Fishing Diary 2013

22/10/13

First fishing of the trip and as it was James' first ever time to fish in India I thought an estuary session would be fitting.  High tide wasn't too late and water conditions looked likely to produce a fish or two.  Word on the grapevine was that a few barra were showing, but things wouldn't be easy. However, hether a fish put in an appearance wasn't of the highest importance - just to get out and flick some lures and go through the actions would be enough.  A few other guys were just leaving as we arrived, but they'd had had no luck in the past few hours since sunset.  Another friend was setting up and he confirmed that fish had been a little thin on the ground.  The river mouth looked good for a fish - plenty of water movement with the incoming tide always increases the chance of a barramundi, but that's not to say that fish won't come at any time in the tide cycle. We tried a variety of lures, but stuck mainly with the ever popular shads and shallow diving hard bodies. Lure choice can vary from day to day so it always pays to try a variety of models and patterns throughout the session in order to find out if a particular model might be in favour with the fish. Things were slow on this session, but it was pleasant to be out fishing and to feel the warm water lapping at our feet.  After an hour and a half of concentrated casting a shout from James indicated that a fish had taken his lure.  I headed over to offer a little advice on playing the fish and, from the singing drag, it appeared that a decent sized barra was attached to his line.  The key to playing barra in the estuary is to take things slow, enjoy the fight and not rush the fish to the beach.  Set the hooks to begin with and loosen the clutch and let the fish take line.  A tight line will encourage jumping and, inevitably, the fish will throw the hook.  James played the fish well and slowly gained line after some powerful runs.  A little over ten minutes later we had the first fish of the trip on the beach; a lovely barramundi of around 7 kg, or 15 lb. For some reason all three cameras decided to not to flash, but after some confusion we managed to record the fish and successfully release it back into the sea. That was the only fish of the session although I did have a decent bite, but failed to connect.

23/10  We decided to fish another river mouth with a higher chance of a multiple catch of barramundi and mangrove jack.  Halfway there and it looked like the fishing session might end prematurely as James' scooter suddenly lost its drive.  The drive belt had snapped, but luckily for us a local indicated that there was a mechanic just a few hundred metres back down the road.

Whilst waiting for a belt to arrive we walked to a nearby stream and watched a small snake lying in ambush for frogs and fish below a little waterfall.  With the monsoon still fresh on the landscape plenty of insects are still on the wing and a huge variety of dragonflies can be seen around any standing water.  Plus, a great variety of butterflies is out and about with plenty of swallowtails and nymphalids adding a dash of colour to the landscape.  With the bike fixed we made tracks to the estuary and made it there just after sunset, hopeful of a fish or two.  Again, conditions looked good, but, as far as I could see, the problem was going to be that the spit structure was far from perfect compared with previous years.  When casting in an estuary it's good to have a defined crease/eddy to which to fish.  With the heavy monsoon conditions, the sand was now far from perfect and the prime area where fish might be feeding was far out in the river and well out of casting range.  We fished hard - of course, in fishing there are no fixed rules and, in theory, catching would still be possible - but after a few hours and only a couple of very small bites our confidence started to wane.  We made another effort later in the tide cycle, but it wasn't to be, so we went to sleep by the fire under a starry sky.  Early the next morning, James flicked some lures, but apart from a few jumping bait fish nothing of note happened.

25/10  Today we headed out for a first session on the boat and began by trolling a couple of lures whilst we searched for some nice areas to pop for trevally.  A couple of pick handle barracuda hit the artificials and gave James a new species of fish for his list, but surprisingly nothing else put in an appearance.  For the next few hours we cast the large poppers around and had some super surface action with fish of 8 and 10 kg smashing the lures hard and a few more following but not hitting.  We saw a few follows from fish of around the 20 kg mark.  James was yet to get into a trevally, but we soon saw a large shoal of small to mid-sized GTs after the poppers.  Switching to a light rod and a diving lure, James quickly got into a GT of around 7 kg that put up a great scrap on the lighter gear.  Another, smaller fish soon followed and then a good sized GT spat the hooks.  While we fished, we witnessed some stingrays jumping high above the water .....  a few must have been 40 kg+

26/10  We camped at a spot where good GTs can almost be guaranteed from the rocks.  We only fished for the small fish as it is almost impossible to land the big ones because of the many submerged boulders. Towards sunset James had the first fish: a yellow fin trevally hit his popper and then, later, a shoal of small GTs homed in on his lure.  The high rocks give a great vantage point for seeing the packs of hungry GTs chasing down the poppers and eight or nine fish of 2-3 kg slashed and fought over James' yo-zuri popper before one made the mistake and became hooked.  I quickly made my way to the spot and helped landing the fish, which we kept to cook in the fire later.  Next cast saw both of our poppers get well and truly smashed by other fish in the shoal.  As always, the GTs fought like there is no tomorrow and put solid bends in the catfish rods with which we were fishing.  One more fish hit my popper before the shoal moved off and, with the sun dropping below the horizon, we made our way back across the rocks to the campsite on a small beach.  Once the fire burnt down to the coals a couple of the trevally were carefully buried and, thirty minutes later, were perfectly cooked and ready for eating.  The skin can be gently peeled back and the juicy flesh scooped out by the handful.  After the meal, we cast a few lures and James lost his popper to a fish when the tight line touched a rock. Amazingly, next morning while snorkelling, James found his popper floating a little distance from where it was lost!

28/10  Today, around sunset,we tried for mangrove jack from the rocks and early in the session a fish of about 2 kg followed my lure to the surface at the end of the retrieve.  It hit the lure on my next cast, but no hook-up resulted.  A little later we moved to a new spot for the last hour of light.  White water breaks and super looking water screamed jacks and barra - conditions looked good.  I had a couple of decent bites, but didn't hook up.  And then, finally, James' rubber shad got well and truly eaten by a a lovely looking jack of a couple of kilos.

