angler error and stories of the one that got away that comes packaged with a Tiger trip, but to add insult to injury, I also succeeded in embedding a 2/0 brush fly into my back. Still, I soldiered on. At least the smaller tigers were keeping us entertained. It was somewhere between

40

stuffing my face with a delicious homemade sausage roll and a sip of my ice cold Mosi lager when I spotted a very good-looking holding area, a typical big tiger hangout.

An isolated point bulging out from a steep bank had caught a big chunk of timber with its limbs just visible above the surface. The main current was deflecting off this point leaving a strong eddy behind the structure.

“This is where I’m going to get her” I mumbled to myself.

I picked up the rod and with the line already rolled out on the deck I sent “Sinatra” in to do his thing. I was going to show her my moves and this time bring home the bacon.

She did not fall for my charm the first time and flat out ignored me. I upped the ante and went in for a second attempt still no takers. I was about to throw in the towel and head back to the previous honey hole and settle for another rat when suddenly out of nowhere she latched on to me like it was the Sadie Hawkins dance (the girls as the guys) and immediately spun me around. She was a pretty one, definitely a trophy, and she had the curves in the right places. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.

Too many times before I ended up in this situation only to cock it all up before the deal was sealed. I played it cool kept it together, and when the dance was over, I smiled, said thank you and allowed her to return to her haunt.

I just wanted to prove that I could land one…

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

SPECIES - NDUNGU

WHO GIVES A FIG? UNDER GIANT SYCAMORE FIG TREES O N T H E R U H U D J I R I V E R I N TA N Z A N I A , GUIDE JOHANN DU PREEZ LOSES HIS MIND AND COMPLETES AN A N G L I N G D E C AT H L O N W O R T H Y O F T H E O LY M P I C S W H I L E AT T E M P T I N G T O U N L O C K N D U N G U , T H E FAT, PA C U - L I K E F R U I TA R I A N F I G - E AT E R S O F TA N Z A N I A .

Photos and artwork Johann du Preez

I

t started with a slurp and a sloppy tail splash as the fish rolled to the surface to engulf the god-sent morsels drifting past. The birds were going crazy, squabbling and jousting for the sweetest and ripest figs. Every now and again a fig would hit the water below with a loud plop and another grey shadow would lazily roll up to inspect the latest offering. It was like a conveyor belt of figs bobbing happily down river with a bunch of picky quality inspectors scrutinizing each and every fig for imperfections.

My obsession was growing. In the night I would hear them slurping and, in the morning, when I rushed out of my tent to get to breakfast on time, I would see them roll. It was agonising, I was allowed to look but not to touch.

But then the stars aligned; there was a gap in the roster. Greg, my fellow guide, and I had only two clients in camp as opposed to the usual group of four. This meant that we could split guiding time and while the one was out on the water the other could devote time and effort to figuring out these fish.

If it wasn’t up to scratch it would simply be rejected. It seemed like nothing, but only the best was good enough for these fish and that tickled my curiosity in a big way. I kept watching them as they gorged as though they were gods of the Ruhudji River. They feasted as if the fruit bonanza was never going to end. Of course, there was actually a limited supply of decadent treats from above. Before long the feast would be over. I had to do something. I had to catch one of these mystery fish before it was too late.

Coming to Tanzania for the tigerfish, most clients do not give a damn about these fish, but I became obsessed with these greedy fig-eating fish in front of my tent every day.

The Ruhudji River is filled to the brim with ravenous monster tigerfish. Why would anybody ‘waste’ time trying to catch ndungu (Distichodus petersii) a rare, fig-eating fish? Well, because nobody has done it successfully before, that’s why! In years gone by only Leonard Flemming had tried to catch them, with limited success.

He eventually got one on a sausage tree flower, but I wanted to sight-fish to one on the fly.

The problem was I could only feed my fishy perversion between clients and I was going to need more time than that to figure them out.

If it was ever going to happen, the time was now. The situation was perfect, the ndungu were rising right in front of our tent, in a small pocket

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

43

32

Photobomb the Pope? Synchronized crotchshots with the Kardashians?

Nay, Johann du Preez achieves a world first by taking a selfie with an Ndungu.

of slack water with two massive sycamore fig trees dropping fruit at the exact period that we had an open week. It was a sign. The gods were speaking.

While Greg took the first session of guiding, I ran around like a squirrel before winter trying to gather enough figs to figure these fish out. To start off I would throw figs into the river one by one to see how the fish reacted.

It was very enlightening, I quickly started seeing patterns. They only ate the ripe figs and only responded if the fig landed with a good plop. The noise was a big part of the attraction.

The next step was to try and catch one on spinning gear with a real fig on a hook. The big struggle was to find a small enough hook.

After what felt like an eternity, I had enough figs and a hook. All rigged and ready I positioned myself on the steep bank. Every time I saw one close to the surface, I would lob a few figs down to get it all fired up, almost like creating my own hatch.

Then, once it was feeding happily, I would lob the fig-on-a-hook rig out and follow it as it drifted down to the unsuspecting fish.

Slurp. Set! And miss!

It was not an easy task. They would either spook when they saw the hook or take little bites out of the fig. I simply couldn’t get a proper hook-up.

It was time to tag Greg into the fight, as I was off to guide the afternoon session. I gave him a quick F.Y.I. on my progress and left him to try and hook one. When I returned that evening, Greg met me with that smug grin and I knew, he had drawn first blood. It was a major breakthrough.

We then proceeded to hook and land another six ndungu on figs over

the next few days. We really felt like we were figuring them out. We had made huge progress. I mean, there we were catching these strange fish almost at will, whereas before they were merely mystical beasts that would occasionally get caught by accident. Until then my only encounter with these fish was when one was foul-hooked in the back with a Rapala.

The next step of course was to create a fly that would fool them. To catch fish on fruit imitations is not a new thing. The South-American pacu is a fish that is being targeted very successfully on fly, so why couldn’t I do the same? The interesting thing is how similar these two fish are. The ndungu and the pacu are almost identical, the only difference is the fact that they are found on two different continental shelves. Just like tigerfish and dorado (golden dorado) have a common ancestor from a time when the African and South American shelves were still joined, I believe that these ndungu have shared ancestry with the pacu.

Okay, so how do you tie a fig fly? I had no foam in the right colour and no hooks of the right size. It was a bit of a conundrum. I puzzled over this for a day or so until the idea finally germinated. SF Blend, I had to use SF Blend. I found an almost small enough hook lying around in camp. I wrapped in a lopsided lead underbody to give the fly enough weight to make a nice fig-like plop. I then wrapped it up with foam to give it some shape.

I coloured the foam red so that the white wouldn’t shine through. I mixed four SF Blend colours to get the perfect combination of green, pink, red and brown. The result was a figcolour mix. I tied a fat bunch of this SF mix in at the base of the fig fly and pulled it up toward the eye and tied it off to form the stem of the fig.

It wasn’t pretty, but it was a fig fly, nonetheless.

To complicate matters there was hardly any space to make a back cast.

There were bushes on all sides as well as a massive tent directly behind me.

I positioned myself on the high bank, flicked the fly on to the dry land on

“OKAY, SO HOW DO YOU TIE A FIG FLY? I HAD NO FOAM IN THE RIGHT COLOUR AND NO HOOKS OF THE RIGHT SIZE. IT WAS A BIT OF A CONUNDRUM.” W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

45

my right and waited for a fish to show itself. The idea was to just flick it over from the ground and land it in front of the fish. I don’t have enough words to explain how awkward this was.

I couldn’t stand on the water’s edge because it’s a croc-infested river, so I had to stand on a 45-degree slope with all sorts of thorny sticks and shit poking me in my back. The current also complicated affairs and I had to squeeze in a mend to correct the drift. It was complicated.

Landing them was even more awkward. I had to slide down the bank with the net, and quickly scoop the fish up before a crocodile ate it or me. I then had to toss the net with the fish inside up the bank, climb back up, and sprint with the fish to the nearest sand bar (about 100 metres away) where I could revive and photograph the fish before releasing it. I was also on my own, so to get a photo I had to jam my GoPro into the riverbed, set in on time-lapse, run around and pose with the fish in the hope that one of the shots would come out looking respectable. What a mission!

Despite all these difficulties I was determined and ready. These fig-

46

eating fatties had no idea what was coming their way. All of a sudden there were delicious fig flies drifting down-river and they could not tell the difference. I was astounded by how eager they were to eat the fly.

They came up to it without hesitation.

The only problem was that more often than not they would try to take a bite out of it instead of swallowing the whole thing. But every now and again one would go all out and gobble up the entire fly. Even then it wasn’t a sure deal, setting the hook was also a challenge. The hook pulled on the first three fish before I got the strike right.

I was also wildly under-gunned with my 4-weight set-up. Those fish were way stronger than anticipated and they also have a tendency to get themselves tangled up in overhanging trees. After all the struggle, trial and error, swearing, hooking trees, getting scratched, being bruised, losing flies and dropping fish I finally got to land what I believe is the first legitimate Ndungu on fly.

The major question, was it worth it?

Absolutely!

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

The fashion for Hitler moustaches still remains both in pockets of the Seychelles flats and rural South America.

