THE PRINCE OF STREAMS.

The road is long and winding, the last 30 km rough and pot holed, some large and deep enough to account for missing persons – it stops at the rustic KZN Wildlife resort of iNjisuthi over looked by the prominent iNjisuthi Triplets and surrounded by raw and majestic mountain wilderness.

My son Craig and I spent a couple of days there a week ago camping, well in fixed tents with beds and mattresses, electricity and with running water and hot showers a short walk away, is hardly the kind of camping I’m used in the back country. But, we were comfortable, could prepare our food on a level surface and under shelter – we slept well after a long tiring day on the stream.

The iNjisuthi is a dry fly stream, as pretty as you will find anywhere with a healthy population of feisty little wild rainbow trout. The stream was running well but probably 6 inches below perfect – crystal clear and cold from the remains of the winter snow in shadowy gullies and southern slopes of the high Berg. The trout rose confidently to our dry flies, many splashing or turing short typical of small fish – we used a variety of dries, but it was the Wolf Spiders and small  Para RABs that consistently got their attention, even a new experimental Wally Winged Mayfly fooled a few.

By small fish I mean 6 to 8 inches, because here a 10 incher is a trophy and anything over that a cause for removing the cork from the 1983 Meerlust Rubicon – they’re colourful, the true meaning of rainbow, fin perfect and many still with parr marks. The iNjisuthi is a fragile system like most of the upper reaches of the Berg streams – places that won’t withstand too much fishing pressure. Here you stand out like Gulliver did in Lilliput and anything over a 1wt is likely to be a handicap.

I fear that with no rain forecast for the foreseeable future and the unlikely possibility of more snowfalls, the water levels will drop rapidly, temperatures will rise and oxygen content will diminish –  I believe we should wait and leave this stream and its inhabitants to follow their natural course until after the spring rains come, and they will – the trout will still be there.

Keep them in the water.

HE AIN’T HEAVY

He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” –The Hollies

The road is long

With many a winding turn

That leads us to who knows where

Who knows when

But I’m strong

Strong enough to carry him

He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

By default I am characterised as a dry fly purist, by some. I guess there is more than a modicum of truth in that, but not in the true sense of the definition of  a ‘Halfordian purist’ – I’m rather wired to dry fly fishing.

I do prefer casting dry flies any day over chucking lead, but if the dries are not attracting attention, I can’t say I won’t tie on a nymph as long as I’m catching fish.  If I’m not, it begins to wear thin quite quickly. Let me clarify something here – the kind of nymph fishing I’m on about is those tied with lots of weight to dredge the bottom of the stream. I learnt how to fish these bombs by paying attention to a couple of good friends that go to them as easily as I go to dries. I once had my ‘heavy’ nymph unapologetically called a ‘wimp’ and then had a fly dumped in my hand and told, ‘THIS is a nymph’ – big tungsten bead and body pregnant with lead that in flight and a tailing loop could make concussion a reality, ok that’s pushing it, but it was seriously heavy.

The Wimp

Before I’m hung, drawn and quartered, I do accept that nymphing with lots of weight is effective and will sometimes get you into fish and often bigger fish than a dry can at times. Contrary to what I used to think, nymphing does take a lot of skill – I once read, you need concentration, great eyes, the ability to visualise in three dimensions and mystical patience, but on the other hand, it can be easy enough that a beginner with a little coaching and a big strike indicator can sometimes get into fish right off the bat.

I still prefer to use weight sparingly, it’s effective and its known that the fish spend most of their time feeding on nymphs, larvae, pupae and all manner of drowned bugs in the water columns. So it’s not just the depth charges that work but lightly weighted nymphs fished a few inches below the surface as emergers. Even neutral density nymphs are good, lightly greased to float in the surface film or squeezed wet to get them below the surface – sometimes behind a dry fly indicator as long as it designed to also catch fish.

My nymphs are cheaper because no expensive exotic materials are needed and they’re quicker and easy to tie than the dry flies I use. The physiognomic differences between the nymphs in our streams are insignificant and have no real application in tying a more effective fly, except size. Size can be a trigger for a feeding response although a reasonable likeness with some familiar features doesn’t hurt.  What I’m saying is that there is a likeness amongst the species of nymphs in our streams, other than the their size. One imitation in a variety of sizes will do the job. There is a freedom about tying nymphs – as long as it is carrot or cigar shaped, brownish, olive or black, a tail, spiky thorax with a few sparse hackle legs or teased out guard hairs and resembles with a little imagination, one of the bugs that live in the stream, you’re are in business.

