Namibia calling

The inner-caveman starts to claw at the surface. You picture catching the salmon on your sushi plate; you order beer instead of your usual vino to accompany a dish; dirt, early mornings and late nights, burps and farts, braaivleis and vuilgrappe; pluk vir jou n wandelstaf (visstok) want hierdie lyf wil see toe.

Dis lekker hier op “visgat” hier drink ons lattie sop spat…op Visgat (Grootdrink)

… Chica ling ching ching, chica lang chang chang, ek wens ek kan n vissie vang (gaan Blare toe)

The time for another visit to Namibia was upon us. This was the 5th installment of the “Cradock manne gaan Henties toe”. Memories of last year’s dismal fishing performance left the guys apprehensive about the 2014 edition. However, this year they had a secret weapon, or three of them. The young guns were joining the trip, 2 Nam-greenies and myself, who have not been along since 2011. There is nothing like a bit of youthful ignorance and excitement to get the “ballies” amped about the fishing prospects. (Although I must confess, these manne are pretty die-hard already)

We clocked the first leg of the trip, Cradock to Windhoek, in one shot.

The guys were running on reserve batteries, “koud maar noggie dood”. We arrived in time to watch WP sneak a win over the Lions and reclaim the Currie Cup. The reason for the torturous 24 hour non-stop drive from Cradock was in order to attend the Oktoberfest held in Windhoek. Eisbein and sauerkraut was on the menu that evening whilst beer remained in high demand. Ze germans like ze beer “sehr viel” (and so do the South Africans). We nearly lost two of our team members that evening, one trying to find Douglas Green and the other practicing his stop-drop-and-roll technique off a 6 foot drop. All in good spirit, these experiences make a trip, but could so easily end it right there as well.

The following morning, with the injured and lost all accounted for, we headed for the Spitskoppe. The gravel road turn-off just beyond Usakos towards Henties Bay generally signifies that you are getting close; from past experience I know that this is not the case. The 140km should take about 2 hours; we manage it in a speedy 3 hours+. This stretch of road serves for hilarious memories and sore tummy muscles; and this year was no exception.

The greenies were given their initiation doppetjie; welcome aboard manne, you are now part of an awesome tradition.

After stocking up on everything but the kitchen sink in Henties Bay, we squeaked some takkie along the Soutpad to St Nowhere campsite.

The cottage in which we stayed, “Grootdrink”, was aptly so named after the first time the “Cradock manne” stayed there… not really…

We had enough time after unpacking for an afternoon fishing session. The Amarok bakkie went a little South down “Richtersveld” while the Amakrok bakkie went a little North to “Blare” (Amakrok because of all the injuries to its occupants). The sea looked amazing and the weather was great. This might have been the first time that I was able to fish in Namibia with my shirts sleeves rolled up; a welcome change from beanies, buffs and jackets. I was telling Jays that Namibia is just one of those places where there is always fish, some days slower, but they are always there. Thankfully the ocean didn’t disappoint and from the first cast we were “vas”. We landed a lot of young kob as well as a couple of nice size spotted gully sharks and smooth-hound sharks. We hoped that this was just the beginning of things to come.

Double ups were the order of the day.

As darkness descended we headed back to Grootdrink, only to be greeted with the news that we totally missed out… on what? Apparently the big kob were on the bite at Blare. Knowing the joking nature of the guys, we were in two minds on whether to believe them or not. It was only once they returned from the cleaning station that we had no more doubts. The guys got stuck into some great fish and most of their personal bests were broken. Some fish were so big that a team effort was required… Pyter set-up the rig, Jakes baited the hook and made the cast and Big Boy reeled in the fish; a whopper of 1.22m (18.47kg), a fish of a lifetime. One guess where we would be heading tomorrow.

Vennie as well as Doc caught some beautiful size kob.

The competition was on, fathers and sons team in the Amarok bakkie vs the manne in the Mazda. Jays will give an article on the “friendly” compo later.

Day two we headed up to Ugab fence, and would fish our way down to finish at Blare. We landed a lot of fish, but nothing spectacular.

Pyter made a surprising catch, a young elf or shad, something that is seldom caught along the Namibian coast.

All the usual spots we were so excited to fish had filled up with sand. “Skuinsrif” and “Swartklip” left us staring at a shallow side wash with limited potential.

We stopped at the sandbank near Winston’s wreck and after landing spotted gully sharks on almost every cast, Dad was rewarded with a good fish. Unfortunately the hooks pulled as he was guiding it through the gully behind the sandbank on the way to the beach. I managed a nice 72cm kob; one of my biggest in Namibia to date.

At Blare we caught a lot of kob, but nothing noteworthy. I whipped the water to froth with my paddle-tails, and was nearly rewarded with a fish; unfortunately the hook just did not set.

The manne were in good spirit and many laughs were had.

It was not until the sun bid us a farewell for the day, that my dad got stuck into a good fish. Confident that it was a shark, he pulled it hard. Generally one can feel the difference between a shark and a kob, but after fishing all day I suppose the tiredness allows for a bit of error in judgement. Once in the shallows they witnessed a flash of silver which had everyone excited. Dad surpassed his personal best in Namibia with this fish, measuring 102cm. And so the meter club was birthed, only two members to date, Big Boy and now Boel. A great way to end off the day.

