What draws any angler to a piece of water seems like a simple answer. I mean, if there weren’t any fish to be had, why would we bother? How’s the fishing been, is the leading question, but what we really want to know is how good is it expected to be when we get there? Which is always favourably predicted, but never with any degree of certainty.
Hence although we are lured to a destination for the fishing potential, it’s really the environment in which we find ourselves throwing a line, that’s the attraction.
And incredible fishing destinations have three things in common. Firstly they are scenically jaw-dropping, secondly, there is little to no human footprint…….and lastly, if the former is true, the vicinity should be inundated with wildlife that hopefully remains protected from our appetite. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the sanctuary of the Lower Zambezi national park and why we found ourselves marvelling at the riverbank on route to Bains camp. The first night was embraced in the usual celebratory fashion, punctuated by many cheers, which naturally led to a little competition between us keepers of the faith (fly fishers) and the exponents of the dark arts in the form of Brad and the group GM, Scotty, a rather foolish bet considering their arsenal and combined experience.
The water levels were lower than we’d ever experienced, which theoretically exposed more structure and drop-offs for us to get our flies into. But getting to within casting distance wasn’t going to be easy, with every tasty piece of holding water firmly occupied by the beasts that sensible people should give a wide berth. First light demands that you throw a popper of sorts and the instant reaction had our spirits soaring. Strangely the fish were holding above the drop off in faster water, and they seemed to be congregating there in numbers. Getting a fish to stick on your popper requires constant attention and quick reactions, which we were a little slow to learn, but Jeremy soon got us on the board, with a solid tiger for a surface take. Brad and Scotty weren’t getting the same reaction from their surface lures, which had us goading them resulting in their suggestion that we have some conjugal relations with our relatives.
Taking the piss is a time-honoured tradition amongst fisherfolk and it never hurts to apply a little pressure to your fishing buddies. Although one should be prepared to reap what you sow.
Day 1 witnessed some action on the fly, but it wasn’t anything you’d be sharing on the Fishbook front. It would seem that we were destined to eat our words, as the lure duo waltzed into camp that evening, boasting double-digit fish and rubbing our noses in it. Caught on what was a question answered with the appropriate sign language. Our crack of dawn assault the following morning was met by a howling wind, scuppering our hopes and the only thing to show on day 2, aside from a few fingerlings was a broken 9wt courtesy of a Vundu or possibly a crocodile, we’ll never know.
By the end of day 3, we were facing down the barrel of an embarrassing defeat, Vundu, Bream, and Tigers had all been landed, with 5 double-digit fish to add insult to injury. And, they had caught them on it all, from jigs and surface lures to live bait….needless to say the dark knights had conquered everything in their kingdom and justifiably crowned themselves. Our only consolation was the destination in which we were toiling away. Even in such windswept conditions you can’t help but be distracted from the task of fishing by spellbinding scenery and the wildlife that abounds. The luxury of Bains River Camp also helped us to regain our composure, despite having to listen to the accolades of our opposition.
On our last day, we took casting to a whole new level. Finding some fish tight against the structure we just didn’t stop throwing lines, and after my gut-wrenching snap up on a trophy tiger, I was ready to throw in the towel.
How many casts does it take to get a reaction? Well, don’t try counting! It takes a fairly demented fly fisher to cast 8 hours a day in 40-degree heat, against a howling wind, but quite frankly that’s how badly Jeremy has the affliction. His abrupt ‘Inside’ and immediate silence alerted me to the fact that he had hooked a significant specimen and watching the head and body break the surface to shake his hook, I knew it was a trophy. To say he manhandled it, is an understatement, he dominated the fish from the get-go and it was a privilege to watch him tame the beast.
In the eleventh hour, he landed his largest tiger on the Lower Zambezi. A 15LB behemoth!
Sauntering onto the sandbank that afternoon for the Zambezi sundowner was as satisfying as it gets. To take the game in injury time with the largest fish, was sweet redemption indeed. Thank goodness for the royal We!
As such, he is included not as a Guide in terms of the someone who can give you any indispensable tuition or direction, but to provide us with some fishing tales from the events that WildFly hosts and of course from the locations that the the WildFly team happen to be filming.
The real account from a social fisherman's perspective...
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