17 ½ Years Later

“In truth, in spite of the efforts of the British anglers in the days of the Raj, the grand adventure of mahseer fishing with the fly rod is only just beginning, and as pioneering anglers like Misty start to unravel the secrets of this magnificent quarry, who knows just what might be possible with these formidably strong, majestic-looking fish. I for one want to be there as the story unfolds, and I cannot wait for the next instalment.” Matt Harris Nov 2008. 

The quote above was the closing paragraph of the article written by Matt on conclusion of our trip to the Saryu river in 2008. This then is my next instalment, a rather delayed , 17 ½ years later!! 

Britishers, as we are fondly referred to in India, pioneered the fishing for Mahseer.  The tales of simply enormous fish are legendary, although they sit in parallel with a whole host of extraordinary sporting endeavours of that period, few more exceptional than those of Jim Corbett, of which the ‘Man-eaters of Kuman’ should be on the pre-trip reading list for anyone venturing to this part of India.  Fascinating battles with titans, whether they be Mahseer or Tigers, are all part of the rich history of Indian sporting endeavours.  My very first introduction to  Mahseer was from a far more mundane source, and that was as a schoolboy in the 80‘s and 90’s watching John Wilson and his Go Fishing Worldwide TV series. John Wilson is credited as being amongst the top 10 most influential anglers of the past 160 years and it was his adventures inspired me to follow in his footsteps.

One two-part series in particular stood apart from the others.   At a secret location in Southern India, which turned out to be the Cauvery River, Wilson, at the end of episode 1 hooked a huge fish.   Faced with a rapidly emptying spool he jumped into a Coracle, a ‘boat’ of sorts which is little more than an enlarged circular wicker basket surrounded by plastic sheeting.  As he disappears downstream, in fast turbulent water, attached to an unseen monster, the credits come up,  possibly the greatest angling TV cliff hanger ever!!!!   To say I was hooked was an understatement.  A decade or so later it led me on a madcap 5 day round trip from my army  barracks in central London, to the Cauvery river and back for the sum total of 2 ½ day fishing.  All of this was done on the rather flimsy premise that I was undertaking some ‘home-based study leave’ in preparation for my British Army captaincy exams.  The more colloquial term my commanding officer used for my disappearance was ‘Maxwell Stuart’s gone AWOL’.

All of the fishing in the early days was done using seriously heavy-duty spinning gear, whether that be fishing with lures or bait.  I still have a multiplier reel bought specifically for that trip which has been gathering dust ever since.   In 2008  however I was once again given the chance to fish for Golden Mahseer, but this was in the Himalayas and the focus was 100% on fly-fishing.  That trip was unquestionably at the very dawn of fly-fishing for Mahseer with techniques and understanding very much in their infancy.  Our host at the time, Misty Dhillon, had a focus on light tackle fishing predominantly with Trout fly-patterns such as woolly buggers, nymphs and sculpins.  This was not without good reason, Mahseer, despite being the aquatic tiger of Asia can be profoundly sensitive to a whole host of factors and a stealthy Trout fishing style approach seemed like one of the best means of enticing a take.  By the conclusion of our rather brief 3 days fishing we had identified two techniques which worked for us.  One was that the fishing picked up during the twilight and dark hours, with the Mahseer happy to take a surface lure.   During the day the other effective technique was to fish the turbulent areas with reduced water clarity and visibility using weighted flies.

Somehow our respective three international flights all managed to weave their way in-between the Iranian/Ukrainian no fly zones without delay, arriving into Delhi international airport in the early hours.   From there we were collected by a driver and taken to the very respectable Roseatte Hotel.   After a quick rest we headed out on a whistle stop tour of Delhi.   We looked in awe at the 73m high Qutub Minar victory tower and surroundings, the 150ft deep Agrasan Ki Baoli Stepwell (in essence a large public well), were given an explanation and background to handwoven Kashmir rugs, along with a demonstration as to how they are made, the larger sizes taking a family from 18-24 months to complete and which I am proud to say resulted in two purchases (which had made their way back by courier almost by the time of our return from the trip), rick-shawed our way around the mayhem of Chandni Chowk market in old Delhi, visited a temple and accompanying public soup kitchens, marvelled at cows who had exploited their right to roam privileges on roundabouts, central reservations or indeed wherever they desired, and finally returned to the sanctity and calm of the Roseatte later that evening.