ALPHONSE

THE CANDY SHOP L I K E K I D S I N A C A N D Y S H O P, L E O N A R D F L E M M I N G A N D E W A N N A U D E O F F E AT H E R S & F L U O R O O V E R D O S E O N T H E ADRENALIN-FUELLED FIZZ OF THE ST FRANCOIS L U C K Y PA C K E T Photos Leonard Flemming, Devan van der Merwe and Kyle Reed

W

e were standing ankle-deep on a sand flat that seemed to stretch to the horizon, a mirror image of a desert that appeared lifeless at first glance. It gave me that empty feeling when staring down a new aisle under construction in a food retail store. The abundant life under the surface was still ‘invisible’ to our green eyes.

However, as my eyes acclimatised to the blinding white expanse at the southern end of St. Francois atoll, they laid bare the lively grey shadows moving erratically across the textured bottom. Camouflaged by patterns of light playing on the bottom, fish were hunting crustaceans on this saltwater flood plain. The empty shelves of the shopping centre were instantly filled with tantalising sweets! My fingers nervously dropped the fly and I made a cast ahead of one of the dark shapes dancing on the ocean floor, the one closest to me.

I watched it move over the fly with the enthusiasm of a six-year-old buying a lucky packet. The excitement of the line tightening up was the equivalent to staring down onto a medley of toys and treats in the paper bag.

I stripped into the bonefish and it zipped off the flat like a pull cord race car. “Ah, how much better can the fishing get?” I mumbled my satisfaction into the ocean breeze as I eased into the fight. Ewan Naudé was too far away for conversation and too much in his own world, fumbling in a lucky packet himself, to notice my jabbering. His relaxed body language and triumphant

smirk revealed that he had found his favourite superhero toy. It was our second day with Alphonse Fishing Co. in the Alphonse Group and I had already caught more fish than all my saltwater trips combined. We were in our element.

I gently slid the twenty-eight inch bonefish into my hand and made it rest on the surface till I freed the hook from its fleshy mouth. Its colour was breath-taking; platinum blades cutting across a slender nickel body. I admired my catch like it was a quicksilver version of the Marvel superhero collective, paying special attention to the slick, muscular detail making it almost mutant. As the bright turquoise pectorals caught my eye it gave a hard and unexpected kick and launched free from my grip, leaving my polarized sunglasses covered in salty spray.

I wiped them before the salt got crusty and slipped them back over my eyes to find more shadows, but instead of the singles a stormy cloud of fish started to move on to the shallow bank. I realised then that the lucky packet I had bought was brimming with race cars.

We followed the big school of fish around for a while, picking bonefish off the edges, hurriedly at first but later in our own time. These fish weren’t spooky at all like the flats fishes, i.e., spotted grunter, we were used to back home and they carried on tailing around us as if not threatened by our presence. It was an unusual but most pleasurable fishing experience and to our surprise these splendid sport fish were so plentiful that one could almost catch as many as one liked.

“I ADMIRED MY CATCH LIKE IT WAS A QUICKSILVER VERSION OF THE MARVEL SUPERHERO COLLECTIVE” W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

49

As much as I doubted fishing could become any better than that, Devan van der Merwe, the fishing manager of Alphonse Fishing Co., promised us a deep water experience in the Amirante Trough the next day that (in his words) would “top the bone fishing.” It was a different sport altogether, fishing with heavy sticks (12-14-weight fly rods) and monstrous, eightinch flies off the back of a twin-hull power boat. We were scratching in deep water for Grimlock, i.e., wahoo, sailfish, tuna, giant trevally or king mackerel, with bright, pink and white Cam Sigler Mega Marlin Tubes. This kind of fishing also didn’t involve stalking, but rather trolling pretty ‘birds’ to attract the predators to us. The theory behind the birds – hookless pink and chartreuse lures trolled just behind the outboard bubble stream –is that they create as much surface disturbance as possible, thereby simulating a shoal of fleeing sardines. Rather than waste energy chasing down individual bait fishes, schools of open water predators tend to look for bait balls. Trolling ‘birds’ really ‘switches the predatory fish on and once the big fish start attacking, the hook-less lures are quickly wound in and replaced by a fly. A ‘hot’ fish will then hopefully eat the fly.

Ewan decided to fish the St Francois shoreline while I got the opportunity to target sailfish off shore for the first part of the morning. We trolled for about fifteen minutes before the first fish ‘busted up’ on the birds. I placed the fly in the vicinity of the commotion, expecting the rod to get yanked from my grip, but nothing happened. We carried on trolling and we raised fish twice more shortly after that, but even though I felt a fish grab the fly once, leaving behind a rubber duck-sized boil on the surface, nothing was hooked.

My heart started to feel heavy. It was beating wildly from the adrenalin, anticipating the fish of my lifetime, but there was also a sinking feeling from not connecting with anything. I was about to put the rod down, just to pull myself together, when Devan yelped: “There’s it!”

He pointed in the direction of the pink bird where he had seen a bill slash at it. I watched carefully as they started to wind in the teasers and a swordfight of two thin black rapiers followed the bird in.

With a gentle cast and a few strips of line, I placed the fly ahead of the ‘jousting’ fish and then a third one joined them in the fight to win the fly. One of the fish rose to the fly about 20 feet behind the boat and sipped it gently off the surface before turning away from us. The take was surprisingly slow, like a brown trout. I tightened the line, connecting to the fish and then strip struck three times to set the hook.

The hooked sailfish launched into the air several times, bouncing around the boat before it took off, straining the fly line like a guitar string. It then continued to bounce around over 600 feet away from us. In an instant, the 1200 feet of braided backing seemed too little and I realised that this runaway bounce ball could in fact disappear down the drain and take all my line with it.

50

From bones to bills, like going from carrying groceries to klapping gym (boet), Leonard Flemming graduates into some heavy lifting as a sailfish bends his 12-weight.

At just under a metre, this GT fought way above its weight class.

Beyond that guilty feeling about line pollution, this was also a good fish and my first sailfish so, in my already fragile mood, losing it would have been devastating.

Devan seemed unaware of how nervous I was about losing control of the fish. “Let him run, this is what fly fishing for sailfish is all about.” He had barely finished his sentence when the fish changed direction, now swimming parallel to the boat and dropping slack in the line. The bouncing ball had finally lost its momentum and while I sighed with relief, this in turn got Devan shouting nervous instructions to Bertrand Lablache, the skipper.

Outboards roaring we gained distance again, just enough between me and the fish to stretch the nylon of the Rio Leviathan intermediate. This back and forth manoeuvring, sometimes even over the distance of a rugby field, carried on till the fish was lying on its side next to the boat. By that stage I realised that, as difficult as it was to admit, I had done very little to catch the fish and that Devan and his team deserved all the credit.

This sequence of events, teasing fish, hooking up and landing a sailfish with the help of the outboard power, was repeated three times until I had fished myself into a frothy stupor, before I was ready to try something else. Even though the sailfish kept coming in hot after the birds, I pitied their

appetite for the fly and held back a cast, trying to free myself from the vice of gluttony. I noticed a striking similarity to the previous day when we caught bonefish at will; the only difference was that we were now faced with naïve predators that weighed almost as much as a human being.

Good riddance to greed as the fourth fish I hooked came up from the inky depths and exploded on the surface like an oceanic mine. It was clearly something else and in contrast to the previous jumps and lengthy runs, the unknown fish dived straight to the bottom, heading for the reef in 170 feet of water. I had my drag tight and still palmed the spool to stop the fish from reaching sharp coral, but it didn’t even slow down with increased pressure from the rod end. This was stressful on a whole different scale, this fight was entirely in my own hands.

It eventually came to a halt, luckily never finding that coral bommie to cut my line off, and I slowly started to gain line.

As it became visible, the broad body of the fish flashed like an underwater flare. While I expected to land a monster I was a bit baffled when I finally pulled in a giant trevally measuring less than the magic-meter-mark on its side next to the boat. I couldn’t complain about this giant lollypop of a treat however, as it was still much bigger than the GT I’ve managed to land from the South African shoreline.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

53

“GOOD RIDDANCE TO GREED AS THE FOURTH FISH I HOOKED CAME UP FROM THE INKY DEPTHS AND EXPLODED ON THE SURFACE LIKE AN OCEANIC MINE.”

Ewan Naude, seen here with bonefish accessory combining gun range blue steel with a smidgen of ‘70s serial killer style.

“THE THIRD BONEFISH, AND THEN A FOURTH AND A FIFTH, CAME QUICKLY; IT HAPPENED SO FAST AND I WAS SO ENTHRALLED IN THE MOMENT THAT I NEVER TOOK NOTICE OF COMPLETING THE BILLS AND BONES SLAM.” We moved on with the schedule, dredging shallower water near the coral perimeter of St Francois where I quickly brought a big bluefin trevally to hand before exchanging spots and guides with Ewan. When we met up in a small, turtle grass bay we learned that he had also caught his personal best GT, a 42 inch fish that ate a popper just behind the wave zone. I discussed the sailfish chaos we experienced in the morning and both of us were pretty excited to swap places for the adventure that lay ahead.

I joined Alphonse guide Kyle Reed for the flats ‘session’ and he explained that all I needed were three bonefish to complete one of their prized species combos; the ‘Bills and Bones’ slam, celebrated with a shooter and a small trophy at the bar. At that point, although least expected, it also came as no surprise when he mentioned that I should get my fly ready as a school of bonefish were already approaching us fast on the dark olive grass flat.

They were much harder to see than the sand flat dwellers, but the bright blue line on their pectorals gave them away at close quarters.

