July rolled in bringing with it the only positive of being one month closer to spring, which is pretty dramatic for a country that only has 3 months of winter. The fish know it better than most and generally sulk it out until the change of season. Most of us fair weather fisherman spend the time looking at photos of last season’s successes, re-spooling our reels, reading about the lucky few from far off warmer shores, tying flies or anything else slightly fishing relative.
Every now and then we brave the weather to test the sulk levels of our target quarry with limited success. Being a fisher of men rather than a fisherman or more specifically a bass fisherman, I tend to be a weather watcher and duly let the patterns dictate the target. If there have been 2 weeks of consistent weather be it cold or warm I look to the river where there is every likelihood of a decent hatch of Mayflies or Caddis coming off, meaning the Yellows will be on the rise. Needless to say it is July and I’m still trying to get the consistency right with days rather than weeks being the pattern and just not enough to scream, ’ NOW,’ about! Winter bassing from my experience also requires consistency but they seem more dependent on barometric pressure to bring them on. What you want is a few days of consistent weather with a falling barometer from morning to midday, a forecast which saw us heading for Rhenosterkop on our annual winter sojourn recently.
The dam was definitely up in level from our previous year’s trip but still far from the heady heights it once boasted 3 years previously. Then we could sneak into bays, weed beds and shallow drifts inaccessible to your average bass boat, making the esteemed foredeck of the HMS Knotalot an enviable place to be. The dam has also, or so rumour has it, been pillaged over the years since its discovery as a premier destination, through ruthless harvesting of bigger fish which were apparently sold in the local township. There were also frequent stories of Asian sponsored gill netting operations, the evidence of which is still prevalent in the form of discarded nets littering the submerged trees. Suffice to say this pearl is sadly not what it once was, where it was not uncommon to land 60 fish in a day’s session, all fish over a kg with the odd kicker in the 2-3kg region.
Having stated my excuses up front and sticking with them vehemently, let me continue to state that we had a most enjoyable session albeit it with only 5 fish to account for our efforts. It was winter after all and frankly the fishing banter between my fishing partner and I on the 2-hour drive through the frosty Highveld dawn was enough for starters. We launched the HMS Knotalot to an eerie silence with only one other boat joining us the entire day. Our once trusty Mercury 15 was as responsive as a sleeping teenager after student night and it reminded me of my days as a trouper in the defence force where one was often referred to as being, “sommer U.S.” Or Un-Serviceable!
We decided to approach the far bank on sneaker power, leaving the horses to sun out a while before applying more whip. This seemed the appropriate decision with both of our arms week from numerous attempts at starting her up, an obvious option too since neither of us has the technical know- how beyond the mechanical mantra of prime –pull- and pray!
It was now 7am with the sun only just up and that feeling of freedom abounding. We entered the first bay and started to throw wacky Senkos to no avail. The conversation was flowing till about 8:30 when I felt the slightest resistance and noticed the familiar side tacking of my line. It had of course been an eternity since my fight or flight reflexes had been tested to this extent and so in response to my most limp wristed of strikes, the fish nonchalantly spat out the presentation as if to say, “Do you have that in man sizes!”
We then managed to persuade the sleeping outboard to play along and ran to the island where we peppered the trees with everything from crank-baits to surface lures with absolutely no interest. We decided to drift along the outside edge of the weed, down scaling to 8lb Nanofil and drop shot rigs which at last produced a small but strong fighting largemouth. The Pressure was definitely on the drop as the forecast had predicted and as if like clockwork we began to develop a pattern, with fish slowly being picked up.
These fish were by no means leaping in the boat and we felt lucky to be pestering them at all with each one seemingly more precious than the last. I find that when the bite is slow I spend a long time admiring and reviving the fish before releasing it, observing the way the sunlight reflects off its flanks and generally absorbing the magic.
It was a slow day out the office but out the office we were which counts for plenty in the sanity stakes. It was mid winter in a country where winter is relative, the sun was shining and the water was casting silver reflections across its surface, we had gone fishing and hey we had caught a few. It was Africa and as we sipped cold beers to celebrate the day it almost felt smug to be as lucky as we were right then!
WINTER WONDERING
Bass Digest/August, 2014