29/10  Popping again and we're determined to get a good GT.  Things were pretty quiet to start with, but early on we saw a couple of good fish and, finally, after an hour of hard casting, a big fish smashed James' popper.  Unfortunately, the fish threw the hooks after a few seconds. So close!  Later, we came to the spot were we'd previously had fish and, again, we immediately had follows, but no hook-ups.  A few casts later a good fish followed my popper and launched itself clear of the water as it tried to attack the big lure.  Second time around and it perfected its aim and managed to nail the lure - so, suddenly I had a strong fight on my hands.  Everything went well and we quickly boated, photographed and released a fish of around 20 kg.  And that was the last of the action apart from one more good fish smoking James on the light tackle.

 30/10  This is the last session on the boat for James before he heads back to the UK - his last chance for a big GT.  We head out full of expectation, but we've also decided to mix things up a bit and try for smaller fish should we see any about.  Early on, James has a good fish follow his haymaker, but it turns when it sees the boat.  We pop on, but nothing is taking the larger poppers.  The day feels very fishy and on the way out we passed many sardine shoals.  In one area a shoal of small trevally hound the large popper darting behind the big lure and even striking at the leader knot, so I grab my lighter rod and send a metal slice in the direction from where they appeared.  Immediately, they are on the lure and, after a few turns of the handle, I'm hooked up to a lively fish of a kilo.  It turns out to be a big eye trevally - the first time we have seen this species - putting the trevally species count to four, including giant, yellow fin and longfin.   The next half an hour is non-stop action.  After the first fish, more and more trevally go on the rampage and, suddenly, a cloud of 10 inch baitfish erupts from the water in front of us, fleeing from the voracious predators.  I don't think any large fish are present, but a shoal of 30 small trevally is enough to scare any small fish.  James is casting a small yo zuri popper and also quickly hooks up to a big eye trevally.  After another big eye I lose one and then, suddenly, a three foot longtom grabs my metal lure and swims directly to the boat where it wakes up and powers off under the hull leaving me helpless.  The hook pops and the fish is gone.

A big shoal of longtoms is around us and nearly every cast has a follow, but hooking one is another matter.  James has two or three big ones chasing his popper and one strikes but misses and flies into the air before resuming the chase.  At least twenty hit the lures, but only one is boated - which is fairly normal for this species.  With a better hook set-up, more could be hooked.  I go on casting for the trevally and land a mixture of GTs, yellowfin and big eye.  Maybe fifteen come to the boat and another ten to fifteen manage to throw the small treble hook.  After thirty or forty minutes we decide to move on in the hope of some bigger fish.  We return to areas where we have previously had success and hopes, of course, a high because the fish are feeding hard.  But, despite a couple of follows no biggies hit the lures.  Later, when popping becomes too much, we call it a day and troll home, getting a barracuda of a few kilos.  For the last week the sea has been full of cuttlefish - 2-3 kg tiger striped monsters - and, as we travel, we occasionally stop to scoop a dead one from the water to take back for frying.

1/11   Before James leaves we go camping for a last time on a wild and deserted beach.  It's a fair distance from where we can park and the walk is sweaty because we have to move fast across the rocks and steep paths before we lose the light as the sun sets.   At the end of the sand I see a three foot monitor lizard before it sees me and I take chase, but the lizard is fast and, trying to climb up the sheer rocks, it falls back and takes off at high speed again before launching itself into the waves. This is the beach where leopards, civets and wild cats regularly prowl and the presence of the big lizard confirms that people don't come here too often.  Last time I fished here a big fish smashed my lure first cast, but managed to throw the hooks, so I'm hopeful of some action.  I would like to have a swim and cool down, but instead I immediately set up and head to my chosen fishing spot where history repeats itself as, on my fourth cast with a soft plastic, I'm attached to a big, powerful fish and, although I'm ready for it this time, the hooks only have a temporary hold and suddenly it's gone.

I keep casting and quickly have another good bite, which feels like a barramundi, but the hook doesn't connect.  Two more times this happens and it seems a shoal of barra is moving through.  With no more hook-ups, I change to a hard minnow and launch the lure out to a submerged rock and, after a few casts. the clutch is suddenly screaming as another powerful fish makes off with the lure.   But today is not my lucky day:  after a few metres, the line goes slack and the fish has gone, leaving me wondering what has happened: I pull in and see that the hook mounting has been ripped from the body of the lure.  By now, James is also casting, but has no bites, so after a while we head back to the beach, build a fire and have a round or two of whiskeys.  In the bush behind the camp the torch picks out two small, red eyes of the resident wild cat that  sits intently watching the people disturbing his night.  Lightning has been flashing all evening and, at around nine, the first drops fall;  gentle at first, but growing heavier, until we are all soaked to the skin.  Slowly it peters out and we warm ourselves by the fire that's still burning well.  Compared to last time we camped in this spot, the beach is much smaller and I'm worried that the tide will wash us away in the night.  So, we build a bund around our sleeping place and, sure enough, early in the morning we discover that we're surrounded by water and have been sleeping on the only dry patch left on the beach!

2/11  In the evening, many threadfin salmon have been coming to the estuary, so this afternoon I go for a look and flick a few lures, although without much hope.  Nothing happens, but then the tide is still a little high and it's a little early in the day.

3/11 James has gone back so some friends and I head along the coast a little to a spot where we have had good mangrove jack and barramundi in the past.  The moon is more or less full so the tide will be big, meaning we will only be able to fish the prime spot as the water comes up.  When the tide gets higher the waves will become too large to fish effectively so we plan to try a more sheltered place.  It's a lovely warm evening and I go for a walk along the rocks before sunset hopeful of an early fish, but nothing hits my shad.  We fish on into the night, but nothing shows an interest in the lures apart from one small mangrove jack.  Still, it's an evening well spent and the drive home through the cool night is very pleasant.

