Ok, so there's only Two Parts...here's the second...

To start off, it is perhaps time to explain how Tabard got his nickname. Some of you may know Tabard, the liquid. It is a white, viscous, aromatic liquid smeared on the body to fend off the huge fuckin' mosquito's (see photo below) we get in SA. Anyway...around the second night, Damba gets woken up by some strange noises emanating from Tabard's bed. Rolling over, Damba vaguely, in the dark, sees some strange motions from under the covers and politely asks him what the fuck he's doing.

Quick (perhaps too quick) to respond, Tabard says he's rubbing on some of the cream cos the mozzies are chowing him. Damba, looking for clarification, asks why he's rubbing it on what appears to be his groin region. I think the less said about this story the better and we'll give Tabard the benefit of the doubt.


Jonny Bravo trying to make a point, also known as "pointing". A number of these intellectual conversations were held over the course of the trip. We even solved a number of global problems, but the recession came after the trip so we weren't able to help there.

I'm going to skip the Wednesday and most of Thursday, partly due to the fact that I can't actually remember what happened all that time ago, but also because not much did. We spent most of our days as follows: wake up early, go fishing, catch fuckall, go back to camp when it's too hot, eat ourselves stupid, drink ourselves clever again, do some more fishing, drink some more to get really clever and then go to bed only to repeat the same the following day.

But...on the Thursday, instead of doing a little night fishing, we decide on having an absolute fuckin' bender. As you can see by the photo, The Bulls Inn has a nice little pub area, complete with pool table and dart board. Damba showed us how to play a kewl new game, "Naai Jou Maatjie" (or for those of you out there who can't read code, "Fuck Yer Pal"). The game is a great laugh and consists of the following mechanics: throw a dart with your left hand at any number (me, I'm left handed so I threw with my right hand otherwise it wouldn't have been fair), that number is now "yours" and you have to throw 5 of them before you are "open" and can start to "screw yer pals", by throwing their number and cancelling out all their little crosses, then knocking them out of the game. If you got knocked out early, the only thing you could do while the game finished, which at some times took a while, was drink. And that meant we all had our turn at drinking. None of us were particularly good at darts, but we were all particularly good at drinking.

All I remember of the evening was when I started to sober up (sometime in the early hours) and someone said "let's go fishing". Yeah, fuckin' brilliant idea for something to do at 3am. Anyway, myself, Fishman and Jonny Bravo decide it might be worth it as the wind had dropped and we had a high tide to bring the fish on the bite.

This is what the dawn looked like...stunning, but a very rough sea.


We gathered up our gear, put on some warm clothing (windbreakers) and headed off along the beach. When we got to the rocks we noticed that the waves were washing up the beach quite far and we had to tread carefully through waist deep water and waves to get to the shelf where we were going to fish from. Aparently, I was telling the guys "Safety first, boys" all the way through, and repeatedly, so I was perhaps not as sober as I could/should have been. Anyway, we got through a little damp, found a great spot and started fishing, but again, no fish. After a while, just before dawn, Fishman decided he had had enough and was going to have a snooze. He must have been fuckin' freezing judging by the foetal position he's sleeping in.

This is Fishman just after dawn.



Here's Jonny Bravo doing what he does best...standing with a rod in his hand.


Needless to say, we were all pretty useless on the Friday after we got back to the lodge and ended up sleeping a couple of hours.

Damba and Tabard decided that they wouldn't mind doing some deep sea boat fishing that day, and the owner was only too happy to charter out his boat to them. Apparently the guys "fed the fish" a lot, so I'm glad I didn't go along even though I love boat fishing. We all had a good giggle when the owner and his "motley crew" battled to get the boat back onto the trailer when they came back. The spring tide had gone right out and the water was very shallow, which made getting the heavy boat onto the trailer very difficult. It must have taken them a good half hour to get it right as the crew didn't have a clue what they were up to. The owner was shouting and swearing at them in isiZulu (language of the Zulus) but he wasn;t getting through to them and ended up doing most of the work himself.



On the Saturday, we decided we were going to go and fish the area we had been a couple of days before, where Jonny Bravo and I had had our six hour long tussles. The water was nice and deep, with not much wave action and certainly looked like it might yield a fish or two. We could drive the bakkie right up to the water's edge, which was great for carrying loads of tackle.




This was where I caught the small sandshark I mentioned earlier. I know from experience that they are great baits for larger sharks and immediately put it out of its misery with a swift crack of its head on a rock, and much to the annoyance of Kallie, who is a vet and hates to see any form of harm coming to any form of animal. I could have slid it out live, but that would have meant it would have suffered, hence the reason I despatched it quickly.

The sliding of the sandie was a little more difficult than planned and it got stuck on a rock a few metres offshore, which meant that I had to get into the water and free the rig from the rocks. Jonny Bravo held the rod while I took my shirt off and went swimming. Fishman thought I was going to get fucked up on the rocks when he saw a wave wash over my head, but I'm an old surfer and know that the best way to get through a wave is under it, with the result that I popped up almost in the same place as I'd gone under, and without a mark on me. Needless to say, Murphy had a hand in freeing the rig and just before I got there, Jonny Bravo managed to get the bait back in the water again. Ah well, it was a refreshing swim.

The slide went out and I never saw the sandie again. Not that I had a hookup or anything, but rather the line stayed in the water for a couple of hours and then when we decided to head back to camp, I lost the rig as the sinker had got stuck between the rocks and the line broke. It would have been great to get a hookup as the Transkei is famous for its large sharks. Maybe next time...

While we were on the beach, some friends of Kallie's drove down form one of the inland towns and joined us for lunch and drinks. Kallie managed to get some crayfish for us from the locals and the lodge owner lavished them in garlic and butter. I then popped them on the braai for Kallie and her pal.


That night, as it was our last and the conditions were good again, Jonny Bravo, Tabard and myself decided we were going to give it "one last throw" and went back down to Mpame rocks in front of the lodge. We had a good many nice bites but the only one of us to get a fish was Tabard, who caught this large Shad. This was the fish that, afterward, he said had made his trip.


On the Sunday morning, we were up bright and early as we had to make our individual ways home. We packed all the fishing gear away in our bags, broke down the multi-piece rods and stashed everything in our bakkies, not looking forward to the long road ahead. At least Damba would accompany me in my car back to the main highway, so I had company part of the way.

As a tradition, the lodge owner asks each group to leave a cap signed by the entire team that was there. He then hangs it up on the roof of the pub with all the others. I bet he has some stories to tell...


Here were all are signing the cap.


It was also tradidtion that, if there was a woman in the team, that she had to leave her bikini top with the hat too, so Kallie had to leave hers...


After that, there was only time for a shower and a fresh t-shirt, a group photo and then back into the bakkies for the trip back.

From left to right: Scotty, Kallie, Jonny Bravo, Skoonie, Fishman, Tabard and Damba.
Even though it was a long distance to travel, we all had a great time and I'm sure we'll be there again sometime. Perhaps not next year, but definately at some point in the future. Hopefully next time will produce more fish though...

Here are some of the other photos we took...

Fishman and Scotty, making breakfast one morning.
Fishman thinking "what the fuck are you talking about?"
This trench is about 15m deep and the wave surge would almost fill it up.
Sitting around between fishing excursions
She did well, the Mazda-rati. I'm proud of her
Mpame Rocks....and so did we.
Mpame beach, with the lodge to the right. That hill took four-wheel drive, low range, to get up and down
This is how we all felt..."Woohoo"
The Transkei has amazing scenery
A Damba, otherwise known as a Blacktail