Haruan Haruan Everywhere.

Haruan Haruan Everywhere was published in the April 2000 issue of Rod and Line Fishing Magazine.

     Many a riverine kampung folks had their Hari Raya celebrations dampened by the downpour, which was quite unexpected. As usual with such weather, low-lying areas were denuded by floodwater. The Kampung Gajah area was no exception. A few sections of the road leading to Teluk Intan were immersed in fast flowing water. After a harrowing drive through these stretches, my friends and I managed to reach the Leaning Tower Town (to shop for outboard engine). The whole time we were sweating in our under wears as any mistakes made would result in us being swept off to the side of the road, which by now had turned into a fast flowing river.

     While sweating and squirming, my mind was already thinking of the miles and miles of flat land immersed in water on both sides. You see, the Tumboh River, which meanders through the Pengkalen Nibung area, could not handle the huge volume of water being released by Heaven. As the Kinta River was also swollen due to the numerous tributaries draining into it at the Lower Perak area, the water got no where to go except to find its own level. As the flatland was flooding, the  many tomans, haruans and other denizens that had being eking out a living in overcrowded shrinking patches of marshy land were suddenly being granted excess to the other areas. Imagine a whole bunch of half-starving penitentiary inmates being released into a hall filled with delicious food? Now you know what I was thinking.

Foo holding up his catch.

     Those who grabbed the opportunity that day would get the shiver when served with any haruan dish for a long time to come. Everywhere you look you could see anglers struggling, landing or counting their catches. As for me, I got to squirm for two more days before Foo and I could muster some free time to go. Tumboh River, with its source at the Kledang Range, flows through this area. Due to the rotting vegetation and peat soil, the water is dark in colour, hence the name 'Hark Suei Hor" (Black Water River). A lot of different specie of fish can be found here, but of late due to the deepening and widening work in progress, the fishing here was already kaput.

     Foo and I went our separate ways to cast after reaching the flooded area. The bites were not encouraging, as the water had subsided quite a lot. The hot sun at 3.30p.m. did contribute to it too. By 5.00p.m. cheroots (small haruans) were being landed regularly. Foo was tied to a big fellow that headed straight for some submerged shrubs. That fish would think ten times before chomping on a frog again. Could be a toman by the way it fought. My hunting ground was a small break in the bund on which I was standing. Water was flowing from one side of the bund to the other. Small fish were seen darting and rushing in the current. From the swirls on both sides, I could tell that there were predators doing their work. Let's say 'great minds think alike'.

This young lad was very upset because
I released my catches. Look how the
setting sun cast its beautiful
 yellow rays everywhere.

   I began to cast here and immediately induced a strike. All in all I caught ten haruans, all of which had not qualify for their identity cards yet! While releasing one, I noticed a young local lad speaking to Foo and at the same time gesturing with his forefinger pointing to his head in a circular motion. I knew the meaning of his very uncomplimentary gesture, but I didn't know why he was directing  it at me. Later I found out from Foo that the lad was very upset that I released all my catches. In order to pacify him, I gave him my two latest catches with a short lecture on conservation thrown in. When I left him, he was smiling, but I could bet my bottom dollar that it was not because of the fish that I gave him.

Two local anglers, Abdul Rahim and
 Mohd Husni proudly showing off
their catches. There were plenty
more in their keep-net.

       By Sunday, I could not contain my itch anymore. My better half was dragged along as company because the other kakis were busy. (My wife likes fishing, but hates the sun). Timing our journey, we reached our destination around 4.00p.m. Almost immediately, I was into cheroots again. There is always a limit to everything including fishing. A bit disappointed, my wife and I went over to watch some local ladies fishing for puyus. These very obliging delicacies (puyus of course) were in plentiful supple. The lady we were watching used grasshoppers as baits. (She was geli of worms).

     Once in a while her rod tip was dipped and stirred in the water. Out of curiosity I enquired the reason for the ritual. "Oh, to attract the puyus," was her reply. And it worked!

A local lady fishing for
 puyus. Here she was just
dipping her rod tip and
stirring the water to
 attract fish.

     All this while my attention was occasionally distracted by  the sound of a mother hen clucking to her chicks. Looking around I just could not place where the brood was. This went on for more than half an hour before I finally pinpointed the source of the clucking. Another lady fishing nearby was the 'clucking mother hen'. "To attract fish ah?" I asked. She answered in the affirmative. Well, talk about experience. In all my years of fishing this was the first time I was seeing this. In fishing you just can never stop learning.