8/11I've been sick for a few days and my energy levels have been too low to contemplate fishing.  At the river mouth, over the previous days, my friend has been catching 2-4 salmon every evening on poppers.  It's hard fishing, though, because you have to wade out 150-200 metres and stand waist deep in the water and cast for two hours.  Now, I feel strong enough to do this so I get set up and head out an hour and a half before sunset.  Word about the fish has spread and 5 boats anchor close by to try their luck.  One of them moves two or three times and then passes behind us as they look for a new spot, but it's clear that they have no idea what is going on.  We fish hard and try a variety of lures, but as the sun drops down below the horizon, it seems that it won't be a lucky day for me.  We see two good-sized salmon jumping and later we hear that one of the boats has caught a good fish.

Threadfin salmon fishing ... we are the two specks to the left of the boat.

11/1  We fish at Terekhol.  The previous evening, my friend had fished the spot and had three big fish chased his lure up to the surface.  It's a beautiful, peaceful spot to pass the evening and looks very fishy with lots of broken rock around making the area good for predators on the hunt.  Again, we fish hard, but nothing touches the lures and, just after sunset, we make tracks to catch the ferry back to Goa.

15/11  Headed out to the islands for an early morning trolling session.  The sea looked pretty good and the previous days the commercial guys had caught plenty of big kingfish in the nets so we were hopeful of getting a few bites.  First fish that hit a deep trolled lure was a solid, crimson mangrove jack of 4.5 kg.  Later, we had a small barracuda and a small GT and missed a couple of screaming bites;  one I'm convinced was a Kingfish (spanish mackerel).  We saw plenty of birds while trolling, including , peregrine falcons, white bellied sea eagles, ospreys and the other usual suspects, such as terns.  Still plenty of sardines about and the ever-present jumping rays.

 

16/11  The moon is a few days from full so we head out to the rocks to try a new spot.  I've looked at the place on the maps and it appears the way to reach the marks is hard.  This could be be an understatement because, when we arrive there, I see a fairly large and steep hill,   covered in dry and slippery grass, to negotiate.  After nearly reaching the bottom we decide to turn back as it's becoming far too dangerous to climb down the last 30-40 metres.  Earlier, I had made a gaff and I'm thankful for it now as it saved me from slipping to the the rocks below.  I intend to return with a rope another day.  So we climb back to the top and lose a good few litres of water from sweating.  Hard work and maybe not the best way to come back in the dark, so when we come back it will be better to spend the night on the rocks and return in the morning.  We head to another mark where I fished before with Sam some years back and try for barramundi and jacks.  Ashok loses a small jack before sunset and I miss a good bite on the shad.

We see a pod of dolphins swimming past just 50 metres from the rocks and a little later large flocks of egrets pass by heading to their roosts.  And, even a good-sized turtle rises to the surface just a few metres out.  With all this going on I think the barra can't be far away and around an hour after sunset the fish arrive.  I miss two solid bites and before I know it Ashok has landed two good barramundi and lost a third.  I have another bite and then Ashok hooks into an angry, big fish that really tests his skill as an angler, but after ten minutes he is rewarded with a solid barra.  Unfortunately none of his fish will be released, but I guess being a local fisherman it's a little hard for him to see the merits of catch and release, although I have explained it to him at length.  I have another two bites, but it's not my evening and I fail to hook a single fish.

17/11  Today we head further afield and try a new spot.  It looks good, but a few nets in the water lower expectations.  But the scenery is good and, again, dolphins pass by close to the rocks and a sea eagle circles above.  Early on, Ashok lands a small mj and then, after dark, he has a solid bite, but the fish quickly finds the rock.  We try everything to coax it out and finally, after ten minutes, the fight is back on and we land a mj of around 4.5 kilos.  It's a beautiful fish - truly spectacular deep red with a huge amber eye to see its prey - and I'm greatly saddened that the fish won't be released.  Ashok then catches a small barramundi, which I persuade him to release.

18/11  Again, we try a new spot and take a walk before sunset.  Today the dolphins are just fifteen metres from the rock and we can see the texture of their skin as they gently porpoise from the water.  I check out the rocks and make some mental notes to come back and fish some other spots in the future as they look so incredibly fishy.  I feel like making camp and staying in the area for some weeks.  Around sunset, after a swim, we start to fish and, very soon, a jack of around 2 kilos smashes my soft plastic.  For its size the fight is amazing and, quickly, I unhook and release the fish.  After dark I have a small bite as a fish snatches at the tail of my lure and then next cast a solid bite - probably the same fish, but the hooks don't find their hold.

It's Aurelie's first real fishing and she is still learning to cast, but is slowly making progress.  To make things easy, I've attached a buoyant, shallow diver to her line to keep it away from the rocks.  Perhaps an hour after dark I hear a scream and turn to see Aurelie hooked into a hard-running fish.  This is the first decent fish she has hooked and everything is a mass of confusion as the fish dashes off and line flies off the spool.  I offer some advice and she gently coaxes the fish back a little, but it powers off again towards some dangerous-looking rocks.  However, things go smoothly and after a few minutes the fish is just below us.  Now comes the hardest part of the fight and I explain how to land the fish, but the hook pops and things come to a premature end.  The fish was a big mangrove jack and a fine first fish to hook into.

Twenty minutes later I feel a small bite and in the moonlight I see a solid jack trailing my lure, but I run out of water.  The fish rushes in at the last second, but narrowly misses the shad.  A long cast along the rocks and I connect with a solid fish, but the first two seconds are sheer confusion on the fish's part.  It's a barra and it's unsure of what the sudden pain is.  A head shake, followed by a jump, sorts the problem and I'm left standing fishless on my rock.

