Andrew Fowler writes of his uMngeni experiences.
There is a small river which flows through the soft folds of the Dargle Valley that converses in the same languages that I do. Three languages to be precise. English, Afrikaans and Zulu.
Let me explain.
The uMgeni itself , the Zulu speaker, emerges from a highland vlei as a small stream. It is joined a few miles down, by the Afrikaner (die Poort), and some way along by the Furth (the Englishman). And I think that it is only at this last confluence that it can truly call itself a river, and even then only in the South African sense, given its diminutive size. And then it really doesn’t last for very long as a Trout stream before plummeting over the Dargle falls, after which it hangs on to its population of wild Browns for a moment longer, before becoming a sullen brown, dammed thing.
I grew up on the farm that was once listed as the lower boundary demarcation of the Trout zone: Corrie Lynn farm, the same one that is accessible to NFFC members today. My links to the uMgeni go further up though. At the small farm, Umgeni Poort, which as the name suggests is at the confluence of those two babbling streams, my great grandfather is buried in a grove of trees, and it is here that my father spent his early childhood. I have a photo of him atop a very large horse named “Socks”, when he was a very small boy. The picture is taken overlooking the pasture at Umgeni Poort.
This was once a most picturesque haven amongst the wooded hills: It is tucked into a narrow valley with the river rushing by in the way that mountain streams do. It was a small neat farm, with an orchard on terraces built by the Italian prisoners of war, a stone house, and pastures that were ploughed by oxen. It was complete with a water wheel that generated electricity from the uMgeni river (and which was known to spin uncontrollably after a storm, blowing light globes at will before the old man could get down to the river to close the sluice.)
It was here that my grandfather would attend the afternoon milking with his mind on the Trout, and his old cane rod and creel leaning against the stone wall outside, in preparation for the evening’s real business.
In my youth I visited Umgeni Poort a few times, and the Catholic Nuns who then lived there would welcome me, and the river was mine for the day, but sadly, by then the farm was infested with wattle trees, the terraces were crumbling, and the place had an unkempt feel about it.
It was my grandfather who attempted a road up the escarpment from the base of the hill on Umgeni Poort. His first attempt was an unplanned one, and he reached a point in his road-building when he looked up and saw that he had engineered himself to the base of a very steep krantz, with no prospect of proceeding any further. The second attempt succeeded and despite his attempt to name it “the Burma Road”, it is still known after it’s less glamorous predecessor: “Fowler’s Folly”.
That steep and rocky road, takes one up onto the top of the hills to some of the most expansive and lovely countryside I know, and I am fortunate enough to have access to the place. It is the source of the Poort stream, and has some lovely still waters with a good head of Trout in them.
Off to the South East of this plateau of vlei land, the iMpendle road winds its way along an upland valley , with Rainbow Lakes, and other magnificent dams in the Furth Catchment, off to the East side of the road: The Old Dam; Smiths; The Doctor’s syndicate, and many others.
The road then descends the Furth cutting, where, if you dare take your eyes off the precipitous road, you look down onto a cascade of white water where the Furth breaks through beside iNhlosane mountain, and descends towards the uMgeni below.
The walk up iNhlosane is a strenuous one if you are unfit, as I was reminded last week, when we went up there. But the view is a magnificent one, which makes it all worthwhile .It is a view that encompasses the entire uMgeni Valley in the “trout zone”.
Sitting atop the boulders above the cliffs you can trace the river’s descent off the top of the hills from Mpumulwane, down its own gorge beside the similar shaped iNhlezela mountain, on through uMgeni- Poort, and Wakefield, and to the farms “Furth” and “Brigadoon”, which I am very pleased to report the NFFC has access to again. This is lovely trout water.
There is some pretty thin stuff, and by that I mean both pretty and thin, where the water slides over smooth bedrock. This is beguiling water, where shadows and glides play with your eyes, and what you think are fish turn out to be crevices in the rock. And the Trout that are there are never where you think they should be. And then there are some seriously deep and mysterious looking pools, where try as you may, you can’t get a sense of how deep they really are, and what lives down there. But I can tell you that some good Trout live down there. I have on two occasions seen fish of over three pounds come out of Brigadoon.
Below Brigadoon there is positively the longest pool you will ever encounter, on the farm called Knowhere. It is over a kilometre long, deep and slow, and with a population of feisty little Browns that I last fished for many years ago.
Below that the river glides in a large sweep along the base of steep South facing hills covered in natural forest.
It was here that as a student myself and two friends drove a VW beetle down a steep track through the forest, standing on the brakes all the way down to the river where we were to fish for the day. Then at the bottom, in an awesome display of student wisdom we decided we needed to remove the wheels to let the brakes cool. So there stood the beetle on little cairns of stones, in the ryegrass field, while we went off to catch Trout.
Below this is the farm Chestnuts, that Neville Nuttall wrote so fondly of:
In Dargle Stream the Brown Trout lie
And tantalise the passer- by.
They will not rise at times laid down
in books perused by Men from Town.
But if you patiently persist
In brilliant sunshine, wind and mist,
And if you keep casting out
Your flies to tempt the wily Trout,
One day you’ll have a screaming real
This is of course NFFC water too, and well worth a try. I have fished Chestnuts many times, but not so in recent years and have vowed to get back there soon and re-acquant myself with its Trout. Chestnuts is more difficult to fish than I think it was in Neville Nuttall’s day. It has its share of wattles and brambles and the usual bankside vegetation, and getting in and out of the river requires a bit of bundu bashing. That is to say, if you are not bundu bashing, you are probably missing the best fishing. And good fishing there is. This stretch has always produced a fair number of fish between one and two pounds. You will get them on nymphs sunk deep in the pools and in tight, against steep undercut banks. And all of this will demand that you get dirty and wet, and get into the river to really experience it properly.
Below Chestnuts and the road, the river plunges over a waterfall into a gorge , which many consider signals the end of the Trout water. Of course this is not entirely true, and the ‘forestry section’ as it is known has some very good water , much of it not explored by fly-fishermen in many years (and that includes a little known tributary called Walter’s creek).
I was last on the forestry section too many years ago. But around that time I do recall a glorious September day on the uMgeni at Chestnuts with the late Mick Huntley, on which we both hit it right and made pigs of ourselves. Mick gave me a fly he was tying at the time, made entirely of Guinea Fowl feather.
I still have that fly, stuck in an album with a photo of Mick beside a row of really decent river Browns, and one Rainbow, of over two pounds.
That is the only Rainbow I have ever caught from the uMgeni. Unless of course you count the one I caught in the tiny stream that is the uMgeni in its headwaters , alongside Lake Overbury. That is above the Mpumulwane gorge, where the river has come together from Lake Lyndhurst in a definable channel for the first time.
Above Lake Lyndhurst you can’t really claim to be on the uMgeni river as such, but the threads of streams lead up to some lovely lakes tucked up there in the linen folds of grassland. These gems ice up around the margins on winter mornings, when your lips are so blue you can’t speak any of your three languages.
It’s wild country, where the grass doesn’t get to grow very long, and the wind blows a lot.
A perfect setting for a decent Trout stream to set out on its journey through your life and memories.