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This page will be dedicated to the collection and preservation of fishing stories, not only from our club members, but from whoever wishes to relate a fishy tale. As storytelling comes with the territory, fishermen are undoubtedly the greatest storytellers in the world. Perhaps the more so because they do not allow the truth to spoil a good tale. On the other hand, on most fishing trips, the truth more often than not turns out to be much much stranger than fiction. So let us have your stories, jokes, poems, quotes, and words of wisdom and inspiration to be shared with the world.
The two guys in the photograph are both legends in local fishing circles. Mike Flanagan, on the left, is sadly no longer with us. Stories about Mike's exploits are plentiful and I am sure that our members will have plenty to add to the one I am about to relate. On the right is Gurney Stanley, who is happily still with us and, despite his ripe old age, has lost none of his insatiable yearning to get a fish on the line. He is a shining example of the saying that old fishermen never die, they just smell that way! Besides being a fanatical fisherman, he is better known, however, for his daredevil exploits in getting to the fishing grounds at all costs.
The incident I shall remember Mike most for, is when he utterly ruined a good night's fishing for about thirty club members during a quarterly competition on the Swartkops River. Mike had the habit of anchoring close to the river mouth and on this occasion he was repeatedly warned over the radio by Jimmy Burgoyne to move away from the mouth, as it was during an equinox and the tide was ripping out. Mike, however, reassured Jimmy that his outfit was in tip-top shape and that his motor started first go.
As fate would have it, just about ten minutes after their conversation, Mike was heard shouting over the radio: "Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! ...... Oh sh.. Jimmy, my anchor rope is around the prop and I'm going out to sea! ...... Help Jimmy, help! ...... Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! ...... Oh sh.. help me, help me! ....................... I'm jumping Jimmy! I'm jumping!" Then just silence.
Needless to say, by this time about five boats had already upped anchor and were racing at full speed down to the mouth, but to no avail. There was no boat, no Mike, just nothing but blackness. We beached the boats and ran up and down along the beach with flashlights, crazy with worry and refusing to believe that such a horror was taking place. After about ten minutes we picked up Mike's boat in the beams of light and watched with horror as the waves washed it out onto the beach, rolling it over and over.
We rushed to the boat, praying out loud, but there was no Mike. Stunned into dreadful and shocked silence, we proceeded to remove the motor and everything that could be salvaged from the boat and radioed for a vehicle to transport it to the clubhouse.
Imagine trying to fish for the rest of the night! It was just impossible! We could not sleep, nor could we fish. It was just the most dreadful thing that could have happened and we kept on turning the events over and over in our minds.
We were greatly relieved when dawn finally broke, so we could just get off the river and get the terrible night behind us. By then all the crews on all the boats had been informed and one could sense the great loss and sadness as the boats slowly returned to the clubhouse.
I shall never forget our entrance to Tiger Bay as long as I live! As we slowly approached the jetty, we noticed someone with a big smile sitting on the wall swinging his legs to and fro, and the closer we got, the more familiar he appeared! No! It was not possible!
But it was! There was Mike sitting happily on the wall, greeting us cheerfully with a "Hi chaps! Did you have a good catch?"
Were we not so relieved, he would definitely have come off second best! Apparently, as Mike jumped from his boat, he landed on a sand bank and besides swallowing ten gallons of salt water which he neatly deposited on the steps of a nearby house, he was none the worse for wear. The owner of the house rushed him to hospital, just in case, but he was released a short while later.
Mike got rid of his boat and bought a brand new red Baronet 17'6" which he named the "Red Baron". His exploits in this boat, I shall leave up to other members to relate.
As regards Gurney Stanley, it is extremely unlikely that a more enthusiastic angler will ever again walk this earth. He is the type of fisherman that will get up at any time of night right in the middle of a blistering storm if you just mention the word fishing. There is but nothing that can deter this guy. It is like he has salt water running in his veins.
What boggles the mind, however, is this guy's idea of a nice boat. The smaller the better. It is as if he hates to share fishing space. He wants it all for himself. Just to give you an idea, look at this magnificent example of a boat which he called "Puisie", translated as "Pimple" or "Zit". All of 8 feet long with 6 inches of freeboard and no flotation of any sort. To this feat of modern engineering, he fitted an ancient 10 h.p. Evinrude with a PVC pipe extension to the tiller arm and launched it through the surf to fish in the deep-sea. Not on occasion, but regularly!
He even invited me along once, an offer which I gracefully declined with the excuse that I was prone to sea sickness. I did, however, accompany him once on the Swartkops River, and on that occasion we caught 52 grunter on pink prawns drifting between the railway bridge and the centre island in front of the village. That was still in the days of plenty before restrictions were imposed. I have a suspicion that Gurney was the reason restrictions were imposed.
Remember the days when we were not allowed to transport bait from one river to the next? Some guys had secret compartments built into their boats, while others stashed their illegal bait in hollow batteries with the terminals connected. As Gurney did not have space on his boat for either, he wrapped his pink prawns in aluminium foil and stashed it in the engine compartment of his towing vehicle. He had no problem in passing the road block, as it was impossible to hide illegal bait on such a minute vessel. When he arrived at the Sundays River, however, he found his bait cooked to perfection next to the engine. So instead of feeding the fish, he enjoyed a seafood supper!
