Fly Fishing & Trekking in Gabon west Africa

It will be dark soon, can you handle what's coming?
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Photo: Dylan Rose

"Hi DimeBrite, this is Dylan. I don't suppose you want to got to Africa with me to chase monster tarpon from the beach and then track gorillas in the jungle with pygmy trackers at the end of the month?"
I read the text and thought Gabon. "Sette Cama?"
"Yeah, this just came up on Friday and just starting the planning process. I'm going to go for sure."

I knew about it from fishing articles, but never thought I would find a trusted fishing partner who would do that kind of tough trip. Now a figure from my Avid Angling past was going. "Yeah, I'll go." Just say yes and figure out the details later, we would leave in less than 6 weeks.

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My wife sounded concerned when I explained the trip plan. "You never mentioned Gabon before. Are there bugs, is it hot?"
"Just a few mosquitos and flies, no big deal."
I had just gotten my yellow fever shot, typhoid fever shot, anti-malarial pills, and antibiotics. I pulled out my old mosquito net and sprayed an entire bottle of permethrin on shirts, pants, and socks. Toss it all into the travel bag along with extra fly lines for the 9, 10, and 12 weights (floating, intermediate, and fast sinking). Oh, and the stripping basket and rain coat too!

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Walking down the beach at Libreville, Gabon we enjoyed the African sunset enroute to meeting Rob Scott of Africa Waters. Rob welcomed us at the Tropicana along with his two trusted guides, Ewan and Teddy, and an enthusiastic English adventuress just finishing up her long trek in Gabon. Rob explained that the Gabonese people and leadership have a strong cultural belief in staying connected with nature, which has enabled the nationwide protection of wildlife and fisheries. In 2002, the government established 13 national parks to promote ecotourism and protect its natural resources. Later I came to fully appreciate the complex logistics that Rob has carefully put into place to make his fishing operation here successful. His optimism, charisma, connections, and energy are essential to his endeavors across Africa. “We figured out the tides that work best for fly fishing here” he said while nodding at the crescent moon over my shoulder. “Now we need the rainy season to begin to get some fresh water moving out of the lagoon”.

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In the morning, we met the other four anglers and caught our air transport out of Libreville. A pair of French ex-military pilots took us on a hair raising ride over the coastal jungles and lagoons before executing a corkscrew landing at the petroleum settlement of Gamba. Pipelines, fuel tanks, and red dirt roads are the sum of civilization at Gamba. An old truck drove us and our food stocks to the marina on the southwest corner of the huge Ndogo lagoon system. A heavy green fiberglass boat would be our transport into the heart of the lagoon, taking us north to Sette Cama (population 30 on a busy day).

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The sleepy village of Sette Cama is just south of the boundary with pristine Loanga National Park. The surf of the Atlantic Ocean is on the west side of town and the endless dark tannic waters of the Ndogo Lagoon are on the east side. Its people mainly fish and work in the ecotourism business. The golden sand beaches are wild, and you can hike them north or south for many miles without seeing another person or settlement. It is true wilderness, spoiled only by some plastic debris washing up from the Congo River to the south.

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Photo: Dylan Rose

Home base was a rustic but sturdy series of huts with a main lodge for us to gather for meals, preparing our gear, and discuss fishing plans. Arriving here was the death of sleep. Already severely jet lagged, I never slept more than 3 hours at a time at Sette Cama. We took two short naps during the day when fishing died under the equatorial sun. Late at night after long evening fishing sessions we crawled into bed for a short rest before waking for a pre-dawn start.

The guides' orientation was short and simple. "Don't ever wade above your knees", the Zambezi sharks (bull sharks) are numerous and feed aggressively in the surf zone. "Forest elephants come into camp at night and early mornings, they can be very aggressive so wear your head lamps". We all had 1200 lumen head lamps on us when the sun was down, and especially for the night fishing in the surf zone. "If you have to choose between a charging bull elephant and the Zambezi sharks, take your chances in the water with the sharks. The elephant is certain death." Other than that, we rigged the 9 weights with 40 or 50 pound straight fluoro leaders and the 12 weights with 100 pound straight fluoro leaders. I used two 9 weights in the boat for morning sessions, one with a floating line and the other with an intermediate shooting head line; flies were large Clousers, EP baitfish, or smaller brush flies. At night I fished two 12 weights, one with a full sink intermediate line and the other with a fast sink tip line. Flies were bulky mullet imitations 6-7 inches long, tied on super strong Gamakatsu SL15-2H hooks 3/0 or 4/0. All my reels had very strong drags and either 60 or 80 pound gel-spun backing.