The size difference -#12 and #28

It’s personal so before anyone plans on sending me down the plank, I’m not a fan of the currently fashionable glossy UV resin coated nymphs despite how good and part of the empirical evolutionary advancement, I’m told they are. Others will have their own ideas, but I like to think about what I’m trying to imitate and use materials that move a little – some realism and movement giving it life. Of course there is no quick fix or serendipitous road to success with fly design, but I have been able get away with a traditional Zak as the foundation, unweighted and weighted, some with wing cases, others with a flashback, a few with beads in natural colours and occasionally a subtle touch of shine or a hot spot. You can do the same with the GRHE or PTN, and that great man Frank Sawyer couldn’t have been wrong.

One nymph with variations fits all

This just about covers all you need for the little bugs that creep, crawl, and swim below the surface of our streams – realism, not exact imitation, looks and behaves like a bug …… just saying.

JUST FOR THE RECORD

http://www.vagabondfly.com/sa-fly-fishing-and-fly-tying-expo-by-peter-brigg/

Photo – Ian Cox

http://www.vagabondfly.com/thoughts-on-fly-tying-by-peter-brigg/

http://www.vagabondfly.com/peter-brigg-the-vagabond-fly-godfather-by-vagabond-flys-pieter-taljaard/

http://feathersandfluoro.com/?p=9882#.V7quCVeO6Rs

DON’T FORGET THE CADDIS

It was John Geirach who said, “Mayflies in flight look like angels, Caddis are like moths on speed” – true.

Everything mayflies do is slow, they are gentle and seem to float sedately and are ghost like in the air – there is a kind of sophistication and dignity about them.  On the other hand Caddis appear like hooligans, always in a hurry, scooting and flitting across the surface before blasting off like mini space shuttles. But, there is no denying the fact that they are good flies often showing up as a superior searching fly. Using Leonard Wright’s theory  in his excellent book, ‘Fishing the Dry Fly as a Living Insect’, fish them with a little upstream twitch occasionally or fish upstream and across and just as drag sets in, skate them across the stream – this resembles their movements as an adult on the surface..

Mayflies are ephemeral and after hatching into duns, mate and seldom live longer than 24 hours. Caddis are different and can live for up to a couple of weeks or more after hatching. It’s the reason why there almost always seem to be a few around and why they are so familiar to the trout.

Had I not seen it I wouldn’t have believed it – although most egg laying takes place on the surface a few female caddis swim down and lay their eggs amongst the structure on the stream bed. You can simulate this by adding a split shot ahead of the adult pattern or tie a few of the sunken patterns described in Gary LaFontaine’s book, ‘Caddisflies’, too many to mention but a few really interesting ones – Emergent Sparkle Pupa, Diving Caddis and various cased pupa imitations

Perhaps the most well-known Caddis pattern is Al Troth’s signature Elk Hair Caddis – a proven good fly. I do find that it’s often tied with the down-wing too short, too splayed and too bulky. The natural has a low, slim and longish wing. To achieve this I use a fairly sparse bunch of elk hair making it slightly longer than the hook shank. To hold the wing in the position and shape I want, I add a drop of UV resin at the base of the hair tie in point, hold the wing in position and cure. Otherwise let off on the tension of the thread wraps to secure the elk hair to avoid too much flare.

The modern tying and now preferred style is the CDC and Elk – I think an improvement on the original (apologies to Mr.Troth). Again I prefer the wing style already described, but it has with the addition of CDC, movement and an impression of feelers and legs which are distinctive trigger features of the natural. The CDC also adds to the floatability.

There are probably as many caddis patterns as there are naturals, and there a lot of them varying slightly in colour and size, but the profile remains the same.  I have tried a number of my own creations based on established patterns,

But, I always come back to the Elk Hair Caddis or CDC and Elk.

As the new river season approaches, don’t forget the Caddis.

All images and copy in this post are copyright Peter Brigg Photography © 2016. All rights reserved

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

uKhahlamba – Barrier of Spears

There is no denying it ………

There is quality fly fishing to be had in regions such as the Western and North Eastern Cape, Mpumalanga and KwaZulu-Natal – from small mountain streams, to classical rivers and magnificent lakes where double figure trout are not uncommon. Then there are rivers where the fyfisher can cast to the powerful indigenous yellowfish, or if it is your preference, the game fish of the Indian Ocean. South Africa is a land of sunshine and wide-open spaces, of unforgettable scenery and wildlife. It is also a place to get away from it all and where you can enjoy the hospitality and rich cultures of the people of this country. I suspect that little of this is known internationally.

