Issue #6 March 2015
Murchison Falls, Uganda | Nile Perch Record
Nile Perch are one of the ultimate freshwater species found on the African continent. Likened to the Black bass (similar in appearance), but ginormous by comparison, their explosive, gill flared, head shaking jumps are truly something to behold, and will test even the sturdiest of nerves, let alone tackle! An average Nile perch will tip the scales at 30-40kg, and give a fight dreams are made of, and it is not surprising that purist anglers seek those close to, and over the 100kg mark. Reputed to attain some 130kg, the IGFA world record stands at 104,32kg, caught by William Toth in Lake Nasser in December 2000
Nile perch are part of the Centropomiadae family; also called giant perch or Niger perch. Endemic to the African continent, they can be found in rivers and lakes in tropical regions. It is known to be present in the Blue and White Niles, the Niger and Benue rivers, and in lakes Rudolph, Albert, Tanganyika, Fayoum, and Menzaleh. Good Nile perch fishing is well known below the Aswan Dam and at the junction of the Blue and White Niles. Until recently, there were no Nile perch in Lake Victoria, but recent introductions of this species into Lake Victoria have been extremely successful, and the species is said to be prolific there now due to the availability of plentiful forage fish. However, in waters where they have been introduced, they have decimated local indigenous fish populations, especially the cichlids. Be that as it may, most operators in Uganda and elsewhere practice catch and release of the species, and though no one seems to have aged Nile perch, a fish over 100kg can be considered a trophy worth returning to fight again.
“We returned back to where the boat was moored and dropped our two remaining bait fish about 15-20 meters off the bank then set the rods in the boat while we attempted to pick up a couple more bait fish from the bank using smaller rods. I had fished in this spot a few times previously and seen a couple of good sized perch come out (20-30kg), although the majority of the time it is a catfish on the line in that area. After 20 or so uneventful minutes we started discussing pulling the lines in and heading downstream to try our luck on one of the sandbars. It was now around mid-day and getting rather hot.
“One of the lines on the boat slowly started to run then stopped. This is the typical behavior of a catfish, so while I stepped into the boat to watch the rod, none of us were too excited. Nothing more happened for over a minute and Echi suggested I pull in the line to check the bait was still on the hook. As I reached for the rod handle the line again slowly started its ‘tick-tick-tick’. This time however it didn’t stop, instead whatever had the other end of the line obviously started moving and the ticking graduated into a steady whir - that sound that gets every fisherman’s pulse racing! It was time to set the hook!”
However, in the growing excitement, Kevin had not engaged the reel properly, and when he hauled back for the strike, more line just peeled off. Realising his blunder, and cursing himself, he engaged the reel, just as the fish took up the slack, and on the second strike, set the hook.
Kevin continues “The drag was set reasonably tight but you wouldn’t have known it as the line now started to scream off the reel, the fish realising that there was more to lunch than she first anticipated! In the meantime Echi had un-moored the boat while Marinus was bringing in the second line. Yet at the rate the line was stripping off the reel, the second rod was quickly abandoned on the bank along with everything else as Echi quickly pushed the boat into the water and started the engine.
Reports started trickling in about a mammoth Nile perch catch from Murchison Falls late in 2013, with the African Fisherman getting our hands on a copy of a DVD documenting the catch early in 2014. A group of mainly Zimbabwean anglers - known as the D’Anglers - had been on their annual fishing jaunt to Uganda - a destination they had yet to conquer in their nearly 30 years of fishing. John Steel, one of the group, remembers “D’Anglers fishing club was started in 1985 by my brother Chris Steel and Angus Milne from Johannesburg and is between 12-18 people. We used to organize their trips to Kariba or the Zambezi having a casual Zim vs SA sort of competition. We have fished in Zim, Mozambique, Zambia and now Uganda. Over the years we must have had over 100 members ranging from 25 to 75 years in age. Some great characters and memories.”