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Photo: Dylan Rose

Our first practice session was a short trip out to the mouth of the lagoon where it empties into the surf zone. Arriving before sunset allowed us to study the surroundings before the real fishing began during darkness. The inside corner of the lagoon on the south shore was usually gentler waters, with water moving in or out depending upon the tide. A sandy shelf formed at the wave line at our feet, and the guides warned us "Never step over the edge". Packs of longfin crevalle jacks occasionally moved through near the beach feeding on baitfish. My first fish in Africa was a hard fighting longfin jack that evening. Guinean barracuda explosively jumped in the lagoon channel as they fed on the congregating mullet. A five foot blacktip shark shot up into the air and landed with a crash right next to the beach. But the tarpon always stayed away during sunlight. Looking across at the north shore as I stripped flies I watched for elephants, hippos or monkeys hidden in the thick forest to reveal themselves.

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Photo: Dylan Rose

The surf zone was intimidating to fly fish. Wave sets were big and violent, casting a fly had to be timed carefully to keep in the feeding zone. Other guests quickly put down the fly rods and used surf casting rods to present big barrel poppers or swim baits. Several times I saw large Zambezi sharks zipping past the shallow silty foam line in front of me. It was unnerving as hell. Any fish hooked here needed to be fought hard and landed with caution. I pulled out my head lamp as the remnants of sunlight dimmed behind thick dark clouds on the horizon. I felt like Riddick grimly waiting to face the horrors the twilight would bring. Night came fast and was beyond dark. We had to cast with head lamps off, using faint blue bioluminescence and sounds of crashing fish to direct casts. You felt very alone at night, even if another angler was only 100 feet away, you couldn't see them unless a light was turned on to remove a line tangle or tie on a new fly. It was just you and your casts, retrieving while listening for packs of predatory fish that ghosted into the lagoon to feed. Sneaker waves coming in behind you pushed your legs closer to the forbidden deep ledge. Don't nod off, stay alert! After a couple of hours the guides called it. "Okay guys, the big fish just aren't showing up on this tide tonight. Let's get some sleep and hit the lagoon early in the morning." Motoring back to Sette Cama, I marveled at how the Gabonese boatmen navigated the winding channel in darkness without GPS. To fish successfully here, we would also just need to function well at night.

To be continued... Lagoon Fish
 
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swimmy

An honest tune with a lingering lead
Dime is one of my favorite posters here and find myself pulling for the rams just cause. Fitting that he puts up the tr of the year.

Curious to see what's next. Well done.
 

DimeBrite

Saltwater fly fisherman
Part 3: The Lagoon Mouth Rodeo and Night Fishing Madness

The guides Ewan and Teddy had quietly talked amongst themselves earlier at the dock. "Will the tide coefficient be right to drift through the exit channel for big snapper?" Only one way to find out, our boat would be the first to do a trial run. Drift with the outgoing tide through the lagoon exit into the surf zone while casting and retrieving big flies behind holding structure. "Stand up onto the bow DimeBrite, and if you don't mind I'll hold onto the back of your shirt to make sure you don't fall out of the boat. This would be a bad spot for that". Awkward, but so long as I can cast and maneuver... I launched a big black & purple fat boy mullet fly into a current break slick as we approached the standing surf waves. My second strip connected to a heavy fish and I strip set the hell out of it. A moment later, Dylan was hooked up too.
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Photo: Dylan Rose
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Photo: Dylan Rose
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This snapper had serious mass and power compared to the others we caught further inside the lagoon. I cringed when I felt the fly line of my 9 weight rubbing against a submerged rocky shelf as the Cubera powered its way back into its lair. Fortunately as the boat drifted down current, the angle became right to pull him out from structure up into the water column. I got it reeled up close to the boat and saw its huge girth and tail as it rolled at the surface. We beached it for quick photos and a strong release, Teddy estimated it was 20kg. This was the Cubera snapper I was hoping for in Gabon, an awesome fish and fight! Dylan's first snapper came off, but as we did a few more drifts he connected to another nice one with white stripes that we got into the beach.