Next it's Aurelie's turn again.  Suddenly she is shouting that something is on the line so I rush over to help.  This time it's another serious fish and line is peeling off the spool at high speed as the barra heads out to sea.  Again, I explain the technique to bring the fish in and slowly we gain some line and then lose some.  It's a big fish and the little spinning rod looks far too small as the fish powers off, but I know there is plenty of power down low should we need it.  After a couple of minutes of good fight the fish is 20 yards from the rocks and decides to jump.  We have a nice view and watch as the barra leaves the water four times, shaking its enormous head.  On the fifth jump, the hooks finally lose their hold and Aurelie can't believe that it's suddenly over!  I think this fish has converted her for life and the big smile says it all.

Next, it's my turn as a big fish slams my shad and, instead of turning, runs directly towards me.  I reel as fast as possible and, after five seconds, find contact again.  When the line tightens, the fish turns and powers in the other direction and rounds some rocks.  I give chase and find a good position to continue the fight, of which I enjoy every second.  The barra runs twenty yards and then comes in and runs again.  After four or five high speed dashes I start to get the upper hand as the fish starts to tire.  In the bright moonlight, I can see the silver flank of an eight or nine kilo fish sliding into the shallows.  But my run of bad luck continues and, when the fish is nearly within reach, the hook pops and freedom is found.

I miss another two good bites and Aurelie hooks into another good fish, but almost immediately it jumps and throws the lure.  Five minutes later another fish homes in on Aurelie's minnow lure and it seems that this time the hooks have got a good hold.  Already Aurelie is feeling comfortable with the rod and she plays the fish very well and starts to enjoy the fight rather than panicking like as she did with the previous fish.  A few minutes later and we have a lovely 4 kg barra on the rocks, but the camera battery is dead so we admire the beauty and then slip the fish back into the clear water.  We agree to call it a night when the bites start to tail off and make our way home, but it's hard to leave the clear moonlit waters behind - but there's always next time and it's good to know that there are still plenty of fish about.

19/11  Rock fishing again and the sea is rough today thanks to a large swell and the big spring tides.  As I set up the rod I notice two, small, red eyes on the hillside behind me and, as I look on, two more appear, followed by two more still.  I switch to a red light and slowly move in the direction of the animals and hide behind a rock before switching back to white light.  A family of toddy cats, or Asian Palm Civets, sits staring back at me apparently quite unconcerned by my presence.  In fact, so unconcerned that one suddenly jumps onto another and a wrestling game ensues before the pair fall from the rock into the grass below.

Back with the fishing and things are quiet until the moon peeps over the hilltop and bathes the landscape in soft white light.  As the bottom of the moon breaks free of the hill, I get the first bite on my bomber lure.  It's a barra that jumps immediately and then runs hard out to sea.  But the fight is short-lived as the next jump sees the fish shed the hooks.  It's a shame because it was a good fish in the 8-9 kg range.  After half an hour another fish smashes the lure hard, pauses and then runs hard far to my left before also jumping and throwing the hooks.  I fish on confident that another fish will bite, but with the tide rising conditions start to become a little wild.  Every few minutes I'm surrounded by frothing white water as it breaks over the rocks.  Although the sea is rough I know it's safe enough where I stand and, anyway, I can't tear my focus away from the lure and the bite that I know is coming.  It's a beautiful scene in front of me and all the while I imagine big barra patrolling the rocks in search of disorientated bait fish, crabs and prawns.  But after another hour the big bite hasn't come and I start to tire and, finally, I make the move for the long trip back home.

20/11  Threadfin fishing and nothing is biting, although one guy fishing from a boat gets a fish of around 7 kg.

21/11  Today I go for threadfin salmon again and, as usual, I'm optimistic that the fish will be in the mood to feed.  From the previous days I know the fish are there and feeding, so I've made a few adjustments to my lure choice and have also rigged a large silver spoon with two free hanging treble hooks in the hope that the extra casting distance will give the edge I need to hook a fish.  On arrival at the estuary a friend tells me that ten minutes before many salmon have been jumping around 300 metres away in the shallows, but now, as I look, everything quiet and no fish are showing themselves.  I've chosen to fish a heavier rod paired with an 8000-sized reel and 50lb braid to cope with casting the heavy spoon.  The tide is still running out and the water is a little deep, but within half an hour the depth is OK to start wading out with two friends.  Around 200 metres from the beach on the right tide, the water becomes shallow enough to stand and fish comfortably, although larger waves still pose a small problem and an angler must be ready to jump and ride them out.  And, of course, because of this there is a fair chance of the reel taking a dunking, so a thorough cleaning might be needed after the fishing.  It's hard work wading through the gutter near the beach because of the strong current, but then, when the water shallows up, things become easier and, within ten minutes, we reach a good area to start casting.  My spoon flies well, but after a while I need to make some adjustments to the hook set-up so I hold the rod in my mouth whilst dodging incoming waves.

By now, the sun is sinking nicely and, as the light softens, salmon ranging from three to probably seven or eight kilos start to jump from the breaking waves.  Over a period of around twenty minutes we see eight or nine fish fly from from the water silhouetted against the red sun with forked tails pointing skywards as they plunge back in.  The excitement grows and the feeling says that today the fish will bite.  Two more anglers are wading out behind us and I worry about the added company as a hooked fish in these conditions is dangerous.  No one knows where the fish might run and with hooks probably protruding from the fish's mouth, a brush with legs would mean a nasty situation.  I know I'm aware of the danger and play the fish accordingly, but worry that the other anglers might not have thought the situation through.
 

