High Fives

A KICK-ASS GUIDE, A MR FIX-IT SPARKIE AND ONE OF THE HARDEST WORKING TEAM PLAYERS YOU’LL MEET, WHEN STU WEBB IS NOT GUIDING THE SEYCHELLES FLATS, YOU’LL FIND HIM IN OMAN, GABON OR WHEREVER HIS COMPASS TAKES HIM.

Photos. Brian Chakanyuka, Nick Bowles, Stu Webb, Cameron Musgrave

1. Guiding in the Seychelles, the incredible diversity and not knowing what you are going to see when you wake up. Every day you see something new. 2. Guiding in the Seychelles, being part of a solid crew of fishy guys to bounce ideas and stories off. We are a team out there but having healthy competition with your peers is good for everyone. It’s definitely helped me improve my game. 3. Drinks with the boys. No matter where in the world, how tough or good the day, week or season has been, sitting around telling stories or giving each other shit will always be a highlight for me. 4. Gabon, definitely St James Rum and the Poons of course. 5. Getting to run a Chittum skiff as my company car

1. My Canon R5. Getting a few grip-and-grins is important as well as capturing a few lifestyle and wildlife shots. 2. My Donmar Checkpoints. A solid pair of pliers is priceless. 3. White Gold (aka TP), for cleaning sunnies and other applications. 4. My Costa sunnies. Arc eye (an inflammation of the cornea, caused by ultraviolet radiation from the arc during welding) is a real thing. I took a chef from Alphonse on the flats for a team building day a few years back and he forgot his sunnies. The man’s eyes looked like he had been hotboxing a Nissan 1400 for 12 hours and chopping onions at the same time. 5. Garmin Handheld or Sat phone.

1. Future Islands. 2. Feeder. 3. Lucero. 4. Ten Fe. 5. Roadkill Ghost Choir.

1. Greta Van Fleet. 2. Island Bar in Hawana Salala Marina. 3. I’m running a 68-foot Viking at the moment that we did a major refit on over the summer in Dubai. My boss was super into the idea of having a tieing station so we got Brenton Sharp to design the layout and Jay Smit of J-Vice hooked us up with a sick custom vice and base. It’s the best way to spend the evenings on a trip, tweaking patterns at the vice for the next day. 4. Morning stretches. My rig takes a bit more effort to get started these days. 5. Surfing. Specifically, the cheeky left off the breakwater where I’m based at the moment. It’s just myself and Bails Musgrave out there and he knows what will happen if he drops in on me.

1. Alec Gerbec’s Reaper. 2. Cam Musgrave’s Garlic Butter. 3. Assorted Flexos. The custom ones that guides Kyle Simpson and Cullan Ashby cut off at the end of the day. 4. Golden Knight. 5. Semper.

1. Seychelles. 2. Gabon. 3. Oman. 4. Costa Rica. 5. Mexico.

1. Never be complacent. Shit is going to happen, so you had best be ready. 2. Ten beers and a bottle of rum is not a wise dietary choice the night before a guiding day on Astove. An average day involves between 10-15kms of walking on one of the gnarliest atolls in the Seychelles.

3. Measure twice, cut once. Pre-season prep or running fixes is always a huge part of any guiding operation and getting spares or parts can be a mission. It’s a good idea to plan as thoroughly as possible to avoid making a hard job even harder. 4. To quote fellow guide, friend and mentor Wayne Haslau, «Stewie, remember, your strength is your weakness.” Wayno taught me not to talk about results but rather to achieve them. 5. The Cosmo Camp build. It was an amazing thing to be a part of but we truly went feral.

1. Thinking outside the box. It’s easy to go through the motions and catch fish, but when I try and break the pattern and try new things that’s when I learn the most. 2. Confidence. There is nothing more satisfying for me than calling it before it happens and sticking to the plan until it does. 3. Keeping it simple. The most important thing is just being on the water. 4. Retreads for my flip flops. Getting a blowout on your favourite pair of slops is devastating when on location but never mind. Plan your next guiding day around walking the beaches on the windward side of the island and pick up some spares to make a new custom pair of flip flops. 5. Stamps in my passport. Guiding takes you to some pretty off the track places.

