At approximately 2550m above sea level, Loch Ness is without doubt the highest trout dam open to the public for flyfishing. What makes it even more special is the fact that the trout in the dam are self-sustaining, breeding in the feeder streams. That having been said,getting there and surviving the extreme weather adds further challenge to any intrepid fly fisherman. 

GETTING THERE

Given that you’re ascending more than 750m in under 10 km, the drive up is always an expedition. Before one tackles it, check out the weather and road conditions. Don’t assume that the same beautiful sunny, windless day you’re enjoying in Rhodes will be what you encounter as you drive up the Carlisleshoek valley. It is very seldom that the wind doesn’t blow. It is also possible that there could have been rain the night before, which in winter could either have turned into snow or at the very least ice.  This means the road conditions can always be a surprise. 

The first approximately 8km is fairly flat, winding up against the Carlisleshoekspruit. There are small streams that flow into the main spruit, very often without culverts that make the road uneven. There are also 3 low fords with concrete structures over the Carisleshoekspruit which can become treacherous if there has been a sudden downpour. This is particularly to be borne in mind when you start to descend.

The very steep sections of the road have concrete strips but be careful to stay on them and watch out for places where the concrete has eroded away and reinforcing bars are exposed. There are a number of areas where there is sheer drop down to the river below, so if you get something wrong, you could roll down a long way.

On reaching the plateau, the road conditions are variable with sections of wash-aways and potholes. In some places the surface has a high clay content, making for very slippery conditions if wet. The descent can be more hair raising. The very steep sections will challenge your brakes, so engage low gear and it is always advisable to engage hill descent if you vehicle has it. So in summary, a 4x4 is always advisable. Make sure you knowhow to use the settings on your vehicle to match the conditions.  There are many stories of people that land up in the wrong setting, making the trip even more of an adventure.  Ascend with confidence and descend with caution. 

WEATHER

Because of the significant increase in altitude, you can always expect at least a 5°decrease in the temperature. As already indicated, the wind almost always blows. Clouds, blow up very quickly and will often turn into rain, or in winter sleet and snow.  Lightning is always a risk, especially in summer.  Keep looking up and remember that getting off the mountain will take at least 45minutes. No matter the time of the year, we always take rain jackets, warm clothes, towels, blankets and some food (we recommend the use of waders year round). We also make sure we have a good pair of walking shoes.

If you happen to get wet (not paying attention and falling in the water), the low temperatures and wind will quickly lead to hyperthermia. If your vehicle breaks down or gets stuck, you may land up walking quite a few kilometers, so always best to be prepared.  In the same way, make sure you have suitable equipment for emergency vehicle repairs and never go up without at least one sparetyre in good condition.  If you travel up in winter, it’s highly likely there’ll be ice flows on many of the rocky outcrops. Also don’t be surprised if the dam itself is frozen, sometimes even fully. Trying to walk on the ice is entirely at your own risk of an extremely cold swim. Whilst the ice is relatively thick at the edges, it is usually less so in the middle, especially where the wind has caused the ice to shift on not be fully aligned.

THE FISHING

This has to be on the bucket list of any fisherman. At just over 6hectares, there is ample water. The structure is varied and with plenty of weed beds and the fish are always in good condition. The entire dam is easily accessible as there are no trees or beds of reeds. Watch out for marshy sections, especially at the various stream inlets. Expect to catch healthy, strong fish. The dam has not been stocked for a considerable number of years and has a healthy self-sustaining population.

There are plenty of fish over 50cm which we regularly catch. This year, Terry Babich caught a 72cm fish, off a float tube. They are usually lean, deep bodied, mature fish, with exquisite colouring which does vary considerably, depending on the time of the year. Fishing off a float tube is great, but not essential. The float tubes allows one to fish between the weed beds more easily. It also provides access to the channels around the two islands that were created in the dam. It also means that landing a fish is sometimes more successful as it’s easier to keep them out of the weeds. That being said, if the wind is howling, an anchor is essential, but still expect to spend much time paddling or kicking into the wind!