Daytime back at camp was usually quiet and relaxed, throngs of weaver birds sang as they busily built their complicated nests. The drill was to take a nap while waiting for lunch, eat, discuss the evening fishing plan, and either do a beach walk or take a second nap. Extra sleep was the key to functioning during night fishing. The one time I drank too much coffee and skipped nap time was the night I started hallucinating on the water. No bueno. When we woke up from second nap, the mood was serious. The 12 weights needed to be serviced, fly lines replaced, and fresh fluoro leaders and new flies tied on. The trio of anglers from Switzerland and the gentleman from England also brought along bait and gear rods, so the boats were full of rods when we set out for the night fishing. The tides dictated when we showed up and the fishing action decided how long into the night we stayed, sometimes it was beyond 2:00 am.
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Photo: Dylan Rose
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Photo: Dylan Rose

We would park the boats next to the massive smoldering palm log, which glowed pink like a giant cigar in the fading light. That log was a good reference point in the darkness and provided warmth. A simple pole rack was headquarters. Lean up your spare rods and drop the packs off. When a huge fish blew us up, we floundered in the darkness until finding headquarters to repair the rig or grab a back-up.

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Giant packs of longfin crevalle jacks violently fed offshore in the sunset hours, then vanished at full darkness. Occasionally they would move in very close to the beach at the surf zone and could be picked off if you watched for them.
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Photo: Dylan Rose

Senegalese Kob (similar to Dusky Kob) are a really cool looking fish with silver/green scales. They only showed up in the shallows one or two evenings for maybe an hour or two at a time. Senegalese Kob readily eat flies stripped slowly along the bottom. The fight is strong in the beginning with a good run or two after the hookset, then they slide in fairly easily for a quick release.
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African Threadfin were high on my wish list on this trip to Gabon. Alas, we were not able to catch one on flies! Two threadfin were caught by our group on gear in the evening surf using a rattle swim bait. I watched Michael from Switzerland fight and land this stout threadfin and was impressed with their strength. When he tried to grab the tail for a pose and photo, the threadfin repeatedly swat him back with powerful tail kicks. Ewan, the guide, told us that when the rainy season is in full gear, the African threadfin fill the lagoon entrance and can be caught on flies nearly every cast. Our group missed the start of the rainy season, but it would be more than worth a return trip to catch one of these big boys on the fly.
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The big tarpon gave us all hell, they went undefeated in battle. Dylan did land a teener juvenile tarpon during our week though. We had good shots at big tarpon on two out of six evening sessions, lasting for 2 hours maximum. The delay of the rainy season and the fresh water that flushes food through the lagoon system hurt our chances. Even so, we hooked them up on flies several times.

So what happened with the huge tarpon and Cubera snapper? What about the Zambezi sharks? Everybody experienced the night fishing in their own cocoon of darkness, sound, and violent tugging. Here are a few big fish encounter summaries that made this trip epic to me.

