My trip out to South Africa was unexpected because my father was critically ill. I had made the trip 14 months before when dad had first become ill but he was not up to fishing by the time I left but was on a promise that we would …. soon. My father and I have fished together whenever we meet up and it had been 6 years since our last opportunity to fish together. After 6 weeks of spending long hours at hospitals and rehab centres I was determined that we would fish again before I left lest the opportunity pass us by altogether. So while dad wasn’t really fit for a big expedition and was still recuperating from his brain op having had to relearn to walk and use his hands it just simply had to happen. So location was key … I was thinking boat fishing to keep waking to a minimum and casting short could yield results, I have caught plenty of fish a rod length from the boat. It also had to be special to suit the occasion…it might be our last fishing trip.
Searching the fishing websites for Drakensberg fly fishing options and chatting to the guys at Wildfly all pointed to one location, the Giants Cup Wilderness Reserve. It was perfect, inside my spiritual home the Drakensberg, boat fishing their lake for wild-spawning brown and rainbow trout inside a site of conservation importance. This would keep walking to a minimum and allow us to fly fish in one of the top rated and most beautiful locations you could imagine. I couldn’t wait.
The trip into Underberg was somewhat harrowing …. Potholes so large that they could swallow and remove your entire front wheel if you failed to avoid them; people, cattle, goats and horses unexpectedly in the road around that tight mountain pass turn and maniacs keen to overtake you over solid white lines on a blind rise. Half way there I thought to myself …. I really hope this is worth it as my hands were sore from gripping the steering wheel too tight. Things were such that you couldn’t take your eyes off the road for a second to soak in the scenery. That changed once we turned off onto the Drakensberg Gardens road, which was a much better quality and there were few other cars and we simply sauntered along at a low speed taking it all in with the windows down breathing in the mountain air … simply amazing. The last 2 kms of dirt road to the venue was interesting as the road was rough and required carefully driving to avoid the removal of dad’s exhaust. The prize at the end of it was worth it, a delightful thatched cottage set amongst a mixed woodland of pine and poplar.
The thatched boathouse was 50 metres away and stocked with 3 tub like boats, a far cry from the coulam boats I am used to fishing from when I do reservoir fish in the UK. If I am honest I was disappointed with the boats, they weren’t really big enough to accommodate 2 people fly fishing, the seating was too low that sitting for any length of time was uncomfortable (we had taken cushions so that wasn’t the issue) and with being flat bottomed didn’t really drift in any predictable way. The oar rings were rickety and getting about was slow. The scenery was simply amazing and I could just have sat in the middle of the lake for the afternoon taking it all in. We headed over to the eastern bank near the outlet with a view to drifting with the breeze back towards the boathouse. The eastern bank of the lake was a smidge over 21 ºC at 20 cm depth which is getting on the warmer end of what I think is acceptable to fish catch and release. The western bank shrouded in rushes and fed more directly by the Umzimkulwana river was cooler at ~20 ºC so we focused on that bank expecting to find fish along the edge of the rushes. The afternoon was ferociously hot and being out on the water with no cover started to take its toll and tempers were fraying. Mindful of the fact that dad was far from recovered or fit we decided to take a break and seek the cool of the woodland and the bevvies we left chilling in the fridge.
Sitting out on the patio in the shade, drinking cool bevvies, shooting the breeze and attempting to photograph the greater double-collared sunbirds (Cinnyris afer) feeding on the agapanthus in the cottage garden that were still in full bloom with my mobile phone that wasn’t really up to the job. We then chatted about what worked and what didn’t and made plans for the following day. While we initially had planned to see if an evening rise might be in the cards, with a major thunderstorm brewing and our advanced stage of relaxation we decided that discretion was the better part of valour and settled in for the night in front of the fire.
The next morning was such a contrast, the air was cool and there was rain in the air. After a slow start we hit the water and decided to work the eastern bank from the rushes out towards the old river channel. It wasn’t long before I was in to a good sized brown that had taken my Loch Katrine tadpole. Unfortunately it was not to be our day as attempting to land it using a short handled river net instead of a long handled boat net ended in disaster with the trout throwing the book in a renewed frenzy right at the boat as we were simply too close. One of the vagaries of travelling light. This was to be the theme of the morning, dad had one on for a time and I had a further two, but nothing made it to the net. None of the fish were large but they certainly packed a punch and wriggled like mad.
After a quick lunch we sat for a time and enjoyed the view then packed up and headed for home. The memory of the drive in was still fresh in my memory and I wanted to ensure we made the trip in the light to avoid the trip ending on a sour note. While we didn’t catch and fish on this trip, albeit this isn’t uncommon on our fishing trips, the trip ticked all the boxes that I really vared about – dad and I had spent 2 days fishing in one of the most spectacular locations on the planet and was a memory that I would remember for ever.
Tight Lines
Greg