| ‘Anyone Fancy a Curry?’ Was the title of a thread by Bob Roberts on FISHINGmagic, sometime in August 05. It was a Friday evening; my drinking partner had cried off sick. I wasn’t doing much; killing time really; having a can or two. What’s this curry lark, I wondered? Eight weeks later we met at Bob’s house for the drive down to Heathrow, the first stage in an epic journey that was to take over 48 hours to complete.
We’d planned as much as possible. Over a hundred emails were exchanged between Stu, Bob and I. We discussed tactics, tackle, hopes and expectations for the trip. We were travelling to India, to the Himalayas, in search of Golden Mahseer. This legendary adversary has fascinated and intrigued since the days of Colonial rule in India. In the late eighties ‘Casting for Gold’ was filmed and screened on Channel 4. Paul Boote and John Bailey finally nailed a huge fish after much initial frustration. Could we emulate their feat? Heathrow/Mumbai/Delhi “Can any of you speak Hindi?” Asked the friendly check-in agent at Heathrow. Three bemused looking stares answered her question. We had to collect our bags in Mumbai we were told, and move them between the International and Domestic terminals. Very little English is spoken. Fantastic, we thought. Internet reports of Mumbai Airport suggested we would do well to complete this first leg with everything intact! As it happened everything went smoothly. As nine hour flights go this one was pretty good. A brand new plane, a video screen each, movies and music on demand, and limitless free drinks! After five glasses of rather nice red wine I really warmed to the new Coldplay album, decided it had the edge on Oasis. I know, alcohol is a depressive. Nice food as well. It was curry, you might have guessed! A two hour flight took us from Mumbai to the capital, Delhi. Another curry was served. Bob and I shared Stu’s as he doesn’t like curry. Somehow I don’t think Stu is going to put any weight on during this trip. Himalayan Outback Misty Dhillon met us at Delhi Airport. Misty runs Himalayan Outback, an outfit that specialise in trekking, rafting but especially Mahseer fishing in the wild rivers of the Himalayas. With fish to over fifty pounds to his name and recent catches in the thirties, we knew we were in good hands. Stu and Bob were on a return mission having fished another Himalayan river, the Kali, earlier in the year. The bigger fish eluded them last time but now, with the rivers dropping nicely two weeks after the end of the monsoon, hopes were high. Misty is an affable, friendly bloke and met us with a broad smile and a warm “Gentlemen, welcome to India!” Mayhem Is a fair description of the roads in Delhi. Imagine if you can; three marked lanes on a carriageway with four cars squeezed in, together with various rickshaws both motorised and manual, a couple of motorbikes, and a pretty beggar girl in tears because you won’t give her any money. There is a countdown to the lights changing to green. It’s like the start of a formula one race; 4…3….2…1 engines revving then a scramble for the tiniest available space. There isn’t a highway code in India you see. The only rule is that you stop at red lights. Basically the way to drive is to give way to vehicles bigger than yours. So, in our four wheel drive we just drive and everything gets out of the way, otherwise they are either knocked off or end up with a nasty dent! Madness? Yes, especially as the same rule applies on mountain roads with 1000+ sheer drops into the abyss. Blind overtaking on bends is the norm. Scary stuff. Very scary.
First Class ‘luxury’ We boarded the ‘Mussorie Express’ train late that evening. We’d paid a bit extra and booked a first class sleeper cabin with air conditioning. Fine, until I woke up in the middle of the night with something scurrying across my chest. I couldn’t work out where the Cockroaches were hiding, they seemed to appear from nowhere! Oh well, another night with little sleep. Apparently someone was snoring. Can’t have been me can it?