Wading is probably more satisfying. One can walk all around the dam, although you’ll almost always be casting into the wind. The main channel runs close to the left bank (facing up stream). If you can figure the depth of the channel and get properly into it, a nymph and/or a red worm pattern will usually always be successful on a dead drift, under a strike indicator. Frequently it is easier to fish from the shallower, more gradual right bank. Mainly as you’ll most cast with the wind behind you, so the cast happens “on its own” and a dead drift rig will naturally continue to move away from you (as long as it doesn’t snag in the weeds). The only downside of this bank is the considerable amount of silt. You can wade fairly far out, but be wary of getting stuck in the mud and over-balancing. Also don’t wear Korkers or other wading boots with removable soles. The soles do tend to get stuck in mud and stay behind (speaking from experience). 

Fishing a streamer, Wooly bugger, either green or black and a Mrs Simpson can always result in an exciting sharp bang from a hungry or irritated fish. Given the good weed structure, damsels and dragons can also be very successful. If you’re lucky enough to be there on a windless day, dry flies maybe successful. There are frequently mayfly hatches in summer and emerger patterns should also be tried.

WHAT ELSE TO DO

Even if you don’t go to fish, it is an enjoyable drive with plenty to see. There is a braai facility, but be extremely careful of ambers flying around when the wind gets up and be aware of dry grass. One can also drive up to Tiffindell, although at the moment, the best you can is look through the gates. 

Birding

Perhaps not abundant, but there are certainly a few species that are not seen at lower altitudes. Some birds to look out for:

Bearded Vulture

Cape Vulture

Ground Woodpecker

Drakensburg Rockjumper

Bald Ibis

African Snipe

Grey-winged Francolin

Grey Crowned Crane

Secretary Bird

Sentinel Rock Thrush

Verreaux’s Eagle

Cape Bunting

Wild flowers

A unique environment offers an abundance of wild flowers, mainly in summer. Refer to various other articles in this guidebook for some of the species to look out for.

IN SUMMARY

A visit to Loch Ness is an experience not to found anywhere else in South Africa. Don’t be put off by all of the warnings. To have an enjoyable experience, you need to be prepared and ready for a few unusual eventualities, but the trip will always result in some interesting stories to recount.  Please obtain a day permit for each rod from the Rhodes Information Centre or Walkerbouts Inn (after hours) before venturing up to Loch Ness. Only employ traditional fly-fishing techniques, practice catch-and-release and enjoy the kind access granted by the landowner. Above all please respect the dam and surrounding farmland as the private property it is and leave only boot prints.

In the same way that we describe distances in terms of how long it takes rather than kilometres, longer time periods are described as winters survived. I have now done twelve consecutive winters in Rhodes. A lot of climatic variation has manifested over this period; from drought to changes that we now attribute to global climate change. I do not subscribe to Donald Trump’s world view, rather, I am relying on personal experience and what the scientists are telling us. I must emphasize that this article based on visceral experience rather than scientifically gathered data.

            I have been aware of climate change as a scientific fact since the mid-eighties, at that juncture an American Presidential advisory think tank already viewed climate change as the greatest threat facing the planet. Here in South Africa, we were aware of the encroaching Karoo and drying out of the country from the west. A decade ago, I was informed that the hard science on climate change in South Africa was that seasons had moved on by six weeks. At that stage, change was mostly observable in that our seasonal rainfall was arriving later and later in the year.

            The main drivers influencing local climate are the typography and the prevailing North Westerly winds. South westerly winds are funneled along the mountain ranges and have more influence on weather patterns below the escarpment.

            In the past, local residents used to tell me that we’ll get no rainfall till the cold fronts stop coming through the Western Cape. These days the fronts seem to move up the coast year-round, often being blown out to sea off our southerly coast. Nowadays we only seem to receive significant rainfall when a cut off low pressure system moves down from Angola.

            Locally, we experienced drought conditions over the period 2016-2018 and so a lot of the changes are difficult to ascribe to climate change. What was noticeable over this period was that the average winter daytime temperatures had risen possibly by as much as three degrees. The nights were as cool as ever. There was less winter snowfall over these years as well.

            Winter snowmelt charges the ground water and runs off scouring the streambeds.