Just before the other anglers reach where we stand, the water erupts around fifty metres away behind my friend's popper as a salmon gives chase.  There is no chance for the perceived meal and a second later his rod takes on a healthy curve.  No more than a second later another fish catches sight of my spoon, immediately homes in on it and hits hard.  And so my rod buckles over as well.  Another second and the first fish has found freedom, but I'm luckier and mine stays attached and goes on a long run towards the faster current.  When it runs out of steam a return run is made and then the fish decides to leave the water in a bid to throw the hooks.  Two spectacular jumps later I'm still attached. Meanwhile my friend's popper has been hit by another fish, which has powered off in the opposite direction to mine.  After five minutes the salmon circles me and I prepare to land it; another dangerous time, as should the fish jump at the wrong moment a treble will easily penetrate the hand.  Luckily, I have a firm grip and soon have the beautiful fish secured and unhooked.  By this time the other anglers are casting frantically, but no more fish are showing and, because my spoon is a tangled mess, I take ten minutes to change to a popper and take a rest.  Constantly holding the heavy rod above the water quickly takes its toll on the arms!

I choose to fish a maria pop queen and send it far out into white water of the breaking waves.  I've chosen the lure because of its small cup and low water displacement and because it casts well.  It's quiet for the next fifteen minutes apart from the breaking waves, but then, suddenly, a fish of around five kilos flies high out of the water just missing my lure.  My heart stops and then the fish tries a second time, but again it misses and takes to the air.  It's an amazing sight to see and while I watch the acrobatics I hope the fish won't give up and luckily it doesn't.  It follows and, in a flurry of white water, finally gets the lure and the fight is well and truly on.  The salmon swims directly towards me so I reel like mad whilst moving away from the other guys.  Again, the fight is strong and the fish powers away time and time again and jumps repeatedly.  The salmon definitely ticks all the boxes for a great sport fish!  So I wade back in and reluctantly keep the second fish as it will make a nice present for some friends that live near to the estuary.  And I'm glad I do because it's the first time they have had the chance to eat a salmon.

22/11  I try for threadfin again and it's a lovely evening and sunset, but no fish are showing while we fish.  Earlier, before we entered the water, a pod of dolphins got stuck into a shoal of bait fish around 6-700 metres out and we hoped this might bring the fish closer to the shore, but maybe they've chosen to feed elsewhere.

 

21/11  We try another spot where threadfin have been reported;  nothing shows, but it doesn't matter as it's great just to be out on the beach.

 

22/11  Today we try some rock casting for threadfin:  first cast with the popper and a small mangrove jack repeatedly hits the lure.  This happens six further times, but no hookups result.  Halfway through the session a large fish hits the lure a split second after it lands and a split second later the line is cut.  Maybe a threadfin and its sharp gill plates, but more likely a toothy barracuda.  A shame as it was one of my favourite lures!

 

24/11  We explore the coast further and find some beautiful spots to cast a lure and to also pitch a tent.  The highlight of the three days of camping is the snorkelling.  I try a couple of spots and the water clarity is good enough to spot some fish.  At first I see some bream and a mixture of reef species, but then come around a headland and am suddenly surrounded by at least twenty mangrove jacks, varying between two and five kilograms.  A shoal of small trevally then shimmers past before the highlight - a large barramundi drifts in and is soon followed by four or five more.  They come close around me as I savour the experience of being amongst my favourite fish species.  A little further on I spot three, large, tiger-stripped cuttlefish resting one the sea floor.  Each must be close to three kilos and, as I watch, they seem to be in the middle of some sort of intricate mating dance: tentacles extend and flick and stripes pulsate and change colour.  Some metres ahead I see a long and thin white object, but I'm lost to say what it is.  Now, closer, I see it's the tail of a twenty kilo leopard ray resting quietly on a sand patch.  It's an incredibly beautiful creature and, after admiring it, I move on and leave it in peace.

 

25/11  We snorkel a different spot and are again rewarded with a large group of barramundi and a good shoal of mangrove jacks.  One barra is particularly large and must be well over ten kilos.  Luckily, these fish are well protected in a tangle of rugged terrain!

28/11  The moon is out and I try some rock fishing.  It's quiet before sunset, but as darkness sets in a big mangrove jack grabs my lure and make a beeline for the seaweed-cloaked rocks.  Just ten seconds into the fight the hook pops and the fish is gone, which is a shame as we're in the mood to eat some fish.  I move a little to quieter water and, on the first cast in the new spot, a good fish smashes the soft plastic shad.  The first seconds are confusion as the fish runs and turns then jumps, but then some control is gained and I bring in a fiesty barra of 5 or 6 kilos.

29/11  I try the same rock again around the same time and, sure enough, I get another barra of around the same size as the one of the previous evening. I want to release the fish, but unfortunately it jumps from my grasp and flaps on the rocks so I decide it's better to keep it as a present for some friends.

 

3/12  The barra seem to be on the bite and, as conditions look good, I try another spot.  And, sure enough, it's not long after I start casting that a fish slams my shad.  Immediately, I feel it's a good-sized barra, but, after a  short run, a big jump secures its escape.  Next cast and I'm back on to a big barra again, but the fight is a mirror of the previous one and the fish is gone within seconds of the hook-up.  The third fish a few minutes later is not so lucky for the hook has found its mark.  It's not a big fish and would probably pull the scales round to 4kg, or so.  Next up is a mangrove jack of around a kilo which is also quickly released so I can get back into the action.  It's a bit quiet for ten minutes, with only a small bite, but then once again the rod slams over as a big barra hit the lure hard. I've changed to a hard body minnow and hope the hook set will be better and, sure enough, it is. The barra fights well and screams away time and time again, but finally succumbs to the tackle and is gently landed.  It's a solid fish of close to ten kilos and I try for a photo, but end up with a couple of blurred images, so decide just to fish and forget the pictures. It's maybe a wise move because, over the next hour, I land another three medium-sized barra plus one of a similar size to the earlier biggie and miss a couple of good bites.

