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In October last year I received a phone call from Joy of Angling Travel (www.angling-travel.com) informing me that a space had come available on the India trip this January and would I like to take up the space. An easy decision you would think, but with a new wife and a wedding to pay off getting enough brownie points and money together might prove a challenge.
I expect you have guessed by now that I managed to sort the trip out, or I would not be writing this article. I had heard a lot about Mahseer fishing in southern India from John and some of his friends during trips to the River Wye, when fishing for barbel. Also through reading up on the subject I was looking forward to an experience of a lifetime and in the event, it did not disappoint.
The Masheer is a member of the carp family and related to the barbel. It is distributed across much of Asia as various sub-species. In this case I was going to southern India to target the southern or humpback mahseer, Tor Mussullah. These fish are known to grow to over 120lbs and can be best described as a cross between a carp and a barbel which has been fed steroids and placed in a raging torrent for its entire life. The result is impressive, they fight harder than anything I have ever been attached to before and fulfill their reputation as possibly the hardest fighting freshwater fish in the world.
Tackle is a contentious subject with various views on the subject. The recommendation for the water I was to fish was 6-10oz uptide rods and multiplier reels loaded with 40lb monofilament line attached to a super strong 6/0 hook. This sounds heavy and yes it is, being suitable for light shark fishing! I was a bit surprised at this but now having experienced the fishing I would not use anything else. Bait is a simple Chilwa (a small fish up to 8 inches long fished either live or dead), freshwater crabs or the famous Ragi paste which is a mix of ground millet and a number of spices boiled and kneaded to give it a firm yet pliable texture.
Due to the size of the river and the need to follow the big fish down stream (sometimes through rapids) fishing is often from Coracles or from the many rocks that break the surface. The Coracles are extremely manoeuvrable and, in experienced hands, capable of passing safely down most of the rapids on the river. On one occasion I was fishing from a rock submerged 6 inches below the surface and a very large crocodile appeared next to me (see picture below). Gulp! I am still here to tell the tale and was told that they have no problems with the crocodiles but I am not altogether sure I totally believe them.
Enough of the technical information and back to the trip. Following last minute rushing about sorting out passports, visa's and tackle I found myself lying in bed the night before flying off to India, unable to sleep and going over in my mind all that I needed to take. Had I packed it all? I am sure you have all gone through this. At just after 9am I left for Heathrow to catch the flight to India and I have to admit to a good degree of nervousness. The flight lasted approximately 9 hours and was surprisingly comfortable considering that I was jammed in on a completely full flight (for those who have not met me I am over 6ft and weigh 20 stone).
We landed at Bangalore at 3:45 in the morning local time to find the city cool and quiet (except for the welcoming committee of "hangers on" at the airport exit). The first thing that hit me was the smell, spicy, warm, different (not unpleasant but with definite undertones of unpleasant things). Having been met by the drivers arranged on our behalf to complete the transfer from Bangalore to the fishing camp, and loaded the four wheel drives we set off on a 3 hour journey just as the sun rose across the city. The drive out was interesting. Driving in India has to be experienced to be understood and we saw some beautiful and some disgusting sights on the way. I was fast getting the impression that India is a country of extremes, from beauty to extreme filth and pollution, from poverty to gross displays of wealth, all being driven by a desire to become "developed" and with little apparent regard for the environment or the rural population.
Arriving at 9am to be greeted warmly by the camp staff the first task was, of course, to rush down to have a look at the river. "Wow, that is a proper river".
We were to share a tent and ghillie for the entire trip. I was partnered with a lovely older gentleman called Michael who turned out to have worked and lived at Buckingham Palace for most of his working life (interesting conversations I can tell you). The camp can hardly be described as basic, the tents being more like hotel rooms, with en-suite bathrooms, proper sit down toilets and showers (only cold but with buckets of hot water available on request). Overall I was thoroughly impressed having expected to be roughing it. It turned out to be far from this with cold beer (aaaahhhh!!!) and hot water after a hot days' fishing.
The first morning was devoted to setting up the equipment and getting to know the rest of the group. The ghillie assigned to myself and Michael was named Chiccaragu, full of enthusiasm and with 30 years of being poacher turned ghillie and river keeper had given him an intimate knowledge and love of the river and the fishing. Over the next few days we fished a variety of swims, some fast water and some slow deeper pools. Days consisted of two sessions, one in the morning and one in the evening, avoiding the hottest part of the day interspersed with far too much good food and more than one or two bottles of local beer.
Fishing was very slow, apparently the water was too cold and the river levels too variable (rising and falling by as much as 3ft in 24hours due to water extraction and release of water from upstream dams) but eventually it happened, a 20-25lb Masheer. Yes! late in the evening of the third day and after having missed a screaming bite earlier in the session (much to the disgust of the ghillie and embarrassment of me) I had the rod wrenched round and watched about 50m of line disappear off the reel in about 2 seconds flat. A relatively small fish can do that! What the hell will a 60lb fish do? After a spirited fight of maybe 10 minutes in fast water a beautiful silver fish was expertly landed by Chiccaragu and placed on a stringer to recover whilst I stopped shaking enough to get the camera out.