1. The back of a man twice my age. As a guide, general wear and tear on your body is real. 2. Being able to light a cigarette in any condition. 3. Sun damaged skin. By the end of a Seychelles season all I want to do is hide in the shade. I’m Vitamin Deed out! 4. A cookie duster. Growing a tash started out as a joke with the boys on Alphonse when I first started guiding there. There was a rule at the start of every season that you couldn’t cut your moustache until you had caught a moustache trigger yourself. I just kept mine, introduced my alter ego, Juan Pierre, to the world and haven’t eaten a dirty cookie since. 5. Coffee and nicotine dependence.

1. I’d really like to guide my brothers. They think my job is easy and I’m on holiday all the time. 2. Chris Cox. What a gentleman and an absolute pleasure to be on the water with. Not to mention he’s pretty fishy! 3. Wayne Haslau and Arno Matthee, on the same skiff. I’d probably just drop anchor, open some beers and let the juices flow.

4. Keith Clover and Rob Scott from African Waters. They got me my first guiding gig which ultimately changed the course of my life. 5. David Mangum. We have unfinished business on Cosmo. I had an epic day guiding him where we fell short of a golden grand slam by a milkfish. It was definitely one of my most memorable days on the water.

1. Big rooster off the beach. I did a day with Jeff Fesco at MagBay and got a little guy. It was a super cool experience and I definitely can’t wait to do that again. 2. Murray cod. 3. Cobia. You see them randomly off Dubai, on the surface. I think there is a trick to finding them more regularly. I just need the time to puzzle. 4. Grunter. They sound frustrating as hell. 5. Atlantic permit.

1. “Imagine what this place was like 100 years ago.” If you say you haven’t had that thought as a fisherman, you are lying! 2. Should I commit to the surf or stay in the lagoon? It’s a real problem, ask my fellow guide Brandon Poole. 3. Did I pack a spare box of ciggs? 4. If this guy casts through the boat one more time I’m going to baptise him. 5. Worst case scenario … my escape plan.

1. The people behind the scenes. Working for any operation, the end product is being on the water with a guest, but the steps and work that go into getting them is always overlooked. 2. At the moment guiding in Oman, getting to explore new waters and a totally new culture. 3. Guiding in the Seychelles, the amount of life in and out of the water is a glimpse into the past. 4. The isolation. Being in remote places with limited contact with the outside world makes you appreciate coming home and being around friends and family. 5. Being a spectator in some truly wild places.

1. Carpentry. I would love to have a workshop with all the tools, loads of time and a Jack Russel to hang out with. 2. I would like to surf more. 3. Spend more time with family. 4. Learn how to edit and film well. I try but could definitely take it to the next level if I had time. 5. Get involved with some sort of conservation project. I’ve always thought about starting something where we try

For Stu Webb and friends, creeping up on nudists at Sandy Bay never gets tired.

and restore our rivers in South Africa from source to sea. It’s a massive undertaking but there are some amazing stretches of water that could be even better.

1. Saudi Arabia. 2. Wessel Islands. 3. Aldabra Atoll (I won’t fish, I promise). 4. Tanzania. 5. More of Mexico.

1. Rum. 2. Good friends. 3. Medium to high risk factor. 4. A plan. 5. A plan B.

1. Not reading the gear list and arriving with the wrong gear. Eg. a centre pin reel, straight mono and top bung on a 12-weight is not ideal for chasing Geets on Cosmo. 2. Wanting it too bad. I get it, but please just chill and make your shots count. I believe it’s a mind game like chatting to a pretty girl. Desperation stinks. 3. Trust your guide. We get paid to put you onto fish. Second-guessing your guide is not cool. In the same breath, for a successful day, communicating with your guest as to how, where and why is super important so they know you are not just sucking your thumb. 4. Thinking a bottle of vodka at lunch time is conducive to a successful day on the flats. 5. Trying to move fly line off the deck with wading boots and then wondering why it keeps twisting up. I’m not a fan of boots on the skiff.

