Chirundu Tales - Part 12

CHIRUNDU TALES (PART 12)

Fishing in the Zambezi was a major attraction and a lot of fun but at the same time as far as we were concerned, it could be a serious nuisance as it attracted a mixed bag of anglers to our station.  The majority were good people but there were a few who were, shall we say, less than welcome. Of course our location was a magnet as we usually kept our access road in good shape so for the most part 4 wheel drive vehicles were not necessary. In addition we had a small shaded area set aside for campers with a water supply and a ‘long drop’ toilet.

Helen and I went to Mana Pools probably one weekend a month during the dry season. Early on, fuel was not a problem but once rationing was introduced we were severely restricted. My personal ration was only enough to get me to the filling station at Chirundu and back but I was able to secure a permit allowing me to draw my ration in a container which was a big help.  We were then able to save our ration for two or three weeks which was enough for a Mana trip or a trip out on the river.

The station was, for all intents and purposes, like a farm and was a seven day a week operation. It amazed us how people from the cities thought that they were doing us a favour by descending on us.  On Saturday evenings we routinely had a braai using Mopani logs for the fire and a three legged plough disc on which to cook our meat.  It was really peaceful sitting out in the open listening to the sounds of nature and enjoying our own company.  Actually, on a couple of occasions when we dreaded the thought of unexpected or uninvited visitors, we packed our Land Rover with camping gear and parked it up ready to move if any did arrive. Luckily none ever did.

On Sunday mornings we usually did a bit of fishing mainly from the bank as fuel rationing restricted  the usage of our boat.  Anyway that was not a problem as there were plenty of fish to be caught nearby. When I first set up camp in 1964 I was approached by a Sugar Estate employee to allow his  visiting brother, who was a keen fisherman, to set up camp near to mine.  I had no problem with this as I was only just starting the serious work on the project so was happy to have company.  The chap was called Nick and became a good friend.  Nick had the use of his brothers’ boat which was great for him as he could come and go as he pleased.  He spent most of his days on the river but did not catch very much to begin with.  For my part I had very little in the way of tackle so did not have much knowledge of where and how to fish.  Anyway one evening I went out with Nick and we anchored at the tip of a sandbank about half a mile upstream from camp and within a few minutes, Nick got a serious strike which turned out to be a Tiger fish that weighed a few ounces short of 20lbs.  Little did I know that it was the heaviest Tiger that was caught during my time in the Valley.   Ten pounders were not uncommon but generally the fish caught were in the 5-6lb range.  Surprisingly, Nick fished the same spot for several  hours each day that he was there but failed to get a single bite.

Gradually I built up a fairly broad selection of fishing tackle and learnt where and how to fish for the various species.  In front of my camp, using a simple hook and sinker setup I could catch Chessa and N’kupe at will.   Very close to where we built out guest house was a rocky outcrop called Ullyetts Camp which incidentally was a bare patch and had nothing to identify it as a camp.  I later learnt that there had in fact been a camp there, built by man called Ullyett, many years before.  The water there was deep and it was a good spot for Cornish Jack and Bottlenose. 

One day I was visited by a representative from Shell who was looking into the possibility of installing bulk storage tanks for our fuel. The man was obviously a keen fisherman as he had loads of tackle in his vehicle.  Having sorted out the business side of the visit he had a couple of hours to spare so I sent him off with a guide to Ullyetts camp.  A little over an hour later he returned grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.  We weighed his catch of 4 Cornish Jack which came in at  6.25, 7.25, 8.5 & 9.5 lbs.  Not a bad day’s work!

On another occasion I was visited by Bob Howarth who was an old friend of my family and a former work colleague of mine.  Bob was a keen fisherman and kept a fairly large boat at an angling club on Lake McIllwaine.   On the station we occasionally killed one of our oxen for workers rations and when we did I always claimed the heart which I kept for bait. Bobs first day with me was a disaster as he got seriously stuck in the mud and took hours to get out of it.  Anyway the next day I took him to a spot on the Zambian bank where I set him up with a heavy rod baited with Ox heart. The bait hardly touched the water before there was a strike.  It was a vundu of about 40 lbs.  While Bob was fighting it I set up a second rod so as soon as we boated the fish I gave Bob the second rod.  It was exactly like the first time and a second vundu was boated.  This sequence was repeated time after time and the catch included a couple of Tigers as well as Vundu.  I guess by the time we had boated about a dozen fish, Bob was exhausted so we headed for home.

Bob was beside himself with excitement and over lunch he said his friends at the club on Lake Mac would never believe what had happened to him unless he took his catch back to prove it. I had no problem with this. His car was a VW Beetle and to take all the fish, we had to fold the back seat  down.  We bagged the fish in grain bags and as soon as he was loaded he set off and with the help of our tractor, was soon on the highway and on his way home.  About a week or two later I got a letter of thanks from Bob which enclosed a photo of him with his catch. Apparently the same picture had been published in the Rhodesia Herald.

