Fish of the Pharaohs

OFFSHORE ADVENTURE

While the Amazon of South America has easily the greatest volume of any river on the planet, the Nile is the longest at 6741 kilometres from its most remote headwater to the Mediterranean.

The Nile Valley also has the richest human history of any region in the world, dating back 10,000 years.

The massive stone pyramids, temples and tombs that survive there are sufficient attraction to visit the region, but one more recent aspect of Egyptian history concerns us more directly. In 1958, Egyptian leader Gamal Nasser reached an agreement with the Soviet Union to construct the Aswan High Dam, designed to control the annual flooding of the Nile and create the 400km-long hydro lake (the world’s largest), which bears his name.

Finished in 1971, the project has its plusses and minuses. It creates a great deal of hydro power and ensures a regular river flow that allows intensive year-round cultivation of the Nile Valley below the dam, but it also drowned many historical sites (some, such as Abu Simbel and the Temple of Philae, were moved by UNESCO-led efforts to high ground) and displaced hundreds of thousands of Nubian people from their homes in the upper valley. Also, without the annual deposition of rich, flood-carried silt, farming below the dam is now much more reliant on chemicals and fertilizers.

One other thing the massive new lake created was a huge habitat for fish native to the Nile, including the iconic nile perch. These fish look much like a heavy-set version of their Australian cousin, the barramundi, but with smaller scales and a growth potential of around 150kg – around the size of a pretty decent striped marlin! That is a maximum of course, and these days a 50lber (24kg) is considered a nice fish, while a 100lber (45kg) is the trophy everyone hopes for.

An opportunity to fish the fabled Nile, added to the historical attractions in the region, saw my fishing buddy Rick Wakelin and I recently make the long-haul flight from Auckland to the Middle East. A search of the internet had hooked us up with African Angler, a company that runs a fishing operation on Lake Nasser.

Small groups of boats fish up the lake from the Aswan High Dam, supported by a large supply boat. The fishing boats meet up with the supply boat at midday and in the evenings for meals, drinks and ablutions. Anglers sleep on the fishing boats (which have two comfortable beds). Each fishing boat has a Nubian skipper/guide, and on our trip the only other angler was an Englishman, Marty Chermell, so staff on the supply boat out-numbered the anglers two-to-one. Needless to say, we were well looked-after.

After an early-morning flight from Cairo to Aswan, we met our guide for the week, Mohammed, and boarded our 8m steel displacement fishing boat, powered by a 55hp Yamaha. It was the end of May, just edging into summer, and starting to get pretty hot (mid 40s). The tourist industry in general drops right off at this time of year, and we were the last fishing trip of the season.

In a new fishery, with a new fish, you never know quite what to expect. We were still within sight of the giant memorial, built to celebrate the completion of the Aswan High Dam, when we started fishing.

Using 15 and 24kg braid rigs and about five metres of 37kg mono leader, we trolled big Rapala Super Shad Raps (SSRs) around islands and shallow sections of the lake. From time-to-time we had to pull in the gear to clear weed from our lures – proof, if any was needed, that we were down there in the strike zone.

Then came a hit, with the distinctive buck of a fish, hauling line from Rick’s reel. When it settled down, Rick worked the fish back to the boat, where it put on a surface display before being slipped aboard for a photo or two.

It was a dark-coloured specimen (there are a number of colour phases) of about 15kg, looking much like an Aussie barramundi, but more thick-set and with smaller scales. Rick had broken his duck, and Mohammed, previously pretty subdued, became much more animated. Now I was keen to catch my own.

However, there was no more action before we went back to the mothership for a lunch break and a siesta over the hottest part of the day.

Then, as the sun eased down towards the heat-blasted rock and sand of the Sahara Desert in a spectacular North African sunset, we resumed trolling, and finally my lure was crashed. The fish powered off line before getting down amongst the rocks. I eased the drag, Mohammed changed the boat position, and the fish came free, jumping at the boat before throwing in the towel, a chunky 10kg specimen. Not a monster, but I was happy to have a representative of the species in the bag on the first day. Like Rick’s fish, mine was revived and returned.