            Our initial rainfall arrives as frontal showers allowing the vegetation to take hold before the more destructive thunder showers and cloud bursts arrive.

            Where this all starts to affect fishing is in the stream levels and flow rates; in fact the availability of water at all. The later arrival of our seasonal rainfall and lack of winter snowfall coupled with warmer spring temperatures and attendant winds adversely affect stream levels and concentrate the surviving fish populations in pools where they become easy prey to the predators.

            To spawn, trout, require clean scoured out gravel and good flow of oxygenated water. These conditions are often as a result of melting snow. Cold water holds a higher oxygen content than warmer water.

            Trout from Northern hemisphere where they originate and generally experience even harsher winters than us spawn in late winter and early Spring (March /April). At this stage snowmelt increases flow and water temperatures are rising. In New Zealand trout spawning seems to be triggered by heavy rainfall increasing flow and dropping water temperatures. Trout spawn in water temperatures of between 10 and 15 degrees centigrade.

            South African trout are said to spawn between June and September. Our wild (feral) Rainbow population (the gene pool possibly stretches back to the early twentieth century) should be fairly well adapted to local conditions and may possibly even be able to tolerate higher water temperatures.

            What has prompted this rumination has been the occurrence of different sized small fishes about. Traditionally, in year of regular precipitation (rain and snowfall) at the end of summer there are numerous small 8” fish about. I have heard it said that fry grow at approximately an inch per month and this would seem to indicate to me that the little 8” fish encountered in March would be 8 months old, spawned in July or August of the previous year.

            In December 2018 rains eventually arrived and at the end of February 2019 I was seeing a lot of small rainbows, sized two to three inches. When did these fish hatch?

           We experience heavy rainfall in March 2019 which limited the available water for the festival. Quite a few sixteen- and eighteen-inch fish were taken, there were also many sub-six inch as well as an eight to ten-inch size class caught. The size range seems to indicate different ages to me.

            In the Bokspruit, during November 2019. There were definitely two different size classes of small rainbows being caught, sub-six inches and around ten inches. This seems to indicate a possible age difference. There are also little fry of two to three inches about.

October 2019 fish in Basie’s dam still not spawned as the feeder stream had not flowed through winter.

            At the end of November 2019, the Smallmouth Yellowfish (Labeobarbus aeneus) had not spawned yet. Low levels have restricted their upstream migration. In years of good flow, I have observed the Yellowfish migrate upstream to spawn in October. The itinerant Yellows populate pools and seem to spend a lot of time swimming around looking for suitable spawning areas. At the stage the larger fish (said to be the females) refuse all flies thrown at them. Sometimes they don’t even spook, they just ignore your offerings: they are not feeding. Time passes and all of a sudden there is feeding frenzy. I believe that this only comes about once they have dropped their first batch of eggs. They are also said to deposit eggs more than once every season.  A fisheries scientist told me that Sterkfontein dam Yellowfish spawn when water temperatures reach 22 degrees Celsius. My own local observations seem to indicate that the may well spawn in slightly cooler water here.

            The period when the Yellowfish migrate was often accompanied by rainfall and hence murky water, one did not always see the migrating yellows; all of a sudden, they were all over the place in the higher reaches upstream. Fortunately, now in mid-December 2019 after rains and rising levels the Yellowfish migration has taken place. As I type the larger skittish Yellows seem to be searching for areas to spawn and are proving uncatchable. This should change over the next week or two.

            The Orange river Mudfish, (Labeo capensis) also migrate upstream to spawn and are to be found in the middle reaches of the Kraai river. Murky water keeps fly fishers from the areas, so we do not often observe the Muddies spawning. In other parts of the Orange/ Vaal system, the Muddies spawn before the Yellowfish.

            A perusal of records seems to indicate that years of good rainfall produce more fish and that there are definite size classes. This would seem to indicate different spawning times. Recent conditions i.e. how long has the stream been experiencing good, sustained levels also must have an influence.

            The spawning of Trout from the northern hemisphere and New Zealand seems to be triggered by increased water flow and either cooling or warming water. I suspect that flow rate is the most important factor influencing local trout spawning, more so than water temperature, angle of the son or any seasonal manifestation. What if we only get the flow rates when water is warmer?

