A fishing trip to the Transkei never required a second invitation and one to Mbolompo point even less so. We got to know this stretch of coastline over the course of our last couple of visits, but this time there was a new discovery in store for us.
The usual crew, bar a sub or two were on the road before sunrise; passing through Queenstown just in time for coffee and few last supplies. We took turns sitting in front of the single cab bakkie, swapping positions as the ones on the back were nearing hypothermia.
Once safely through Mthatha and a short-left taken, you travel through a few villages where the roadside is crammed with hawkers, vendors, salesmen and all kinds of repairs available (broken cell phone, no problem; need to replace your air conditioner gas; why not have a beer at the shebeen / tyre repairs shop while you wait). People are everywhere, yet they move between stalls in some sort of chaotic cohesion. How a vehicle manages to pass through amazes me, but we manage to snake a path to the light at the end of the tunnel.
In no time civilisation as we know it is all but forgotten. Off the beaten track you are overwhelmed by the adventure, caught up in the surreal experience of it all; a foreigner in a land where time has stood still.
People stop and stare at you as you meander along the gravel road in your 4×4.
Bouncing from one pot hole to the next; vehicles loaded to the brim; a couple of heads bobbing around on the back; no wonder they wave back at us with big grins on their faces.
Kids that appear from nowhere, shouting for sweats at the top of their voices, run after your vehicle for which feels like kilometers.
We always take along a couple of bags full of sweets that we distribute every so often.
The rolling green hills are strewn with circular huts with thatched roofs. Apparently the story of why the hut is circular is so that the tokoloshe cannot corner them inside the hut (but probably not true). Each hut or “rondavel” has a little patch of cultivated land; planted with mielies (corn), cabbage, beans, or whatever else they need for their subsistence lifestyle. They would also have a “kraal” where they kept a few animals. Although these animals always looked quite sickly, they are a symbol of your wealth and are also used in a variety of traditional rituals. They are often required to slaughter a goat, sheep or cow for one or the other tradition.
The abundance of dogs (which all seem to be female and pregnant) would scavenge everywhere and consume any morsel of anything remotely edible. They have a tough life and often seem to be mistreated and completely malnourished. They do not like us either, and would bark and chase after your vehicle until you are far enough away from their territory.
Closer to the coastline the civilisation is spread even more thinly. The now familiar view of green hills seemingly disappearing into the ocean still leaves you with a sense of awe. Arriving at a destination to a view that takes your breath away is rewarding enough on its own, but where the promise of an unforgettable fishing experience is potentially at the order of the day, it becomes truly priceless. I love the excitement of arriving at the destination. You hastily unpack, hoping there would still be enough time to wet a line before dark.
This is a coastline you should not fish after dark. The chance of injuring yourself on this rugged terrain is a real possibility and at night even more so. Medical assistance is far away and in case of emergency you are in serious trouble. This definitely adds to the level of adventure. Make no mistake, it is rough out there, you should be well prepared, don’t be foolish or take unnecessary chances. If possible, take someone that has been to the area before or employ a local as a gillie for your stay.
The mountainous terrain and huge rocky cliffs are swallowed by the ocean; lending itself perfectly to deep-water points with some hair-raising ledges to venture onto. Take a few minutes to watch the swell before you attempt one of these ledges; the overzealous might just find themselves shark bait.
Home-base for the next couple of days
Mbolompo point is one such very famous deep-water point. Huge sharks, garrick or leervis, yellowtail, shad or elf, black and white musselcracker, steenbras, blacktail and other smaller species can readily be targeted from here. The anticipation after sending a lure or bait into the blue from this point is why we return here as often as we can during a visit. There is limited space on the spots closest to the water and we need to take turns in casting and retrieving a lure.
Elf are pretty easy to catch on a drifted whole pilchard or little silver spoon. Put your lure/bait in some foamy water near structure or deeper water, make sure you don’t snag a rock and you are pretty much assured of a bite sooner rather than later. Elf also make great bait for the larger more toothy species.
Large baits regularly leave you staring at an empty spool, so be sure your tackle is up to scratch when you offer big bait. After a couple of bite-offs and one empty spool, Len finally hooked up to a shark that was a bit more on the manageable side. It hugged the rocky ledges and we were soon sure of the species; a ragged-tooth shark or raggy as it is more commonly known. Once the fish tired it was just a matter of waiting for a big swell to get the fish onto the ledge. A couple of guys risked a swim in order to help land the beast, but soon enough it was smiling for a pic (a mug only a mother could love)
There was a storm brewing in the distance. This generally causes a change in the air pressure and in turn brings the fish on the bite.
Standing firm footed on the “table” (a flat rock resembling a table) I sent in a white chisel-nose popper. My 12 foot fishing rod paired with a size 50 multiplier was a great setup for casting lures. The soft tip however made it more challenging to pull a fish over the lip or onto the ledge even with the help of the swell.
The anticipation of watching your lure skip along the surface, expecting a strike at every turn of the reel is almost unbearable. Every so often the lure would slide below the surface and pop back out creating an exaggerated splash, your heart would immediately jump to your throat, your brain almost giving the green light to pull the trigger, but you somehow resist. Those couple of minutes from when your lure lands in the water, until it is fully retrieved at the side is one of the most exciting and exhilarating feelings one can experience; I suppose you have to be a true lure-fisherman to appreciate or understand the emotions of such a situation.