It was three very tired anglers that arrived at Haridwar station, just before daybreak. Bob remarked how rough I looked. Well, you would look rough if you’d spent all night fighting off legions of cockroaches! Haridwar is where the river Ganges exits the Himalayas and begins its long journey eastwards over a huge plain, before emptying into the Bay of Bengal. It’s a holy city that once a year welcomes tens of thousands of Hindu worshippers. Fortunately it was quiet when we loaded the waiting truck with our gear. Saying that, there were dozens of people sleeping in the streets, and the smell wasn’t too good. Misty told us that Haridwar has the highest murder rate in India. Cheers mate, just what we want to hear! We were glad to be on our way. Mountain Roads It took several hours to complete the next leg of the journey, a drive of probably only 30 or 40 miles. The roads were narrow, twisting and about as dangerous as you could imagine. There were few barriers on these roads, if you make a mistake you’re over the edge, next stop could be 2000 feet down. Not a nice thought! Although we were tired nobody slept, the breathtaking scenery saw to that. It really was stunning. We travelled in view of the Ganges, a brownish greenish greyish slick way below us. We could see white water as it plunged through gorges, and other areas where it was more sedate, weaving it’s way between endless mountains. This river is revered in the Hindu faith, it’s seen as a ‘holy river’. It’s certainly impressive, makes my local Ribble look like a stream!
Rafts Away! It was midday when we reached Devaprayag. This is where two rivers join to form the Ganges. It was also where we abandoned the truck and took to rafts, the final leg of our outbound journey. We stopped above the confluence to take in the view. The two rivers that joined were totally different colours! One was blue-green and clear, the other a dirty torrent of brown water. Apparently the spring fed rivers run clear whereas those filled with snow melt pick up sand and so run dirty. Anyway it was interesting to see them meet and how the Ganges ran two different colours for a while before they gradually merged.
We were given a safety briefing before we boarded the rafts. ‘Paddle forward’ and ‘paddle back’ were to be the main instructions with the chance of ‘highside’. This is where everyone jumps to one side of the raft to stop it turning over! As it happened the hour and a half run down the river passed without incident although we all got wet going down some rapids. Apparently these were quite tame in the scheme of things, being classed as ‘grade 1’. A ‘grade 5’ gives you an even chance of being tipped out of the boat! Our destination was Byas Ghat, the very spot where ‘Casting for Gold’ was filmed. Just before we got there we saw a few locals sat around a fire on a beach, right by the water. This was an Indian funeral; they were burning a villager who had died. Unsure how to react; we looked on with sombre faces as we drifted past. The ‘mourners’ reacted with warm smiles and waved at us. How funerals should be I think! We finally arrived at Byas Ghat. It was 14.00 on Thursday, exactly 52 hours after leaving my house for the drive to Doncaster. We were all a bit tired, but we’d come to fish….
Byas Ghat The majority of the Himalayan Outback team had gone ahead of us to set up camp. This consisted of a covered area to eat in, a cooking tent, toilet and shower tents, a tent each for Stu, bob and I to sleep in. Misty also had a small tent to sleep in. A quick bite to eat, then it was time to go fishing… Fishing – at last The Ganges here is approximately 80 yards wide, a 6ft deep torrent of brown water. To the trained eyes of regular UK river anglers it looked totally unfishable. Visibility in this water was inches rather than feet and yet we were going to use lures. Yes, LURES! Misty assured us that this was the way to go and that we had every chance of success. I have to admit I had my doubts, but time would tell. Not very much time as it happens! The method is to wade to your knees and cast as far as possible, directly across the river. Using 5″ lures (Rapalas, etc) this was probably about 30 yards. The current rips the lure round during which time you wind very slowly, just to keep in touch. As the lure reaches 45 degrees below you, you speed up ever so slightly, then slightly more as the lure gets close to being directly below you. Instant Hit After half an hour my lure stopped just before it got directly below me. What I initially thought was a rock then exploded straight across the river. For about two seconds that was, until the hooks pulled. I could hardly believe the power of this beast, would I get another chance? I was left shaking and more than slightly gutted.