As the smaller kob were ever present over the next few days, my attention shifted to targeting a steenbras and catching fish on my light outfit. The weather and sea conditions played along and all were very conducive to yielding some good catches. For all but 3 days, we had good conditions. Now what was different this time round? Sure it was a little later in the year compared to prior years, and generally the weather should be a bit better; Jakes and the golden boy made a fair statement in that they were the change this year, the “good mojo”; suppose they will be the first ones on the invitation list for future adventures. When Jays had to leave a week early due to work commitments I made sure that he rubbed some of that fishing mojo off on me (I even nabbed his Daiwa Grandwave 40 to use).

After Big Boy identified a spot, we eventually found the steenbras, but not the size we were looking for. He landed the biggest for the day.

That elusive diesel engine still haunts my dreams and I will keep returning to stalk the flats until I master the art of catching the Namibian steenbras. The locals do not divulge their knowledge on hunting this formidable beast easily, but in due course I will break them down and learn from experience to become a Westcoast steenbras whisperer myself.

Not only landing a multitude of young kob and steenbras, but we also climbed into the juvenile galjoen population. As soon as the water turned a little off-colour they were on a mussel like a fat kid on cake.

We went in search of better sized ones, and with some work put in on low tide, we were rewarded some better ones. The biggest being 40cm.

I witnessed one of the saddest things I had ever come across whilst fishing. Guys from Swakopmund were fishing with worms, and had caught bags and bags full of galjoen and steenbras. Cast for cast they were pulling them in, two at a time on regular occasion. It was sickening to say the least… but more on that in another post.

The days passed by and our time in Namibia was slowly drawing to a close. Dad and I fished hard and put in the effort to catch that big steenbras. Conditions seemed perfect, but to no avail.

One of the most spectacular things about the Namibian coastline is the sunset. The huge fireball is swallowed by the ocean in seconds, but what a sight to behold for those last few minutes as the sun greats us a friendly au revoir, until tomorrow. It makes for great photographs and adds a little persuasion to crack open a beer while we tried to slow the setting sun down; not that we needed much persuasion.

By now word had spread that there had been some good catches at Blare. It looked like a Durban pier in shad season. Guys were shoulder to shoulder in search of that fish of a lifetime; not my cup of tea, thank you. Dad and I kept venturing North and worked our way down to Rondeklip each day. From there we would head up to the main road and then back to St Nowhere.

The last day of the trip coincided with the full moon spring tide. On the low we were able to reach areas generally not accessible. My dad and I flat out smashed the big kob. It was just one of those sessions that we will remember for a long time to come. It had everything I love about fishing, good conditions and lesser fished waters, a bit of wading, lures as well as big sticks, a bit of a challenge. The wave surges would wash us around on the submerged sandbank while we struggled to find descent footing. Cast for cast we would get pulled flat. Would you like to witness pure joy on the face of a fisherman, watch him get stuck into a good fish after putting in the effort. Dad somehow managed to lose a couple in the process, but enabled him to take some snaps of my fish.

First fish on the bank, 75cm kob

Second cast, second fish, 85cm

Third cast, third fish, 88cm

Fourth cast, fourth kob, 80cm

Finally dad gets a turn to pose for the camera, a good 90cm size kob

It takes a few minutes to get out there, and I believe if we had more time, we would have kept on catching them. Fith cast, yielded a big blacktail.

The next cast was a kob again, lost track of how many.

I topped the trip off with my biggest edible fish in Namibia, a beaut of a kob, 101cm on bucktail. I battled a seal, three or four other lines in the water, a big drop-off and rolling waves that had me nearly neck deep at times. It takes some serious skill and a dash of luck to pick a fish up in the water. We managed to successfully do this every time (grateful); experience pays off as the other guys that joined us had to find out on the hard way; on more than one occasion they were left grabbing at air after a “long-line release”.

A few snaps later we were able to release the fish, these big kob are breeding fish on their way to Walvis Bay. Hopefully in years to come I can catch their offspring. Always handle fish with care if you intend on releasing them. If the fish is tired, give them time to recover while holding them upright in the water, allowing oxygen rich water to flow through their gills. If the fish is small, place it back gently into the water; do not fling it at the waves, laughing at the belly flop.

It is incredible to see how much the manne on the trip have improved since the first adventure back in 2010. Back then most of them were complete novices, having never fished the sea before. Now I would accompany them on any fishing trip, confident that we would do well; their commitment and perseverance is admirable. Guys like Vennie and the Doc have buckets of knowledge they gladly share with the others. They know how to catch fish.

I firmly believe you never stop learning and I make an effort to ask questions and steal with my eyes. There were talks of the annual trip coming to an end this year and perhaps only a reunion again in a couple of years’ time; after the good catches I am not so sure anymore, only time will tell. Let’s just say, if I hear Namibia calling, try to stop me.