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THE ULTIMATE ANGLING BUCKET LIST

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The fishing itself was straight forward enough. I had my own<br />

tackle, but none the less I let the skipper advise on the<br />

terminal gear. He's the man who does it every day, so no<br />

point in wasting time, though as it turned out it too was quite<br />

basic. A single hook dropper rig tied from very heavy<br />

monofilament with a weak link for the lead.<br />

Bait was equally un-fussed. I seem to remember there being<br />

squid, huge shrimps, and cut fish. A case of just loading it<br />

on, sending it down, and hanging on in there poised for<br />

action, knowing that you had to be brutal and quick by not<br />

letting a fish, however powerful it might be, have its head<br />

and power dive down in to the rough where it would be lost.<br />

Easier said than done. Sometimes you would feel fish biting,<br />

hit them, and would have little trouble clearing the snags.<br />

They still fought hard and were a handful, but manageable<br />

due to their smaller size. Then on other occasions, what<br />

initially felt like the exactly the same bite would suddenly<br />

develop in to a mad uncontrollable power diving rush which<br />

the fish would invariably win.<br />

Not always, but usually. Very powerful fish, which judging Trevally, Barrier Reef<br />

by what we did actually get to the boat were huge snappers,<br />

groupers, or jacks. Exciting, but very frustrating at the same<br />

time, with lots for arm wrenching physical exertions, and often precious little to show for it at the end.<br />

BORNEO<br />

I went over to Borneo completely clueless, knowing that whatever I found out there fishing-wise, if<br />

anything at all, would have to be done on the hoof.<br />

Considering the nature of the place and its tropical rain forest coverage, it's actually quite well developed<br />

in a couple of the major centres, with the contrast of a beautiful new marina faced off by a collection of<br />

battered old tin shacks sprawling out in to the water surrounded by rubbish on the opposite side of the<br />

road.<br />

So they had boats there, which was a start. They also had a lot of jungle rivers supposedly full of fish<br />

like jungle perch. But where, and how could I get access to any of them was the problem.<br />

I did get to look at one river when we headed off up into the jungle on a battered old train belonging to<br />

the North Borneo Railway, built by the British in the 1890's, aboard what looked to be the very same<br />

trains judging by the one we had, which leaked during the regular afternoon down pour through holes<br />

in the roof.<br />

Not that getting wet mattered as it was warm, on top of which we'd just body rafted through the white<br />

water sections of the river on our way back downstream to pick up the next station, with no real hint of<br />

any likely spots or possibilities to freshwater fish. And so it went for the first few days, with a spot of<br />

beach fishing always looking the most likely candidate.<br />

That being the case, one morning I made my way down through the hotel grounds to the tree's fringing<br />

the beach to weigh up my options, passing a cat taunting a cobra on the lawn en route, only to be faced<br />

off by a herd of buffalo bathing in the sea where I'd intended to fish.<br />

411

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