Trucked by a Cubera
The third evening thick clouds and light rain arrived for our late evening beach session. The tides were ideal and we were hoping some tarpon or big snapper would arrive that pitch black night. Teddy, the guide, instructed me to fish a 12 weight fast sinking line at the turbulent sand bar zone. "The water is still high enough for big Cubera to come up to feed on the mullet over the sand bar. Cast as far as you can and slowly retrieve a big black fly. Be bold and wade out, but not too far. Strobe your headlamp if you hook one, I'll be back to check on you." The surf was like a foamy washing machine and line control was tough in the darkness. After a few minutes, I found my rhythm and was casting the entire fly line into the swirling waves. Teddy returned and was chatting with me as I continued my slow, steady two-handed retrieve. Then I felt a fish messing with the fly, and I stripped faster into it until I felt solid mass. "Fish on! Definitely a big fish!" I grunted as I hammered home multiple hooksets using both clenched fists. I had the rod tucked into my right armpit when the Cubera took off, and I could feel the handle of my Nautilus reel wildly pummeling my back like a blender. I transitioned the rod, locked down the drag to max, and palmed the rim hard to slow down the snapper. My NRX was bent to the cork and the guides vibrated under the tension of the gel-spun backing. "Use your legs! Pull him back up the beach and wind the reel as you charge the surf" Teddy urged. "Now let's move him off the sand bar, pull him left into the deeper water of the surf!" I stopped his run, and started working him towards the beach with each hard-earned wind of the reel. After 5 minutes I got some fly line back onto the reel, then more. For the next 10 minutes the Cubera made more runs, but not as long. I was tiring it out, still this was a very big strong fish that wouldn't break easily. The other anglers came over to watch, and I was blinded by their powerful headlamps. Later, Dylan showed me his Blair Witch quality video of the Cubera battle, it was hilarious. The fight continued... I would gain fly line and the Cubera would pull it back out. After about 25 minutes we were just seesawing 80 feet off the beach, and Teddy suspected the Cubera had tucked into a rocky ledge. As I was pulling it out the fly line snapped, and it was over. Brutal! That Cubera was a fucking monster.

Tarpon Terror
An hour or so after my trophy Cubera battle ended, I repositioned a little bit further inside the lagoon entrance into calmer waters. The tide was starting to switch, and I began swinging a black mullet fly using my intermediate fly line 12 weight. Somewhere in the water in front of me I was starting to hear big fish crashing. Each species sounds different as it feeds. Barracuda are splashy, snapper crash the surface, and tarpon have a resonant thumping surface strike. I thought I was hearing tarpon. I looked down the beach to the right and saw a headlamp coming towards me like a distant train, then I heard excited voices yelling. One of the Swiss anglers had hooked something big on a gear rod and it was pulling him down the beach towards the Atlantic in a hurry. I cleared out of the way and watched him run by with a bent rod and worried look on his face. Then darkness and silence returned. I resumed casting, and could hear the thump-splash sounds again down current from me. I bombed out each cast and slowly stripped it back as it quartered downcurrent. Another tarpon struck near where my fly was swimming, then two pulls later I felt pressure on the fly line. I two-hand stripped into it, felt the massive weight and hookset it multiple times. "Tarpon! Big!" I yelled into the night. I heard an epic thrashing jump and splash down, then the fly line disappeared into the void with the reel handle pummeling my armpit all over again. Teddy appeared out of nowhere to guide the fight. "Make sure the drag is set tight. Pull him left down the beach toward the surf." The tarpon jumped a couple more times in the distance, Teddy's headlight catching its silver scaled body in flashes. I pulled and reeled backing as hard and fast as possible. While it was huge (easily over 150 pounds) the tarpon was cooperating by moving to the deeper water of the surf zone at the lagoon outlet. After 5 minutes of pulling, reeling, and wild tarpon jumps Teddy excitedly declared "You got him over the sand bar! We can land him here, but you have a lot of line to gain back." I dug into the process of pulling up the beach and winding line onto the reel as I charged back down to the water. Then the tarpon made a sudden hard run and popped off. Teddy and Ewan inspected the end of my broken fly line and declared "Zambezi shark made a pass at the tarpon and cut your fly line with its rough skin. Sorry mate!" Damn! This night was the most thrilling fly fishing I've ever experienced, and I didn't even land a fish. My adrenaline was through the roof all night, I barely slept. The Swiss angler who had hooked up earlier that night also lost his big shark or tarpon, leaving him with a pulled bicep muscle. When we arrived back at the lodge, he asked me "How can we land these fish, they are so powerful?" My only answer was "We just need to hook more and keep fighting them hard."