The trip continued in this vein with a few fish being caught by the group mostly late in the evening. About 5 days into the trip the river started to settle down and warm up slightly which only boded well for the fishing. The normally empty hours between 12 and 4pm, when people generally did not fish, became much more interesting when I decided to try and catch some of the smaller species present in the river. I had taken with me an 11ft carp rod and some 15lb line just for this and that first lunchtime session will rate as one of the high points of my trip. I caught 6 different species of fish in 2 hours including a 20lb Raghu (a type of small mouthed pink carp) which caused much excitement as it was exceptionally large for the river and very beautiful to boot. I also caught small Mahseer, Pink carp (very much like our barbel but pink and grey), Black carp, Tilapia and Chilwa (this describes all types of small bait fish and probably includes about 10 different species). After this session I was joined pretty much every day by someone and we all enjoyed frenetic sport, with many screaming reels and bent rods producing huge amounts of fun and some friendly competition. I know we went to catch Masheer but the smaller species are well worth the effort as they fight fantastically and grow to reasonable sizes themselves.
Day 7 was fantastic. John had organised a special expedition for a couple of us (those up to the walk, clambering across rock and wading through rapids) to a place called Ontagundi (I think). This area is only accessible on foot for most of the year and had not been fished for at least 10 years. John explained that, except for some Indians who are allowed to camp alongside and fish the river, no one else had been there. Because of this no one really knew what the fishing would be like but the guides assured us there was a good chance of very big fish. As soon as we arrived and cast out we received a screaming bite (not on my rod unfortunately) which resulted in a very big fish being hooked and then lost when the hook pulled, Graham (a Scotsman on his third trip) was gutted but, after all, that is fishing. Following this disturbance of the pool above some rapids I moved with the help of the guides across the rocks to the base of the rapids. Chiccaragu baited up with a Chilwa and cast the bait into the foaming heart of the rapids. After feathering the line and getting the bait to settle where he though the fish would be lying he handed me the rod. I received a bite within 1 minute and promptly nearly ended up in the rapids, as a big fish tore 60-80m of line off my reel. The fight was incredible, run after run in the fast water and at one point I thought the fish was going to swim up the rapids! 15 glorious minutes later I was a sweating, shaking lump with a huge grin. A beautiful fin perfect 45lb Masheer lay in some slack water on a stringer waiting for me to join it for the photos. YES!!!
Congratulations flooded over me that evening only, marred slightly by the news that another of the group had lost an even bigger fish that afternoon. The beer flowed and plans made for a possible return trip. The return never happened as unfortunately river conditions prevented our return but my memory of that place and that fish will be with me for a long time.
With more than half the trip already behind us we were all feeling that we should have booked for a longer stay but we made the best of what remained continuing to catch many fish between the group up to 35lbs.
It was the last evening and I had not received a bite for 2 days. I did not mind as I had already caught a big fish but I was hoping for one more fish to finish the trip on a high. The session was on one of the slower pools at the downstream end of the stretch we fished (known as Mutkeep Pool or Old lady pool) and I was fishing crab in about 30 ft of water crouched in the coracle hoping for a bite. Sometime before sundown I received a good strong pull that did not develop into a proper bite. Leave it where it is said the ghillie and I waited and waited. Just as the sun disappeared behind the hills all hell broke loose. I struck hard and was attached to something that could only be described as a piscatorial express train. The ghillie jumped on me to stop me disappearing after the fish and once again I had a rapidly emptying reel. The ghillie was muttering "very big fish sir, very big" and preparing to chase after the fish in the coracle when that horrible dead feeling suddenly struck. The rod went slack and all was quiet. Gutted!! It was a good bite, the strike was good and the fish had not run through any rocks. We inspected the end tackle carefully, the hook was sharp so what had happened? No one spoke for what felt like minutes and quite simply the hook had pulled. I was not sure who was most upset, me, the ghillie or the rest of the group, but hey, that is fishing.
The thrill of the big Mahseer, hooked in heavy water, hurling himself down the rapid with express speed to the tune of a fast emptying reel, has an electric joy apart from any other sport. There is nothing quite like it: and once it is experienced it is imprinted forever on the tablets of memory (St. J. Mac Donald, Cicumventing the Mahseer (1948)
This is a much over used quotation when it comes to talking about Masheer fishing but it is so very true.
This is not a trip for the feint hearted I had large crocodiles within 10m of me and was followed by a leopard one night in the camp (so I am told) as well as the constant chance of coming into contact with snakes, insects and of course elephants. (By the way the locals aren't scared about anything apart from the elephants.) I cannot adequately describe the beauty of the place, the quality of the fishing, the power of the Mahseer and I have to say I cannot ever remember wanting to leave a place less.
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