            I can only conclude that when conditions are unsuitable, Trout keep eggs within their bodies and only deposit their eggs when

conditions improve, in other words: spawning only when suitable conditions prevail. Would not decent flow rates with lots of tumbling water provide enough oxygen and scour the stream bed gravel. In addition, warmer water allows the trout eggs to hatch quicker and there should be more food available to growing fry.

Of pipe tobacco, ZAK’s, cordite, and Black Label quarts – Jade dos Santos remembers the late great Basie Vosloo - farmer, angler, pioneer and friend to many who visited the trout Mecca of Rhodes in the Eastern Cape.

A few weeks back, I caught myself daydreaming about the high up places with Lilliputian streams, and said out loud, as if to make it true, that I needed to go back to the Northeastern Cape and visit a few old friends. And while I will be back in the mountains and I will stop in at the farm Birkhall, I am sad to say one friend I won’t be seeing, is Basie Vosloo.

Basie and Carien Vosloo had a larger bearing on my life than I think they knew about. Almost a decade ago, green as a leaf, I arrived in Rhodes on a 3-week solo fishing trip to explore the fabled mountain streams, looking for 4 inch trophy trout and adventure. I got all of that, and so much more.

Due mostly to incredible people I met along the way, such as Ed Herbst, Basie & Carien Vosloo, Dave Walker, Tony Kietzman, and Fred Steynberg, that one trip became an annual trip for about 4 years, until the natural progression of life found me more behind a desk than in the mountains I so love.

While my head is now stuck mostly in the humdrum of life in Johannesburg, my heart was still firmly caught in the networks of streams in those rolling hills and sandstone mountains.

The Vosloo’s took me in after three weeks of traveling around the blue-lined mountains of Rhodes, giving me a warm bed, a place at their table, a stool at Basie’s pub, and filling my heart with love and my head with memories to keep me close to the streams that can sometimes seem so far away. I was even given the odd farm job, as Basie told me that I needed to “earn my keep” while sitting together one night in the pub.

To this day, I still feel desperately unworthy of the kindness and love they bestowed upon me during my stay on Birkhall.

The Vosloo family are salt of the earth, and custodians of the land they farmed for generations.  The custodianship of the land that was so in their blood, led to Basie not just being part of the famed Wild Trout Association, but key in its development, forming the association with Dave Walker in 1991. This opened access to hundreds of kilometres of water to those in pursuit of tiny streams, wild trout, and as a result, created a Mecca for South African fly fishermen.

We fly fishermen all owe Basie a debt of gratitude, a debt I don’t think anyone who has fished Rhodes can honestly say they could ever repay, so great has his influence been in the world of small stream trout in South Africa.  

Basie was an enigma and few people knew him better, as guests and as adopted-family, than Tom Sutcliffe and Ed Herbst. Both men spent many days on the farm with Basie, sharing water and beer alike. One of Ed’s favourite descriptions of Basie came from the late playwright and angler, Robert Brandon-Kirby, who in his 1993 coffee table book, ‘Fly Fishing in Southern Africa’ said:

“Vosloo is one of those extraordinary human surprises that occur in the world of fly-fishing. At first when you meet him, the only impression that he makes is that of the stereotypical, tough, case-hardened Afrikaner farmer.  But a few hours in his company reveal an intriguing inner man. The casing, sun-tanned and rough, conceals a highly developed taste in the worthier examples of modern music, a deep knowledge of the plays of Oscar Wilde, and a poetic soul. He runs a pack of pedigreed gun dogs and is an excellent shot. He rides like a professional and lives with an enthusiasm for the world’.

            Decades of friendship have been captured in Tom’s books, Shadows on the Stream Bed, Hunting Trout and Yet More Sweet Days, immortalising a man that has etched a place in South African fly- fishing history.

If Rhodes is the centre of the universe, the Vosloo’s home farm Birkhall is her spiritual home, as it has been home to so many anglers over the years, and as Tom so beautifully describes.

