When tuesday dawned still and calm my brother-in-law, Rob gave me a ring and asked if I was up for a fishing mission on the Kayak. It had just come back from the repair shop after him and his mate rolled it onto a reef at Noordhoek. They stayed out just half an hour too long and the wind came up. Needles to say it stirred the sea up a bit as well and they were well and truly dumped on the rocks trying to come ashore.
I was already at work when he phoned and said I would ring him at 16H00 if the water still looked calm and peaceful. Driving along the Settlers' freeway at 16H15, the sea looked pretty flat and calm and I called to say I was in.
We stuck the kayak onto the back of his bakkie, tied it up and hit the road. The kayak is a ± 13 foot Mermaid, two-seater, sit-on with a Mariner Watersnake electric trawling motor attached.
As we were rushed for time and I went straight from work, I was unable to collect any of my fishing tackle. My boet-in-law tells me not to worry he'll lend me some of his. So what does the oke give me, but a frikkin' 6'8" river rod with a huge, ancient Penn reel and 40kg line. :dohNot being one to bitch and moan, I chucked the thing in the back of the bakkie and off we went.
Our first port of call was King's beach but after checking out the distance that we would have to carry a very heavy kayak, we soon decided against it for a launching area. As we had launched at Pollock Beach (Something Good) last year, I suggested we go there. The modifications carried out recently suited us just fine, as we reversed into a parking and unloaded the kayak directly onto the new slipway.
We had a couple of people asking us about our impending expidition and Rob was only too glad to show off his fancy kayak to those interested.
We were slightly nervous during launching, as the sea suddenly looked a whole lot bigger once we were in it. Not to mention all the onlookers, including the handful of guys fishing off the rocks. Luckily our timing was just right and we managed to paddle out in between any troublesome sets of waves. We then cruised out (with the watersnake) a couple of hundred meters towards the bell-buoy and put the fish-finder out to see that we were about 13m above the ocean floor. This seemed as good a spot as any and we switched the motor off and started to bait up.
We were using calamari steaks and baby octopus as bait, as Rob works at a food distributor and all expired frozen seafood gets stuck on a hook and gooi'd into the sea. We dropped our lines, weighted down with pyramid sinkers, and after a long and tiresome two minute wait, Rob pulled in his first baby kob. Having thrown it back he smirks and comments: "Some come to watch, some come to fish!" I smirked back at him at flipped him the bird.
Another agonising 5 minutes went back with only small nibbles to report, when suddenly... The 6'8" river rod with the 40kg line on bent right underneath the canoe and turned us around, direction bell-buoy. Holy crap, we were almost making a wake with our speed through the water. Whille I was screaming like a girl and trying my best not to get pulled off the canoe, Rob was pissing himself laughing, tears streaming from his eyes.
After 10 minutes of being towed around and having to let line out, I was finally able to start reeling some back in. This was not the easiest of tasks with a teeny-weeny little river rod in a kayak, at dusk on a sea becoming visibly choppier by the minute. The rusty old Penn reel was complaining profusely and the tip of the rod was bent over into the water more often than not.
After 30 minutes of trying to hold on to my u-boat, the joke started to wear off. Rob was moaning that this thing was chasing all the fish away and that we were almost at the bell-bouy in seas geting rouhger all the time. I was considering cutting my line, but after reading about the shark fishing stories on Sealine during that day, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew I could never land the thing, but I at least wanted to see what it was that pulled us around with such ease. As it turned out, this was also wishful thinking, as 10 minutes later it decide to depart at a more rapid rate of knots and with my last reserves of strength and trembling arms, overstretched sinews and aching shoulders, I tightened the drag and hung on thinking the same thoughts as the Rock of Gibraltar. The twang as the line snapped was simutaneously the greatest and worse sound I have heard in my brief stint as a fisherman.
Relieved and saddened, I sat back for a breather and watched as Rob pulled in two decent-sized kobs. (seems he was right about the fish being chased away) By this stage the waves were breaking over the kayak and we decided to start the trek back. The little watersnake did its thing and brought us back to dry land.