The following day we flew from Delhi to Pantnagar, a straightforward 1 hr flight, met by our two drivers and  cars on arrival and buckled in for the drive to the Saryu river.  For the faint-hearted taking a rear seat may be the best option rather than the full-frontal view.  Driving in India is quite unlike anything you will have experienced.  Cars, bikes, lorries, tractors, livestock, people, all converging, from all directions at all speeds.  Horns are used not to express frustration but as a straightforward audible warning to say,  ‘I am coming past’, and I think it would be fair to say as a substitute for the use of mirrors.  Coming from a society with a rules-based culture, driving in India is, by contrast, an organic experience that seems to have just evolved.  (The Indian driving test is a 5 min affair and involves moving forwards, reversing and parking).   Whilst this may all sound rather intimidating, and renting a car in India is unlikely ever to be on my agenda, if there was one takeaway, it is that for all the insanity of driving styles, there seemed to be no indication whatsoever of the sort of road rage, were it anywhere else in the world,  that would be induced by just 5% of this style of driving.

In total the drive took about 5 hrs plus stops along the way.  For the first 1 ½ hrs the road is flat and the journey something akin to a helter-skelter Mario Cart race.  You then hit the Himalayan foothills.  Straight roads become a memory, and you start a dizzying climb, with one switchback bend after another, passing the mountainous town of Lohagat at 1600m, climbing to a peak of around 1800m and then dropping down into the Saryu valley at 500m.  It feels as if nature is in a permanent battle against man in its attempt to wipe both the road and indeed any trace of civilisation in its path off the side of the mountain.   Despite the very obvious, continuous and ever more elaborate attempts to reinforce and repair the road, this at best maintains the status quo keeping the roads passable. With each monsoon season a very significant amount of this work disappears down precipitous slopes.

We arrived at the Himalayan outback camp after dark and were warmly greeted by the extremely welcoming team, led by head guide Bobby Satpal.  On my previous visit, the ‘tent’ camp was situated almost immediately opposite the existing location.  A very significant landslide on that side of the river had forced the relocation of the camp to what now feels like a much better location.  Access to the road making both the logistics of the camp far simpler as well as vehicle access to the upper or lower sections of the river when required.  Although the landslide has interrupted the flow of water in the pool below the camp, the rapids provide the camp its own unique river soundtrack.   The four guest tents line the river providing as idyllic a setting as you could wish for.  They are also suitably spacious, with twin beds and each with its own private bathroom and shower.

Our first morning was a relaxed late start which suited everyone and allowed Bobby time to go over all our rods, lines  and flies.  At the same time as it  was starting to become apparent that the limited knowledge I had picked up 17 years ago was of little value,  I was also quickly coming to appreciate that Bobby is probably the world’s pre-eminent Mahseer angler & guide.     Maybe the biggest surprise, which was music to my ears, was that catching a good-sized Mahseer on  a fly was possibly not as much of a pipe-dream as I had believed.  Although of course we would be happy to catch Mahseer of any size, Bobby’s very specific aim for us over the week was to target big Mahseer in the 15-30-40lb range.  Whilst catching a Mahseer of this size was far from a given, I had not been anticipating anything much more than a fractional chance of a fish above 15lbs.

On my last trip, the success I had enjoyed with Matt Harris was utilising crease flies at night as well as Gummi minnows during the day.  Bobby, whilst acknowledging that crease or surface flies could be effective at night, said that they would only really attract at best small to midsized Mahseer, and that was not what we were here to do!  Gummi Minnows he dismissed as not really being fly-fishing , a fair point, although it did not stop me sneaking one on from time to time to see if I could replicate my previous success.  Yes, he stated, of course you could catch Mahseer during the day, but with the water as clear as it currently was, the chances of catching anything sizeable was remote.  Our main effort should therefore be focused on early mornings, and late evenings. 