“There were days, countless of them over the years, when we just sat chatting on the veranda of Birkhall, gazing across views along the tree-laced river valley, sometimes with an early mug of coffee seeing in a sunrise, or watching the unfolding drama of a thunderstorm or, commonly, a sunset gradually turning the surrounding, blue-shadowed mountains to flame-orange.”

            Basie and Carien didn’t only welcome fishermen into their home. Greywing francolin hunters have been joining the Vosloos for many winters, and from what I am told by seasoned veterans of those mountainous hills, Basie and Carien have one of the best wing shooting outfits in the country. 

Dave Walker of Walkerbouts Inn in Rhodes and Basie often hunted together and spent many hours on horseback looking for Greywing francolin and Mountain Reedbuck. Dave and Basie go way back to their student days when they both studying in the agricultural field in Bloemfontein. They soon discovered that they had many common interests and basic philosophies that formed the basis for an enduring friendship that was firmly established in 1978. There were hunting and fishing ventures which led to the fortuitous birth of the Wild Trout Association (WTA), who offer controlled access to more water than you could fish in a lifetime, acting as conservators to the riparian waters. Then there’s Dave eponymous Thankshjalot Bar that if it could talk would have plenty of stories to tell too. 

Dave mentions that the formation of the WTA was only possible thanks to Basie’s understanding of farming, and love for trout:

“Vos’s acute understanding of both the underlying concept and of the agricultural community ensured the recruitment of many members. Thus kilometre upon kilometre of running water was drawn into the fold. Apart from our innumerable beer-enhanced discussions, many a fly angler was hooked by his hospitality. 

Dave reminisces about one of their hunts the perfectly demonstrates Basie’s tone and mannerisms that you grow so fond of:

“We found ourselves at the end of a steep ridge with a magnificent view down the valley. I must mention that I was wearing “fashion boots” of “brothel creeper” design i.e. with flat soles similar to those worn on a bowling green. Being a horseman of note, without hesitation, Vos set off down the incline. I decided that I would dismount and descend on foot, leading the horse behind me. On noticing this apparently offensive behaviour, Vos stopped and asked me what I thought I was doing. “I’m not riding down this steep slope” said I.

“Ah” said he, “the horse has four legs and you’ve only got two AND you’re wearing kak boots” and off he went on down the slope. I hadn’t taken more than five steps and, as predicted, landed flat on my bum saved only by the firm grip I had had on the horse’s reins.  On hearing the commotion, Vos looked back with a wry grin on his face and said “See?” I promptly mounted up and decided there and then that that was the last time I would be so foolish, after all, if Vos could do it, so would I!”

Basie’s dogs were a focal point for some of Tom’s earliest memories when first meeting Basie and would become ever-present company on his visits to the farm.

Tom says, “Basie had a special love for Archer, an English pointer. Feathers, also an English pointer, was next in the line of Birkhall's canine hierarchy, then followed by a later pointer, Thomas, that I collected for Basie as a puppy from a breeder in Johannesburg and drove down to Birkhall with him in my truck. Don't ask me about that trip. The dog arrived safely and ended up named after me. But Archer somehow lifted himself to near holiness among the many gun dogs in Basie's life, and he has since had a room named in his honour in the Branksome Country House, a lodge run by Basie's sister Rene on the next farm upstream of Birkhall.”

The dogs grew on Tom, and Tom on the dogs:

'…we tied a few flies by gaslight at Gateshead .... When we finally turned in, the air was like frozen steel. I crawled under a heavy mountain of blankets and blew out the candle. Moments later Feathers started to inch her way onto my bed with deliberate and measured stealth, trembling paw by trembling paw, convinced I was unaware of her subterfuge. I let her sink onto the bed. She lay dead-still and eventually we fell asleep. In the morning she was curled up warmly at my feet and her son, Archer, still a puppy, was deep inside my duffel bag with only his nose showing.'

Gateshead

I met Ed in person the first time visiting Birkhall one April. We were leaving Rhodes to explore the jewel in Basie’s crown of farms, Gateshead, for a few days and I wanted to stop in and see Carien and Basie. We got to Gateshead in the dark, after sharing an afternoon in dappled autumn light, drinking Black Labels from a crate, dodging plumes of pipe smoke, listening to Ed and Basie’s stories of years past. Ed was a welcomed guest and part of the family on Birkhall, sharing many days with him over their long friendship.