With the ten horse Evinrude on its transom, "Puisie" could outrun any boat on the river and Gurney knew only one speed and that was full bore! He hung on to his PVC extension for dear life and speeded down the river with his ears flapping in the wind! It was on one such occasion that he jumped a wave down at D-buoy an launched the vessel straight up into the air. Unfortunately, it came down nose first and vanished straight into the water. One moment he was still there and the next he was gone! After what seemed like ages, a tiny orange triangle, which was the nose of his boat, popped up from underneath the surface and that was all that remained visible, anchored in place as the anchor had fallen off the cabin.
A little while later, Gurney's head appeared and lo and behold, he still had his spectacles on! As the water was reasonably shallow, he grabbed hold of the anchor rope and worked his way to the bank from where he proceed to pull the boat out. On emptying the water from the boat, he found that all his gear was still intact as it had been squashed up into the air pocket in the nose of the boat. After sorting everything out, he got the motor started again and proceeded to spend a rather cold and wet night on the river, doing what he loved most ...fishing, come hell or highwater!
Okay folks, Ronnie has now started the ball rolling. Let's have your stories!
Mike Flanagan and Gurney Stanley, legendary characters.
Mike Flanagan, "The Red Baron". The Coke was neat.
Gurney Stanley's luxury cruiser cum submarine, "Puisie".
And here's our first story received from Ronnie Scheckle on 27/02/2007. He also sent us a copy of the current South African records as well as other information which have been incorporated into the site. Thanks for starting the ball rolling, Ron. Keep it coming.
"This is a true story witnessed by several fishermen, which goes back to 1978 and the first round of our River league. Those days no one messed with H&R A, B or C teams, as we were the greatest. This incident refers to a certain Piet Anker fishing in the B team who decided he could not get onto the school of feeding tiger and that he was going to go into the main channel and wait till the tide turned so that the school would leave and come into the deep water.
He shouted out his course of action to me and duly proceeded to drift into the channel. It was not long before I heard the splash of his anchor and I could see him quite clearly. I was sitting taking off a tiger which I had just caught, and was looking towards his boat and I realised that the tide must have turned as Piet's boat was going in the direction of the mouth. I duly enquired how long ago the tide had turned as I was concentrating on the school of fish in the area where I was fishing.
Back came his reply that I must be drunk as the tide was still coming in. I, in turn, shouted to him that his anchor must be loose as he was definitely going towards the mouth as I was standing still.
Piet immediately started pulling up anchor and that is when the fun began. The boat really started moving at a fast pace and he also realised that he had hooked something big on his anchor.
We later pieced the story together: Here in Swartkops most of us use the grapnel type of anchor. On dropping the anchor the unit must have dropped and got stuck into a beauty of a diamond ray, and the ray in turn must have got a fright and started heading for sea.
Being honest anglers we never weighed the diamond into the competition. For record's sake, the fish was weighed and stopped the scale at an amazing 58 Kg or 118 lbs in the old terms.
This is a true story and I was sober when I witnessed it.
PS The tiger referred to above is the spotted grunter, and the Diamond Ray is now known as a Backwater Ray".
I remember this event well Ron. At the weigh-in Piet was admonished that it was illegal to administer chocolates to his anchor in order to attract fish.
A recent email was received from Gaston Crepelle in France: "wonderful feeling to see pictures of Swartkop river mouth. I fished there between 1958 and 1961 (I was then wool buyer in P.E.) Back in France now, I called my House "Swartkop."
Gaston followed up shortly after with more emails from which I took the following excerpts:
When I lived in P.E. one of my favourite fishing spot was Swartkops. I used to rent a boat on the bank and fished from saturday lunch time till sunday evening. Of course I had to bring my food along (and my beers too but don't tell my wife!!) I was caught, I dont know how many times, by the sea gulls pinching my sandwiches while I was trying to bring in a tiger. I wish I had taken pictures then. All the same, that fishing spot will remain one of my best souvenirs of South Africa. Since I have come back to France, I have done a lot of freshwater fishing (mostly long pole fishing) using llb breaking strength and size 20 hooks to catch roach and even breams up to 5 lbs. I can assure you it is fun too. The next time I visit South Africa I will contact you and see if I can do a bit of fishing in P.E.
Best regards and carry on with the good work you do for clean fishing
Gaston
...I even managed to get some oysters from the Amsterdamhoek side and prawns by using an upturned bucket, jumping on it and catching the prawns that had been expelled from their holes. Another bait I remember is a kind of worm, rather flat that increases in size if you catch it by one side (I don't remember which !!!) Sometimes when I caught a few decent size spotted grunters, I
used to have them weighed where I rented the boat (rowing boat, we were tough in those days: have you tried to row against the outgoing tide?) and a few days later was very proud to see my name in the paper (Cape Times or Cape Argus?).
Thanks for your anecdotes Gaston. The rather flat worm you described is the infamous tape worm, the ultimate bait for grunter, and very hard to obtain because of regulations which disallow digging in the mudflats. These worms are thus worth their weight in gold and fishermen are prepared to pay exorbitant prices to get hold of some. And yes, please make contact on your next trip and we'll muster the guys to help rekindle your old memories as well as build new ones.
The Hook and Reel Angling Club
Schooner Crescent, Swartkops, South Africa
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