Our first evening and following morning sessions resulted in everyone breaking their Mahseer duck, but with fish from very small up to 4 or 5lbs.  It did however expose some of the faults in our gear and abilities.  None of us were remotely proficient at casting at night and if rods were not correctly set up with the right lines it exacerbated our shortfalls.  One of the tips was to load rods with a line one-size heavier than the rod rating.  This would give greater feedback when casting at night when all you had to go on was feel.  The other was to ensure you knew the casting point for the line.  A looped connection with the backing being preferable as you could then always feel when you had stripped in enough line as you could feel the loop hittting the upper rod ring.

Quite often, at certain fly-fishing lodges, you see people methodically practice casting away after lunch or in-between sessions.  I have never been one of those and whilst I am a reasonable caster and can adapt to most situations, I am not someone who thinks a lot about casting technique, other than to get my fly to where I hope the fish are!  I therefore surprised myself by heeding Bobby’s instructions to do some daytime night casting practice, fine-tuning my spey-casting…with my eyes closed! 

That afternoon, having convened for coffee and cake (delicious) at 4.30, we headed off, Will and I with Bobby heading to the lower section, whilst Krister and Roy headed upriver with Sunil.  Although the focus of our fishing period was not until after sunset around 6.30, this allowed everyone to do a detailed recce of their primary spot for that session.  Before dusk we could fish other areas so long as we did not disturb our allocated pool. 

Over last and first light we mainly fished with green / white fly patterns, but as it got fully dark, we would switch to an all-black fly, whether that was on a weighted tube, intruder or conehead leech style pattern.  Sinking tips as standard, and in most cases the fly presented with a square or slightly upstream cast, allowing it to sink and then swing around, with or without some tweaking, depending on the water flow.  At the end of the cast the fly would be slowly stripped back, although quicker if the fly was liable to snag the bottom or of course if the fly had moved into dead water.

I fished alone that evening on a Pool called Black Rock, opposite the Pancheswar Temple and just above the junction where the Saryu meets the Kali river and the border with Nepal.  Bobby had impressed on me that this deep pool was not only was full of Mahseer (hundreds) but it had some absolute giants, many exceeding 30 lbs.  He also stressed that it was essential to be stealthy in every regard, minimising the noise and  water disturbance when casting, and unless I hooked a really good-fish, absolutely no use of head-torches.  A reasonable cast was required to reach the far side, which was a shallow beach vs the deep water from the ‘cliff’ edge I was fishing from.  All of this was quite a tall order given the unfamiliar surroundings and the  uncertainty that my fly was doing what it should be doing, in the place it was supposed to be.   It was however an utterly captivating as well as serenely peaceful experience.  Once my eyes had adjusted the light from the temple opposite was enough to just about see the ripple as my line touched the water.  By slightly shortening the cast so that it would give a satisfying tug, as the shooting line pulled tight against the spool, provided a degree of confidence that I was doing more things right than wrong.

Meanwhile, Bobby had been with Will, fishing the pool around 200 m upriver from my location. Over the course of the evening, I had been aware of a flickering light from time to time and could only wonder whether it was the result of a monumental bird’s nest of a tangle, a fly inadvertently attached to a body part or perhaps, possibly, something more exciting.   It turned out to be the latter, Will having caught three Mahseer up to 15lbs.  This was monumental!  Not only did it provide a vast boost of confidence to us all, but a 15lb Golden Mahseer was beyond my expectations for a fly-caught Mahseer on the trip, and it was of course only our 2^nd evening.

It might seem as if the early morning and late evening sessions meant that our fishing time was rather restricted, but it allowed for a very calm and relaxing day, meals being a highlight!   The food we enjoyed over our stay was outstanding.  Lunches tended to be western orientated food with the evening meal Indian focused.  Each meal consisted of typically 3 or 4 different servings, so our plates were a delightful fusion of tastes including meats, salads and dal’s, accompanied by, chapati’s, nam’s, garlic bread etc.   Each main course was followed by a delicious pudding.  The same chef, Jitendra Rana who has been working at The Himalayan Outback for 20 odd years. On my last trip I enjoyed his fare, what we experienced on this trip was quite simply exceptional!

