Angola – The rush of the unknown – (part 4)

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3

Catching bronze whalers in Angola became old news very quickly. The Namibian crew thought I was going crazy when I brought this up. I was sure that there are a couple of Capetonians back home that would support their theory and would love to catch bronzie after bronzie.

But in all honesty, they were being a pest and where they were, the edibles were few and far between (the bronzies, not the Namibians). You were guaranteed to get flattened by a bronzie if you had bait in the water.  None were real trophy sized ones, but they all pull pretty hard on your standard edible fishing tackle. Some would take off at the rate of knots and jump clean out the water, serving for some spectacular scenes. Someone explained that because the water was so calm and clean the bronzies were able to come in very close to the side to feed, and in large numbers. Normally when there is a bit of turn in the water and a bit of sand kicked, the Bronzies seem to stay away. They are not as tolerant of the sand in their gills as the kob are. This would explain a lot as the water was super calm with minimal color/sand patches. A change of scenery was required!

The talk of heading to a new destination for a day or two had me super excited. We were heading to Pipas the following day for a 2 night camp over. This is the famous place we have seen so much of on TV where Petri and his mob of merry men land huge elf on artificial lures. I could hardly contain my excitement and had my dad listening to my mad ravings the whole day. Catching elf/shad of 6kg+ on light tackle and artificial lures, needless to say, I struggled to sleep that night, trying to comprehend what possibly lay ahead.

As the sun started to light the horizon, we chased the darkness westwards. Pipas was our destination and we had a couple of hundred kilometers to cover. The sooner we get there the sooner we can start fishing.

We bypassed Tombua; we were told that this is a no go and that we might pick up some trouble with the authorities there; not sure what this was about, but heeded to Uncle Frans’s warnings and ventured forth to Pipas. We stopped in Namibe to get some fresh bread from the bakery, fill up the vehicles as well as re-fill the water tanks. I bought some of the local beers as well as some rather overpriced Cadbury chocolate slabs from one of the cafe’s. Yum! Worth every sent J

With the smell of the still warm, freshly baked bread teasing our senses we headed out of town. Not sure what it is about an ice cold Coca-Cola and a piece of warm bread, but man does it hit the spot. The buildings are really dilapidated and it is a depressing sight to witness from the comforts of our vehicle.

Passing the last remnants of man-made structure the landscape started to change drastically. If we didn’t know any better you could almost argue the fact that we had landed on the moon. The arid and rocky landscape had me questioning whether anything could survive out here.

We passed over a line which seemed to be indicating one of the Tropics, it could possible also have been a plotted line for a new railway-track. Our Portuguese interpretation is pretty much none existent so trying to decipher the writings on the stones along this line was a hopeless cause. After google translating it, it seems to be an indication of some de-mining area; not sure what that means, but I am now very glad we didn’t wander around off the indicated paths to much.

Angola is known for the landmines left from earlier years of war in this country and many still remain unfound.

Finally we caught a glimpse of the ocean again and started our way towards it.

Some serious 4×4 driving was required and by the guidance of uncle Frans we were all led safely down the tricky areas.  Luckily my dad is a pro and we had no issues in the Amarok. We had to cross some more rugged terrain on our way towards the ocean which made for slow going.

 

I can see why they advise you to bring along two spare tyres on a trip like this; the sharp rocks protrude everywhere and if not spotted soon enough can cause some serious damage.

It was late afternoon when we finally arrived at the water, just in time to set up camp and have a quick cast before sunset. I was awestruck by the area, huge rocky cliffs and some serious deep water. Yip, definitely some big toothies around here! Better not go swimming; mind your step.

I had not even finished setting up my tent when the first guys where into the leeries and elf. The first couple of elf would be supper, while the leeries were quickly released. I had never seen elf that size before, one tipping the scale at a fraction under 7 kilograms, what a monster! Pretty soon Dad was in on the action. He landed two good sized elf in quick succession; one on dropshot (needless to say there wasn’t much left of the lure after the fight) and another on a chisel-nose popper. I was now seriously behind and unfortunately didn’t manage to land a fish before dark. I had seen a couple of huge swirls behind my popper that just fuelled the excitement for the following day. Every time you saw that silver flash dart towards your lure it sent a serious rush of adrenaline through your veins; the proper Rush of Blue feeling.

As darkness covered the ocean we retreated to the campsite; vehicles parked sporadically with a few tents in the middle of nowhere… only in Angola I thought to myself, I hope we are safe here; “stupid this is Africa mentality”. After a small supper of fresh fish and a few jokes around the fire, we were off to bed. Dad was sleeping on his stretcher on the back of the Amarok, under the canopy. I set up my 2 man tent against one of the vehicles wheels to be shielded from the wind. I zipped it up and wiggled into my sleeping bag. Thankful for my stretcher and not being left at the mercy of the rocky surface I said a quick prayer and dozed off into dreamland.

We were sleeping mere meters away from the ocean and the thunderous sounds of the crashing waves vibrated through your body, amazing. I awoke an hour later to the sound footsteps outside the tents and excited voices. I listen at first to try getting a grasp on the situation. I soon realised it was some of our guys that had just returned from fishing. They had landed a couple of monster elf in the dark, aided only by the moon. They explained that they had spoken to some other fisherman they met a bit further along the coast and that he advised them to use an open face popper (or a plug) in the dark, the huge amount of disturbance this lure makes on the surface of the water apparently drives the elf crazy and they attack it with some serious aggression, but this only works at night (one for the notebook for next time). Well done chaps, their perseverance paid off.