However, this is more about my back-garden; the KwaZulu Natal Drakensberg mountain region of South Africa, known locally as “The Berg”. A World Heritage Site: uKhahlamba-Drakensberg Park covering some 243 000ha situated at altitudes varying between 1280m and 3500m. The Park boasts two major Heritage Site criteria – cultural, having one of the world’s greatest collections of rock-art with over 35 000 San paintings in some 600 known sites and, the vast natural environment, providing the visitor with breathtakingly beautiful and unique mountain landscapes rich in indigenous fauna and flora, much of it endemic to the area.

                                                

   

Out of the deep folds of the earth below the towering majestic peaks, many sparking streams rise and begin their long journey towards the warm Indian Ocean on the eastern seaboard. These high altitude waterways range in diversity from diminutive brooks like the Nkosasana, Delmhlwazini and Ntonjelana to streams like the Mlambonjwa, the Polela, the Injisuthi and larger more classical rivers the Umzimkhulu, the Umkomas, the Bushmans and the Mooi, to name just a few. Most of these streams and rivers hold a head of trout in their higher reaches, some recognised as rainbow waters, others home to the wily browns and even a few with populations of both. Many fly fishers will have fished, or at least heard of the more popular waters, but there are others tucked away in secret places, in the folds of the earth hard up against the basalt buttresses of the main escarpment that are seldom talked of and infrequently, if ever, visited by fly fishers. Perhaps one of the reasons is that many of the headwaters of these small streams are relatively inaccessible unless one is prepared to strap on a backpack with all you need for 3 or 4 days, shed some sweat and give up all home comforts for the duration. I consider myself fortunate in that I enjoy the thrills and spills of roughing it and privileged because I have been able to frequently hike and fly fish in this pristine mountain environment over many years.

 Many of the Drakensberg streams were seeded with brown trout of Scottish origins during the mid 1890s. Rainbows from North America were introduced later in the early 1900’s following the establishment of the Pirie Hatchery outside King William’s Town in the Eastern Cape and Jonkershoek Hatchery near the town of Stellenbosch in the Western Cape.

The freestone streams of The Berg, are set in arguably the most spectacular mountain scenery this country has to offer. Their gradients are steep with water as clear as the mountain air, cascading down boulder strewn runs, through emerald green glides hewn out of the bedrock over millions of years. The valley floors are cluttered with massive blocks of sandstone fallen from the strata high above, the banks are protected in places by precipitous cliffs, indigenous forests, grasses and woody vegetation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In these streams the rainbows are feisty and energetic, the browns ever selective and cautious. They are masters of disguise, needle-sharp and can at times, seemingly evaporate into their dappled world of the pebbled stream-bed without trace, let alone, notice. In the uplands the flyfisher can be alone all day, fishing miles of river away from civilisation, in crystalline places where the black eagle and bearded vulture soar effortlessly in wide blue skies, where kingfishers and herons haunt rivers and where you may hear the bark of sentinel baboons from the ramparts or the eerie cry of a jackal at sunset. It is home also to the eland, mountain reed buck and the occasional leopard.

The streams support a rich insect life, consisting mainly of a variety of small mayfly nymphs, midges, caddis and the occasional stonefly. Terrestrials like beetles, ants and hoppers make up a fair percentage of the trout’s diet, especially during the summer months. But, it is the quality of the dry fly fishing in these waters that sets the blood coursing through the veins of most flyfishers. The trout will on most days rise freely to surface imitations and terrestrial insects. These wild trout are as wary and alert as you will find anywhere. The emphasis is on light tackle, stealth, careful presentation rather than distance: up close and fine. If its bigger fish and larger rivers you are after then these mountain streams as they join other tributaries in the foothills, grow into more classical rivers at lower altitudes in pastoral surroundings. Here as the waterways meander sedately through wide valleys, the gradients flatten and the speed slows into long deep runs protected by willowed grassy banks.

For the more adventurous, a hike into the mountains and a few nights under canvas while you pursue the wild trout of these streams in pristine wilderness surroundings will be a memorable experience. For those wanting more of the creature comforts when the day is done, you can return to one of the many well appointed chalets or lodges. Here you can relax, enjoy the warmth of the hospitality and rest contented under a canopy of a million stars for tomorrow will be another glorious day in Africa.

