Flyfishing report: Trout - Kwa-Zulu Natal Midlands

I had a pleasant foray to a local stillwater two weeks back or was it three. Either way, it was lovely out there. Water at 18 degrees, dam full and the freshly flooded margins screamed "Trout". 

 But the margins lied, and we really struggled. If it hadn't been for a flurry of rises in the last half hour, my fishing partner for the day could have been forgiven for thinking me full of BS about how productive the lake is!  But no sooner than the fish had started rising and there was an approaching sort of soft roar... And in seconds we were drenched. 

The following weekend I was supposed to be back for a rematch of sorts, but alas my ill health got in the way. My mates had a good day out, with a number of fish which I think they said went 2 to 4 pounds and caught on too wide a variety of flies to declare a winning pattern. 

We skipped the rivers around that time because some patchy rainfall had made it difficult to know which ones were clean. Since then, I have had occasion to troll around on the Mooi and the uMngeni, and a friend of mine had a bang-up day one of the tribal beats on the Bushmans.  

I can't claim the same results on my outings. On the Mooi we just couldn't buy a fish, notwithstanding the loveliest looking water. Well... we did get one or two, but we just weren't seeing fish. The uMngeni was arguably looking even better. That is to say it is currently a tad fuller than the Mooi. Well.... It was before Saturday's storms which chased us home, who knows now. And storm clouds are gathering as I write. But on the uMngeni, with water at 18 degrees (the Mooi on Saturday went from 18 to 20 degrees over the day) we struggled. One lovely fish broke my client off before I could get it over the rim of the outstretched net. I was a bit bummed about that. I keep thinking that instead of holding onto the nettles to prevent me sliding down the steep bank, I should have thrown caution to the wind and done a hero dive into the deep pool to secure the win. But alas, I was too conservative and gentlemanly. That stung. 

Later, a fish the size of a bar stool came mooching past me on its way to the tightest, blackest hidey-hole under the willows. We don't know which one of us spooked it but suffice it to say that it is now added to my list of ghostly apparitions from my home river that keep me awake at night. All we managed was a tiddler to save the day. 

While I could quote my poor results in support of a conspiracy theory about low fish numbers in the local rivers, I know better than that. Browns will be Browns. When you get out there, there's a fair chance they will have doubled in size, and all turned suicidal. 

On the strength of that, I advocate that you should get onto a piece of water ASAP. But check the weather. Our warmth, humidity and storms are upon us now. 

Tight lines,

Andrew 

The uMngeni.