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THE ULTIMATE ANGLING BUCKET LIST

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8 of the 88 sharks weighing in excess of 200 pounds<br />

1 individual shark touching on three 300 pounds<br />

To me that is irrefutable evidence for the most impressive shore fishing in the world. Accumulated by<br />

a party of UK anglers fishing the surf beaches of Namibia in February 1999, at the time it took place,<br />

this trip is thought to represent the most productive surf fishing trip ever made.<br />

Namibia back then was one of the newest countries in Africa, encompassing one of the oldest, and<br />

certainly one of the hottest deserts on earth. Don't however read too much into the hot desert bit as it<br />

can be very cold down on the beach, and for up to maybe half a mile or so inland. So much so in fact<br />

that fleece jackets might even need to be worn.<br />

A little intervention from one of the coldest places on earth is actually the main driving force behind<br />

both this fact and this remarkable marine and coastal ecosystem. For this region, known as the skeleton<br />

coast, receives cool nutrient rich water all the way from Antarctica carried northwards by the Benguela<br />

Current.<br />

Our guide for the trip was Namibian international shore angler Johan Berger. A man whose enthusiasm,<br />

work rate, and temperament, make him one of the finest fishing guides anyone could ever hope to meet.<br />

At eight o'clock prompt he would pick us up at the Hansa Hotel, and would not pack up until either<br />

everyone in the group was satisfied with the fishing, or it was no longer light enough to see.<br />

He would then make the long trek back along the featureless salt tracks of the Namib Desert to our base<br />

at Swakopmund, usually in total darkness. Just time for a quick shower, a bite to eat, and a few hours<br />

sleep, then it would start all over again.<br />

Other than the occasional mile marker, out on the desert salt tracks there are no sign posts to pick up<br />

on. But like a cruise missile programmed to find a specific target, Johan would suddenly detour from<br />

the track out across the desert sands to the lip of a steep surf beach. There he would stand for a few<br />

minutes watching, looking at the surf tables, water colour, and current.<br />

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