Bob’s Nightmare Half an hour later I heard a whistle. 200 yards downstream Bob’s rod was bent double, the guide holding on to him to stop him being pulled in. An hour later the fish was holding midstream, Bob was struggling to gain any line. The multiplier he was using was faulty; the drag could only be tightened so far. So whenever he tried to pump the fish he’d gain a yard or so by clamping the spool, but he’d lose a similar amount when trying to wind some line back on the reel. Here we are, half way round the world, Bob is attached to an obviously big fish, and an item of tackle fails. What a nightmare! To make matters worse Bob picked up a garland of flowers on his line, probably from a funeral upriver. In the raging current this was very much in the fish’s favour. Would a dead person’s flowers be the end of Bob’s chances with this fish? Somehow I think the irony was lost on Bob… Using just his thumbs to recover line (they breed them tough in Yorkshire!) Bob got the fish close to the side only for it to rip off thirty yards before sulking behind a mid-river rock. The fish was massive! Estimates varied but somewhere between 30 and 40lb was agreed by everyone. Nearly two hours had passed and Bob had the fish at the side again. It was there floundering, close to exhaustion, surely ready to be lifted out by one of the guides…
There was some hesitation though, perhaps understandable, as the fish was hooked underneath the mouth with several hook points exposed. A mistake here would be more than painful. As the guides milled around waiting for a safe opportunity the fish made one last desperate run. The rod doubled over then sickeningly, straightened abruptly. Two hours of rubbing against rocks had been too much for the line. The fish sped off, the plug clearly visible fastened underneath it’s jaw. To say we were deflated is an understatement. The inevitable post mortem over dinner went on for some time. The landing technique isn’t ideal and although several alternatives were put forward, none of them are ideal in such an environment. The main lesson though was that these fish WILL exploit any weakness in your tackle. Next Morning It was hard work using lures in such a fast current. Rather than flog it to death we fished a couple of hours in the morning then stopped for lunch. In the afternoon we would have an activity followed by a few more hours fishing until dusk. So we started each session refreshed and raring to go.
We started at 9.30am. An hour later and Bob was in again! It was a smaller fish this time, perhaps a low double. I don’t think it took too kindly to being hooked. Five minutes later and Bob reeled in a broken and twisted Rapala. Imagine what a big one could do! An hour later I hooked another fish that only stayed on for a few seconds. So, four fish hooked but none landed. Oh well, at least we knew we were in with a chance… After lunch we went swimming the rapids in the river Nyar. This is a clear spring fed river that joins the Ganges right by our camp. Mahseer spawn in this tributary during the monsoon before making their way back to the main river. We were hoping to intercept them on their way down. Anyway, swimming the rapids (or body surfing as Misty calls it) is pretty straightforward. You don a lifejacket and crash helmet, launch yourself into the river, and hope for the best! Great fun especially if you can avoid swallowing a lungful of water, like I did.
After a couple of slices of rather nice apple pie back at camp we hit the Ganges again for an afternoon/evening lure session. Half an hour later it was Stu’s turn to hit into a fish. No mistakes this time and 10 minutes later a fish in the region of 10lb was banked. And what an amazing fish! It had the head of a carp, the body of a barbel, with an amazing scale pattern of silver and gold. Big bold scales, not unlike those on a Tarpon. Streamlined and with a big broad tail, it was perfectly suited to these powerful mountain rivers.
Black Rock There is a large rock in the water, just over half way across the river. It’s notable as the majority of Misty’s larger Mahseer were hooked opposite this, as was Bob’s fish earlier in the week. Our other takes were all 100 yards or so upstream of this. It appeared to be an all or nothing area, big fish or bust. On the Saturday morning I hooked a fish there. The lure just stopped dead, paused for half a second, and then came to life, hurtling across and upstream. Once again the hooks pulled after a few seconds. Apparently this is how the really big Mahseer react to being hooked. I felt gutted!
Sunday I finally had my fish. I hooked it in the prolific area upstream of black rock. The first run was in the region of 100 yards, downstream and across. I guess it took 15 minutes to get it in, including a few worrying moments when it went round a rock and snagged me. It went 17 pounds and in the bright sunlight it was a fantastic prize. I punched the air, yes!
Moving on We broke camp at first light on Monday morning. In four days fishing we’d had a total of 12 takes, landing two. A pretty poor conversion rate, it has to be said! There again we’d only been snapped once, I guess we were quite unlucky to drop 10 fish off the hooks. So what would I do differently next time? We had endless braid v mono debates before we went. I’ve always rated braid for lure fishing because of its lack of stretch, so it should give more positive hook-ups. There again I think it’s poor in terms of abrasion resistance and in a river like the Ganges, this will certainly be exposed. Next time I’d take some thin 40-50lb braid, and use a 20-30 foot 30lb mono leader. That would give the best of both worlds in my opinion, that is, the casting and lack of stretch benefits of braid, with the abrasion resistance of mono. Obviously a good reliable knot is a must! We then had a 10-hour journey ahead of us. It would be nearly dark by the time we reached the Giri Valley, for part two of our adventure… |
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