Tom Sutcliffe, Basie &  Ed Herbst

“Like so many others who knew him, I have a hole in my heart because he and Carien were family to me.”

Ed and Basie might seem diametrically opposed, and in some ways they were, with Ed pioneering South African Small stream fishing and constantly experimenting behind the vice with innovative flies size #20 or smaller, while Basie started fly fishing with big rods and big flies. 

Ed tells us of a conversation he had with Basie:

“The trout in Barkly East want steak not sandwiches”, Basie would tell me, as his  #6 Mrs Simpson, fished downstream and retrieved against the current, produced another five pound trout.

Basie was using a five-weight fly rod when I met him, which I called the G5 after the 155 mm howitzer used by the South African infantry at the time.

Every time I acquired a new ultra-light line fly rod, I passed its predecessor on to Basie and he quickly changed tactics, fishing the flies which Tom Sutcliffe and I tied for him.

I remember fishing the Sterkspruit with him using a laboriously-constructed double-taper leader which I suggested he try.

His first cast saw the fly firmly affixed to a rock face on the opposite bank and, without hesitation he stripped off on a cold and cloudy day and swam across the river to retrieve it.” 

Basie was a fascinating character, and to compliment Ed’s description of Basie, Tom says, “My initial characterisation of Basie (in line with my narrow orthodoxy that farmers are generally rough and largely uninterested, or unversed, or both, in the affairs of the world), was way off. He had a gentle side, far-ranging intellectual horizons, as at home with the arts and literature (particularly the writings of Oscar Wilde), as he was grading wool or planting potatoes.

But he was still your typical farmer in so many ways: in his warmth of spirit and generosity; in his love of the veld; in his industrial-grade self-belief in his farming skills; in his total delight in any bit of running water. And, not least, in appearance; a big man, with legs of a billiard table, always in shorts and open-neck shirt, even when that high-mountain cold turned our breath to clouds of frozen vapour.”

Tony Kietzman who has spent decades living and fishing in Rhodes knew Basie better than most.

Tony says, “He was more than a sunburnt and slightly battered farmer, he was well learned on many subjects and quite intellectual. His family came first, a loving wife who cared for him to the end. Three well-educated and refined sons whom when first meeting them I thought were wild animals, and whom I now count amongst my close friends. Farmland was left in a better condition than when Basie first set foot on it. He would say, “I don’t farm cattle, I farm grass”. Friendship and adventures occurred in all fields he dealt in from wing shooting, to fly fishing and farming. He was custodian of some of South Africa’s most legendary trout waters. A hole in my heart.” 

Visiting Rhodes and the surrounding rivers is not just a simple fishing trip, it’s an invitation into a particular way of life, where time slows down and your main concern is which stretch of water to fish. You will meet the most fascinating characters along the way and I have, and lifelong relationships will form, offering you understanding in your piscatorial pursuits and friendship as you find your way around those mountains. 

While I won’t be seeing Basie again, I will be back to Birkhall to cast a fly in the Sterkspruit, and to walk the hallowed hills of Gateshead in all of her expansive glory. If you ever find yourself in the centre of the universe, stop in at Walkerbouts Inn and raise a cold Black Label quart in Basie’s memory and book a beat; for we owe him so much because Basie gave us exactly what is so closely connected to our sense of self as anglers.

            I take quiet solace from Ed, that the legend of Basie continues.

“Basie’s son Arnie and his daughter-in-law, both doctoral graduates from the University of Stellenbosch, have given up their academic careers and moved to Birkhall to help run the Vosloo farms with Carien. I draw comfort from this seamless inter-generational transition which will see fly anglers continue to walk the banks of the Sterkspruit at Birkhall and Branksome and the upper Bokspruit at Gateshead which Basie once fished with so much joy and vivacity.”

