Bass Digest/May, 2014
who, like yourselves is also a visitor. It also made me realize that Joburg is a mad place and just because I enjoy getting away from the craziness to enjoy some peace and quiet doesn’t mean that everyone shares my desire. Private is private and whether you are fishing, swimming or making a racket, you are doing it away from the madness that is the public dam environment and good for you I say. I still maintain it was a dampener to the fishing which was further justified with me losing two nice bass at the tube, in quick succession thereafter, clearly my nerves were shot and that’s the excuse I’m sticking with.
I did manage a few half decent fish before the ‘super tube brigade,’ four in a boat(one inefficient broken paddle) and two on lilos, set out from shore with their entourage , worthy rivals to the Titanic departure, bidding them a noisy farewell.
Yup , private just aint what it used to be I thought to myself, remembering when we first stocked this dam with bass and Kurper fry and how we were the sole beneficiaries of this resource for what seemed like an eternity. Without sounding too cynical however I did manage to get some amazing shots of a Malachite kingfisher up close and personal, something that would never occur within the closer city bounds so with that comfort I packed up shop and moved off.
On my way out I passed the smaller bottom dam which tends to be ignored as it has dried out on occasion during the winter months and doesn’t have quite the pull appeal of the bigger
brother which comes
complete with easy
parking access and
grassy embankment,
ideal for stowing
wives and children
under the guise of
picnic.
I had always by-
passed this dam, in
an attempt to gain
full value of the day
pass afforded by the
land owner, a rare
gem in Gauteng
where rod fees are
the norm.
The sun hadn’t quite
set yet and in true
Jozi style, I felt that
my day had been hijacked, so what harm in a last cast! The nice thing about this piece of water is that bank side access is pretty limited so it immediately deters the masses but it’s back to the past with some proper bundu- bashing and nettle hopping interspersed with a touch of ‘wagging n bietjie.’ I felt like a teenager again, desperate to find a place to catch a fish at all costs. Once in position, legs sliced up and soul filled with anticipation, I let fly with a well aimed cast with my surface offering which was engulfed as it bounced off the cover, landing in amongst the sticks. I struck hard and managed to lead her out of the thick stuff, she was fat and angry and gave an impressive jump before sounding down. My Cumara was bent double and looked in a dire state before she finally tired and I bent down to lip her. As I held her in the dying light I heard the vehicles descending from the top dam like NASCAR pole position, their beers had clearly run out, so I quickly revived her and watched her swim off just before one of the beauts bellowed down to me asking if there were any fish in the dam.
“Naah”...I yelled back ...”too small!”...
“ Thought so,” was the reply, drowned out by the techno beat of straining sub woofers as the circus left town!
Some things just don’t require sharing or so I reassured myself on the drive home.
Article by Graham Weakley