1. Grunter 2. Africanus 3. Broom Tail Wrass 4. Two bar bream 5. Blochii.

JUST AS WHITE SMOKE EMERGES FROM THE SISTINE CHAPEL WHEN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH SELECTS A NEW POPE, AN EXTRA-LARGE CLOUD OF WEED SMOKE EMERGES FROM DRE’S HOUSE IN DEVIL’S PEAK WHEN THE MEMBERS OF FEATHERS & FLUORO SELECT THE WINNER OF THE FEATHERS AWARD. AFTER MUCH DELIBERATION – WE HAVE A NEW CHAMP.

This is a process we agonize over, debating the finer points of fly fishing endeavour. If you’re new to the competition – the rules are simple. We are looking for the most impressive fish caught on the African continent in the last year.

In short, we want to be wowed.

Obviously, catching big fish helps, but as all your past lovers have always told you, small ones count too. You see it’s not just about size. We’re looking for more than that.

You get points for rarity and difficulty. You get points for planning, points for persistence and points for whatever it took for you to accomplish your mission and catch that specific fish. As usual, the entries were both broad and brilliant and include one actual world record, one near world record, rarities, improbabilities and some straight up impressive fish.

I have been fishing the Struisbaai area for most of my life, which has included a great deal of flyfishing from the shore. During this time, I have focused quite a bit of time on fishing during the evening with good success, catching predators such as cob and elf. My go-to fly for night time fishing has almost always been a wool head mullet type fly, or a variation thereof, because it pushes water and in darker colours, shows off a good silhouette. I prefer to keep the pattern simple and as durable as possible.

On the specific evening in question (5 January 2022), I expected a low tide just before midnight, so I arrived at my intended fishing spot at around 10h00, in order to fish the last hour or two of the dropping tide, and then a bit of the pushing tide. The conditions were however not favourable for fly fishing, due to a strong sea and I moved to a more protected spot a few hundred metres away.

I fished a 10-weight St.Croix with an intermediate line, 15 pound tippet, a black woolhead mullet variation (all synthetic fibres) tied to a short wire trace (I have lost too many elf in the past). I used a medium speed retrieve, after giving the fly a few seconds to sink. In this specific area it is very rocky and not exceptionally deep, so you do not want to run the risk of hooking bottom structure too often. It has also been my experience in this area that you do not have to have your fly right at the bottom for kob – especially at night.

About halfway through one of these retrieves everything went tight, instantaneously followed by a very fast, strong run. I knew immediately that this was a sizable fish, but very quickly doubted that it was a kob. There are some seriously big elf in the area from time to time, but I was once again unconvinced. What was clear was that the fish was exceptionally strong and that I would struggle to land it alone on the rocks that I was standing on. I slowly had to move to a sandy part of the bay, while still fighting the fish, and not losing my footing on the rocks. At some point I got the fish to the surface, causing spray and foam to fly all over the place, but I still could not make out what it was – I even considered the possibility of a foul hooked duckbill ray, as these are also known to frequent the area.

I finally managed to beach the fish and was ecstatic to see an 8kg white mussel cracker, lying on the white sand. Over the years I have caught a number of these fish, some at night, but never on a fly. I know of two others that have previously been caught on fly in this area, as well as a few that have been caught on spoon, so I was always aware of the possibility – but at the same time it was very much unexpected. I am grateful that I was privileged enough to experience this moment and tick off another species on the list.

This is the fish that money cannot buy. Some might say it’s a fluke, but I reject that. Was there luck involved? Yes, but you make your own luck. David has been fishing this spot for several decades. He grew up fishing there and has caught a 10kg leerie on fly and big elf there amongst other fish. He’s also caught a lot of big fish there on conventional tackle too. Sure, it wasn’t a kob, the fish he was expecting to catch, but he didn’t just pitch, he had a plan.

I took this fish in the Chinko river in the Central African Republic, fishing a large baitfish pattern into fallen trees on a sinking line. I got a few bumps that let me know something was chasing the fly and connected with the fish shortly thereafter. It ate quite a way off the structure and so actively hunted down my fly. The fish’s tail was the most mesmerising and unlikely turquoise blue.

Will’s Mpifu yellowfish epitomises the Feathers Award for me. To get to the destination is a hell of a thing and the possibility of catching nothing always exists when going on trips like that. It’s extremely remote and a lot of effort and sacrifice goes into catching a fish like that.