The next night, we were determined to hook more tarpon and land some. We arrived at the lagoon outlet after dark, and tarpon were already feeding near the beach! The sky was clear enough for some moonlight to shine, and we could see tarpon strikes on the helpless schools of 7" mullet. Dylan tied on a light tan mullet fly and was hooking into tarpon periodically. I couldn't see it very well, but could hear his hookset, some thrashing in the water, and then tippet snapping. After the third time a tarpon broke off, I heard some understandable swearing. But the fourth tarpon break-off had a tippet or line snapping sound followed by a thunder crack of the 12 weight rod breaking. His roar pierced the night. Oh shit! I ran over to beach headquarters and grabbed my back-up 12 weight for him to use. Later that night, he hooked and landed the only tarpon of the week.
Meanwhile, I switched over to the light tan mullet fly and waited for the tide to shift to outgoing. My section of beach would fish better with that current flow based on the action the night before. Sure enough, tarpon began to feed downstream of my retrieve zone. I strip set a good tarpon of about 70 pounds and hit my strobe light. Ewan ran over and we began to strategize the fight. "This is a medium sized tarpon, I can land him." I was confident I could control this fish. It was expending energy with several jumps and hadn't pulled out too much backing on its big first run. We were maneuvering the tarpon toward the tricky sandbar zone, but it was resisting my efforts to coax him over the bar. The tarpon exploded up for another big gill rattling jump as I was winding line. It spit out the fly. In the darkness it is hard to know when to "bow to the king" ahead of a jump. What can you say? Catching Gabon tarpon from the beach is tough.

The Swiss Take on a Zambezi
On the final night of fishing, the trio of Swiss anglers wanted to do battle with a Zambezi shark. To pull it off, they needed to catch two medium sized longfin jacks to use as live bait. They set-up the shark rig in the heavy surf zone, then jumped into a boat to track down a school of jacks. The sun was going down, but at the last moment they doubled up on jacks and landed them. I was watching from the north side of the channel and was laughing as they beached the boat and ran to the shark rod cradling their live jacks. They told me the hooked jack swam only 30 feet out into the surf before a big Zambezi hammered it. Each took turns fighting the shark, but it was hardly aware it had been hooked. After 15 minutes or so it broke off to their collective relief. As a consolation prize they did catch a pair of less fearsome guitarfish.


To be Continued... Trekking with Army Ants to the Akaka Swamps
 
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mcswny

Legend
Forum Supporter
I think I read "The fly line snapped" Three times.
Are you referring to leader or actual fly line?

If fly lines, how many did you bring knowing this was going to happen?!
 

SilverFly

Life of the Party
Forum Supporter
Man, I'd be tempted to go just for the Cuberas. Not sure why, but getting a big snapper on fly gear has been stuck in my head for some time now.

I tried in Baja. Got one grab in a boiler of big dogtooth that looked to be in the 20-40# range, but stupidly was fishing a circle hook pattern. I can still feel the hook clicking across those teeth as I strip set. Likely just as well. After that we broke off 3 in a row on heavy bait gear. They'd grab on the surface and dive onto the rocks 80' below.

Impressive feat landing one on a 12wt, or any of those beasts in those conditions!
 

Tallguy

Steelhead
I might have been better off not reading this trip report.
I now know where Gabon is. I may, or may not, have looked up prices for flights to Gabon. I may, or may not, have used Google Earth to identify estuary habitats in this country, or searched for specific locations. I may, or may not, have found out when the rainy season is and how that relates to my work schedule. I may, or may not, have emailed Africa Waters. I may, or may not, have mentally come up with an explanation to my wife of why a perfectly happy dad with 2 young children has to unexpectedly go to Africa. I may have an idea of how much new equipment for this trip would cost me.

I am not of the opinion that any of this knowledge is a positive development in my life.
 

SilverFly

Life of the Party
Forum Supporter
I now know where Gabon is. I may, or may not, have looked up prices for flights to Gabon. I may, or may not, have used Google Earth to identify estuary habitats in this country, or searched for specific locations. I may, or may not, have found out when the rainy season is and how that relates to my work schedule. I may, or may not, have emailed Africa Waters. I may, or may not, have mentally come up with an explanation to my wife of why a perfectly happy dad with 2 young children has to unexpectedly go to Africa. I may have an idea of how much new equipment for this trip would cost me.

I am not of the opinion that any of this knowledge is a positive development in my life.
I think you need to go to take baseline water quality samples. You know, "research". ;)
 
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