4/12  The fish are still on the bite, but seaweed is a problem.  As the tide pushes in, masses of the stringy weed floats about and makes fishing very hard.  Every couple of casts end in a mass of weed, so I take a rest and hope the worst of it will pass.  After thirty minutes things seems to be a little better and I can fish fairly effectively.  First cast and the lure gets nailed close in and the culprit is a nice mangrove jack of a couple of kilos.  Next cast and an 8kg barra smashes the lure and quickly heads away with the current before turning and using the water to hold.  It's an unusual fight for a barra, but I eventually land and release the fish.  As the fish are on the bite, I switch to the lighter tackle consisting of a 2500 shimano and 8lb fireline.  It was a wise move because six casts later my little minnow gets smashed by another good-sized barra.  Of course, the fight is one to remember.  On the first run the fish takes about a hundred metres of line, but I think I actually get away rather lightly considering the barra is around 8kg.  But, the sound of such a small reel screaming loud and long could get quite addictive.  The tally ends up at five barra and one jack before I seek the warmth of my sleeping bag.

 

5/12  Today the water doesn't look as good as the previous days, but thankfully the seaweed has vanished into the depths or somewhere far away!  I try out some new lures and am pleased with the results, landing a couple of big barra and a mangrove jack.  A little later a different species hits the lure;  I suspect it's a flathead and I'm soon proved right.  As it's been a few days of only vegetarian food I decide to keep the fish because they make good eating.  Unfortunately, however, the fish had different ideas and a vigorous wiggle sent a sharp pain into one of my finger joints!  The flathead's highly sharp spine had got me.  The pain was pretty intense, but I managed to secure the fish with my thumb in its mouth whilst giving my finger a quick wash.  Again, the fish decided to struggle and this time managed to gain its freedom, leaving us with another veg cook-up!

 

7/12  Evening kayak fishing and the tide is low.  I decide just to troll and try and to cover a bit of distance for some exercise more than anything.  With no expectations at all I'm surprised when no more than 20 seconds after putting my lure in the clutch screams loudly.  My first thought is that it must be a rock, but I see it's a fish and a good one too.  It pulls hard and line peels from the spool, but quickly I gain some ground and see a silver flash through the clear water giving it away as a barra.  It's fairly large so I take it easy and let the fish tire a bit as it could quite easily jump into the kayak, which could be a messy affair. After a few minutes I grab the leader and secure the fish with the lip grip and remove the hooks.  It's a fabulous fish of close to 8kg and, after admiring it for a few seconds, I slip it back into the water.  Things are quiet for a long while and the water becomes much rougher until the little kayak bobs around nicely.  On the turn to go home, the drag screams and another powerful fish tries to make its escape.  It's another barra and this one decides to get air borne:  it jumps four times and it's a wicked display, but, of course, for safety reasons, I take it easy and let the fish swim some distance from the boat.  It's not as large as the first, but equally as beautiful and, again, after admiring it I slip it home before making my way back to the beach.

 

8/12 Trolling and a little popping with some Australian friends.  A large rapala gets hit and a solid malabar rock cod is the prize, so now we can all relax a bit.  We pop and a little GT finally takes one of the poppers and puts up a great scrap on the relatively light rod.

 

10/12  A short popping session, but only small fish chase the poppers in.  I get one on the lighter gear before a rod guide pops for no reason at all and I lose my lure on the cast.  So it's back to the big poppers, but nothing larger shows. 

11/12  We go popping and find a shoal of big eye trevally so, employing the ultralight rods and small metal slices, we catch one after another.  The shoal must be fifty strong and time and time again they follow the lures right to the boat before turning and fleeing back to the safety of the rocks.  We fishin hard with the heavy gear, but things are quiet apart from the occasional long tom that skitters away as our lures touch down.  And finally, after a lot of casting, I get a GT.  I think my lure is caught on a rock and, as I try and jiggle it free, the rock suddenly turns into a fish and the fight is on.  But, it's quickly over because the fish is just a few kilos and is no match for the heavy gear.  A little later, Abbey has a couple of strikes, but the fish are small so I quickly switch to the lighter rod and a silver stickbait.  As Abbey's popper nears the boat the water erupts as a GT tries to catch his lure, but it misses and seconds later catches sight of my stick bait and hits hard close to the boat.  It's a great fight on the lighter gear and the fish is similarly sized to the first.  A few minutes later I get another solid hit at range and again fight in a GT of around 3kg.  And that's nearly the end of the action for the day.  On the way home, the sun drops below the horizon and in the last light a small barracuda takes a trolled lure, unsuccessfully at first, but finally it gets it.

 

 

12/12  Trolling from the kayak and a little casting in the late afternoon.  Unfortunately, a north-westerly has been blowing all day so conditions are hard for kayak fishing, but it's good to be out on the water where I can see numerous species of bird and some dolphins passing out to sea.  The tide is nearly high and this, combined with the wind, means the kayak fast drifts out of the areas I want to fish.  So, I troll a little with a shallow-diving hard body before casting with a curltail towards a rock. Soon a little grouper takes the lure, but only after I've missed a few other bites.  I soon decide to move and troll over to an area where I have had fish in the past.  On the way, a group of long toms suddenly break the choppy surface and skitter off into the distance.