John and some of D’Anglers were fishing close to the falls, and not having much luck, when an unfolding drama caught their attention. Realising the boat across the water was into a big fish, John immediately began filming. The footage is amazing, and John recalls “They fought the fish for a long time, I even have footage of the fish pulling them upstream! They very nearly capsized twice before getting it in the boat.”
Kevin Nicholson - a native New Zealander who has worked in Uganda for sometime - was the lucky angler, and remembers “I had not planned on a fishing trip, I was spending a few days up in Murchison Falls to visit some friends and have a few days off after a busy few months at work in Entebbe. However after the inevitable few beers in the evening at the Red Chili Backpackers I made plans with my friend Marinus to go fishing the following day with Echi - a guide from Wild Frontiers.
Heading out at seven the next morning, Kevin and co caught a good haul of bait fish and headed to a place just below the gorge, where within a few minutes, Marinus at around 8am, hooked and successfully landed a good looking perch of 24kg. Kevin continues “Feeling it was going to be a good fishing day we headed up into the gorge, stopping at a couple of good spots at the mouth but without much action. We made our way up over the rapids with the intention of hiking along the north bank, however another group were moored at the only mooring point (John Steel’s group), so we anchored in the adjacent pool and popped a line in the water to little avail.
“John’s group eventually moved across the river, and we met them briefly and even loaned them a bait fish or two. They offered us some beers in return but I remember saying that the fishing gods would pay us back with some good fishing. We moored up, packed our kit and hiked to Dead Tree Pool, right up in the hard waters below the falls. We stayed there for over an hour with a couple of good runs that were great fun, but only resulted in some well chewed and spat out bait fish!”
Murchison Falls, also referred to as the Kabarega Falls, is a fierceom waterfall found on the course of the Great Nile. It actually breaks the stunning Victoria Nile, that flows across Uganda’s northern region from the vast Lake Victoria to the deep Lake Kyoga and continuing to the northern tip of Lake Albert within the western arm of the great East African Rift. Right on the peak of the Murchison Falls, the waters of the Nile - some 300 cubic meters per second - force their way through a small crevice in the rocks, which is just 7 meters or 23 feet wide, and plummets 43 meters (141 feet) below with a thunderous roar creating a residual water spray that forms a beautiful rainbow. From here it then continues its westward flow into the stunning Lake Albert.
The falls are located within the Murchison National Park established in 1926, and named after the breathtaking waterfalls. The park is located in the northern region of the Albertine Rift Valley, an area where the huge Bunyoro escarpment joins together into the vast Acholi plains. The park is recognized as one of the best National Parks in Uganda.
“The area where we were is a calm pool of water above the rapids where the main push of the falls exits the gorge. We wanted to fight the fish in this pool, so as we got out into the middle, Echi cut the engine and Marinus threw out the anchor. It was at this point we saw the fish jump - not in the pool where we thought it to be, but near the edge of the aforementioned fast-moving rapids. We knew if it made it into the rapids we’d never have enough line on the reel to hold on to it.
“A lot of shouting in a number of languages ensued... Marinus whom was paying out the anchor rope frantically began to yank it back in. Echi fired up the engine again to get us moving towards the fish while I reeled in line as fast as I could to counter the slack we would create as the boat moved towards the fish – which fortunately seemed to have stopped running now it was in moving water.
“We crested the rapids and cut the engine once we were in the moving water. I quickly got the line tight again and the fish responded by diving down into the deep water, bending the rod in half and again sending line screaming off the reel. The next 20-30 minutes were a bit of a blur. We soon found the best tactic was to bring the engine out of the water, for me to kneel in the middle of the Duraboat and let the fish decide on the rest! The boat seemed to spin around and around, Echi and Marinus constantly ducking the line as the fish switched directions or went under the boat, as well as occasionally holding back my aching shoulders or tweaking the drag on my reel. I think at one point the fish even pulled us and the boat upstream into the rapids, which in hindsight probably helped tire her out!