The little 3 ounce popper danced its way across the blue swells, keeping everyone’s attention fixed upon it. It neared the foam line that pulled from the waves crashing onto the rocks; this is the strike-zone. The foamy water offers cover for bait fish trying to hide, as well as predators waiting launch an ambush. There was a flash of silver behind the lure, a slight bow wave appeared and then melted into the water as if never having existed. When you feel or see a hit/bite/grab that never took place it is described as the fever, hallucinations brought on by the overwhelming excitement, the rush of blood to your head. Is that not the feeling when we came up with the name Rush of Blue? Immediately I turned to the others standing nearby, “did you see that?” I enquired; “see what?” was the reply. I had the fever; I had it bad, but come on, “how did you guys not see that!” Unsure of my sanity; I sent the popper flying again.
Dad had now joined me on the table, and would be my star witness in case the “fever fish” struck again. I turned the handle of the multiplier at a pace that kept the popper just above the surface. It bounced its backside from side to side; a twerk that Miley Cyrus would be proud of. Who let the dogs out! A school is not the correct description; this was a pack of hunters. They arose from the depths and had only one prey in mind… My excitement level reached its peak limit.
The leeries took turns in attacking the popper with vigour and aggression. I could hardly contain myself and it took all my restraint to delay pulling the trigger (striking).
The rod tip bent under the pressure, the handle of the reel stopped turning, the popper disappeared beneath the surface, finally! I put some pressure onto the fish and the single hook was set. Cheers of delight sounded from all but none more than me. I held the rod in my left hand and watched as line was stripped from the reel.
A leerie is a clean fighter, and if hooked well you only need a bit of patience and you should successfully land it.
The surge of the waves and the lift onto the rocks with as little harm to the fish would be my biggest obstacle.
A successful release of a fish that gave its all in a fight is the cherry on the cake. A hat-trick of good size fish landed is a pretty successful day in my books.
The first one…
The second one required a bit more foot-work and I had to land him on the middle of the point…
The third one also ran across the point and needed some careful planning before I was able to successfully land him…
Some of the locals had success as well; they were however less interested in catch and release. I suppose this is their way of providing for themselves and their families.
You often see the locals hauling around bags full of fish. My dad told me that many years ago the locals did not have access to good fishing tackle and most of it was either hand-made or very old. These days they have tackle that can hold its own next to any of us. The residential fish stocks do take a beating; fish like musselcracker, galjoen and rockcod. Unfortunately there is no education happening around this area of concern. Conservation has always been close to my heart, but if we can’t even manage this amongst ourselves at our local fishing grounds, how can we expect these guys to understand. The game fish that migrate along our coastline are not really impacted by the shore based anglers, but you see plenty fish trawlers along the Transkei coastline. They drag long-lines or nets or whatever, very close to the shore and completely annihilate huge shoals of “trekking” fish. That is a major concern and should be better policed.
There is only one thing I enjoy more than smashing a few good fish on bigger tackle and lures, and that is hunting them with light tackle. After the storm, the sea was up and made fishing from Mbolompo point a little too risky.
We went in search of calmer waters away from the deep-water points.
Although the day yielded a brake in the weather, unfortunately the sea was still up.
While the others fished the bay next to Mbolompo point, on the Mpame side, a couple of us ventured to the river (think it is named the Mncwasa River). Having never fished this system before, we were in for a pleasant surprise. It was to be a little afternoon session that was the perfect end to a very successful trip.
I had a little 2500 fixed spool reel paired with a 8 foot spinning rod and 8 pound braided line. We whipped little 4 inch minnows on 1/4ounce jigheads. I had read a lot about estuaries in the Transkei area and that they are often home to an abundance of kingfish species. I used a fast retrieve for the first hour of the session, but no-one had any success.
The tide had dropped and the shallow mud flats were now exposed. This allowed us to get a little closer to the deeper channel of the little river, giving your lure more time in the strike-zone. The water turned muddy as the tide drained the banks and pulled the last bit into the deep channels. I was having no success on the fast retrieve and concluded that the kingies weren’t around.
It was time for another plan of attack. On my very first kob retrieve I felt that familiar bump, the one that feels like a rock snag, but not quite… No “fever bites” this time and soon enough my reel was singing those sweet tunes every angler loves to hear. I was in my happy place and let’s just call the rest HISTORY. Who knew this little system could hold so many fish, what a discovery.
For the next 2 hours until dusk we caught more than 40 of these little beauties. They loved the green minnows, and no retrieve brought in slowly would be left untouched.
Scott managed to land the biggest one of around 60cm, and even though the majority of the fish were around the 50cm mark, they were GREAT fun on the lures and light tackle.
We released all of them safely, hoping they keep growing to the busses we love to hunt on the Eastern Cape beaches.
It is hard to put into words how the excitement of an adventure consumes you for those few days. More often than not it is something you have to experience for yourself before you can truly understand what we are on about. An unforgettable experience with my dad and some friends, memories that will last us a lifetime, kept alive by the regular reminisce around a braai, planning the next adventure.
