Fishing at Kasaba Bay

From Great North Road

Six day’s at Kasaba Bay

By Peter Pratt.

With my work colleague John Stewart, I spent a six-day fishing trip at Kasaba Bay between Boxing Day and New Year 1966.

On the Boxing-Day we flew with Central African Airways from Ndola to Abercorn, staying overnight at the Grasshopper Inn. There, we were guests of Peter Parton before taking us to Kasaba Bay the following day.

After all the introductions with the other guests, Peter told us that Kalambo Falls is worth a visit. It didn’t take John and me long to dump our bags and follow the group that made up our party to see the falls.

We followed a narrow trail along the crest of sheer cliffs of the gorge that separated Zambia and Tanzania, where hundreds of Marabou stalks nested in the craggy rocks. I was in awe at my first site of the falls. Its water glistened like a continuous silver ribbon, plunging, uninterrupted into the gorge below. At 726ft, I didn’t realise at the time that the Kalambo Falls were the second highest in Africa.

From another advantage point on the escarpment I didn’t imagine until then, the vastness of Lake Tanganyika. It was like a sea of glass, shimmering 1,000ft below us in the setting sun.

With our group we ended that first evening on the hotel stoep getting to know each other and enjoying the traditional ‘Rhodesian Sundowners.’ Some of the people were from Rhodesia, a farmer, an engineer and business people. I think the oldest in the group I recall was Alf Pederson from Kitwe; he was with his wife and young son.

Next day, after a hearty breakfast, Land Rovers took us down to Lake Tanganyika, about a twenty-five mile drive along rutted dirt roads. Reaching Mpulungu, a village noted for its fishing industry, I saw people gathered on the shore landing fish from several small craft. More people were laying out the catch to dry in the sun. The stench of fish aroused my thoughts of my home town of Grimsby in the north east of England, that at one time was one of the largest fishing ports in the world.

We boarded Parton’s trimaran, a small three hulled craft with a canopy over part of the deck for shade against the blazing sun. After an hour or so I felt the vessel slow, our guide shouted ‘anyone for a swim?’ Several were already in the water, but not being too good a swimmer I made my way down the steps and just breast stroked for a few yards. The water was icy cold, but refreshingly welcome.

At this point we are about ½ mile from shore. Our skipper said, ‘how deep do you think it is here?’ After a few wild guesses from the swimmers, 100ft, 150, 50ft. He laughed and said, ‘it’s more than a 1000ft deep!’ I looked down into the dark green depths then decided to get out and have another beer!

We arrived at Kasaba Bay in the early afternoon and waved good-by to our happy skipper and his crew as his vessel pulled away to head back to Mpulungu. Jack Curtis introduced himself as the camp manager and welcomed us to Kasaba Bay. Jack was slightly built, but had a strong, wiry, physique and was always full of fun. The camp was made up of several stone-built, thatched-roof dwellings that could easily accommodate up to six people.

Jack asked us all to meet in the main building that was pointed out to us as we were given our accommodation. There he introduced his wife (whose name escapes me), and his staff that would be attending to all our needs during our stay.

He warned us about the elephants that roam at will, all times of the day and night. He couldn’t emphasise enough that they are wild and dangerous. As a warning sign when elephant are about, they switch on the lights surrounding the main building. That way everyone knows elephants are in the camp area.

Close to the main building and restaurant there is an enormous, round, but open-sided thatched-roof building that’s constructed around a huge tree. It’s there we all gathered and discussed the days fishing over refreshments. Although one could fish almost all day, most preferred early mornings if taking out one of the motor boats, or late afternoon from the jetty; it was much too hot after lunch. Packs of sandwiches, fruit and flasks of tea or coffee and cold drinks were available for the early risers who missed breakfast.

One day, taking a break from fishing, we were taken to peaceful bay called ‘Pebble Beach’. Naturally, being in a game park, we were accompanied by an armed guard. Although we were not allowed to swim we still had to be aware of predators in and out of the water, and like most I had a refreshingly cool ankle paddle in the shallows. It was along the beach I found a huge tooth that I showed to Jack Curtis, who told me it, may well be a back tooth of a hippo. It was the size of a cricket ball, and I still have it along among other artefacts from my African travels.

In Kasaba Bay, one natural phenomenon that can be witnessed is the everyday sight of elephants strolling through the camp with their laid-back, almost ghostly gait. And quite often while we were having our afternoon get-togethers in the tree house elephant would silently approach, their trunks sniffing like vacuum hoses. At these times everyone would quietly move out of ‘trunk’ range, very swiftly, but not as to startle the lovely great creatures.

Jack Curtis’s party piece was to feed a bun or sweet-potato attached at the end of a long bamboo-cane to the elephants he could trust, but with extreme caution. One elderly female Jack had affectionately named ‘Broken Tusk.’ She would come for snacks during her daily visit to the camp. I well remember when a young bull elephant strolled along the jetty while John and I were fishing just before sundown. We soon jumped into a nearby boat and paddled some yards away until the elephant decided to turn back.

During our daily fishing-trips on the lake it wasn’t unusual to see pods of hippo wallowing in the shallower waters or waterbuck and many more species slaking their thirst. Along the lakes shores, huge crocodiles, some at least 16ft lay sunning themselves on sand banks. And one morning outside the main building Jack showed us the spoor of hyena. It looked like a lump of chalk the shape and size of an ice cream cone. ‘They often come scrounging during nightfall,’ Jack told me.

Between us John and I caught several of the much-prized ‘Tiger’ fish, ranging from 2-8 lb, these, along with a number of small Nile Perch, Catfish and Bream. Proudly I still have my fishing certificate signed by Jack Curtis which made me a member of the Golden Perch Club. My biggest fish was a twenty-nine pound Nile Perch, not a huge fish, but to me it made my holiday memorable.

It would be nice to hear from anyone that was on that holiday or who might have relatives on the photos. If I have got names wrong please excuse me, as unfortunately at the time I didn’t write down names, and 40 years is a long time.