The take came soon after roll-casting the tan Clouser out, ten feet in front of us. The reel screamed in protest to the long, fast runs of the bonefish, a fish that has unmatched endurance for its size. We eventually landed the first bonefish, Kyle grabbing it around the tail. It was a slate grey fish with aquamarine shoulders and electric blue pectoral and pelvic fins; a refreshing beauty in contrast to their colour on white sand. We carried on with our aim to land two more and, as in the past days, the bonefish fed unbothered in front of us and ate the fly on every gentle presentation.

The third bonefish, and then a fourth and a fifth, came quickly; it happened so fast and I was so enthralled in the moment that I never took notice of completing the Bills and Bones slam. That evening, after sinking the days’ excitement in with a handful of tots, I discussed everyone’s successes with one of the elderly gentlemen that accompanied us on his 6th trip to Alphonse. With the glint of a toddler in his weathered eyes, he explained that he had sold his company, lost his wife and had seen the world, yet could not retire from Alphonse bonefish flats.

His words made perfect sense to me.

59

54

Photo Jim Klug

PROFILE - JEFF CURRIER

THE 400 I N H I S P U RS U I T O F CATCHIN G AN Y FISH WHATSOEVER ON FLY, JEFF CU R RI ER H AS RI S KE D BEING FIRED BY BOSSES (MILD); LOSING 2 0 L B S I N WE I G H T FRO M D E LH I BELLY (MEDIUM); GETTING ABDUCTED BY COLO M B I A N RE BE LS ( FI E RY) ; B EING EATEN BY TIGERS (INCINERATION) A N D H AS HA D CO U NT LESS OT HER MISADVEN TURES. BUT OV ER THE L AST 40 Y E A R S A ND I N 60 CO U NT RI ES, HE’S RACKED UP OV ER 4 0 0 DIFFER E NT S PECI ES O N FLY. WE AS KE D H IM TO DO THE IMPOSSIBLE AND SELECT HIS FAVOURITES.

W

hen Belgian cycling legend Eddie “The Cannibal” Merckx was asked by aspiring youngsters what the secret to his success was, his response was brutal and succinct, “Ride lots.” Swap out “ride” for “fish” and that nugget of advice could easily be attributed to Jeff Currier, because few, if any, have achieved quite what Currier has done in fly fishing.

Through the decades, fly fishing around the world on selffunded DIY trips or as a guide, as a competition angler and as a Yellowdog Ambassador, Currier has caught over 406 different species of fish at last count.

That’s an astonishing number.

Take a minute to try to work out your own list: - There will be the few local species you’ve ticked.

- Now think about those places and species a day or two’s drive away that you and your buddies like to visit every year or so.

- Then there’s the smorgasbord of weird and wonderful species that you might have encountered for the first time on a big exotic trip. You may even be lucky and wealthy enough to have done a few every year.

I bet if you add them all up and throw in an extra 10 -20 for good measure for the random rats and mice you’ve forgotten about, it’s unlikely your tally is much over 50.

Maybe you’re an ex-guide, so let’s say that number is closer to 100. That’s incredible, but 400? Verified in journal and blog form every single time you’ve been fishing the way Currier does it? Doubtful.

By Tudor Caradoc-Davies

Photos Jim Klug/Yellow Dog Flyfishing, Jim Harris and Jeff Currier Archive

“Tally.”

“new” destinations and catch or figure out “new” species but, through his blog, he has also developed a coveted global audience to share his stories with.

“Achieve.”

“Numbers.”

These are probably not the terms most would associate with fly fishing. Competitive bird watching or twitching perhaps? I ask Currier (a) if he’s watched the twitcher movie A Big Year with Steve Martin, Owen Wilson and Jack Black in which the three are involved in a winnertakes-all species ticking arms race and (b) if he can identify with the mindset.

“When I saw the movie, I was wondering if that’s what I am. In a sense that’s what I have become, but I would say my bio-chemistry wasn’t that at all. It just kind of happened. One day people said, “Holy shit Jeff, have you ever thought about how many fish you have caught on fly? We had probably had a bad winter. I was at home, bored out of my mind and I thought I’d start that list once and for all. It was probably a four to five year process before it was done. I would nibble away at it, then get bored or sidetracked. All of a sudden someone would call upon me for photos of fish from weird destinations so I’d pull the list out again and add to it.”

He may have only formalized it later in life, but the collector in Currier was always there.

“When I was a little kid, I fished hard. I got on my bike and fished all summer. When I was about 12 or 13 I had a calendar in my room and I wrote down every fish I caught that day. Not necessarily different species, but I’d note down, ‘4 pickerel, 3 largemouth bass, 10 pumpkin seeds.’ I was into documenting my fish as a kid and it never stopped. I’m pretty scientific about it these days. In October I will have had my blog ten years (www.jeffcurrier.com) and I have written about every single day of fishing in my life. When I have caught a new species, I’ve documented it very well with photos. Then I get home and google the fish, read about it, learn about it and add it to my list.”

For a fishing mad kid, Jeff’s curiosity and drive has resulted in its own strange momentum and, from having started out as a gung-ho youngster traveling on a song and a prayer to catch fish, Currier is now sought after precisely because he’s the guy who doesn’t simply visit

“When you get to learn stuff, then people want you to come do it. The more I traveled, the more travel fell into my lap. I could not have dreamed up a better existence.

It’s not what I planned on doing. I get told all the time by kids right up to their late twenties, “I want to do what you’re doing.” There’s no formula, it just happened. The only thing I recommend is to fish hard and learn as much as you can. Maybe it will happen for you.”

Jeff has far too many stories to condense into one profile so, to cut to the chase we asked him, in the order that he fished them, to go *continent by continent and ocean by ocean choosing one favourite species from each.

NORTH AMERICA SMALLMOUTH BASS

My father and grandfather were big-time anglers and my dad also fly fished. Once, I was in the boat with my dad and my grandfather and we were all fishing nightcrawlers when my dad caught a 6lb smallmouth bass. His dad had seen this bass while he was snorkeling throughout the summer. It was a particularly big one that had broken my grandfather off several times. My dad finally got it that night. Unfortunately, we killed it. It was probably 1971 and those were the days when you did that. My dad always wanted to get it mounted but it sat in our freezer for 15 years because he could never afford to.

We would take it out once or twice a year and just look at it. It was almost as if we’d had it taxidermied, but to enjoy it we had to take it out of the freezer and put it back in. My mom finally tossed it. Ironically, in my late teens I became a taxidermist, so I probably could have done it, although there would have been freezer burn by then. That fish made an unbelievable impact on my life.

It blew my dad’s mind so you can only imagine what it did to me. I became an animal. Right there and then my life was going to be all fishing. I learned to fly fish and I have to say that smallmouth bass, from that day and despite all my fishing experiences, is probably still my favourite all round fish on the entire planet.

THE LAST NINE YEARS THAT I’VE HAD MY BLOG, I HAVE WRITTEN ABOUT EVERY SINGLE DAY OF FISHING IN MY LIFE. 62

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

ATLANTIC

JACK CREVALLE I moved to Wyoming for my trout fishing and to work in a shop, the Jack Dennis Outdoor Shop. The fishing was phenomenal but in the long winters some of my clientele and my boss went saltwater fly fishing in Belize. My boss came back with so many frigging stories and pictures, I went absolutely bananas. How was I going to do this?

I had college loans to pay; was driving a 1976 Dodge Aspen which was falling apart; I was in debt. Somehow I was going to make this work. The very next year, which would have been 1988, I charged not one but two trips to Belize on my account at the store because we had a little bit of travel business going there. I didn’t ask the boss if I could do this. It was a fairly large company, so it slipped through the cracks. I took off to Belize and they had no way of firing me because they had to get their money back. My boss was actually a pretty cool dude.

He said, “What you’re going to do on this trip is do your homework and set up the whole Belize thing so that next year you’re going to go there and host our clients.” It worked out. I went to Belize, rounded up a Shakespeare 12-weight (it was hard to get a 12-weight back then), and got my first tarpon and plenty of bonefish, but I did not get a permit. It was a pretty special trip and

66

huge growth in my travel experience. I loved it so much because I knew I was going to travel and I also realised you could do this without really having that much money.

My breakthrough fish on the Atlantic would have been a Jack Crevalle. That was the first big fish I caught. That was at a time, 30 years ago, when nobody gave a shit about Jack Crevalles.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

CENTRAL AMERICA GUAPOTE

The most fabulous fishing happened in Costa Rica in 1993. I actually went there with a friend with the intention of catching some sailfish from the rocks with my fly rod. I had a connection in San Jose, an older guy from Texas who had shopped in our store. He was a well-known guy in the industry, Jimmy Nicks. He was quick to say that we did not have the money for sailfish, but he said what we did have the money for was freshwater fish. Up north at Lake Arenal there’s a fish called Guapote, nicknamed the Rainbow Bass.

It’s a very cool fish. Jimmy hooked us up with his friend, this

old guy Peter and when we met him, smoking his pipe in his office, above him was a mount of a guapote which was at least 8lb. The next day he took us out on his boat to where he caught that fish. He told us that he had only caught a handful that big in the twenty years he had been living there and they were very rare. But goddamn if we didn’t go out the next day and catch some nice ones. My final fish that day was an 8lb guapote. By the end of the week I caught two more big ones. That’s when I first learned I had the golden horseshoe up my ass. At least that’s what Peter told me.