Later that night, as I was sitting in my entertainment area eating pan-fried kob fillet not more than 2 hours out of the water and sipping on my last, cold, limited-edition Lion Lager , I thought to myself: "Does it get any better than this?"
I was already at work when he phoned and said I would ring him at 16H00 if the water still looked calm and peaceful. Driving along the Settlers' freeway at 16H15, the sea looked pretty flat and calm and I called to say I was in.
We stuck the kayak onto the back of his bakkie, tied it up and hit the road. The kayak is a ± 13 foot Mermaid, two-seater, sit-on with a Mariner Watersnake electric trawling motor attached.
As we were rushed for time and I went straight from work, I was unable to collect any of my fishing tackle. My boet-in-law tells me not to worry he'll lend me some of his. So what does the oke give me, but a frikkin' 6'8" river rod with a huge, ancient Penn reel and 40kg line. :dohNot being one to bitch and moan, I chucked the thing in the back of the bakkie and off we went.
Our first port of call was King's beach but after checking out the distance that we would have to carry a very heavy kayak, we soon decided against it for a launching area. As we had launched at Pollock Beach (Something Good) last year, I suggested we go there. The modifications carried out recently suited us just fine, as we reversed into a parking and unloaded the kayak directly onto the new slipway.
We had a couple of people asking us about our impending expidition and Rob was only too glad to show off his fancy kayak to those interested.
We were slightly nervous during launching, as the sea suddenly looked a whole lot bigger once we were in it. Not to mention all the onlookers, including the handful of guys fishing off the rocks. Luckily our timing was just right and we managed to paddle out in between any troublesome sets of waves. We then cruised out (with the watersnake) a couple of hundred meters towards the bell-buoy and put the fish-finder out to see that we were about 13m above the ocean floor. This seemed as good a spot as any and we switched the motor off and started to bait up.
We were using calamari steaks and baby octopus as bait, as Rob works at a food distributor and all expired frozen seafood gets stuck on a hook and gooi'd into the sea. We dropped our lines, weighted down with pyramid sinkers, and after a long and tiresome two minute wait, Rob pulled in his first baby kob. Having thrown it back he smirks and comments: "Some come to watch, some come to fish!" I smirked back at him at flipped him the bird.
Another agonising 5 minutes went back with only small nibbles to report, when suddenly... The 6'8" river rod with the 40kg line on bent right underneath the canoe and turned us around, direction bell-buoy. Holy crap, we were almost making a wake with our speed through the water. Whille I was screaming like a girl and trying my best not to get pulled off the canoe, Rob was pissing himself laughing, tears streaming from his eyes.
After 10 minutes of being towed around and having to let line out, I was finally able to start reeling some back in. This was not the easiest of tasks with a teeny-weeny little river rod in a kayak, at dusk on a sea becoming visibly choppier by the minute. The rusty old Penn reel was complaining profusely and the tip of the rod was bent over into the water more often than not.
After 30 minutes of trying to hold on to my u-boat, the joke started to wear off. Rob was moaning that this thing was chasing all the fish away and that we were almost at the bell-bouy in seas geting rouhger all the time. I was considering cutting my line, but after reading about the shark fishing stories on Sealine during that day, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I knew I could never land the thing, but I at least wanted to see what it was that pulled us around with such ease. As it turned out, this was also wishful thinking, as 10 minutes later it decide to depart at a more rapid rate of knots and with my last reserves of strength and trembling arms, overstretched sinews and aching shoulders, I tightened the drag and hung on thinking the same thoughts as the Rock of Gibraltar. The twang as the line snapped was simutaneously the greatest and worse sound I have heard in my brief stint as a fisherman.
Relieved and saddened, I sat back for a breather and watched as Rob pulled in two decent-sized kobs. (seems he was right about the fish being chased away) By this stage the waves were breaking over the kayak and we decided to start the trek back. The little watersnake did its thing and brought us back to dry land.
Later that night, as I was sitting in my entertainment area eating pan-fried kob fillet not more than 2 hours out of the water and sipping on my last, cold, limited-edition Lion Lager , I thought to myself: "Does it get any better than this?"