Having recently relocated to KZN, fishing has unfortunately had to take a backseat in my life while I get settled into my new location. However as with any fisherman, the fishing vein soon started pumping extra blood to the brain and that “I NEED TO GO FISHING” itch started to drive me a little crazy.
Luckily Harry and Rika had decided to tie the knot in Cradock, I took my chance and flew down to PE a week early. This meant I had a weekend to do some fishing, I mean spend time with the happy couple.
After catching up with all the friends on Saturday, I kidnapped Harry and we took that all too familiar drive down to the Swartkops river mouth. As we started to kit up, I came to the horrible realisation that I had left my fishing license back home in Natal. The idea of missing out on a day’s fishing was unbearable.
The chances of finding a post office open on a Sunday are pretty slim. Fortunately the hamster in Harry’s head was up for a jog and he had a great idea to possibly drive down to Colchester, about 30 km from Swartkops. You often find that smaller towns have post offices as part of a store and are therefore open on Sundays for a couple of ours. Lady luck was on our side and as we drove up to the post office there was a lady who was mailing envelopes. She was the person who runs the post office and I was able to purchase a one month license and once again legally participate in the activity I love so much.
Having never fished the area, Harry and I decided to take this opportunity to do some fishing at Sundays River. We spent an hour or so driving up and down the river talking to different locals, trying to pick up some tips regarding artificial angling in the area. The local fishermen do a lot of live bait fishing and there had been some kob around so we were quite excited about the prospect.
We soon learnt about the Pearson Park resort where you pay a visitors fee and are then able to drive on a dirt road for about 5 km all the way to the river mouth (easily accessible with a car). Upon arrival at the river mouth it was evident that this place was not a secret. Many families and fishermen alike were scattered across the banks of the river and in the surf, all busy with various forms of fishing and beach activities, a truly happy and peaceful place.
Harry and I kitted up and were off, up and down the river banks, edging towards the mouth. The swell was quite big and we were not able to access the banks with the 9 ft rods in the surf, so we stuck to the river mouth area. Harry had mentioned he would like to catch a gurnard to grow that ever expanding species count of his, while I was just after a snatch! Any fish, every fish, all the fish!
Being in a new environment, I was able to partake in a very exciting exercise for any angler, “testing the water” so to speak. All the different retrieves, colours, lures, minnows, anything and everything is possible until you find the one that works. I was fishing closer to the mouth where there were quite a lot of mullet in the water. Suddenly I heard Harry’s voice over the quiet breaking of the waves: “VAS PAPPIE”. The Loomis and Franklin Dropshot Platinum Edition 9 ft bent and the Shimano Sedona 4000 with that familiar zzzz ass the fish tested the drag. Harry being an experienced fisherman immediately identified the fish for not being a kob or garrick due to the slower fighting style, a couple of minutes later and the fish that Harry had set out a target only a few hours earlier was on the bank of the river and smiling for the photo.
Harry landed the gurnard on a yellow 1 ounce bucktail.
As the Tide turned we ventured closer to the mouth hoping that the garrick would move in following the mullet with the pushing tied. We cast for about 45 minutes hitting various mullet on the retrieve. The garrick chasing the mullet were quite small, yet Harry still managed to hook into 2. He was however unable to land either and as the fish left the river mouth, we were forced to call it a day and head back to PE.
On the way back Harry and I discussed what we had learned and what we will do differently should we return one day. This was a week before Harry’s wedding and the fiance can get a bit antsy. As the week drew closer to the Wedding day the “to do list” grew in size. With the Wednesday being a public holiday I didn’t want to spend the day running errands with the groom, but rather go back to Sundays for Round 2.
I requested that Harry send me his to do list and being the best, best-man ever I did everything the Tuesday while he was at work, which meant fishing Wednesday. (P.S. Don’t tell his wife this happened)!
Back next to the water I chatted with a few other artificial anglers all not having any success which dampened the spirits a little, only to hear the gentleman next door had just landed, and safely released (what a legend) a 70 cm kob on live bait. Having made specific plans for today I was fishing with purpose and the first hour flew by with me executing the plans I had made, unfortunately with no success. I focused a bit more on soft plastics and cast various colours, sizes, jerk minnow and paddletail as I knew Harry would cover top-water and bucktail. Running out of options, I turned to the colours that usually just remain in the packet at the bottom of the fishing bag. (You know the one – The impulse buy near the cash register).
I was casting a ½ ounce jighead with a 4 inch McCarthy goldfish jerkshad minnow. It must have been my 20th cast when something reacted and I felt that unmistakable bump on the lure On,Off,No! After closer inspection I saw the clear jagged marks on the minnow. The shad were coming through and 4 casts later I was on; the razor blade had me fighting up and down the bank of the river. Knowing it was a shad it was important for me to get this fish out quickly, because as we all know 0.35 mm fluorocarbon isn’t a match for those teeth. The Shad took a dart and landed in the outgoing current. This meant I was now fighting the water and the fish. My hand was on the drag in a flash as the line screamed off my real. The river makes a right bend before the mouth and luckily enough I was able to turn its head out of the stream, just before it went around the corner and swam out the mouth. I landed the fish safely, revived it and released it to fight another day (after a few photos of course).
As the tide turned and the water started to come into the river we moved closer to the mouth and what happened next I will never forget in my life. 1000’s of Mullet had started making their way into the river, so much so that the water had changed colour from blue to brown with all the fish and the garrick were next.
Out of nowhere the water was exploding in the river mouth. Garrick were smashing the mullet everywhere you look. There were 4 of us witnessing this majestic occurrence as 2 other anglers had made their way over. All of us with rods in hand were flinging our poppers as far as we could to get them over the school of mullets and close to the garrick. Every turn of my real every wave my popper hit I was being smashed. On occasion you could actually see the garrick fighting over the popper as the wave built. I was hit about 9 times by different garrick on separate casts but to no avail. The other anglers were unfortunately unable to get the distance I was and had to watch on as my popper was being demolished left right and centre. 5 minutes later and there was silence. Not a mullet or smash in sight.
I didn’t know what to say or do. I had barely made 10 casts or even worse landed a fish, it can’t be over, can it? Sadly yes, what had started so intensely had disappeared just as abruptly. Once or twice in my life I have been lucky enough to experience a frenzy on golden hour (time after sunsets but before dark), but nothing ever like this. I was mesmerised by the ferocity of the garrick in that short space of time, the best way to describe it is like seeing small hand grenades dropped in the water in 200 different places and all going off in a space of 5 minutes.
As we walked back to the vehicle Harry and I could not stop talking about what we had witnessed and how privileged we were to have experienced it. Although we only landed 1 fish each over 2 days. Those 5 minutes of mayhem is something we will never forget. Forgetting the fishing license in KZN actually turned into an incredible adventure.
Anyway I’m off to the wedding, until next time!