“MY FINAL FISH THAT DAY WAS AN 8LB GUAPOTE THAT’S WHEN I FIRST LEARNED I HAD THE GOLDEN HORSESHOE UP MY ASS.” W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

67

SOUTH AMERICA PAYARA

My first real trip to South America was to Venezuela in 1996. I went down there to catch Payara, aka Vampire Fish. By then I was so used to winging trips by myself through Central America that I thought I was just going to go to Venezuela and wing it again. I went with a friend who had never done a trip like that. The plan was to go down there, ride the busses into the jungle and stay in cheap places and hire Indians to take us out in their wooden canoes. Ironically, when we were on our flight from Atlanta to Caracas, a guy got on the plane with a peacock bass shirt. My friend remarked on the shirt, “Ah cool, peacock bass. We’re headed down to do some fishing too.”

The guy stopped, asked us where we were fishing and when we told him we were going to wing it, he said, “You guys are going to die. I’m in seat 23A, when the plane

68

takes off get your asses back here and come and talk to me.” It turned out, he owned a lodge that had been shut down four years earlier because Colombian guerillas stole their plane. The plane, carrying some doctors, landed and the guerillas came out of the jungle and had the pilot fly it with all the doctors back to Colombia where they disappeared for six months. The message from the guy in seat 23A – you don’t mess around in Venezuela. He was going back after four years to see if they had a lodge left.

He ended up offering to take us down to the lodge to catch payara if we did some work for him. Our assignment was to drive supplies from Caracas to his lodge, which was a seven-day drive. What a wild experience. Sometimes weird things happen when you travel, you meet people and stuff just comes together if you have time, and we had a month. We got it done and caught our payaras, as well as peacocks, piranhas and all sorts of cool shit.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

It was going to cost $6000 so, for me, it was never going to happen but, out of the blue that winter, I got a call from Walter. He wanted to know how serious I was about fishing for team USA. None of his friends wanted to go to Poland so he was willing to pay for me and my friend Gary (another guide in Jackson Hole). And just like that I was going to Poland. We did ok, we came in thirteenth place instead of the usual twenty fifth to thirtieth. I was twenty second and Gary was twenty fourth which, at that stage, was the highest an American had ever scored. Walter let us fish on the team for the next few years. I loved it. I became passionate about Europe, especially the European grayling. They are hard to catch and they made me a better fisherman because I had to learn how to catch them over the years to compete in these tournaments.

I met some Icelanders years later who were promoting their business at the New Jersey Fishing Show and they asked me to come over, do a blog and put their company in my presentations. On that trip I caught a really big Atlantic salmon which is a fish that has tormented me for years. I grew up with Atlantic salmon in Maine, Massachusetts and New Hampshire and never caught one. I tried in Sweden and also in Norway but never got one. To finally get one of 22lb in Iceland, makes it my favourite European fish.

EUROPE

AUSTRALIA

In 1996 they had the world fly fishing championships in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. To be honest with you, I didn’t even know there was a competition for fly fishing and I was against the idea. When I heard about it, my initial reaction was, ‘They’re going to come and fish our rivers!’ Anyway, I got asked to participate, not as an angler but as a host, to help out these foreigners. I loved it. It was so cool to meet all these teams – I think there were 32 - from around the world. I got close to all the English speaking teams. The US team was a bunch of old guys, one of whom, Walter, was a customer of mine and they got thirtieth place out of 33 teams. At the time I was about 30 years old and the other local fishing guides and I were talking shit, “Where did these Yodas come from? They suck! We should have had a real team, we could have won this thing.” Walter overheard us and said, “You would not have won, because Europeans are so good, you can’t even imagine.”

I’ve fished for browns and rainbows around Melbourne and done a photo assignment around Tasmania for Tassy tourism. There was a world championship just south of Sydney. Americans don’t know a thing about lake fishing and that was our first time doing a lake tournament. I’ll never forget how badly we got our ass kicked. What I got out of that was that I needed to learn how to lake fish. Nobody lake fishes around where I live in Idaho except for myself and a couple of friends. It’s pretty dam crowded on the rivers so now I fish lakes more than I fish rivers.

ATLANTIC SALMON (Honorable mention – European Grayling)

I recall that some of my friends who guided the Euros, saw these guys land two fish at a time. I think it had happened to me two or three times in my life. In a three-hour session they did it four times.

Walter then said, “The other thing is the American team had no funding, so we had to pay our way. Next year the competition is in Poland. If you’d like to go we’d love to have you.”

BROWN TROUT (Coveted target – Murray Cod)

If I go back, it will be for Murray cod. In the mid-90s when I visited Australia people were not focused on other species of fish. Twenty years ago, it was bad enough in the States, to get someone to fly fish for bass or carp, it just didn’t happen. In Australia, going for Murray cod on fly just didn’t happen. I think they have made a huge comeback. It was borderline endangered back then. Now I need to get over there and fish for Murray cod with Josh Hutchins (aka Aussie Fly Fisher www.aussieflyfisher.com).

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

69

ASIA

GOLDEN MAHSEER In 2002, my wife Granny (ed: his wife Yvonne’s nickname) and I went to Asia to do a full-on three month pursuit of mahseer from Nepal to India. It was probably the greatest adventure two young Americans could have in the year 2002, but we came up shy on mahseer on fly. I’ve since learned I was fishing too big a fly. You look at a mahseer in a picture and, without too much info on them back then, I was fishing big tarpon flies. I’ve learned since from fishing for them with Misty Dillon (legend of fly fishing for mahseer with The Himalayan Outback), that they like small flies, like size 8 brown Wooly Buggers.

After that three-month trip we had a joke about what I-N-D-I-A stood for. I Never Do It Again. Because, after living like locals, riding the busses and trains, we were pretty sick by the time we got back. I lost twenty pounds

72

and I can’t do that. I am a small man as it is. We were never going to go back but then, three years later, out of the blue I had written about India and somehow Misty got word that there was this American who had come over and got his ass kicked. He was just getting into fly fishing and the mahseer thing, so he invited me over. I went and fished with him and got what was considered at the time, the IGFA catch and release record for golden mahseer at 28lb. I ended up catching six big ones in all on that trip, a record Misty broke a couple of years later.

On the same day I caught that big fish, I ran into a Bengal tiger and almost lost my life. It’s a long campfire story, but in a nutshell, I saved my own life by having this instinct that something was following me. I finally saw the cat, just forty feet away. If I had taken one more step, it would have been over.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

AFRICA

NILE PERCH/TIGERFISH After India, Granny and I felt pretty confident about doing Africa. We finally made it over in 2005. To Americans, Africa has always been viewed as one of those places where you’ve got to be rich to go there because people think that it’s nothing but one giant safari through Tanzania and Kenya. My way of travel has always been the Lonely Planet book. We got the one for Central-Southern Africa and off we went. We wanted to start in Kenya and wing it down through Uganda and Tanzania over a three-month trip. I was using frequent flyer miles to get both of us there, but I could not get them to work for Kenya. The airline said I could not go to Nairobi or Dar es Salaam.

Lusaka, Zambia was however an option. I had to look at a map and saw it was close enough to the Zambezi so I said fine, give me two tickets for Lusaka. It was our goal to catch our first tigerfish. We spent some time around Maun in Botswana and then on the Zambezi with Garreth Coombes of Sekoma. We had a very successful trip catching tigers, barbel and bream.

If I have to choose a favourite fish, it’s definitely either tigerfish or Nile perch. My trip to Tanzania was pretty incredible. I got to meet the Tourette guys, became friends with them and got to do all their destinations. My biggest fish in Botswana was probably 11lb and the biggest the rest of that first trip was 13lb on the Kafue. Compare that

to my first day in Tanzania which was just an afternoon session, I got four fish between 12lb and 15lb. We were doing that movie Connect and I remember our photo guy that first night looking at the footage and going, “Holy shit, we’ve already got a movie!’. On the second to last day I got a 22 pounder up at the rapids. In Cameroon I wanted to catch a Nile Perch like the one I caught in Lake Nasser in Egypt, which was a 44 pounder. So I was relentless. In the end, I got that 53 pounder and I was stoked.

Photo by Jim Harris

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

73

PACIFIC

ROOSTERFISH For me the Pacific is about my quest to get a big rooster fish. It was probably one of the hardest of all my fish quests other than the golden mahseer. It started with me spending five weeks basically living on the beach in Baja. The biggest rooster I caught the entire trip was 4lb.

But there was a lot to learn back then. Since the late 90s a lot more people are doing it and you stand a much better chance. Better flies, better lines. We know their habits better.

I caught my most memorable rooster with one of my childhood friends, Sammy, and a guy I became friends with named Grant Hartman of Baja Anglers. I went off on my own while Grant guided Sammy. I landed my big rooster. Those guys weren’t even in sight when I got it. The fish was so big that when I hauled it in, I could not handle it or take a photo. I was just standing there fumbling around, looking at this thing in awe. While I was looking at it, a big wave came in and kind of took it back out. The fish sort of up-righted, but did not take off. It just kind of chilled.

I thought I’d just ease my fly line out, maybe 60 feet and try to walk the beach to my buddies. The fish was very well behaved. I held my rod high and we walked together down the beach. Finally, I got close enough and they were looking at me wondering what the hell I was doing waving.

They figured it out. ‘Jeff’s got his big rooster.’ I thought I was going to just reel that thing in for pictures. Nah. Because I had walked it for 45 minutes, that SOB took off and it was like a whole do-over. We got him in and took some photos. It was a nice fish, probably 35lb. That was it, things clicked.

77

“IT WAS PROBABLY ONE OF THE HARDEST OF ALL MY FISH QUESTS OTHER THAN THE GOLDEN MAHSEER.”

INDIAN OCEAN

BUMPHEAD PARROTFISH I don’t host. It’s not something I like to do. I do one trip every four years. So I said, “Jim, I’m down in Arizona on vacation with Granny.”

Jim said, “You don’t understand, Ian’s dad died.”

Ian is Jim’s business partner.

“Ian was hosting in the Seychelles starting on Saturday and he can’t go. We have no other person. We advertised it as a hosted trip. You’ve got to do it.”

I look at my wife sitting on the curb, stressed out, and there’s a broken car. I’d had a horrible November and I said, “Jim, as much as I want to go to the Seychelles, I am going to have to turn this trip down.”

He yelled at me, “When you come to your goddamn senses – you call me back!”

Click.

I remember looking at my phone and thinking, “Did I just say no to this? Did I just piss off Klug that bad?”

Having fished Sudan, I really wanted to go to the Seychelles and St Brandon’s. I did not know the Flycastaway guys, but I had started working for Yellowdog Fly Fishing Adventures as an ambassador. If somebody is looking at a destination, say, Tanzania and they can’t close the deal, they will call me and get me to call the guy and tell him about my trip.

I’m their closer.

Granny looked up and said, “Is that Klug? He sounded pretty stressed out. Did he want you to go to the Seychelles?”

I had just come back from a ten-day trip to Guyana, doing some tagging of arapaima for an aquarium in Chicago and I got home to one of the worst Novembers weather-wise you have ever seen. I returned to five feet of snow and my wife just pulling her hair out. So I suggested we take a few days off and go to Arizona for a vacation because it is warm all year round. We hopped in the car, drove to Arizona and literally, less than 24 hours after we got there our car broke down. We were sitting on the side of the highway waiting for a wrecker to come and get our vehicle when my phone rang. I was Jim Klug, owner of Yellowdog and he’s like, “Currier! we need you to fill in on an emergency host job!”

The wrecker came and towed the car. We made it home within 24 hours. I threw a bunch of saltwater shit in a duffel bag and hosted that trip. And what a trip it was. My target species was a bumphead parrotfish and I ended up catching two of them. It was frigging awesome. Such an epic trip. I ended up going back to Farquhar, hosting a trip anyway because I loved it so much. I’ll be back in the Seychelles again in December in Providence hosting a trip.

I explained that he wanted me to leave on Saturday and that we were in a broken car hundreds of miles from home and she just said, “And you said no? You call him back and you tell him you’ll be there.”

*Apologies to Antarctica as it got subbed for Central America, but no doubt, as the planet melts, Jeff will be dredging for Ross Sea Cod Icefish soon enough.

“SOMETIMES WEIRD THINGS HAPPEN WHEN YOU TRAVEL, YOU MEET PEOPLE AND STUFF JUST COMES TOGETHER IF YOU HAVE TIME” 80

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

W H Y P L AY G O L F W H E N Y O U C A N G O F I S H I N G ?

A F T E R Y E A R S O F B U S I N E S S T R AV E L A N D C U S T O M E R R E L AT I O N S , J A N N I E V I S S E R F I N A L LY M A N A G E S T O COMBINE BUSINESS WITH PLEASURE IN DUBAI

CARRY ON OR CHECK IN? CHICKEN OR FISH? TRANSIT OR CUSTOMS? No matter how much you love travelling, when it’s for work, there comes a point when the thrill disappears. All you want is a home-cooked meal, fresh air (as opposed to the canned stuff on planes) and to know that when you wake up you’ll be free of jet lag, at home with your loved ones, not in another hotel in another country, making grey sensible choices from the grey available options.

I travel for work. A lot. I’m in the fruit game. For my company, I handle marketing and sales in the Middle and Far East Asia. Travel is essentially about relationship building. Sometimes you see new clients, but mostly it’s about going over there, discussing your own product, sorting out problems, talking about the new season and cementing existing relationships with your customers.

82

“Cement” in the business sense is made from sand, booze and eating out - golf, long boozy lunches that turn into dinners and often a late night in a nightclub.

Ask anyone in sales, marketing or customer relations … emails and phone calls are fine to a point, forecasts you made and delivered on are even better, but the truth is most clients want to see you, get to know you and they want to have a few dops (drinks). That’s what really cements a relationship and, when times are tough, the fact that you’ve had some good times with the client in the past, really goes a long way in solving present or future problems.

Remember the dodgy curry and that babelas (hangover) in Bangalore? How about the F1 in Abu Dhabi and the bender in Bahrain?

You bet I do.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

HANGOVER OR HERO SHOT? That’s the backstory for how I, a 46-year-old father of two from Somerset West, found myself in a night club in the middle of Dubai at approximately 1am, staring into the mirror of a glitzy bathroom, considering whether it would be prudent to stick my finger down my throat… or not.

In the Bloody Mary soup of my brain, three things were top of mind:

Three – Fly fishing for business.

I’m marveling at how, after decades of being an angler and rarely being able to use it to my advantage at any social gathering( let alone a business meeting), tomorrow I will be cementing, for the first time, a business relationship with a client by spending the morning fishing with Ocean Active in Dubai. That means an early start on the boat. I’m not going to mess this up.

The finger it is.

One – know thyself.

I’m not the biggest guy so I have to watch it when clients get boozing that I do not try to match them drink-fordrink. I go way back with these clients, so it’s always tricky dodging hangovers.

Two - I hate golf.

It’s part and parcel of the customer relationship thing, so I’ve had to play a fair few games over the years, but whether it’s on the greens of my home in the Western Cape (where my eyes tend to glaze over while staring at a water hazard trying to spot bass or carp); or on the browns of Dubai (staring out at the Persian Gulf, dreaming of Sudanese triggers and Socotran bones) – my heart is just not in it.

“TOMORROW I WILL BE CEMENTING, FOR THE FIRST TIME, A BUSINESS RELATIONSHIP WITH A CLIENT BY SPENDING THE MORNING FISHING”

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

85

“WHO KNEW THAT THE WATERS SURROUNDING THE CITY WITH THE WORLD’S GREATEST SKYSCRAPERS WOULD BE TEEMING WITH QUEENFISH, GOLDEN TREVALLY AND OTHER SPECIES?

Jannie Visser and Nick Bowles of Ocean Active Fly working with queenfish in the Dubai office.

CLOUSER OR POPPER? Was it Rumsfeld who went on about there being known unknowns and unknown unknowns?

At first, the fact that there is good fly fishing in front of Dubai comes as a surprise. I mean, who knew that the waters surrounding the city with the world’s greatest skyscrapers would be teeming with queenfish, golden trevally and other species? However, if you let the slow sink rate of your mind do its thing for a second, it makes perfect sense.

With the Persian Gulf right there, plus the Gulf of Oman round the corner and the Arabian Sea, why wouldn’t there be any number of ocean-going species? Sure, Dubai was developed from the sand up and the decades of construction might have impacted on whatever fishery was there to begin with, but with the creation of byzantine developments like The World, The Palm Jumeirah and various other man-made structures stretching out into the sea, the ocean life in and around Dubai seems to be thriving. If anything, it’s getting better.

A lot of things in Dubai are artificial – ski slopes, putting greens, even some of the wealth on display , I wager – but I discovered within an hour of hitting the water that the fishing is very much real. The Dubai species menu includes queenfish, goldens and cobia. The goldens are found closer to the bottom and because the queens

are quicker to the fly, that’s what you catch the most of.

The cobia come in to Dubai only at a certain time of the year as do coota. Where they were building The World (a man-made archipelago of islands in the shape of, you guessed it, the world), they have even caught milkies. But it was the queens I came for and the queens I got (the name of Dubai’s first fly fishing club is called the Queens of Dubai, for good reason).

I’ve caught queenfish before, from small ones in Australia to a big one deep-dredging off the Mozambican coast.

This was the first time I’ve ever experienced them like this.

You see the queens pushing bait, making bow waves and busting up all over the place so, most of the time, you can sight cast to them. They remind me of the leervis we get back home. You just need to cover them. And like leervis, they are sorely underrated. Truly awesome fish – they jump a lot and the bigger ones take a lot of string. We used floating lines, because sight fishing is always first choice, but I’m sure if you used intermediate lines and went a bit deeper you’d catch more. Nothing beats the visual surface stuff though.

To say that fly fishing in Dubai is surreal would be an understatement. Ours was the only boat so it felt oddly exclusive like a VIP area in a club. There was nobody else around.

My client and I were going mad, getting into fish after fish, with the amazing backdrop of this mega-city right there.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

89

Being in the fruit and shipping industry, it was a particularly bizarre experience as we hit the queen jackpot right at the entrance to the main port. Knowing where our containers go and to be at the entrance to the port where they were, it was interesting to be right there at the confluence of commerce, tourism and nature.

The Ocean Active Fly guys tell me they used to have to go out a lot further looking for fish, but now with The Palm having being built there, things have changed. During construction they had to dredge a lot of channels and build with rock, so new coral has started to grow and a whole new eco-system has formed. With the creation of structure that means the fishing is right there. They know the tides and on which channel the fish will be feeding.

In keeping with the luxury vibes of Dubai, on the boat when you have caught a fish, have taken some photos and released it, there’s a towel waiting for you to wipe your hands when you’re done. Your rod is taken and the line pulled out for you. When you move spots, they take your rod and reel it in. They call it, “Gentleman’s Fly Fishing.”