I have been fishing for bonnies since I relocated to the Southern Cape from Cape Town a decade or so ago. Most of the sessions are boat-based offshore scenarios — the way everyone gets them on fly here. For the past five years though (thanks in large to light-tackle art lure friends who make hay from shore when it’s on) I’ve been dreaming of getting one on fly, from land. I’d never found any info on anyone getting one in SA that way (they do get them Stateside at Martha’s Vineyard and thereabouts). This mattered little, I just always thought it would be so epic to tussle with one of those little bullets from the bricks.

I put in countless hours over the years, paying serious school fees - blanking and getting beaten up, but learning. As with most of these things, education comes in bursts, followed by long periods of silence. There was nothing to ‘figure out’ about the species, it was all about accessibility, tactics, and the right tools. Mostly though, it was about timing.

Eventually, in early February this year the timing lined up and I got the perfect two-day window. After a few inevitable tackle failures, cuts and bruises (ego and physical) with the able assistance and support of Johann Rademeyer, I managed to make two stick on the second day.

Jazz put years of planning and patience into this, keeping an eagle eye on the water only to strike when the iron was hot. He gives a lot of credit for the help and encouragement he received from mates, but this was his baby. It was a nearperfectly executed first of its kind in SA, making it the most unique entry in my view and worthy of the Feathers Award.

On the last day with clients we often do our “Rapids Day” which is an opportunity to fish from foot. This offers clients an incredibly intimate way of catching these fish as most of our fishing is done by drifting. On this particular day the client and I had already fished and walked past some of the known pools on the lower section of the beat before getting to the pool dubbed ‘Cutters’. Now although it doesn’t look as fishy as it is, if you ask some of the past or present guides they will agree that there have been some huge fish sighted and caught from Cutters. It involves a tricky back cast. After the client had finished fishing the pool, he kindly handed me the rod. I knew that I wanted to try and get a fly to the head of the pool and fish some new water but the structure of the vegetation made the angle very difficult as the back cast was directed/angled to fishing the lower half of the pool. I used the angle I had to get the distance and on the last false cast going forward changed the direction to get the fly higher in the run. It landed right up at the top of the pool and two strips in I saw the unmistakable flash of a fish rolling back on the fly. Tigers almost never eat at the ideal time and are world renowned for being hard to hook, but sometimes your strip is perfectly timed to be used as the strip set and this was one of those eats. At the time of the eat I thought it was a good fish but almost immediately the line started ripping through my hands on the double handed strip. I knew I had misjudged the size of fish. It breached and tail walked displacing a huge amount of water, confirming this was way bigger than originally expected. After numerous line burns and several heart in mouth moments watching

the line try and keep up with the fish while it disappeared, the fight started to sway in my favour. Luck was on our side because as I leant the fish awards the net I felt the rod lose tension. I knew this meant the hook had popped out and for a brief moment I watched the fish disappear into the water. Only as Mark lifted the net out did the unmistakable sight of a weighted net started to form. The fish was there laying gracefully . Utter relief for a rather shocked, beaten and otherwise speechless angler! To fully give this fish the respect it deserves, at a conservative 27lb, it was ounces away from matching the official/unofficial World Record for the Hydrocynus tanzaniae on fly.

Of all the fish entered, that’s the one I’d most like to catch, especially the way it was caught, on foot.

Sight fishing, finding and stalking large carp is a passion of mine. I have spent countless hours on and off the water in search of the biggest carp on fly I could find. During the end of April and beginning of May, when the wind and sun is optimal for sight fishing at Hartbeespoort dam, I set out for another session trying to find, stalk and then land the fish I was after. It was a tough day as usual with lower water temps and fewer fish feeding in the shallows. On my way to a spot that is usually productive, I caught a glimpse of two big fish in shallow water. I could see the one was slightly bigger than the other, with the bigger fish tailing and her friend just sitting next to her. From previous experience I knew I had to wait for the other fish to either start feeding or move off before I presented my fly, as they will spook if the non-feeding fish sees my fly drop. A few minutes passed as I waited patiently, then the non-feeding fish decided to slowly move off, this was my chance. I made my presentation to the tailing beast. As soon as my fly hit the bottom the feeding fish engulfed it. I set the hook and could feel this was a solid fish. My drag was set relatively high to keep the fish close to the boat, as it dragged my Ark around. There were some nervous moments as the fish headed for every snag it could find, and netting the fish alone was a challenge. Upon landing, weighing, measuring and releasing the fish I knew this was the one I had been after. It weighed in at 16.95kg and is the new 20lb tippet class IGFA World Record for the species. All that hard work paid off and now it’s time to chase a new personal goal.

