Forty quid changed hands for tackle and we had secured the loan of this knackered old Stealth fishing ski. I suggested paying a few quid to borrow it for the rest of the week and this idea was taken as a good one so my uncle and I returned soon after and tied it onto the back of the Land Cruiser. Job done, I was in business!
A huge dinner was consumed and with everyone else going for a siesta I put my paddle together, loaded the ski into the back of the bakkie and headed down towards Port Shepstone where we walk the dogs.
The plan, with the sea a complete mess, was to launch into the river mouth and head upstream to flick some lures in the hope of a kingfish, kob or whatever else may be lurking. Now, this Stealth ski ain’t light; solid and weighing in at many more pounds than my Scupper I had to drag it over the vegetation and down the hill to the beach. It was surprisingly easy and I found myself a nice launch spot.
Now for the bad news. There has been a couple of big storms in recent days and the clear water I flicked a handline into the other day was now the colour of coffee. Strong coffee. With milk. I knew from the start I’d stand little chance of a hook-up but what the hell! I needed to paddle off some of this food and beer inside me from the last ten days. So with everything in place I pushed away from the edge and set off.
The river was emptying into the sea and with the shallow water, numerous sandbars and current I was making slow progress. The wind didn’t help either and this particular model as well as being heavy is flat bottomed with loads of rocker at the front – like a thick surfboard to deal with launch and landing here on the Kwazulu-Natal coastline. This effectively gave me the speed of half a gazelle even with my Nordkapps and the regular bottoming-out of either the underside or the built in fin didn’t help either. Still, I was happy and I paddled my way up to the bridge supports which hold fish.
I tried a popper. This was the only thing I could think of that might provoke a take. I worked it for ten minutes, fast and slow but nothing happened so I set off upstream once again. I was in deeper water now and the current eased a fair bit as the river widened too.
After half a mile or so I had thick bush either side of me; immediate thoughts of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. I looked around but could see no monkeys sadly though they have been a regular sight in the garden and on the roadside. Crocodiles were the other thing to look for, a concern as I’d need to return this ski without any more holes in it! Thankfully hippos aren’t found in this river as I’d have not launched if they were, those things are a major danger and my grandfather lost friends when their boat was attacked by one many years ago in the Congo. Oh, and snakes. I would need to keep my eyes peeled for them too as mambas are common here as well as many other venomous wrigglers. For clarities sake I’d just like to point out that I’m not kidding.
Finally I found a piece of water with a surface that was still. Lots of small fish were topping here and I cast to them but there was nothing interested in my invisible lure so I soon gave up and carried on with my paddle. I soon spotted the first of at least three kingfishers, darker blue than ours in the UK, and some other really colourful birds but each time I stopped to fish I drew a blank.
A couple of miles upstream I could see some more sandbars. As I drew towards them I grounded out. I wasn’t going to get out and pull the kayak through in case of leeches, bilharzia or whatever goddamn nasty shit the river might teem with so had to force my way through the next 300 metres with my paddle pushing through sand and a couple of inches of water. The flow didn’t help much either but I finally got past and carried on upstream, occasionally throwing my popper around in vain.
Sandbars appeared again soon after and I couldn’t get through this time so I turned and headed back…there was only a couple of hours of light left now and it’s not really wise to be out and about in the dark around here. Africa is not a safe place. I changed over to a Dexter Wedge and tried that for the rest of the way back. I cleared the sandbars again, the flow assisting me a bit this time and continued on my way back towards the sea. As I neared it I could hear the waves thundering onto the shoreline and once I reached the beach I could see the breakers the other side of the sand banks through which this last part of the river flows, I also saw a beautiful woodpecker. I decided that I may as well chance my arm and throw a wedge into the sea for ten minutes here and pulled up behind a sandbar.
It did me no good though and so I re-crossed the river, landed and dragged the kayak back up the hill to the bakkie.
Though I’d blanked and had a hard time in places it was a memorable paddle and gave me an idea of how the ski handles. There’s always tomorrow after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment