While staying at the third camp, in Kafue National Park in Zambia, on the Lufupa River, we were given an option for one of our morning outings - some of us could go fishing while the others went out on a river boat to look at hippos, crocodiles and birds. The river boat only held 12 and our group was 15 so at least 3 needed to fish. Originally I had decided on the river boat but when Wilson asked 3 of us to join him on the smaller fishing boat, I changed my mind and am so glad that I did. The last time I had gone fishing was in college. My boy friend at the time took me trout fishing in the foothills of the Sierra. It was not a successful venture - I was there to learn but I caught 4 and he caught none. He was thrilled with my first catch, happy with my second, annoyed with my third and we left after my fourth. Good I didn't marry him.
I occasionally fished when I was younger with my Dad off the pier of the cement boat near Santa Cruz. Oh how patient he was as he attached bait and untangled lines of the fishing poles held in the hands of his 5 children. My maternal grandfather also loved to fish. He would go out on party boats on the ocean off Mendocino with fishermen friends and would occasionally take one or two grandchildren along. All I remember is getting sick. At least I didn't throw up in the captain's tackle box as my older sister, Candy, did!
So I do have a slight history of fishing and figured it was probably like bicycle riding, you don't forget the basics, but when I learned our guide would show us the ropes, I felt more confident. A little instruction is always valuable. And, although Wilson likes to fish, Pattie, Marsha and I were all relative novices.
What fun it was. Our guide was endlessly patient as he showed us how to hold the pole, cast off the side of the boat and reel 'er in. I don't know if "cast" is the right word, I think that is what you do standing in a stream, but you know what I mean.
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What made the experience more interesting was keeping an eye out for the hippos that call the Lufupa home. Here is a raft of them. I am proud of this photo - at least you know what animals they are. Well, maybe not. Could they be a pod of whales?
But again, let's compare with Anna's eye and camera (she was on the same river but on the larger boat):
I would cast, reel in, cast, reel in, cast, reel in and then check for hippos and crocs. Now, I knew crocs were less likely - but indeed we did see some and they were BIG - sunning on the banks then slipping down into the water. The hippos, on the other hand, were frequently close by. So close that I found myself gauging how near they would have to be before I should be concerned about their ability to sink under the water, swim over and topple our boat. Thankfully, our guide was quite capable and moved us whenever he thought they were too close. I gave up worrying and just enjoyed the outing and it was indeed glorious. The sun shone, the hippos roared - or at least yawned to show their scorn of us - and the fish stayed away. For the first hour we caught nothing. However, none of us seemed to mind, it was just so wonderful to be out on the river, casting, reeling in and watching hippos perform.
Wilson finally caught a fish and you would think it was a joint effort, we were all so excited. He tossed it back, at which point our guide said, "Hmmm, that fish is now telling all the others to avoid shiny lures . . . we best move on," and suggested we keep the next fish to use as bait. About 10 minutes later, after moving a bit south, Pattie caught a fish and indeed we did just that with her catch. The new bait worked wonderfully for Wilson - he caught so many fish I lost count at 10. It seemed that as soon as he cast out he reeled in a fish.
And how did I do? I finally caught a fish and was most proud but must also admit that I caught other things as well - my hat and the side of the boat. Pattie caught a second fish and Marsha - well, she caught a rock. All in all, a most successful outing.
I cherish my memory of fishing on the Lufupa among the hippos. It was an amazing experience and one I suspect I will never have the opportunity to repeat.
I occasionally fished when I was younger with my Dad off the pier of the cement boat near Santa Cruz. Oh how patient he was as he attached bait and untangled lines of the fishing poles held in the hands of his 5 children. My maternal grandfather also loved to fish. He would go out on party boats on the ocean off Mendocino with fishermen friends and would occasionally take one or two grandchildren along. All I remember is getting sick. At least I didn't throw up in the captain's tackle box as my older sister, Candy, did!
So I do have a slight history of fishing and figured it was probably like bicycle riding, you don't forget the basics, but when I learned our guide would show us the ropes, I felt more confident. A little instruction is always valuable. And, although Wilson likes to fish, Pattie, Marsha and I were all relative novices.
What fun it was. Our guide was endlessly patient as he showed us how to hold the pole, cast off the side of the boat and reel 'er in. I don't know if "cast" is the right word, I think that is what you do standing in a stream, but you know what I mean.
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Look at the size of this boat - it would not take much for a hippo to upend it.
But again, let's compare with Anna's eye and camera (she was on the same river but on the larger boat):
Ah, much more interesting!
I would cast, reel in, cast, reel in, cast, reel in and then check for hippos and crocs. Now, I knew crocs were less likely - but indeed we did see some and they were BIG - sunning on the banks then slipping down into the water. The hippos, on the other hand, were frequently close by. So close that I found myself gauging how near they would have to be before I should be concerned about their ability to sink under the water, swim over and topple our boat. Thankfully, our guide was quite capable and moved us whenever he thought they were too close. I gave up worrying and just enjoyed the outing and it was indeed glorious. The sun shone, the hippos roared - or at least yawned to show their scorn of us - and the fish stayed away. For the first hour we caught nothing. However, none of us seemed to mind, it was just so wonderful to be out on the river, casting, reeling in and watching hippos perform.
Wilson finally caught a fish and you would think it was a joint effort, we were all so excited. He tossed it back, at which point our guide said, "Hmmm, that fish is now telling all the others to avoid shiny lures . . . we best move on," and suggested we keep the next fish to use as bait. About 10 minutes later, after moving a bit south, Pattie caught a fish and indeed we did just that with her catch. The new bait worked wonderfully for Wilson - he caught so many fish I lost count at 10. It seemed that as soon as he cast out he reeled in a fish.
And how did I do? I finally caught a fish and was most proud but must also admit that I caught other things as well - my hat and the side of the boat. Pattie caught a second fish and Marsha - well, she caught a rock. All in all, a most successful outing.
Me and my hat - what a catch!
I cherish my memory of fishing on the Lufupa among the hippos. It was an amazing experience and one I suspect I will never have the opportunity to repeat.
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