Out at my chosen area the water becomes even rougher and a a tourist's cowboy hat floating by confirms the gusty winds.  Despite the rough water conditions I can still see a few metres through the water and can make out some coral and rocks below as I pass over the shallower areas.  Nothing hits the lure so I cast again, this time with a larger shad in the hope of a barramundi.  Seagulls pass by, returning from out at sea where they have been gorging on the abundant sardines and, in the other direction, hordes of crows make their way to their roosts.  When it's all but dark, a kite appears through the dim light and cirles me just metres away before realising nothing is to be had and returns back to land.  With the sun set, the water starts to shimmer in the half moonlight and I decide to head for home.  Suddenly, the kayak scares a shoal of small flying fish and the water erupts around me as dozens take to the air.  Ten, or so, crash into me and fall in the boat frantically jumping as they land.  One I manage to catch as the rest flip back into the dark water.

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A snap shot of six months in India

A young girl plays on a fishing boat in the setting sun on the west coast of  India

The first question I'm asked when I tell people in the west that I have been living in India is 'did you get ill?' It seems anyone who hasn't visited the sub continent is blighted with the same stereotypical views.  Noise, dirt, poverty and illness will be encountered around every corner.  Of course this is partly true if you visit the some of the ever expanding and sprawling cities but should you venture further afield a pleasant surprise will await. Lush jungles, deserted beaches, deserts and soaring mountains bathed with crisp fresh air are all out there.

Home for six months amongst the Malvani fishing community. Lying behind the coconut palms and colourful fishing boats are a mix of houses where fisherman pass their days fixing nets and preparing for early morning trips to target small silver fish such as mackeral and sardines, as well the larger kingfish (spanish mackeral). The women of the community prepare food, look after the always smiling children and make sure clothes are always sparkling clean. And when the boats return late morning or early evening a hive of activity will be found on the beach as everyone pulls together to empty the nets of fish.

When the sun begins to slip towards the Arabian ocean and the heat of the day starts to dissipate, the beach  fills with locals. Cricket games spring up every few hundred yards along the sand, while the older fishermen, crooked from many years of hauling nets gather around boats and discuss the latest gossip and anything related to fishing. Sometimes on the right tides cockles come close to the surface and with small sieves women and kids scoop them up for a delicious Malvani soup.  Dusk also spells the arrival of mosquitos and being on the beach provides a safe haven.

Smaller boats are kept above the high tide line. With the close knit community help is always on hand to haul the boat up the gently sloping beach with the aid of the rounded logs.

To the north of town lies an area used for drying the by-catch from prawn nets which will be used for fertilizer. Crabs, shell fish and all sorts of molluscs along with foul smelling black mud all add to the powerful odour emanating from the area which will make even the most hardened fisher's eyes water.  This indiscriminate way of fishing is incredibly harmful to sea bed ecology, but with high prices of prawns and lack of legislation it doesn't seem that things will change anytime soon.  At least the egrets and black and brahminy kites seem to make a good living from it.

Some years ago when shark fishing was still a viable commercial activity on the Konkan coast Baba found local fame after hooking into this monster sized saw fish. After what can only be described as an epic and dangerous battle, from a relatively small boat the fish was eventually subdued and due to its size had to be lashed to the outside of the vessel for the long and slow journey back home. 

Beautiful island beaches in Karnataka. Just a shame all the picnic spots were submerged with rubbish from day trippers!

Abbey surveys the fishing spots on St Marys Island in Karnataka

Traditional beach side house beneath the swaying coconut palms in a small Karnatakan village.

The sun sinks on a beautiful and promising river mouth in the state of Karnataka.  Unfortunately on this occasion nothing touched our lures on the incoming tides.  Who knows the reason but with some time undoubtedly some good barra and jacks could be intercepted from this fishy looking spot.

Not quite a catch for Abbey but a surprise. While casting lures at night Abbey shouted that a turtle arrived but the last thing I expected to see was a freshwater turtle dragging itself onto the sand from the swirling waters of the river mouth. It chose the right point to leave as next stop would have been the open sea plus it got a ride to the nearest rice paddy where conditions seemed to suit it better!

Bombay restaurant menu

In a small town on the Maharashtra coast another day ticks by. Pace of life is somewhat more relaxed compared to what I'm used to back in the UK.

The town of Malvan has a natural harbour that holds quite a large and colourful commercial fishing fleet.  It's a fascinating place to watch the days unfold and then again draw to a close.  Activity in this fishing town is at its peak in the early morning and late afternoons when temperatures are cooler. During the middle of the day when the mercury climbs shops close and the residents seek the cool of their airy houses.

Sunset over Malvan harbour. The boats pack on tourists for a short ride across the water to the 350 year old Sindhudurg fort built for the great leader Chattrapati Shivaji of the Marathas.

As evening arrives in a small village on the coast women arrive on the main street with freshly caught mackerel, pomfret, prawns, sardines and other catches ready for the evening meal of fish fry.

Serene waters of a Goan backwater

I met this local guy who was collecting small prawns to use as bait on his hand line for mangrove jacks. As I watched he reminded me of a heron stalking it's prey; occasionally after a very slow stalk a hand would shoot down and grab a prawn from the not-so clear water.  

The not so serene waters of Baga beach in Goa. Luckily we were just passing to fish a little along the coast, for this is my idea of a nightmare!

Early morning kayaking

Illegal sandminers of the Tiracol river- the border between Goa and Maharashtra

Street stall, Mumbai

A wandering knife sharpener in the Masjid area of Mumbai will sharpen your tools or sell you some new ones from the front of his multi-purpose bicycle. 

Pretty good value and refreshing drink on the streets of Mumbai.

Shiva keeping watch over street vendors on a busy Mumbai street.

The relatively new sealink in west Mumbai considerable cut down journey time across the congested city

The streets of Mumbai are always a colourful sight. From a flyover we admire the variety of vegetable for sale on the pavement below.