            There is still much to be said about Basie, so if you are ever in earshot of Ed, Tom, Tony, or Dave, do yourself a favour and ask them to tell you more about the man. Grab yourself a cold beer, and enjoy the kind words, the adventure, salute the friendships and give thanks for all the man at Birkhall has done for fisherman and trout.

Tom, in parting words, captures Basie’s role not just in his life, but in fly fishing lore.

“Without Basie and Carien Vosloo of Birkhall, there would be no story to tell.“

Godspeed Basie, may the trout be freely rising and the Greywing towering high. Thank you for everything.

Jade dos Santos et al, September 2021

 Watching a news report on the Australian bush fires recently took me back a few years to my own encounter with the destructive power of fire.

            I had got to know Richard when he was guiding for the Wild Trout Festival. He hails from the waters on the other side of the mountains, the Maclear area to be precise. I had never fished the area and arranged a trip to stay at his parent’s farm just outside Maclear. Richard kindly agreed to take time off to show me his hunting grounds and I was looking forward to exploring new territory with a very accomplished fly fisher and guide.

            One morning Richard said that a favourite spot of his, the Tsitsana, was well worth a visit. We loaded the tackle and ourselves into my Subaru and took to the dirt roads. We reached the head of the valley above the river and I parked my vehicle on flat rocky area and we unloaded, tackled up and set off down the side of the valley. I always seem to choose rock rabbits for fishing partners or is it just because I’m getting slow? I followed at the usual Vaughan trundle.

            We reached the river and started fishing downstream until we reached the confluence with another river. I decided I had had sufficient exercise and futile thrashing of the waters and had lunch. After lunch we started fishing upstream to the spot where we started. Memory does not serve me well, at least when it comes to counting my catch, but I remember it was not an auspicious day’s angling – one of those days when you tell yourself that you really didn’t need to catch anything, just being there was enough! I have had many days like that but the Tsitsana river valley was a stunning example of the North East Cape, so I had enjoyed my day thus far.

As we moved closer to our departure point, we noticed heavy smoke coming from the left bank. We reached the point where we had planned to leave the river and found we were blocked by a wall of burning grass, saplings and bushes.  We stayed in the water for a while hoping the fire would burn out quickly – it didn’t, so we stood in the river mesmerised by exploding saplings and a raging grass fire.

            The heat was fierce, standing in the river was cooling us down and stopping the fire’s progress. I have often wondered what might have happened if we had been caught out in open veld. The fire was travelling so fast that I doubt my ability to outrun it.

            Eventually it seemed to have burnt down sufficiently for us to start climbing up the side of the valley which was still smoldering and extremely hot. The soles of my fishing boots had started to melt and my feet were getting hot. In the midst of all of this a nagging image of my Subaru as a burnt wreck kept my mind off my smoldering boots and hot feet, the vehicle had been parked in the path of the fire.

            We eventually reached the top and there was my vehicle, untouched by the fire that had burnt around the flat rocky outcrop on which I had parked – thanks heavens I had decided to park where I had.

            We heaved a sigh of relief, loaded the vehicle and started on the way back to the farm. How many times have I heaved that sigh of relief only to be faced with yet another and potentially worse situation. This day was one of them. It was getting dark and to our right we could see a line of fire in the distance, nowhere near us, I thought. Ten minutes later I was driving through a raging inferno on the right-hand side of the road, the fire had reached the road. It was decision time, turn back or put my foot down and hope. I felt the heat of the fire through the closed windows, the smoke was thick and I had run out of options, turning back was no longer possible.

            I put my foot down, and after what seemed an age but in reality, probably a few minutes, we emerged from the smoke and flames and made our way to the farm. It was a quiet drive, my mind racing with all the events that had taken place over the past two hours.

            When we arrived at the farm, I nervously started an inspection of the car, expecting to find blistered paintwork and melted rubber, but apart from a layer of ash the car was not damaged. We had not been damaged, the car had not been damaged so perhaps now was the time to heave that sigh of relief and, after a stiff whisky, I did.

            As a postscript I must add that my tale is in no way attempting to compare my experience that day to the horrors of the Aussie bush fires, but it provided me with empathy for those who experience the devastating power of fire at close quarters.