Wildlife in the desert region is scant. With the hot season starting, a great many of the migratory bird species had departed the area, leaving mostly white egrets, grey herons, plovers, Egyptian geese, black terns, swifts, doves and the odd ibis and kite. The three boats were grounded on the shores of a large island for the night, and by laying out some meat, the crew attracted some wary Egyptian foxes to the outskirts of camp for a twilight wildlife show.

After dinner, drinks and yarns, we retired to our respective boats to sleep. The temperature had dropped to a mild 20°C with a few knots of breeze. There were no biting insects, and under single sheets we were sung to sleep by a sleigh-bell chorus of frogs and desert crickets under a magnificent star-filled sky. I don’t think I have ever slept so well.

Sleeping more or less in the open means that you wake with the first flush of dawn, and we were up and doing as the first bulge of the sun’s molten orb pushed over the horizon, promising another blistering day (I never saw a cloud the whole time I was in North Africa).

After coffee and breakfast on the mothership, we were soon away for our morning’s fishing. To break the monotony, trolling bibbed lures was alternated with going ashore to walk and cast the edges. The productive areas for shore fishing were steep and rocky – nile perch like to hang out under ledges. To effectively present the lure sometimes meant wading out chest-deep (a welcome diversion in the heat of the day) or scrambling along the shattered rocky slabs of the shore. These were sometimes crumbling or precariously balanced, requiring you to test each step before putting the weight on your booted foot.

Shore fishing was slow, with only the odd juvenile perch zooming out from the rocks at our feet to investigate our lures, so we went back to trolling, investigating deeper waters with big-bibbed, deep-diving lures.

Late in the morning, this paid off. Rick hit a pretty perch of around 6kg, and a little later my rod tip slammed down emphatically. The practice is to troll with rod in hand so as to detect any weed on the lure, and with braid you certainly know when you are hit!

This fish was a very enthusiastic jumper, crashing all over the mirror-flat surface, and the reason became clear when I finally got it to the boat – a lovely 24kg fish that was hooked under the jaw by my Halco Deep-Diver, encouraging it into the air. I was stoked to have caught a nice nile perch specimen – if I didn’t catch a ‘buffalo’ (as the guides called fish over 45kg – 100lb), then this would do me.

After its battle, the perch took a bit of reviving, but eventually righted itself and finned off tiredly into the green depths.

The next morning we were trolling the far side of the lake, where a Bedouin tribesman had come out of the desert to water his herd of black sheep, which were shadowed by his three dogs, there to provide protection from foxes and jackals.

Rick had the first hit, and what looked to be a very big fish broke surface well behind the boat, giving us a quick view of its bucket-like head before throwing the lure.

A little later, another strike saw a 4kg fish brought to boat. Mohammad patiently worked and reworked the area with the boat, and after an hour and a half, patience paid off. My rod tip was slammed down and I was losing line fast. Way back there a huge splash shattered the glassy surface as the fish came half out.

“Big fish,” grunted Mohammad. I agreed. It was certainly a heavy specimen and the little Black Magic reel purred as it gave out the 15kg braid. Gradually I worked it to the boat, and as it came into sight on the surface, the glowing silver scales on its broad flanks caught the sun and made an impressive sight.

“Over 100lb,” another grunt from Mohammad, just before the fish took to the air, gills flared and throwing the big lure well clear. Bugger! Like Rick’s first strike of the day, my trophy specimen was gone! The saving grace was that I had left my Nikon camera all set up to photograph jumping fish, and our guide had picked it up and got a couple of nice shots as it came free.

By way of a consolation prize for me losing the big fish, another strike saw a solidly-built 20kg perch come to the boat. A nice fish to be sure, but with our fishing trip half over, would Rick or I have another chance at a ‘buffalo’?
Inshallah.

Next month: the Kiwi contingent continues its quest for the Nile’s giant perch.

By Sam Mossman

- © Fairfax NZ News