Another spot and more vegetables and greens of great variety guarantee some tasty curries!

Mumbai street market-Always a colourful treat

Definitely not the turning this guy wanted to take and quite a story to explain to the boss. 

On the way to Goa from Mumbai with Abbey and Markus in the new fishing wagon-we stop for a chat with a local guy

The Western Ghat ranges at Amboli above Sawantwadi

Macaques waiting for hand-outs from tourists on the way to Amboli hill station

Spices for sale to the tourists in Goa

Colourful temple in Goa

Loading the kayak

Beautiful sunrise on the way to Goa in southern Maharashtra

Markus looking like a tourist in a mangrove forest while on a kayak trip up a large river.

Traditional transport in Maharashtra

Jochen shows off a small snake skin found while walking through the thick jungle of the hills

North Goa has become a popular place for paragliding and most days during the dry season provide a window to fly.

Seeking some cool in the midday heat

Ship wrecked campers! On this unfortunate occasion we miscalculated the rising tide and when we returned to the boat moored in the river at around one in the morning 40 metres of water separated us and our sleeping equipment.  No one on the boat could be roused and the idea of swimming and somehow climbing over the high gunwales at such an hour of the night was less inviting than spending a night under the trees.  We hadn't eaten since lunch but luckily in our meagre possessions we had a recently caught flathead, a small knife and a lighter. to make things worse ten minutes earlier Sam had slipped up to his waist in the river and now looked the most unhappy of the group as the cold crept in. Spirits rose though as we build a fire and prepared the fish which was barbequed with the aid of some Casurina sticks. And very tasty it was too! A small drying rack made of sticks soon had Sam back in dry clothes which also lightened the mood. With no sleeping equipment, beds were prepared of soft Casurina needles as close to the fire as possible, before we tried to snatch some sleep below a cloudless and starry sky. Needless to say as the first rays of sun made an appearance over the eastern horizon we were all awake stoking the fire and trying to regain a little lost body heat!

A couple of hours after sun rise the Rapan net is nearly back on the beach with a huge catch of sardines.

A troop of langurs raids a crop of legumes.  Most days when we passed this area the crafty monkeys were somewhere in the area eyeing up the fields and waiting for there moment to launch an attack!

On the Kali river in the Karnatakan jungle I came across this impressive sea bean/heart creeper dangling from the lush margins of the river. The large and tough seeds can drift for many months down rivers and across oceans on the currents.

Visitor's Royal Enfields parked outside my house

A view I can never get tired of waking up to

Shopping with Abbey

Malvan high street

Various grades and types of rice for sale

Perhaps one of the best camping spots on the west coast! surrounded by casurinas, beautiful beach and clear river.

How to move a coconut palm!

Home made street car!

Portuguese influenced architecture in Goa

Typical Goan shop

Honey Bee brandy 'as warm as a great friendship'!

Old versus new in Goa

Shiva chicken centre in Goa

Lazy dogs sleeping off a night of barking and fight in Goa

Goan Juice Centre

Goan street scene

Goan barber shop

The magnificent Chatrapati Shivaji terminus at night

A lone throw netter fishes for mullet on Tarkali creek

Tarkali creek

For months I had tried to get close enough to a Malabar Pied Hornbill  for a decent photo and then by chance one day as we drove a rural road one appeared in a mango tree close to the track. We reversed slowly and were rewarded by this handsome bird seemingly oblivious to our presence as it foraged for morsels. It immediately swooped rather clumsily to the mat of dead leaves on the ground and succeeded in catching a small brown lizard.  Back in the tree the ill fated lizard was beaten to death with sharp blows against a branch before being flicked back into the huge beak. After half an hour of watching  the curious bird at such close quarters we took our leave very pleased with the chance encounter.

A young Maharashtran girl shows off her recently hennaed hand

Menu of Delicious delicacies in a Mumbai restaurant.

While waiting for a red signal  on the Konkan railway tasty and aromatic yellow guavas sold by village women help pass the time

Very happy Holi festival goers

Neighbourhood children enjoy the Holi feast.

Early morning in Arambol, Goa before the eclectic mix of tourists have managed to shake off the nights partying!

Everything is catered for the tourists of Arambol

The roads of beach side Goa

Alternative music in Goa

Arambol, Goa

Arambol beach and hotspot for alternative tourists

The Cashew nut, originally brought over by the Portuguese is a major crop along the west coast of India . The succulent flesh of the fruit is converted into Kaju feni (clear spirit) in the state of Goa. In Maharashtra the manufacture of this alcohol is illegal so truck loads of already fermenting fruit are transported south to Goan feni plants. 

An inviting curve of sand in North Goa still quiet in the early morning apart from the fishermen cleaning the mornings catch. Most of the tourists have yet to venture out to begin their daily routine of tanning and drinking.

Coconut palms are never far away on the west coast of India

Salt lakes of shiroda

Kids from the neighbourhood.

Scaling a coconut palm always looks so easy when done by a master. 

It's hard to think of a better neighbour! A fish could always be exchanged for some refreshing coconuts.

One of my neighbours kids who never stopped smiling

High tide on a Malvan beach

The beautiful end of another day in Malvan

Match boxes always catch my attention in India for they are always colourful and come with huge variety of interesting cover designs. 

The end of April marks the start of mango season on the west coast of India. Markets are flooded with the famous and flavoursome Alphonso as well as other mango varieties. Old wizened women sit by the road and sell small mounds of the king of fruits while in the mango plantations workers wield long bamboos with small nets attached to the end to safely pick the expensive fruit which are boxed and sent to the markets in Mumbai and other large cities.  

Ficus religiosa; The Pipal or Bodhi tree sacred to the Hindus, Buddists and Jains and to a myriad of wildlife living within its canopy.

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