Even though our time was limited because we had to get back to catch a flight, if you’re not in a rush, you can stop off at a pub, hop off the boat, have a few beers and only then return to the city.

There are destinations around the world, where you have to work to get there. Domestic flights followed by interna-

90

tional flights, hours in transit and more international flights, more domestic flights and then boat and car rides deep into what, for you, is the middle of nowhere.

With Dubai, very little of that applied. And, in my case, as someone who travels a lot, it added another dimension to the entertainment aspect of business travel, one that had never been on the table before. I was surprised at how easy the whole process was. At first I wrestled with how would I fit it in with the business. A few emails, a few phone calls, a chat with my client who it turns out also likes fishing and a mention to my boss who gave me the green light was all it took.

We flew in to Dubai, transited directly to Saudi on the Monday morning, spent Monday night there, flew out the next day, arrived in Dubai on Tuesday afternoon, met the customers, had lunch, talked business, had a huge night out and early on Wednesday morning, at around 6:30am, we went fishing. We were fishing by 7am, with the first stop right in front of the port. I was back at the hotel by 12 and caught a plane to India at 4pm on Wednesday, for the next leg of the trip.

And I didn’t have to play golf once.

Jannie Visser and his client fished with Ocean Active Fly based in Dubai.

Find out more at oceanactivefly.com

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

yellowtailkingfish yellowtailkingfish

flatsfishing flatsfishing

localsaltwater localsaltwater

wildrainbows wildrainbows @upstream_flyfishing @upstream_flyfishing @Upstream Flyfishing @Upstream Flyfishing

* RETAIL * ONLINE * TRAVEL * * RETAIL * ONLINE * TRAVEL *

VISIT US 274 MAIN ROAD VISIT US KENILWORTH 274 MAIN ROAD CAPE TOWN KENILWORTH SOUTH AFRICA CAPE TOWN 7708 SOUTH AFRICA 7708

E: fish@upstreamflyfishing.co.za

www.upstreamflyfishing.co.za

T: +27 (0) 21 762 8007

E: fish@upstreamflyfishing.co.za

www.upstreamflyfishing.co.za

T: +27 (0) 21 762 8007

L AT ES T R E L E A S ES

SALAD BAR MAKO – 9500, 9550 & 9600 REELS As fished by Exmouth’s Jono Shales, Cosmo’s Cameron Musgrave, Captain Jack/Jako Lucas, Christiaan Pretorius and a bunch of other big-fish taming chaps who always look like they are mid-orgasm while stepping on Lego – Mako’s legend for indestructible, fish-stopping quality precedes itself. Upstream Fly Fishing has managed to secure a deal with Mako reels, making them only the second store in the world (after Farlows of London) to stock the fabled brand. If you consider that there is normally a 12-week waiting period for this coveted beast, it’s a bit of a coup. How good are they? Well, the founder of Mako, Jack Charlton, worked as a space programme engineer so, as a result, with NASA DNA coursing through their parts, these reels are seen as the gold standard of engineering. Available in both black and platinum, and made for right hand retrieve, Upstream has the 9500 Inshore & Saltwater reel (9-weight equivalent), the 9550 Medium Saltwater reel (10-weight equivalent) and the 9600 Large Saltwater reel (12-weight equivalent). makoreels.com, upstreamflyfishing.co.za

DEMERBOX Take POTUS’s nuclear football briefcase (fun fact: it’s made

by Halliburton), get it into a drunken three-way with a Yeti cooler and a Pelican camera case while listening to The Mission Playlist on page 16, and we’d like to think that the resulting beautiful bastard spawn would be the Demerbox, an indestructible Bluetooth speaker. Designed by James Demer who used to travel the world as an audio engineer working on sets for Survivor and Vice News, it delivers clear, loud audio with crisp highs and punchy bass, packs a 50-hour battery life, can charge your phone, is highly portable, is 100% waterproof and is virtually indestructible. We’re lusting hard after it. demerbox.com

92

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

XPLORER – JOURNEY DELUXE II V BOAT Remember when the Mercedes-Benz Maybach first came out? It was a statement – don’t just give me luxury dammit! Give me deluxury! The new Journey Deluxe II V Boat is pretty much the Maybach of float tubes. It still has two separate, durable urethane inner bladders for extra safety on the water, a tough 1000 tarpaulin bottom and 420 D Cordura upper, but there are new features too.

For one, the cargo pockets have been re-designed and now have larger, semi rigid side walls, with a large front pocket and a separate rear section on each. There is a drinks holder on the one pocket (Dom Perignon not included). What else? There are flat side mesh pockets on the cargo pocket, the stripping apron has raised edges on the front and sides to prevent line from falling over. There is a 3cm deep cargo pocket on the stripping apron to store essential gear and for easy access when needed, a rear cargo pocket on the backrest of the seat and a quick release stabilizer bar. xplorerflyfishing.co.za

FISHPOND – WEST BANK WADING BELT Think of the West Bank Wading Belt from Fishpond as your new best friend. Like an advanced fannypack/lanyard/ belt, its clever modular design works with so many other products. Slot a net down the back, attach Fishpond’s Quickshot rod holder on one hip and a wading staff or chest pack on the other. The customisation is up to you.

Plus, it does the basic job a wading belt is meant to do save your life. fishpondusa.com, frontierflyfishing.co.za

SCIENTIFIC ANGLERS – AMPLITUDE TROUT Without trying to sound like Viagra ambassadors, in all seriousness, do you want to shoot farther and last longer?

Of course you do. We’ve experienced the smooth sensation of Scientific Angler’s Amplitude Trout lines first hand.

The first series of lines to feature their revolutionary AST PLUS slickness additive, there’s a unique swooshiness (for want of a better word) to the Amplitude range. The triple-textured line features a floating textured tip, a shooting texture running line for distance in your cast and a revised compound taper for delicate deliveries. Slicker than owl shit and durable too – if you’re serious about trout, test this line. scientificanglers.com, frontierflyfishing.co.za

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

93

SIMMS – GUIDE WINDBLOC HAT They had us at “high-loft fleece earflaps,” but other than a lifelong ambition to keep our wing-nuts warm when fishing, the Guide Windbloc hat from Simms has a few more winning elements. Polartec® Windbloc construction with 4-way stretch, plus a cord-lock system to keep it on your pip no matter the wind (yes, Jurassic Lake included) – tick. Moisture dumping exterior so you can maintain warmth even when it’s wet – tick. A deluxe interior grid-fleece crown to go with them earflaps – tick. Endearing Elmer Fudd style – tick. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.co.za

SIGHT LINE PROVISIONS – BRACELETS Fancy a great looking leather cuff featuring your favourite fish?

Edgar Diaz of Sightline Provisions has built himself an empire out of these leather and stainless steel bracelets designed to connect you mentally with the places you love most (even when you’re sitting in a meeting at work). Upstream Fly Fishing is the first retailer in South Africa to stock Sightline Provisions products. From trout to GTs, there’s a lineup of saltwater and freshwater choices as well as limited edition Rep Your Water/Sightline Provisions hats. sightlineprovisions.com, upstreamflyfishing.co.za PATAGONIA – TROPIC COMFORT HOODY One of our go-to water wardrobe staples (for denizens of warmer climates such as ourselves), the Tropic Comfort Hoody is like that trusty pair of sweats you’ll never throw out. Cool when its warm, relatively warm when it turns cool and always comfortable, these ultra-light, Fair Trade Certified tops made of breathable 100% polyester (50% recycled) are now available in three new colours at Mavungana Flyfishing. Mako Blue – (stunning on the flats dahlink), Myrtle Bark Camo Birch (to become one with Sterkfontein Dam’s rocky shores) and Feather Grey (to match a misty morning in Dullstroom). patagonia.com, flyfishing.co.za

SEMPERFLI – USB RECHARGEABLE UV TORCH UV torches chow batteries - there’s no two ways about it.

Recognising that, the brains trust at Semperfli8 developed the 3W USB Chargeable UV Resin Torch. Considering most of us have a computer or USB dock handy, simply make space next to your vape and keep the torch plugged in at all times for UV work. This torch combined with Semperfli’s brilliant No Tack UV (an easy to apply, zero-tack glossy resin that gives you time to work it into shape with a bodkin) = killer flies. semperfli.us, xplorerflyfishing.co.za

94

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

COSTA – RINCONCITO Do you have a small head? Maybe you were born that way or an unfortunate incident with a pair of forceps pinched your pip a bit? Whatever the case Beetlejuice, the Costa Rinconcito, the little brother to Costa’s Rincon frame, may just be the shades for you. Blending West Coast style lines and edgy curved temples, this medium style frame, named for the iconic Southern California right point break, features bio-resin construction, polarized 100% UV Protection Lenses, integral spring hinges, and Hydrolite® nose and temple pads. If sight fishing is on the menu, with a 12% light transmission we would go for the copper silver mirror 580 glass lens seen here. costadelmar.com

TEVA - WILDER Finally, a water shoe that actually looks good. Quick drying rafting shoe meets grippy hiker with climbing shoe-inspired lace system (and tabs for easy entry), plus a dash of fashion nous, the Teva Wilder was designed for wet-dry adventure. To be clear, these are not wading boots so don’t tackle a full day on a Cape stream with them. They are also not trail running shoes, so forget the Leadville Trail 100. What they are is an ingenious in-betweener – the switch rod of fishing footwear.