I was up and awake at the first signs of light on the horizon. I struggled out of bed and got my spinning tackle ready. It was low tide and I could get close to the water’s edge. The sun had not yet breached the horizon and I knew this was the perfect time. I stood still for a moment to appreciate the beauty of the surroundings; the crisp morning air filled my lungs and as I breathed out the adrenaline took over. I hurried over the slippery rocks to get onto a good spot to cast. I sent my neon yellow popper flying behind the breaking waves, eagerly anticipating that huge smash. Suddenly there was a flash of silver, dammit missed. The next cast there was nothing, and I gave it a couple more goes. Did I miss my chance now? I moved a few meters to my right, this spot looked promising.

There was a reef to my left, and a few exposed rocks to the right, but the structure looked good. The water couldn’t have been very deep here as you could see the rocks on the bottom when the water retreated. I waited for a set of bigger waves to pass and as the last one in the set broke I casted. I retrieved the lure at a medium speed, ensuring that it stayed above water but not bounce all over the surface. I kept a careful eye on the lure as it came cruising through the last couple of little waves of white water. The next minute all mayhem broke loose. A huge fish just absolutely hammered my lure, both flying into the air. I got such a fright that I let out a loud yelp! The sun had just started to appear on the horizon and lit up the silver bullet that did a double back flip with a neon yellow popper hanging from his jaw. I heard a couple of voices behind me. Some of the group was up and enjoying a cup of coffee, just in time to witness the spectacle. The fish went straight for the deep, stripping line from my reel. Now if you have caught a decent sized elf you can recognise the crazy headshakes the fish has. I managed to turn him and brought him closer. At the end of every darting run he would jump clean out of the water, like a true acrobat, performing crazy twisting manoeuvres. You can try and counter the jumps by pointing your rod downwards, but he is going to jump if he wants to jump, all you can do is hope that the hook is set properly. I nursed the fish towards the side, using the waves to my advantage. After a few nervous moments near a rock or two I had the elf in the shallows; the fish’s never say die attitude kept me on my toes. Once the head was turned in the last little wave I was able to grab him by the tail. Yay, back in the game! Dad had managed to get the camera during the fight and was ready to take a few photos.

The elf measured about 70cm which converts to about 4.5kg, my biggest to date! Super chuffed I added my catch to the breakfast menu. We were going to need our strength for the day that lay ahead.

We explored the coast to the west taking in the amazing scenery and checking out the fish swimming around at the bottom of the cliffs.

We investigated some of the local fishing styles and drying activities. They catch black-tails in the hundreds while they camp out here for days. Mostly boys and young men, but weren’t to phased by us.

After breakfast the next highlight lay ahead; we were going snorkeling for oysters. We had to travel a few kilometers south in order to reach the spot. You would be diving from a sandy beach onto a reefed bottom. We packed up everything and off we went. Arriving on high tide we had to “unfortunately” fish until the tide was right for snorkeling. We covered a stretch of about a kilometer catching elf on regular occasion.

The sun was high and the clear water made the conditions better suited for casting spoons. You needed some serious distance to be ON every cast. Every time I didn’t get the maximum distance I would miss the shoal, as one of the guys stated “hulle lê diep” before he sent his 2 ounce spoon disappearing into the distance.

Eventually it was time to trade the rods for a pair of goggles and snorkel. We had to go in turns, 4 at a time and I was all too happy to let someone else have the first go. It is crazy how the fear of the unknown can play tricks on your mind. My turn came and trying not to think about it too much I walked through the first wave or two and once beyond, started to float around.

Wow, words cannot describe the amazing sea-life, the colors, and the insane looking fish hanging around the rocks. The water was warm and reasonably clear so you had pretty good vision all around you. Soon all fears forgotten, you felt part of the new world under the water. The fish became accustomed to you and also pretty inquisitive; most of those species I have never even seen before. Time seemed to come to a standstill as you floated around behind the waves. I was ushered out of the water by Uncle Frans, saying it’s time to enjoy some monster sized oysters.

Straight from the ocean with a bit of black pepper, lemon and or tabasco, you can’t get any fresher! Knysna, eat your heart out J

We were back at the “camp-site” just before nightfall; we managed to sneak in a last few casts. With the light being poor one of the guys managed snag his popper onto a rock just in front of him. After a few wild jerks of his rod (thankful I was a few meters away) the popper shot loose and imbedded the trailing hook into his leg. Ouch, he limped back to vehicles, with his newly acquired piercing hanging from his leg.

A few chuckles about him catching the heaviest “fish” of the day lightened the mood and soon enough the tip of the hook was snipped off using a side-cutter and the rest of the hook removed from his skin.

The biggest risk was that of an infection and the doctor quickly dosed it with some muti. Luckily we all had to get a tetanus injection before coming on the trip, so at least that was sorted.

The next morning we made one last go at the elf and some oysters before we took the trek back to the main camp-site. A couple more good size elf were landed and served for some big smiles on the way back.

What lay ahead for the last few days of our trip, will I eventually get my 10kg kob on artificial lure?. The prospects looked good!