“The first time the fish had jumped far away we knew it was big, but when it came out a few times nearer the boat, viciously shaking trying to shake the hook form its mouth, we saw it was an absolute monster! The small voice in the back of my mind was asking how the hell the 45lb line nor the 10 year old rod I was using had not yet snapped in half! After around 20 minutes we got the fish to the side of the boat, however just when we were nearly in reach of grabbing the leader line it dived straight down again. This happened about four times.
“Finally we had beaten the fish as it floated up next to the boat, however we were presented with our next problem. We were now near the mouth of the gorge which probably has one of the highest concentrations of crocodiles in all of Uganda. Leaving the fish immobile for too long in the water would be like leaving a chocolate cake in a room full of fat girls on a diet! While I sat on one side of the boat for balance, Echi and Marinus tried to bring the fish in the other side, unfortunately with little success. I then added my own efforts to this, although we were all conscious of the weight concentration on one side of the boat in croc filled waters, so did not get much further. After a couple of efforts we started discussing putting the fish on a leader, yet Echi said ‘Let’s give it one more try’. We all put the last of our strength into lifting the fish and managed to get the head up over the side. Then as if something had pushed the fish from below, the body miraculously followed, leaving Marinus and I with the fish on top of us while Echi got clear to get the engine back in the water, as we got under way to a safer place downstream to release the fish.”
In 2009, one Tim Smith from the UK had caught a similar fish nearby. But as Tim played his 249lb perch, a huge crocodile launched an attack on the boat, nearly knocking Tim - who was alone - out of it. With the light fading fast, and the crocodile persistently trying to capsize the boat, Tim tied the fish to the boat and made for shore... but not before the massive croc took a bite out of the perch. Finally getting some help from Andy Ault who worked at Wild Frontiers Lodge nearby, Tim tried in vane to resuscitate the fish late into the night, but due to its injuries and the long fight, it did not make it. John Steel noted after their 2013 trip “ I have never seen so many and such huge crocodiles in my life and I am involved in crocodile farming!” Testament to this John captured on film during their fishing adventure.
Kevin continues. “The fish was an absolute beauty, fatter as opposed to long as have been most large perch caught in the area, which most people have since agreed would make it a female. We were all determined to release her safely back into the river, so much so that we nearly forgot to take photos, and were lucky that the other boats that had been watching us also followed us back!
“Safely on the bank we removed the fish from the boat and lacking scales for a fish this size, took some quick measurements which were 200cm from lip to tail and 150cm around the girth behind the dorsal. There is a weight chart used in Uganda which is based on measurements from over 100 fish previously caught in the Murchison Falls area. The combined measurements of the fish put it at the extremity of the graph at 113.9kg, higher than the current world record, yet lacking an official scale we will never know this for sure.
“We quickly got the fish back in the water and held her in place to get some water through her gills, while other boats were running a perimeter to deter crocodiles from getting too close. We had actually talked the night before about the stupidity of getting in the water with such animals nearby, however with the excitement of the catch this logic somehow didn’t register in our minds at the time. Within five minutes the fish was starting to move nicely and even bit down quite hard on my hand as I held her lower jaw. I suppose this was only fair after I had rudely interrupted her afternoon! Another Wild Frontiers boat came by with a leader, the idea being to lead the fish along with the boat to further move some oxygen through her gills, then release her in some deeper water. However within seconds of the boat moving away the fish somehow rid herself of the heavy-duty clamp on her jaw and quickly disappeared down into the green depths of the Nile.
Murchison Falls, close up, from the air
 The mighty Murchison Falls and the pool below |  Taken from the video, Kevin's Nile perch jumps close to the boat...a heart stopping moment indeed |  Video of the moment the fish was eventually lifted into the boat. Note how close to capsizing it is |
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 Video of the moment the fish was eventually lifted into the boat. Note how close to capsizing it is |  Video of the moment the fish was eventually lifted into the boat. Note how close to capsizing it is |  Kevin with the fish eventually in the boat - smiles all round |
 Kevin and Echi with a quick picture before the release |  Resuscitating the fish before its eventual successful release |
“All in all this was the best result I could have hoped for, to catch such a magnificent animal but see her swim away strongly to fight another day! Most of the credit for this catch has gone to my name yet it was certainly a three-man effort and equal credit must also go to Marinus and Echi for the parts they played in the catch. I’d also like to give credit to a person I never met, yet was apparently the original owner of the mighty “Red Wolf” fishing rod which somehow refused to snap in this fight. This was Steve Willis, whom among other things was the co-founder of the Red Chilli Hideaway and one of the early players in the Ugandan fishing scene. Steve was killed in 2005 whilst helping other people in Murchison Falls Park.”