Sporting a breathable upper of splash-friendly scuba fabric and foot-hugging elastic lacing, plus a reinforced heel cup and rubber vamps towards the front, they are perfect for that exploratory ‘look-see’ up a random valley. teva.com

PATAGONIA – QUANDARY CONVERTIBLE HIKING PANTS There’s nothing that quite says tourist like a pair of zip-off pants, but there’s also nothing that quite rivals the smugness of a man who has options (just ask anyone with several passports). We know, because we have zip-off pants or “wardrobe butterflies” as we like to call them. Start with pants in the early morning, because it’s cold and, by midday, transform them into shorts unveiling knees the fish will quiver at. Come nightfall, whether it’s the local town bar or a camp site, you can pant-up again, you fly fishing Transformer you. patagonia.com, flyfishing.co.za

SIMMS EXTREAM CORE TOP When it’s colder than Kirstjen Nielsen’s heart out there, you want to keep warm from the get go.

With thumbhole cuffs to keep your sleeves in place as you cast and reach, plus a cut designed to give you a free range of motion, the Extream Core Top from Simms not only features a two-layer weave to trap the heat close to your body, it also boasts an integrated hood and neck gaiter design to seal out the cold and allow for believable ninja impressions. simmsfishing.com, frontierflyfishing.co.za

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

95

ORVIS CLEARWATER ROD Remakes can be a terrible idea, especially if the original was a cracker (case in point = Madonna and American Pie). One of the all-time great value rods, the new version Clearwater 5-Weight 9’ Fly Rod from Orvis is a remake that gets it right.

To be clear, this is no cosmetic retouch, but a totally rebuilt rod, which in the 9-foot 5-weight is perfect for bigger rivers.

In terms of function, it’s a medium-fast action all-rounder capable of throwing streamers, fishing hopper-dropper and with the length to reach out and mend drifts. Looks-wise, expect a package of black chrome blanks with white accents, chrome snake and stripping guides with a ceramic insert, full black nickel aluminium reel seats and a grey rod tube. Take that, Madge. orvis.com, flyfishing.co.za

ST CROIX IMPERIAL USA ROD Did you know, St. Croix has been around for over 70 years? Like those mystery anglers who aren’t trying to be Insta-famous - they’re one of those low-key great value brands that just get on with making surprisingly good rods. One of their older models, the Imperial® USA fly rod now in its third generation release (as of late 2018), delivers on that promise of elevated performance and value. Featuring a dynamic blend of high-modulus/high-strain SCIV graphite and premium quality SCII graphite; slim-profile ferrules; Kigan Master Hand 3D stripper guides with aluminium-oxide rings and black frames; Sea Guide® snake guides with black PVD coating for extra hardness and increased smoothness, this is a do-everything rod. Available in freshwater models from 2-6-weight and saltwater from 7-10-weight. stcroixrods.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za

XPLORER VOYAGER FLY RODS There’s some subliminal messaging coming out of the Xplorer stable. First there was the instruction to “explore” and now with the launch of their new range, they clearly want us to travel places to go fish. You don’t even have to play a Miley Cyrus album backwards to get the drift. The Voyager range of four-piece rods comes in six 9 foot models - 3,4,5,6,7 and 9 - and two 10 foot nymphing models in a 4-weight and 5-weight. High modulus graphite blanks with a moderate to fast action, Voyager rods sport a matt black finish to reduce rod flash; stainless steel stripping guides and snake guides; both half Wells and full Wells cork grip options; a line weight indicator on the reel seat; a black Cordura covered protective rod tube and full back up service from Xplorer. xplorerflyfishing.co.za

REDINGTON PATH II FLY RODS Shining Path generally refers to Communist Peruvian terrorists, but it could also apply to the sexy new Path rods from Redington. Affordable, smooth-casting, medium-fast action graphite fly rods, offering classic performance for all levels of anglers, Path II rods 6-weight and under come either with a half-Wells handle and a wood reel seat for a classic look and feel, while the 7 weights and above feature a full-Wells grip with anodized aluminium reel seat that is ready for salt or fresh water conditions. redington.com, xplorerflyfishing.co.za

96

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

A CONTINENTAL DRIFT Love truly African experiences? Looking for the trip of a lifetime without having to break the bank and travel across 9 time zones?

One of the continent’s jewels and a South African/Namibian national treasure, we operate on what we consider the best stretch of the 2340km long Orange river, running through the remote Richtersveld National Park.

We have custom-built inflatable rafts and we have partnered with SA’s longest standing rafting company to handle our logistics while we concentrate on the fish. An experienced fly fishing guide will row the rafts while a logistics team heads downstream ensuring you arrive at picturesque camp site, tents and showers awaiting, gin and tonics poured, and gourmet wilderness food ready to go on the fire.

And your job? Fish yourself silly. Being rowed means you will fish 100% of the day, maximising all the breathtaking water you drift over, targeting beastly Smallmouth yellowfish in the fast runs and rapids up to 12 pounds, as well as swinging baitfish for the huge structure-orientated Largemouth we have had in excess of 20 pounds. This is the place where PB’s and hearts are broken daily!

Or as someone recently said on one of our drifts, “leave your rods in the rod holders while the best scenery on the planet slips by! Sleep under the greatest star show on earth, and not even worry about the trophy fish finning around your raft - this is not a fishing trip it’s an indescribable experience.”

Go to www.flyfishing.co.za or mail us at info@flyfishing.co.za and we can give you the low-down!

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

Mavungana JHB Illovo Square, 3 Rivonia Road,JHB, Gauteng, 011 268 5850

W W W. F LY F I S H I N G . C O . Z A

63 1 7 1

The Mavungana Flyfishing Centre Main Road Dullstroom, 013 254 0270

M U S T H AV ES

PAYDAY CHRIS DOMBROWKSI RAGGED ANTHEM

–

One of our favourite author/ poets/ fly fishing guides is back with a new collection of poetry. You may remember Dombrowski from his excellent Body of Water: A Sage, a Seeker, and the World’s Most Elusive Fish, which tells the story of legendary Bahamian bonefish guide David Pinder. In the poems of Ragged Anthem Dombrowski is older, wiser, somewhat bruised, heart-broken and more disillusioned, yet still full of wonder at the simple moments in life, from the natural world to being a father. Here’s one of our favourites. wsupress.wayne.edu

Lunar Calendar Three moons in particular appear to have it in for me: The Moon of It Gets Late Early Here; The Moon of Winter Stores Wearing Thin; and The Moon of I Have to Quit Fishing and Return Underappreciated and Underpaid to Work.

Of course there is also The Moon of Too Many Plastic Presents and Cups of Unspiked Nog, not to mention The Moon of Everybody But Me Flies to a Beach Town and Drinks Free Margaritas; And while I take rare comfort in The Moon of We Start Anyway to Get Some Color Back in Our Cheeks, it often devolves into The Moon of Crunching Numbers for the Man. Praise be, though, to The Moon of the Long Larch-Colored Light! Unless of course you are an herbivorian ungulate in which case it becomes The Moon of Dodging Hurtling Pieces of Lead.

Moon of Not Too Much But a Little More Light Each Day, I thank you and beg you not to morph into The Moon That Recalls the Time She Left For Good; this goes as well for The Moon of Picking Wild Asparagus,

ABEL x AC/DC REEL Hells Bells! Abel have brought out another limited edition rock-inspired art reel (check out their work with the Grateful Dead too) and this time AC/DC are the focus. Available in a Super series reel in 5/6 or 7/8, expect the iconic AC/DC logo in a handpainted and hand-anodized finish. A proprietary process also adds background smoke, completing a one-of-a-kind design that fans will aspire to add to their collection. These limited edition are available in the Super Series model in two sizes; 5/6 and 7/8.

Each reel is individually serialized 1 through 300 in an AC/DC style font that aficionados are sure to recognize. abelreels.com

98

which doubles as The Moon of When I Caught Her in the Backyard Kissing Him, aka The Moon of When All Resentment Ripens. But, Moon of We Finally Put Our Fleece on Again and Watch You Refracting Light onto the Peaks’ First Dusting, you redeem all other god-cast stones, as do you, Moon of When the Muddy Water Clears and Trout Can See My Flies Again—which leaves just you, Moon of Wool Hats at Night but Naked Lake Swims at Noon, Moon of Ripe Huckleberries by the Fistful, Moon of Dragonflies Cupped in Daughter’s Palms, Moon of Everything (Even Talking to a Mute Stone) Is Alright.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

FISH UPPER ZAMBEZI GORGES & WATERFALLS The Sioma Barotse Experience is a 5 night fishing safari combining two camps on two different parts of the Zambezi River in Western Zambia.

Tigerfish

Largemouth Bream

Upper Zambezi Yellowfish

JUNE - DECEMBER 2019 / 2020

To book, contact James: +27 (72) 536 1337 or visit our website: www.royalbarotsesafaris.com/sioma-barotse

SHORTCASTS T H E R E T U R N O F F 3 T, T H E P O W E R O F P O O P, F LY O N W H E E L S , SPEYCO X BLUE HALO, MARINE SCIENCES IN SCHOOLS AND PODCASTS WORTHY OF YOUR EARS

GET YOUR TICKETS TO.... …F3T – yes, it’s back and it’s better than ever. The South African leg of F3T will run three events in June in Cape Town (11th), Johannesburg (12th) and Durban (13th). Be sure to get your tickets from Quicket. f3tsa.co.za, quicket.co.za ROLL UP… …For the FLYONWHEELS challenge at La Ferme in Franschhoek on the 25th of May. Put together by well-known disabled anglers Mark Schawrtz and Duggy Wessels, it’s an open day open to any fly anglers, but with a twist. Anglers form teams to fish the beats and able-bodied anglers must fish from a wheelchair. Expect prizes, penalties, braai, drinks and hilarity. Email or call Mark at mark@chairmanind.co.za / 0828966018 for more information.

