Fishing for Bass in the northern Province in South Africa is more than a fishing trip in most places. Firstly, you have to realise that any body of water could contain at least a crock or two with Mr fatso himself – wide mouth Hippo making an unannounced appearance from time to time.
Getting the boat in the water means “bundu bashing” going through brush and reeds normally ending up stuck in the mud, unhitching the trailer and pushing it by hand into the water (That’s the easy part, getting it back on the trailer and getting the trailer hooked to the vehicle is another story).
Boat in the water, the first thing you do is to look at the water for a few minutes, watching for tell-tale signs of a Hippo. A narrow path leading to the dam, broken reeds floating on the water. Listening for the typical snort.
OK on that one you get in the boat and wiggle your way past the last reeds, open water. Now you peek around and look for Mr silent – if a crock does not want his whereabouts known you could find it hard to spot him.
Everything appears normal so you take out your fishing pole, as most Bass fishermen know, Bass be more full of IT than women. You go by the book – as the sun is already up and looks like another hot day you select a dark lure.
Your first cast is close to the semi sunken tree stump and true to form bucket mouth takes the lure on the way down. This must be the most fun a man can have with his clothes on! After a five-minute struggle (I fish with very light line) a two and a half kilo bass is lip landed into the boat.
I believe in catch and release but also enjoy a butter and garlic fried bass filet. Here is my theory. Any fish smaller than one kilo must always be put back into the water, they are next year’s eating’s. Any fish bigger than three kilos, put back into the water as they are next year’s parents. Thus you can sustain a healthy population.
I place the bass on my steamer and start casting for number two. The boat starts to drift and as there is no current and no wind to speak of I find this strange. Surely that one small bass cannot be responsible. I pull at the streamer and o boy! the water explodes as a small thieving crock is attached to my fish, he death rolls and I am out of my meal and part of my streamer.
I decide to move to another place and the electric trolling motor effortlessly guides my boat to a spot covered in water lilies. I see movement and immediately cast my lure to an opening in the lilies. What a surprise to have a sneaky snake looking for a ride coming aboard. Jump and swim with the crock or stand and face a snake. With my net in hand I convince the snake to look for the next bus.
My next few casts are fruitless, then yep that is the unmistakable tap of the bass, come to daddy. Lipping the fish into the boat I hear the unmistakable sound of a Hippo snorting. Enough is enough, not wanting to lose my lunch again, I head back to the trailer and battle my way back to the vehicle.
A bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work.
