Deliciously moist and tender peri-peri chicken, slow-cooked over open coals on the braai, accompanied by a
range salads and chips - all washed down with ice-cold beer.
regulations to take on board. Each team is given a number. The
numbers are drawn from a hat, and that is the starting order. Teams
are issued with numbered ‘bibs’ - designed to facilitate the staggered
start in an orderly fashion the following morning - an excellent new
concept dreamed up by the tournament organisers - everyone knows
where they need to be in line. It was with some relief when the meeting
finally drew to a close and we could head off to bed. It had been a
long day. In the morning the hard work would begin.
Ian’s alarm sounded at 4am. I tried to ignore it. I was having such
a lovely sleep. Then the light came on.
“Come on! Get up!” Ian ordered.
Outside Casa Msika was coming alive with the sound of anglers
preparing for the day. Absolute madness, I thought to myself. But I
too was keen to get on the water and see the famed Chicamba in
more detail. I stumbled into the shower and was soon revived
by its powerful spray of hot water. By the time I had finished
my ablutions, Ian was already dressed and outside organising
the boat. Within a few minutes we were heading down to the
slip-way to get in line for launching.
Surprisingly, the whole process of launching forty boats
from a single slip-way was undertaken in a very civilised and
orderly manner. We didn’t have to wait long and were soon milling
around the start line with all the other participants. The excitement
was tangible.
As the early morning gloom lifted, a voice squawked out a
loud-haler.
“Team number one...number one!”
Somewhere an outboard engine revved up. A sleek bass rig broke
free from amongst the mill of bobbing craft and headed towards the
‘command’ pontoon. Here the occupants handed in their numbered tag,
had their livewell checked as well as safety and emergency equipment.
Then they slowly idled towards the flagged ‘safe-water’ tree further
out in the bay. As the pilot passed the marker, the powerful 225hp
engine opened and they were planing out into open water. Within
A blanket of heavy, thick, pea-soup mist, with visibility of only a few
metres, delayed the start on the final day.
V o l . 21 # 1
seconds they were out of sight. The procedure was repeated over and
over again until, eventually, it was our turn.
As we drew level with the marker, Ian dropped the hammer, the
engine responded with a growl, and 18 feet of boat lurched up and
onto the plane. Within a few seconds we were going flat-out. Ian
fought with the steering wheel, and played with the engine’s trim. The
boat jigged and jagged and chine-walked as he negotiating the criscross tapestry of old wakes from the other boats. I watched through
streaming eyes as the needle on speed dial crept up to 76 miles per
hour. Wow! That’s fast, especially on water...
“HOLD ON!” Ian yelled. Yeah! Like I needed telling?
As we streaked across the water, and into the main dam, I was at
last able to take in some of the scenery - albeit it through half-closed
eyes. Chicamba is a difficult dam to describe. It is a huge body of water
fed by several large tributaries, which are fed, in turn, by a myriad of
smaller inlets. This has created, literally, hundreds of bays, vast open
flats, deep channels, flooded tree lines, submerged termite mounds,
rocky points and pilings - the list is endless. The dam encompasses
just about every kind of structure you can imagine.
Where does one start? This was the dilemma we were faced
with. We had formulated a strategy based on what we had expected
to find. But nothing could have prepared us for the vastness and
diversity of Chicamba. We had assumed, given the time of year and
high temperatures, that the bass would be spawning, or at the very
least in ‘transition’ zones; areas of deep water adjacent to shallower
flats - termite mounds and the like.
Also, at the time of our visit, the dam was not at full capacity.
In fact it was quite low. Chicamba provides electricity to the whole
of the Manica province as well as Mutare. It also supplies irrigation
to commercial farms further downstream, so it is subject to drastic
water fluctuations throughout the year. This, in itself, is not a bad
thing. If anything, it is probably because of this that Chicamba is
such a prolific fishery.
As the water levels drop through the year, the loca