Naturally there were a lot of keen fishermen on the sugar plantation and there was a wide variety of boats moored at their main pumping station.  Probably the keenest fisherman was a chap called McKenzie, better known to everyone as “Bonk”, a truly remarkable character.  When I first met him he had a very sturdy steel boat he called his ‘Hippo Basher’ which was pushed along by an antiquated outboard engine.  Without a doubt he was the king of the river and never failed to return without a good catch in his boat.

Bonk eventually upgraded his boat and engine and it was in his boat that Evans and I had the close encounter with the cow hippo reported in Part 10 of this series. He was a regular and very welcome visitor to our station and during the school holidays always had his three sons with him.

One weekend he took Helen and I for a trip up the river to Kariba Gorge where we spent the night.  We camped on a sandbank from which Helen caught a Vundu and a Tiger, our only catch that day. The following morning, after a noisy night,(Baboons and Leopards)we went upstream and got very close to the dam wall which was very exciting. On our way back Bonk took us down what he called Tiger Alley which was located between “A” and “B” hunting camps. There we drifted in the current with baited hooks dangling over the side.   Our first pass produced two good sized Tigers.  We went back upstream, repeated the exercise, and caught another fish.  We did this several more times and had about a 50% success rate.

Another keen fisherman was Helen’s brother–in-law, Neil Ash who was also an employee on the sugar estate.  One Sunday afternoon he visited us with his family, his wife Angela and children Robert and Carol.  He and I went out in our boat and tied up at the same spot where Bob had had so much success.  In quick time Neil got a very strong bite from a vundu and it took us quite a long time to boat it.  It was the biggest vundu either of us had ever seen so we untied the boat and headed back to base so we could weigh it before it lost too much weight.  It weighed in at 89 lbs!  Vundu were known to reach weights of over 100lbs but this was the biggest known to the local residents and I very much doubt if it was bettered before the estate closed and we moved out.

Downstream from our HQ were several fishing camps, some of which were regularly used. A chap called Zak Olivier, a farmer from Karoi, was one frequent visitor and usually had good catches from the deep water off the rocks in the front of his camp.  I visited him and his family one Sunday morning to find that they were having a problem landing Bottlenose and Cornish Jack.  The fish were definitely on the bite but every time they hooked one, a Tiger would attack the fish and tear it to shreds.  One of Zaks’ enterprising employees found himself a piece of baling wire about 10-12 feet long.  He fashioned a loop in one end to make a handle and scrounged a large hook which he attached to the other.  He baited the hook with scraps of fish and sat and waited.

As soon as another fish was hooked he moved to rivers edge and proceeded to cast his baited hook into the water.  The result was instantaneous.  On his first cast he got a strong tug which nearly pulled him into the river but he kept his balance and jerked the wire.  The next thing we knew there was a large Tiger, about 10-12lbs flapping on the bank.  I think the time taken to hook and land the fish should have been entered in the Guinness Book of Records!

One Easter weekend we, somewhat reluctantly, entertained a couple of “friends” from Karoi who were accompanied by the wife’s brother and another couple from Salisbury who were rather rich Greeks. The weekend was a disaster from start to finish but I will spare the readers most of the details but as I am on the subject of fishing one tale has to be told.

The party had brought a virtually new outboard engine with them so we fitted it to our boat as our engine was old and a bit unreliable.  Having done that, the visitors completely took over and for 3 days were up and down the river trying to catch a fish.  They failed. The Greek was less than polite about the river and said it was a waste of time. For my part I was fed up as I had been working most of the time and sick of the gripes I was faced with when I got home. Poor Helen was also fed up as our cook plus the kitchen had been taken over so she was almost a stranger in her own home.

On the last day they were there, over lunch, I challenged the Greek to a bet that I would bring in a 20lb fish that afternoon.  The bet was for £20.00, about 40% of my salary at that time, so it was with a lot of trepidation on my part that we set off. To fail to catch a fish would have been a disaster for me.

 In the boat were me, the Greek, our two “friends” plus their brother which was rather a crowd for a 12 foot boat. Anyway I took them downstream to a fairly shallow spot near “D” camp. I baited a large hook, cast it out, and handed the rod to the Greek.  In a few minutes he got a strike and under my guidance brought the fish, a vundu of about 40 lbs, to the side of the boat at which point ‘brother’ asked if he could gaff it.  I handed him the gaff but he completely messed it up and took a swipe at the fish, missed it, and got the gaff tangled in the line.  There was a loud crack and the fished departed along with my hook and steel trace!   I was gutted but somehow managed to retain my composure.  I tied a new trace on and set the second bait. 

Thankfully there was another bite within half an hour or so at which point I told the other 3 to move forward, sit down and shut up! The Greek brought the fish to the side of the boat and I derived a lot of pleasure out of gaffing it and dumping it in his lap!  It was a 30 pounder so my £20.00 was safe, about the only good thing that emerged from what had been an Easter that we would rather forget.