THE ULTIMATE ANGLING BUCKET LIST

INDIA
India has always held a fascination for me. In the war, my dad was based there in the army before going
into Burma, and he always spoke highly of the place, particularly Kashmir. Then more recently, while
running a DNA trace on my ancestry, I found that my mothers side originated there some three and a
half thousand years ago. Two potential reasons then for my being drawn to the place. Not unfortunately
though for the quality of its fishing.
Desperate to wet a line somewhere, I
was torn between the coast and the
inland waters fishing for mahseer.
Unfortunately, mahseer fishing has
slipped a long way since the days of
empire when treble figure fish were
regularly caught in the mountain
rivers. So the coast it would have to
be. But easier said than done.
On my first visit, which was to the
south of the country to the state of
Kerela, I particularly struggled.
Eventually I found a tuc tuc driver
who claimed to know people in a
Phill Williams bringing a Grouper aboard
nearby fishing village. But on the day
we visited there was some sort of
stand-off between the villages Christian and Muslim communities taking place, at which point an army
bus arrived full of very tall men in uniforms with big sticks who beat seven bells out of everybody, and
that was the end of that.
In the evenings we would dine at one of the shacks down on the beach from where I could see the lights
of numerous fishing boats out there working offshore.
At that time Kerela was a still dry state, so unless you registered as an alcoholic, you couldn't get a
drink. Well, shouldn't have got a drink. To get around the ban they would bring beer to the table in a
teapot which was quite amusing, and talking to the people at the shack, I managed to track down a chap
with a boat who might take me out for a few hours one morning to the fishing fleet.
When it happened, I did manage a bit of fishing, catching just a few trigger fish. The commercial boats
on the other hand, which were a mix of battered old things up to maybe eighteen feet in length, plus a
scattering of dug out canoes, had quite a mix of half decent fish amongst which I recognised scabbards
and cobia. But they had been fishing after dark, and my man wouldn't budge on that one. So once again,
that was the end of that.
Determined to get some proper fishing in, my next visit to India was to Goa, and on this occasion I put
in the time on the Internet looking to find some fishing opportunities before I went.
Not the easiest of tasks I can tell you. Quite often you would pick up a thread on either an individual or
a club, only to find no contact details. On other occasions it would be an email address and nobody
would come back to you. Very frustrating.
Eventually I came across a chap called Tony Estrocio based at Dona Paula at the entrance to the
Mandovi River near Panjim who did reply. An ex-commercial diver, Tony had a fast boat of around
twenty feet which he operated for diving and fishing. So with dates booked and taxi's arranged to get
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