Uganda and Nile perch fishing is an experience in reach of many adventure anglers. Well and long established lodges and operators offer a real African experience, with the possibility of 200 pound fish to boot. Murchison Falls National Park have a well-constructed and informative web site (www.murchisonfallsnationalpark.com), while the Uganda government present the country to tourists through their site www.ugandawildlife.org. Many people still perceive Uganda and her wildlife and resources as war-ravaged. Nothing it seems, could be further from the truth. John says of their trip late last year “The game park was magnificent and pretty well run, as was the hotel we stayed at. Also the game we saw had really deep colours especially giraffe and other antelope. We were also lucky to see a Shoe-Billed stork - some people have traveled to Africa for years to see them without luck as they are very rare. Lions, elephant, hippo and crocodiles in abundance. No netting except when you go through the delta and into Lake Albert. Only problem is the tsetse flies... and you need a strong repellent.”
Issue #6 March 2015
SA Cricketers Fish Zim
The 2015 Cricket World Cup is underway... And predictably, Zimbabwe is not faring as well as the Zimbos would have liked. While a glimmer of hope existed as they faced South Africa early in the play-offs, this was short lived as South Africa showed their superior skill and dominance. While the field is a place to compete and test each other, off the field the neighbors take time to enjoy the important things in life... like fishing.
During their recent tri-nations tour to Zimbabwe late in 2014, members of the South African Protea cricket team took some time out to enjoy a little R&R on our bass waters. While several of the guys enjoyed a social outing at Darwendale, Dale Steyn took part in one of the inter-club bass leagues hosted by Capital City Chapter at Bhiri dam (downstream of Darwendale) near Harare and fished with Clive Harris of the Master Angler in Harare. The dam has been fishing particularly well over the last few months, and the fishing did not disappoint Dale. Says Clive “The very first tree we pulled up to yielded four really good fish, and by lunch time we had lost count of the bass we had caught.” Dale caught some big fish, but not into the double digits Bhiri has produced in recent months.
Not satisfied to be teaching Zim’s bass (and cricketers) a lesson, Dale was also able to fit in an excursion to Victoria Falls and the Chobe in Botswana, catching the tigerfish run where he also subdued a number of good fish on surface lures - one over 7kg. Other team members and management visited Chikwenya Safari Lodge on the Zambezi where they too enjoyed a few days tigerfishing. Clive remarked “Dale is a good fisherman, and extremely competitive, even on the water”, while in the background, someone was heard to mumble it might be a good idea to maroon him on one of our dams the next time they visit Zimbabwe’s cricketers. By all accounts, a good time was had by all, and their company enjoyed among the bassers.
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Issue #6 March 2015
A Little Nostalgia
KAWFT
RIFA
In 1950, when I was ten, and saw the Zambezi River at Victoria Falls for the first time as an impressionable kid, I knew the river would become a part of my life, drawn inexorably by its aura of history, mystery, fun, and danger. The swirling cloud of spray, that tumultuous torrent of falling water, explorer David Livingstone’s statue, a four-engined Short Solent Flying Boat swinging gently at its mooring in the current, staying in a great hotel for the first time, walking across the magnificent bridge, entranced me.
Another first was a boat ride to the B.O.A.C. Flying Boat, where a small group of us were allowed on board and given a conducted tour of its luxurious interior, and mementos of a writing pad, envelopes, and fountain pen with the B.O.A.C. logos, treasured and used only sparingly for years afterwards.