Usually, I care veeery little for the IGFA and world records in general. I make an exception in this case. The fact that Roelof set himself a goal, went out there on the much maligned Hartbeespoort Dam and successfully dickslapped his way into the record books with a pig of a carp makes me extremely happy. I think it’s the pure South Africanness of it all.

Deo says, “The strain of papermouth endemic to the Kunene has a unique black spot behind its gills. Pre-trip research on our quarry was not promising. A top Namibian fly angler argued the Kunene has very little fish left and is not worth fishing anymore, while a local river fisherman said he had not seen one in many years but that he wanted to eat it if we did catch one. With our main priority being not becoming croc lunch in the murky waters, we swung sinking lines in the gorge, nymphed promising runs and cast small streamers at sexy undercut banks. Continuous blanking and heat exhaustion made us question the sanity of looking for this small species in this part of the world. The locals’ advice did not help the confidence index, but then, as always when you least expect it, I landed two Kunene papermouths in extra time despite the naysayers and croc-jumping shenanigans. One fell to a dry-dropper plonked in a scum line along some rocky ridges, and one ate a small streamer swung along a palm-studded bank. Even the pod-chewing local goats looked surprised.”

Deo and his wife Simoné are overlanding all over Africa, fly fishing wherever they can. So far they have racked up over 30 species on fly, in the process hiking 670 km and driving 65 000 km through six countries. Follow their adventures at @seekingwonder_za and seekingwonder.co.za

“This particular morning, the stars, moon, sun, tide and fish all aligned and I was in the thick of it on my boat. I could see the dorsal and tail fins of skippies disturbing the surface. I tied on a simple crazy Charlie, size 2 hook and began to get it out there with an intermediate line. I let the fly sink and as I was adjusting the rod in my hand and beginning the process of working the fly back, I felt a tug and something tugged back harder than I tugged it. I was on! The run was exhilarating, stripping my line out the basket through my hand and all I heard was ‘Trrr! Trrr!’ as a knot of line forced its way through my guides and into the direction this fish was screaming off towards. After many (what felt like hours) minutes I was able to get it close to the boat’s edge and coax it into the net. I can proudly say it swam back to prey on swimming prawn again. Until we do battle again, this is my best experience on fly to date.

Being from Berlin, Germany this was my first trip to African mainland (apart from Egypt) and this fish was my first tigerfish. I caught it on a #9 9‘0“ TFO Axiom II-X rod with an Airflo 40+ sniper 4 seasons Sink7 line and a large black and red Clouser that I tied in my hotel room in Lusaka. The fish was hooked on a deep run with sandy bottom at the beginning of the swing, just when the line caught tension and the fly started lifting off the bottom after an upstream cast and mend. The guide weighed the fish in at 21lbs and it turned out to be Matoya Lodge’s biggest fish for the season (fly and conventional) to that date. It might sound trivial but I caught it on the exact technique and tackle that I had picked up from watching videos and exchanging information via WhatsApp with Jeremy Rochester (apparently a somewhat famous guy as I only found out later). I had gotten his contact details from some guys who were set to arrive at the lodge a few days after me. It was amazing to have it happen the exact way I was told it would happen after closely following the openhearted advice of someone who knows what he‘s talking about. I got to know a bunch of nice people on the trip and I’ll definitely return to Africa rather sooner than later.

A mate and I took a trip to the Tugela, one of the best east flowing KwaZulu-Natal rivers, known for big scaleys. We had done some good “ Google Earth” discovering to try and find a path to really unfished water. After putting the Hilux through its paces in 4x4 low range and diff we headed through this pass on the side of a cliff, passing old war camps and farmers houses before making it to the other side where we set up our rods and set off to fish. It has been a hard Natal Scaly season this year, trying to find where fish could be holding after our floods. On this session I eventually got one to eat and it was an amazing fight. The fish took me straight to my backing numerous times, but we landed it.