LISTEN TO.... ....Terra Incognita – stories and adventures from the world’s greatest explorers. theadventurepodcast.co.uk BBC Animals and time - Does a second feel the same for a fly, a bird, or a swordfish, as it does for you? Geoff Marsh drills into the science of time perception within and between species. This might explain why your response to a take is so low. bbc.co.uk

MARVEL… …At the restorative properties of bird poop which according to SCIENCE plays a vital role in the growth of coral reefs. So that one time a seagull shat on your head and your mother said it was lucky? Newsflash – she was lying. Should have gone to the coral polyps instead.

APPLAUD… … the visionaries at the Two Oceans Aquarium who have developed a new marine sciences curriculum which is being piloted at three schools in 2019 and will be rolled out nationwide in 2020. Covering five sub-disciplines - Marine Geography and Geology, Marine Chemistry, Marine Physics, Marine Biology and Humans and the Ocean – it’s forward thinking education like this that might give younger generations a shot at saving the planet the rest of us have done a poor job at looking after. aquarium.co.za

DROOL… …Over the STORM, the new collab reel by Speyco for Blue Halo.

A limited edition click and pawl reel that hits that sweet spot between old school and modern, typical of Blue Halo’s style it sports an over-sized fiberglass handle and matching fiberglass faceplate. bluehalostore.com

“THAT ONE TIME A SEAGULL SHAT ON YOUR HEAD AND YOUR MOTHER SAID IT WAS LUCKY? NEWSFLASH - SHE WAS LYING” 100

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

®

IMAGINE... NO CAPE STREAMS

Trout fishing is under threat in South Africa – without FOSAF Do your bit at R300* for a year’s FOSAF membership. *Get in touch with your local club for R150 affiliate discounts.

Photo Ryan Janssens

to fight our battles.

JOIN at www.fosaf.org.za

THE LIFER

THE VAALIE F O R A Q U A R T E R O F A C E N T U R Y, J O H A N N E S B U R G ’ S I A N C O U R Y E R ( A K A T H E F I S H W H I S P E R E R ) H A S B E E N F I S H I N G T H E VA A L R I V E R . F R O M FA M I LY T O F I S H A N D T H E P L A C E S T H AT M A K E H I M H A P P Y, H E S H A R E S A FEW GEMS FROM THE L AST 25 YEARS’ WORTH OF EXPERIENCE. Photos Ian Courier Archive

The first proper fish I remember catching was in the Illovo estuary on the Natal South Coast. I made up a rig for mullet from a diagram from Len Jones’s booklet on fishing the Natal.

It was a cork with some lead from a wine bottle top glued on one side for casting weight and it had two separate pieces of light nylon from a swivel with one tiny hook on each. Each hook was baited with a small square of floating bread crust. My Dad, who was not a fisherman, suggested I drift it around one of the railway bridge pillars where the water had a little depth. After a few seconds a fish boiled on the bread and I was on. As we later found out, it was a black tail! We kept the fish and four of us ate it, fried in butter. It was delicious.

I was born in Port Elizabeth and lived there until I was ten when we moved to Natal. We lived at the top of the South Coast. The family moved up to Johannesburg half way through my last year of primary school and I have lived here ever since. Johannesburg is the hub of South Africa, where all the action is. If we had Cape Town’s Table Mountain up here, we wouldn’t drive past it wandering across three lanes of traffic, going “shoo wow, look at the moantan”. We would mine 50 % of it and then build Africa’s biggest shopping mall on top with at least ten car dealerships and a couple of laager type “Boere Tuscan” lifestyle estates for rich people.

I’ve worked many different jobs, newspaper boy, busboy, waiter, barman, bolt counter, section leader, sign maker, shop assistant, shop owner, salesman, landscaper, fly tier, writer, fly fishing guide and bed and breakfast owner.

A typical day starts at 4.30 am when I am at home, and not away hosting one of my weekend fly- fishing trips.

It’s pretty domestic. I get my wife and child off to work and school and then concentrate on our bed and breakfast business. If I get a gap, I will write an article on some fly-fishing topic, reply to emails, and tie some flies for the orders I have and when that’s done perhaps sort out some deliveries.

I have been fortunate as I have an overseas magazine that I write for now. I write and tie every day which keeps me happy and sane.

My home waters for the last 25 or so years have been on the Vaal River, particularly at a venue called Eendekuil. I have caught yellows there every year for 25 years now and guided there for at least 20 of those. I pretty much know the place backwards. It’s my happy place and when I wade in there I am completely in my element, master of my domain.

I truly love it.

The most satisfying fish I ever caught was a rather humble specimen of a brown trout of about a pound from the Lambonja River at Cathedral Peak in the Drakensberg.

This was back in the early nineties and I was a relative novice river fly fisherman, but I can remember it like it was this morning and the experience remains in my mind as a time when I did everything correctly and it worked out. Twenty five years on and plenty of fish later, it’s still that one. The fish was in a difficult spot eating something tiny off the top. I got him on the smallest dry in my box and on the third cast and he put up the best aerial display I have ever seen from any fish, (pretty impressive from a creature that’s apparently not keen on jumping).

He was as silver as a fresh run salmon and as thin as an eel, and at 17 inches my biggest trout from the stream.

I am most proud of my family. My wife and son are incredible, talented caring people and my mother and sister, really wonderful human beings.

Once place never again? I don’t think I’ll ever go to fly fish the Zambezi River again. Two types of fly fishing have never appealed to me: fishing off a boat at sea over a reef by dumping your di7 line overboard and ripping it back, and tiger fishing. I have never wanted to go tiger fishing and yet I was given an almost free trip many years ago to fish the Zambezi. Maybe I had just psyched myself out, but I hated it.

The best party trick I ever saw was probably some members of the UCT mountaineering club, hanging one-handed off the front of the grandstand roof of the Danie Craven stadium, during the intervarsity rugby match.

One place I have to return to is the South Esk River in Scotland during mayfly time. As a child it’s where I saw trout rising for the first time and my grandfather used to be a member of the club there. It’s where we come from.

The best advice I’ve ever been given is, if at first you don’t succeed, give it up as a bad job. Time is precious, stick to what you’re good at.

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

105

It’s okay to lie to protect your fishing from the masses. I’m good at saying I didn’t catch anything when asked, just to keep the crowds away if it’s at a venue that matters to me. Anglers have a reputation for embellishing stories and lying about the size and weight of their catch. I’m not one of those, but a lot of guys are. I must have seen a hundred pics of 7-pound yellows that were claimed as double figure catches. If it matters to you, get a proper scale and weigh your fish in the net.

the surface, and I am convinced they appear more natural to the fish.

The best way to face one’s fears is the head in the sand technique. Just ignore things and pretend that they are not there, and they will go away eventually.

My handiest survival skill is that I have the patience to open a tin can with one of those mini can opener attachments you get on a Swiss Army knife.

Some elements of fly fishing have changed for me over the years, but the core of the fun of fly fishing has always remained the same. I find it as absorbing now as I ever did. In fact, I have reached a level where there is less frustration and more enjoyment.

Knowing more is a good place to be and I am still learning on every outing but with greater understanding and insight.

Something I have changed my mind about is high riding dry flies.

On fast water, slow water and heavily fished waters they are generally less effective than a low floating pattern.

Parachutes and other similar styles of pattern have the edge in that they create a bigger footprint on

I am not sure whether it’s a South African thing, but a lot of guys have really big egos when it comes to fly fishing. I was in a proper fly shop the other day and a Protea (South African national team) angler strolled in oozing attitude and talking down to guys as if they were idiots.

106

W W W. T H E M I S S I O N F LY M A G . C O M

Considering the company he was in which, clearly, he knew nothing about, he should have just kept his mouth shut. Even if you think you’re the greatest there is always someone better than you and people are generally more tolerant of a humble attitude. He would do well to remember that it’s only fly fishing, which at best is a pastime. It’s not as though you’re are an F16 fighter pilot.

Looking back on my life I could have done many things differently, for sure. The advice I will be drumming into my son is to get a tertiary education in something you are either interested in or have a passion for, no matter what it is. This I think should at least guarantee you some kind of steady income and then you can live your life, look after your family and go fishing.

The last fish I caught was an 8-inch rainbow on a Caribou Spider in the Drakensberg.

Distributed by Xplorer Fly fishing - www.xplorerflyfishing.co.za Email: jandi@netactive.co.za or call 031-564-7368 for your closest dealer.

Erich Pienaar takes a moment to himself with a quality read on Farquhar Island, Seychelles.

WANT MORE ABSORBENT READING MATERIAL? For the finest stories, profiles, destinations, adventures, gear, beer and more...

What lasts a lifetime?

Foot Tractor Wading Boots To build the highest-performing and most durable wading boots possible, we paired our expertise in fly fishing and product innovation with Danner’s proud tradition of quality and craftsmanship. Engineered for the most demanding wading and built by hand in Portland, Oregon, our new boots are resoleable and can also be completely recrafted as they wear over time. They’re the best boots we’ve ever made— and we believe they’re the last ones you’ll ever need to buy.

© 2019 Patagonia, Inc.