Other firsts were watching a tigerfish being caught by an angler off the river bank as we climbed on board the afternoon cruise boat before setting off for tea served on Kandahar Island, and early the next morning watching the Flying Boat spectacularly taking off on its way back to Southampton from Johannesburg, via Lake Victoria, the Nile at Cairo, and Sicily.
I had to wait for another two years before I saw the Zambezi again, this time near the entrance to Kariba Gorge.
By David Scott
My Dad, who had just constructed the largest farm dam in the country back then, with much help from Ian Shand at the Ministry of Water Development, had heard from Ian about plans which fascinated him, to dam the Zambezi River in Kariba Gorge, thus forming the largest man-made body of water on the planet at the time. (Ian Shand was the most highly decorated Second World War II fighter pilot from Rhodesia, commanded RAF 237 Squadron, where other well-known pilots included Ian Smith and Jack Malloch, though I never once heard him mention any of that.) Ian and his wife Dr Hilda Wragg became firm family friends for decades.
Dad and I, with our trusty handyman July, planned to drive to the Gorge in August in his Series One Land Rover, along what was no more than a barely-discernable track through the bush, to a hill overlooking the upstream confluence of the Sanyati and Zambezi Rivers. This was my opportunity to catch a tigerfish, something I’d dreamed of for two years. Until then my experience was limited to barbel and bluegill taken from the farm dam.
Dad knew the simple light rods and flimsy reels we had would be no match for the denizens of the deep gorge, so we visited J.C.Wantenaar’s gunsmiths and fishing tackle shop in Stanley Avenue for advice and the appropriate fishing tackle. ( My sincere apologies, Mr Fereday!) Immediately upon entering what to me was a magical shop, with rods, rifles, knives I would die for, and camping kit, my eyes were drawn to a single fishing pole mounted along the back wall, only just wide enough to accommodate it. Its attached reel seemed the size of the average boat trailer’s winch. Just what we needed, I was utterly convinced, tingling with excited anticipation. It hadn’t crossed my mind how much longer it was than the Land Rover outside, but had certainly crossed Dad’s.
The cunning J.C. knew my heart was already set, and though Dad quibbled unconvincingly about the rod’s sheer length and the size of its price tag, Mr Wantenaar scoffed contemptuously at the Old Man’s ignorance of the current’s speed and power, and the sheer brute strength of the monsters destined to commit suicide at my still inept hands. J.C. threw in a “free” hank of rope to secure the pole Papa had paid a King’s ransom for to the Landy’s canopy frame. It took some tricky maneuvering just to get this rod out of the shop’s door without injuring innocent but interested passers-by, watching proceedings with a mixture of awe and pity. I was so proud I nearly burst.
We left the city in the very early hours next morning, July shoe-horned into limited space between camping paraphernalia and canvas, and finally reached the unmarked turn-off from the Great North Road somewhere between Karoi and Makuti about mid-afternoon. It was a thrilling, sometimes scary ride down the escarpment into the valley below, where the tse-tse flies soon found us. Only July remained unaffected by them, probably because they couldn’t find him! The track was so narrow and hemmed in by trees and jesse bush here and there that we didn’t see any animals at all.
Dusk came with no campsite-hill in sight, but no sooner had Dad decided we would set up camp at the track-side and continue in the morning, than we heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Another Land Rover slowly ground its way closer, casting shafts of light this way and that through the bush as it followed the twisting track. Two hunters with their trackers on board, heading back to their Karoi farms each with their own dead trophy lion bundled grotesquely in the back, informed us we were only a mile from our destination. So wishing each other a safe journey, we continued our separate ways.
The campsite we found as we crested the hill, consisted of the most basic pole and grass structure, under which we erected our two little US Army surplus tents with the bright light from two Aladdin paraffin pressure lamps, one tent for Dad and me, the other for July. Exhausted after the long journey, and unable to see much of the Zambezi down below anyway as the new moon shed little light, after cheese and biscuits washed down with tea for supper, I was soon asleep.
