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The Fishing Report

The Archive: Rio Azul, Imbabala Safari Lodge, Chile, New Zealand, Lake Tanganyika, Bassas da India, Des Roches Island, Farquar aboard the MV Illusions, Barotse Tiger Camp, Chawalo, Neptune Warrior - Trident Tested, Ngwezi Houseboat - Okavango,

Bassas da India

Bassas da India - Mocambique Channel

There are places whispered in fishing circles that have become folklore.

Submerged worlds of such wilderness that to wander in these kingdoms, you need to have your wits about you.

The Indian Ocean is broken by many coral islands and outcrops, but few completely disappear on the turn of a tide, transforming your perspective, from another mile of horizon to a flats fishing haven!

The tales of tackle lost to ravenous predators within these grounds defy belief and to journey there is in itself an adventure

Such destinations are as rare as the accurate account of any anglers best catch, so when the opportunity to affirm it’s mythical status arises, calendars are cleared, excuses made and you find yourself running for the boarding gate.

Sailing 400km across the Mozambique Channel in unpredictable seas requires more than your normal complement of fly fishers. So we bolstered our crew normal crew with Craig Jefferies and Paul Lishman who had between them had a reputation that would ward off any self respecting pirate and Warrick Fraser who has spent more hours on the water than we have on land.

A window of weather presented itself and under the diligent direction of our skipper Andrian, we were pushing against the current for the Atoll that has claimed as many ships as it has angling records lost to the appetite of the tax man.

Two days at sea with no computer or cell phone to interrupt your thoughts naturally has you talking about and salivating at the prospect of fighting fish……. and with each flock of gannets, terns or frigates that seem to miraculously appear over the feeding tuna, your desire to get a line in the water is amplified to an ache.

Of course Warrick doesn’t go anywhere without a trolling a Williamson kona on route, which briefly caught the attention of roaming Marlin that was on for a brief 30 seconds and 4 jumps before shaking the lure.

Waiting to get there is like watching a boiling kettle…………….fortunately the leopard 45 catamaran had every creature comfort and we had Arthur Bell to keep the conversation fluid.

Few first sights live up to an expectation that has been nurtured in your imagination, but to see Bassas Da India rise like the fabled Atlantis quelled the collective celebrations of arrival.

Lines were being thrown as soon as the structure came within casting distance and the resident rock cod attacked with gusto…….attracting the attention of a potato bass lurking for a free meal.

Craig took the first snapper from the protection of it’s coral abode……..and not a moment later my rod got a bending, producing a good10 pound Swallow Tail.

You would think, considering the striking colors of the reef fish that they would stand out like a Bill Clinton’s cigar but you can only properly identify what has gobbled your fly as it surfaces……..despite the confident calls from above.

The contrast in pigments from the small peacock rock cod to the slab of marble that Paul produced was mesmerizing….but you have only to take a look at what bustles below to get a hint of the kaleidoscope.

We landed the full spectrum of rock cod and snappers on offer before drifting out a bit to target the king fish.

Massive Blue Fin, Big Eye and Black kingfish were taken on the first afternoon, leaving only the GT’s to succumb to our presentations.

Now, every fish knows the virtue of keeping absolutely still, as movement attracts the eyes of all cruising predators………..and it only takes one hunting shark to get the party started…...within minutes the silver tips, were joined by grey reef sharks and a massive hammerhead, which undoubtedly brought the inquisitive king fish to an abrupt halt.

So, as the tide exposed the remnants of the ships that had paid the ultimate price, the urge to really explore the extinct volcano lured us onto land.

And the knee deep coral seascape was bustling with activity.

Watching the sauntering fashion in which the parrot fish scrounge around the coral will give you a complete false sense of certainty……as blasé as they seem, allowing you to within rod length of their feeding mass…….to get their beaks to snap your fly takes perseverance.