A good lunch went some way to encouraging an equally enjoyable siesta.  That said Roy in particular, mainly fishing in front of the camp, was consistently successful.  On one outing catching six Mahseer, using everything from the generally accepted clousers and nymphs to the ever-effective and ubiquitous Red Francis and Snaelda.   For my part I was very happy going for a swim most days, joining in with some of the local schoolchildren, who, I think,  were suitably impressed to find me floating down the rapids to join them below the camp.   It was also possible to have an acceptable telephone signal using an Indian e-sim which allowed everyone to remain connected as required and even to conduct an online video conference.   When the heat got too much or the eyelids too heavy, the midday siesta was very welcome, made blissfully pleasant by the air-conditioning in each tent.

By the 3^rd day everyone was unquestionably picking up confidence, both in our ability to cast adequately at night, as well as navigating the riverbank terrain.  During the day our surroundings would indicate that we were in a suitably remote area, with really very limited human activity beyond the immediate confines of the road that paralleled the river, the valley sides to the Saryu climbing very steeply to height of 500m or more above the level of the camp.  As it got dark little beacons of light would emerge, seemingly out of nowhere and in places that you would have sworn during the day were bereft of human habitation.  Added to this were the occasional twinkling lights as local villagers threaded their way along a multitude of unseen paths and the gentle sweet aroma of curries being cooked over wood fires.  All of this contributed to make each fishing session a genuinely  enlightening experience, silent as we were, fishing away in  the dark, but yet with traces of life going on all around us, the river reflecting back a gentle but warming glow from the surrounding habitation and local activity. 

There is a rather magnificent foot suspension bridge that leads to the temple at the confluence of the Saryu and the Kali.  A report had come in from one of the other guides that a really big fish had been spotted holding in the shallow water below the bridge.   On one of our sessions, we stopped to have a look and sure enough, almost directly below us, a very sizeable Mahseer could clearly be seen.   I took a couple of photographs, but it was only on return and closer inspection that it turned out that there was not just the big Mahseer that we had seen, Bobby estimated it at being around 30lbs, but 4 additional smaller Mahseer were also in the picture.  This was about as much proof as we needed that whilst our major success with larger Mahseer had so far been limited to one pool, potentially it was just a matter of time before we got lucky elsewhere.  By now it had got to a level where we almost expected to catch at least one or two Mahseer on every session.

By way of a little cultural expedition, and to further enhance our catch prospects, as well as bestow on us general good health, we arranged to visit the Pancheswar Temple at the confluence.  An enjoyable walk down from the camp, across the suspension bridge and along  a path on the far bank to the temple.  The bridge crossing was accompanied by monkeys who nonchalantly traversed the underside cables whilst we took the more conventional route.  Although the Baba (holy man) was not present, the temple guardian was, and with a degree of discomfort, we sat cross-legged whilst prayers were said, incense burned, a tika (third eye) applied and a Kalawa (thread bracelet) given.  Our bodies and souls fully fortified and blessed, our expectations were high.

Back on my rocky perch that evening, over and above the potential for good fortune following our blessing, I was feeling as if it was just a matter of time before something significant came my way.  As dusk and then the dark of night descended  I received numerous gentle and a couple of very firm pulls.   My casting was good, occasionally the fly snagging the bottom on the far side.  That meant that I was both getting enough distance and my fly would be fishing at the right depth as it swung round, covering the crucial area where the water was shallow and the best chance of a take.   The near side of the pool, where I was standing was deep, and although it was possible that a Mahseer might chase a fly as it swung round from the shallows, if anything was going to happen, it would probably happen quite quickly after the fly landed.

By this stage I had become quite used to a typically aggressive Mahseer take, but this time it was different.  This was the sort of pull that, were you daydreaming, would snatch the rod from your hands.  It was followed by a searing run with the ratchet on my Loop Classic reel playing the best tune a fly-angler could ever wish for.   Light security was no longer my concern, I quickly switched on my head-torch, primarily to use it as a ‘Bobby’ distress signal, as well as hoping to get a glimpse of the fish.  The fight was nerve-wracking, the Mahseer making four or five very strong runs deep into the backing.  I still had a reasonable line burn on my inner finger a full one week later as a reminder. 

