FISHING
Fishing, and particularly trout fishing in rivers and dams, is one of the primary attractions to
this area of KZN having established itself over a century ago.
this area of KZN having established itself over a century ago.
In 1882, John Parker, who lived on the Tetworth farm north of Howick, wrote to British
publication The Field, asking for advice on how to introduce trout to the area. In response to
his query, Sir James Maitland of Howick Town Fishery gifted him 10 000 trout ova. When
none survived, Maitland sent another 10 000 ova the following year, which also died.
Regardless, trout-fever had struck. In 1889, Cecil Yonge, a member of Pietermaritzburg's
Legislative Council, obtained a government grant to introduce trout and salmon to Natal’s
waters. A committee was formed to manage the process, and Boschfontein was selected as
the site for the first trout hatchery.
publication The Field, asking for advice on how to introduce trout to the area. In response to
his query, Sir James Maitland of Howick Town Fishery gifted him 10 000 trout ova. When
none survived, Maitland sent another 10 000 ova the following year, which also died.
Regardless, trout-fever had struck. In 1889, Cecil Yonge, a member of Pietermaritzburg's
Legislative Council, obtained a government grant to introduce trout and salmon to Natal’s
waters. A committee was formed to manage the process, and Boschfontein was selected as
the site for the first trout hatchery.
AN UNEXPECTED CATCH. A TALE OF RESILIENCE AND TEAMWORK
After some days of thrashing the water optimistically without reward, I assume Graham flicked a switch in the main house and I caught a lovely 40 cm hen on the east bank of the lower dam. I was encouraged. I cast immediately into the same hole in the weed. Bang! I was on again, but this one was bigger. The expiry date on my 4lb tippet line flashed painfully across my vision. The year 2000 wasn’t that long ago, but I was going to play this one gently. She jumped clear of the water three times, thrashing her head, trying to get free. I was in the zone, and this was going well. The audience—my son Fynn, the dog, and a few cattle—were spellbound by the battle going on.
Then, after 20 minutes, she ran for the middle of the dam. Line was screaming off the reel; I’m into my backing. It shoots up the rod. I feel a slight twang, and the pressure’s off the rod as the end of the white backing slowly floats down the rod, through the eyes. I said something indicating my disappointment. Fortunately, Fynn was there and said, ‘Dad, why don’t you grab the end of the line floating in the water,’ which was still 5 m from the bank. Well, I couldn’t wade in because I was holding my rod, so I calmly asked Fynn to grab it for me. I had to shout a bit because the cattle were now trying to catch the dog, and she was fighting back a bit.
Fynn threw down his rod, waded in up to his waist in quite cold water, he says, grabbed the line, and handed it to me just after I tried to sort out the cattle and the dog. Disappointed but pleased I still had my line and no harm had been done, I started to retrieve my fly-line by hand. Ten meters into hand-lining, I get a shock. I’m still on! Great news! It must have turned back towards the hole in the weed when the pressure went off. Can I hand-line this fish in? Tippet 24 years expired. I’ve got a plan: ‘Fynn, please thread the backing through the rod and retie the line.’ This took him some time because a cow was standing on his rod and had to be chased at the same time. He heroically succeeded in getting us back to normal fly-fishing while I played the fish by hand. He chased the cows and picked up the dog while I successfully managed to land a large Rainbow hen of about 58 cm. Someone in charge must have been watching and thankfully flicked the switch up in the main house back to normal mode.