But when your crab pattern is finally accepted as a scuttling morsel……. look out……..the benign coral cruncher is the proverbial Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

Fly Fishing has never really been classified as physical sport…….but if you hope to land one of these parrots, short course water sprint is the discipline.

We’re never the epitome of elegant motion and watching each other haul our carcasses after the parrots made for comical entertainment.

Unlike most game fish that hit your fly at speed, the parrot fish from a static start, once it registers it is hooked, bolts like habana with the ball in hand. And you’ll lose more fish than you deserve if your tippet is on the thin side.

After gauging up, Mark started to step up his pace and get into the game, landing the next three fish, the largest of 15 pounds on an epoxy crab pattern.

Wanting a little fresh Sashimi, we trolled around the 50m deptgh mark and literally within 10 minutes had fresh Yellowfin and Wahoo for our supper.

Now we never bother to throw flies as soon as the sun sets, largely due to the fact that we’re usually ensconced over a dram, recounting the days highlights. But knowing that the fish would continue feeding long after we finished our dinner, we decided that a line or two in the water before bed was better than the dreams that were sure to follow.

The Night time fly fishing was simply off the scale, with big eye kingfish being the most prolific fish that we landed. We were taken into the bricks by God knows what 3 out of every four hook ups, with 14wt rigs not being able to stop the run. Magic Entertainment is an understatement and it was weary bones that collapsed on deck the first night

To open your eyes, move a couple of meters to your left and put your fly into water that holds practically any fish that roams the Indian Ocean is something that is a first for me.

And regardless of what decides to pay you a visit, short of a bit of slap and tickle, there’s not a lot that beats your rod being tugged first thing in the morning…..even if it’s a common green job fish. Craig, never one to miss the morning rise, then brought another job fish to the boat of the rosy variety, with Paul quickly following by stripping a pick handle barracuda to the stern.

Action has a habit of attracting an expectant audience and thrashing fish is soon irrevocably connected to the movement of the boat, earning us a circling escort of Johnnies that kept any thoughts of refreshing swim at bay.

And in the absence of anything else to throw at, Paul took advantage of the grey reef shark looking for breakfast. No less than 3 sharks turned, chased and took the fly, but needless to say not a single jaws was landed.

Mark meanwhile got back to his familiar flats, stalking the tailing parrots and triggerfish digging out their meal from the receding tide.

The tropical parrot fish is certainly well adapted to this environment, to the extent that from the limited segment of the atoll that we explored they were by far the dominant species.

You find it hard to believe that in 15 inches of water you find 20 pound fish keeling to excavate the crustaceans hiding within the coral bed.

Mark by now had the technique down pat, drifting a crab pattern down to their approach or settling the fly in wait of their foraging. And once the man had got the knack of pinball angling, fencing the fish around the bommies, the landing rate improved appreciably, bagging 7 fish within a two hour period.

My efforts weren’t even close, not that I didn’t hook up….I just couldn’t control the lightening run before I was reefed on the coral. Again the tide chased us back to the boat where we settled in for another night of fish on fly

Now, being in the middle of the Mozambique channel, keeping an accurate update on the whim of the weather gods is a must and when you get reports of a 40 knot South West storming up the coast you know that they’re a little peeved.

Looking around at the remains of vessels that have not heeded their bellows cemented our decision to put our tails between our hulls and run for the safety of the Bazeruto Archipelago.

With the current we steamed back in 30 hours, but despite the picture book surrounds that we found ourselves anchored in, our crew was feeling a little jaded. Reflecting on our brief interlude with one of the rare frontiers of fly fishing, you can’t blame a man for regretting any relaxation enjoyed at the expense of the fishing time lost.

Fortunately our skipper eased our pain by dragging the team onto shore at the legendary Benguerra beach bar, where before long the lads recalled the extra special moments that will inevitably add to the wonder that is Bassas Da India.

Our trip was short but incredibly sweet, to the extent that we’ve booked out April / May being the weather proof season for Bassas.

It’s a trip you’ve got to make, so give us a shout, if you want to join us on this expedition.