Fighting a large fish at night on a fly rod is exhilarating.  You feel, not see, every bump, head-shake or run magnified in a way that is quite different during the day   Despite the beam of my head-torch providing a degree of illumination, for the most part the Mahseer was invisible, surging one minute, sitting dogged in the deep dark part of the pool the next.  The runs when they came were exceptionally powerful and left me in no doubt that this was a reasonable fish.  Bobby had strongly advised that for night fishing we use 40lb nylon and the fact that this was a deep pool gave me a degree of confidence that the fish could run without imminent danger of it either disappearing down some rapids or snagging around a large rock or boulder.   After what felt like an age Bobby appeared, gazelling across the rocks to my position, notably still without his head-torch on!   Finally, the fish was safely landed, its big golden scales glistening.  It was also around the 15lb mark, although had I lost it on my own, I might have added another 10lbs based on the fight!  To add icing to the cake, in the light of our head torches as we released it, we spotted the unmistakable bright green glow from the reflection of a leopard’s eyes watching the commotion from the far bank.  Personal celebrations done, it then transpired that Roy had also had an exceptional evening,  hauling in three good-sized fish.   On return to the camp that night I was more than happy to open one of my bottles of duty-free wine!

This trip was turning into something far more than an Indian experience with the chance of a Mahseer or two, but into a pretty exceptional fishing trip with extras of everything.  Each session and indeed each cast felt as if something special might happen.  The knowledge that big fish not just lurked unseen but that there was a reasonable possibility of catching one in each and every pool hugely added to the appeal.  

The action we had all received by mid-trip would have been enough to satisfy us all, but it was just the beginning.  By the end of the week all of us had had fish of over 10lbs.  The biggest being around the 20lb mark.   Will had one very good Mahseer that took him on a run down the rapids, into the confluence with the Kali river, something that would have been exciting during the day but was terrifying in the evening gloom.  Krister on the final session had a very good fish which he diligently played, maintaining total light discipline throughout (I would have turned on my torch), but which eventually snapped his leader in the final moments of the fight.   His hand was still shaking when I chatted to him!   All in all, I think we landed in the region of 60 Mahseer with around 10 fish over 10lbs.  This figure felt all the more amazing as I had set out on the trip with far more limited expectations but equally, by any standards of a Mahseer fishing week, this was an above average result.

Traditionally the prime month in the pre-monsoon period is over April.   The ideal conditions when fishing the Saryu are not as we would have imagined, with the water reasonably clear as it was over our week, but the opposite, cloudy to the extent that you would not be able to see your foot in 10cm of water.  In these conditions you can catch large Mahseer much more confidently during the day.  At the outset of our week, the appetite to fish during the dark hours was definitely limited, but as we adjusted, we all quite quickly picked up confidence, not just with our fishing skills but walking and wading where required.  Throughout our week the air temperature was close to ideal.  A slight chill at night but hot during the day without being excessive.  Very pleasantly there  was barely a mosquito or biting fly to be seen, although as with the temperature, they are prone to increase over  April and May.

My limited experience from my previous 3-day whistle stop tour many years ago had left me feeling that fly-fishing for Mahseer was a ‘box to be ticked’ trip.  I can now say without hesitation that this trip has completely opened my mind.  Three of us fished double-handed spey rods, and with the exception of the fact that we spent most of our time fishing at dusk and dawn, the techniques were really not so very different from fishing for salmon or Argentinean sea-trout, swinging the fly and imparting some movement where appropriate, although maybe not as much as when fishing for Sea-trout. Even the smaller Mahseer put up a proper scrap, but it was the feeling  that a fish of 10-15lbs or over was a possibility, on every session, that was the cream to an already very tasty cake!

As a benchmark of success for any fishing trip is the answer to a single simple question. ‘Would I want to return’?  My answer would be a resounding yes!!!  Not only did the Himalayan Outback team deliver an exceptional trip, ranging from the logistics, the food and the accommodation, and as well as experiencing the amazing culture and humility of life in India, but equally, I left with a burning desire for not just more but the possibility, no matter how remote of an even bigger Mahseer!   I am pretty sure I speak for all of us in that regard.  This is most definitely a trip to be repeated.