All images and copy in this post are copyright Peter Brigg Photography © 2016. All rights reserved

 

A RED LETTER DAY

There is something about exploring water you have known about, but for one or other reason have never managed to get there. When you do there is a sense of excitement, anticipation, promise – like the edgy feeling of flirtation with the pretty brown-eyed girl that has just moved into the neighbourhood – the romance lies in the unknown.

I was up at 4 am after a restless sleep. I picked up Craig in Hillcrest and then Jan in Notties. We headed west towards the now faint, sun-touched outline of the Drakensberg escarpment. By 7.30am done with coffee and breakfast sandwiches, packs shouldered and rods strung, we took the contour path high above the stream that we had fished many times before, a grey ribbon winding its way along the valley floor – there was a chill in the air, the mountain grasses already cloaked in winters shades of brown. Higher in the valley the remaining patches of mist lifted slowly, the suns weak morning rays lit up the tightening valley in the distance – our destination.

From the hikers path we scrambled down a grassy slope among boulders the size of your average double garage – the narrow gorge below us still in shadow, the stream a cold 11 degrees C and low – mysterious, like an illusion leaving behind the civilized water with named pools and well worn paths.  The brown trout are scarce, skittish, liquid, transparent and showed no interest in our attempts at fooling them– perhaps it’s the skinny, clear water, maybe it was us looming large and strange over them. This is a high-country small stream with pocket water and lots of it, bedrock, deep slots and shadowy undercuts beneath overhanging brush – appropriately mystical, a perfect trout habit. It suggests wild and untouched, fragile – too far into the backcountry for the lazy or fainthearted – not always the case, but a nice thought.

The season is at its end and the browns will soon if not already be in their sideways shuffle over the redds.  We will go back when the rains come, when the stream flows quick and strong again and the trout, hopefully, more receptive to delicate presentations and imitations fashioned in fur and feather with a hidden sting.

Back home, tired, I felt a little old, sore knees, scratched and bruised, my physical edge dulled, but then there it was, an email from the publishers, “We have pleasure in advising you that we have accepted your book proposal and agree to publish, “South African Flies – An Anthology of Milestone Patterns”. Elated but honestly bushed, I slept well on the comforting wings of egotism, telling myself that I have an aptitude for rugged backcountry exploration and the odd piece of writing – a red-letter day Thursday 19 May 2016 shared with my son Craig and that good man, Jan Korrubel.

 

WOLF SPIDER

Every now and then someone ties a fly that the fish can’t leave alone – the Wolf Spider may just be heading in that direction. Although I have waxed lyrical about it before (The Wolf Spider), I just couldn’t resist spreading the news again.

 This past river season has been seriously affected by extreme drought conditions caused by that less than likeable El Niño – I have fished less this season than I have in decades. There have been a few average days, some even worse and a couple of blank days.

 What prompted me to share this was that the Wolf Spider has on a number of occasions turned some average days into good days fishing. The first was on the upper Bokspruit in the North Eastern Cape when a slow day became a 20 fish day after struggling to raise a trout. And, then a week ago on the Injisuthi in KZN the Wolf Spider accounted for almost all of the fish caught, and while I seldom keep a count, I can tell you there were many. It has proved itself as a good searching pattern, a master of deception – a kind of insurance policy against being skunked. I have even been stood to a few decent single malts from friends that have experienced the intrinsic worth of the Wolf Spider as a fooler of trout.

And, as a parting shot, a few random thoughts on fly tying ……….

 We all want to tie flawless flies with every feather or hair in place to please ourselves, but at the same time what the fish don’t appreciate is kind of theoretical. In coming up with my version of the Wolf Spider I cut materials to the bone and retained only what I thought were the recognisable features of the natural. I believe that flies should be tied to catch fish, they can be pretty, should be well tied, but extra steps, superfluous materials and unnecessary turns of thread should be avoided. They should be thoughtlessly expendable as shotgun shells to a waterfowl hunter. One thing is a given is that sooner or later even your best tied flies will be lost to the bushes, occasionally chewed to pieces or snapped off in a trout.

The Wolf Spider meets the brief – may not be perfect, but it works.

All images and copy in this post are copyright Peter Brigg Photography © 2016. All rights reserved