Waking early, as was my wont even then, I could hear Dad and July discussing shumba – lion – as they moved around our tents. Sure enough, within arm’s reach of July’s tent were the very distinct fresh pug marks of two large lions in the soil, interspersed among shards if mica fragments. Instantly my fertile imagination conjured up the belief that others from the pride from which the hunters’ trophies had come were seeking revenge on us. July was obviously of a similar opinion, as he spent most of the morning collecting enough firewood for an all-night inferno to keep the marauders at bay, and erecting a thorn boma around the tents as insurance, much to Dad’s amusement, as he had witnessed such things often before.
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Watching the sun slowly rising upriver as we sipped our morning tea, revealing progressively more of our 360 degrees view, was breathtaking. I was hooked.
The Wantenaar wand was next on the agenda for me, so I clambered excitedly onto the little Landy’s bonnet and started untying the rope at my end, while July tackled his end with winch attached. We both came away with a separate length of rod. I was close to tears, my rod had obviously been broken by branches snatching at it along the track, but Dad - I could sense his relief - merely told me not to worry, the much shorter pole would be a lot easier to handle, and after all was said and done, the fish wouldn’t know my rod was broken in half, would they?
After breakfast, Dad and I walked down the hill together to the Sanyati River’s confluence with the Zambezi, Dad with his .303 balanced comfortably over his right shoulder, me with my rod and canvas fishing tackle bag less comfortably over mine. We then scrambled along Kariba Gorge’s rocky shoreline until we found a spot where there was a considerable eddy, and shaking with excited anticipation I jerked a red and silver soup ladle quite easily upstream, chuffed my rod was still a worker, and let the current carry it quickly back downstream.
As the lure reached the point where the water started to eddy, I felt a hard jerk on my shortened rod, and then the reel started unwinding rapidly, leaving me momentarily dazed, even wondering if I’d hooked a croc, perhaps, because we’d seen one on the tiny sandy beach on the opposite bank earlier.
An early postcard depicting the double deck Solent Flying Boat which landed at Victoria Falls. Unlike today's commercial airliners, the Solent boasted a cocktail lounge, lady's "powder rooms" and four seater cabins. Picture by Victor Clark.
About the Author - David Scott was born a Wedza farm boy, with a father who understood and loved wild places - feelings which he luckily passed on to David, and by the time David was seven or eight years old, his father had taught him to fish and shoot. Schooled at Ruzawi and Bishops, he went into farming and was twice runner-up tobacco grower of the year in the 1970’s.
Among other things, he was involved in the design and building of Tiger Bay Resort at Kariba and Magaruque Island off the Mozambique coast. Now the Administrator of a Harare Care Home, David has published several books - Twenty When? - which reconciles evolution with the story in Genesis, and Rhinos’ Revenge which tells of the rhino’s plight in Africa and their retribution.
Suddenly a tigerfish leapt vertically out of the water, shaking vigorously from side-to-side, rattling the lure and wire trace, and I could see part of my spoon hanging out of its jaws. My knee-jerk reaction was to whip the now short, heavy rod back over my head, and the next I knew the fish came whizzing unexpectedly past my head and clattered onto the rocks just behind me. My first tigerfish, not very large, probably two-and-a half kilograms, but a combination of my belief and Mr Wantenaar’s subterfuge had triumphed after all, albeit highly unconventionally. But that wasn’t quite the end of that fishing tale, because fifteen minutes or so later, with much more finesse I landed a nice Cornish jack. Catch-and-release was unheard of then, as far as I remember, but I was the happiest twelve-year old on earth that day.
Later on we heard the sound of a boat motor in Kariba Gorge, but it took nearly half-an-hour before an open boat crawled into view, before finally losing the battle against the current and disappearing rapidly back downstream.
When Dad bought me a new Brno .22 long rifle with five-shot magazine on the way back to our Wedza farm, my life was complete, and Mr J.C. Wantenaar richer too by twelve quid.
A further three years passed, and I was by then at senior school in Cape Town, before I spent two weeks with my Dad and some friends camping on the banks of the Zambezi once more.
To Be Continued...
Issue #6 March 2015
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