     By now a number of locals were out casting for haruans. Rushing over to the hottest hitting spot I joined in the fray. Fish after fish were taken at every other cast. I should have kicked myself  for bypassing this area earlier as the water here was only 30cm deep. After keeping two respectable size haruans as a reward for my wife (she loves haruan porridge) I went over to talk to the locals. Wow! They were having a real good time. It had being ages since I last saw such frenzy feeding from haruans. The usual scenario now is you got to cast until your arms dislocate from your shoulder before getting a strike. In the end I managed to get a few shot of the locals in action before we were forced to run for the car as the sky opened up again. Driving back, I was of two minds as I just love this type of fishing during the rainy seasons, but I prayed that the riverine folks do not have to suffer the rages of the floodwater for it.

     Looking back, all the haruans caught those two days were quite small. Most were cheroots. None were anywhere near those giants that we used to catch regularly in the 60s and 70s. The protective nature of the snakeheads on the whole contributed to their downfall. Once they breed they are in trouble, as it is very easy to locate the parents with their babies coming up for air. And unless they have being hooked and escaped before, they never failed to strike, maybe out of parental instinct. I am always for close season to allow the fish to breed, multiply and grow.

MILLENIUM BASH.

Millennium Bash was published in the March 2000 issue of Rod and Line fishing magazine.

  Everyone started the new millennium with a bang, but yours truly got it off with a loud thud. After two disastrous trips to the  Straits of Malacca at the end of 1999, where we didn't get to wet our lines before heading back to port with our tails between our thighs. I was very weary of this one too. How to fish when even the tied down gas cylinder and stove went flying due to the high waves and rocking boat?

Pang with his silver grunter.
A dwarf compared to his GTs,
 that's another story.

     On 1st January 2000, 11.00 a.m. I stepped onto the deck of Victory still reeking with millennium celebration. My right hand was holding my fishing bag and my left holding my fishing chair. Before you could say "strike" my two feet flew up and I landed with a loud thud right on my butt. Pain shot up my spine and I just lay there holding my aching 'pat yuet sup ng' (buttock). The deck was real slippery after the previous trip and I guessed it had not being properly scrubbed. Looking around I couldn't see any of my friends.They were all hiding at the back of the boat giggling away! Later at the draw for our sitting positions, they had another laugh on me again (I drew number 11....&%$#). Feeling very sore, I climbed up to the cabin to lick my wounded pride.

Another jenahak. This time
caught by Soon Fong.
All jenahaks were caught
 with fresh squids.

     Surprisingly the GPS located the fishing spot (Y2K bugs lah). I pulled up a very presentable chap raya at my first drop. Immediately I bragged that at this rate, my freezer would overflow with fish for the coming Chinese New Year. Maybe someone upstairs dislike braggarts for I only managed to catch three other fish of a kilo each the whole trip.

     At around 7.00 p.m. Soon Fong caught a jenahak of 3.5 kilo and everyone was high in spirit. Soon silver grunters were being landed at regular intervals keeping everyone busy except me. When the sky opened up, everyone hightailed for the cabin. As always, when you are cramped up in a confined space, jokes started to fly. Needless to say my poor aching butt was the center of it. Let me give you some friendly advice. With this bunch, you must not 'jonah' yourself or you would find them rolling on the deck laughing, not unlike the alley cats in the show 'Stuart little'. Subsequently some of us dozed off with the inactivity.

     All of us scrambled out with our hearts in our mouth when Ah Pek shouted, 'Put on your life jackets!" A colossal moving mountain of an ocean going ship passing only twenty metres away confronted us. Talk about close shave! In the rain, we failed to really keep a lookout for approaching ships. It was then we decided to up anchor for the relative safety an area between the 1st and 2nd sea-lane. Maybe God wanted us to move here as the rain stopped and allowed us to do some fishing. Groups of squids came darting here and there, grabbing tiny fish fries or some other small creatures and cruising back and forth. In the half-lighted areas around the boat the squids looked quite eerie. Acting fast, Fong and Kevin pulled up a few foot long specimens, on jigs, which were shared among us. With fresh squids, it was jenahak frenzy for everyone except me, of course.

Looi fighting his ray with
an electric reel. Easy job.

  The action stopped as suddenly as it had started. Looi suddenly was clutching his hand and shouting in pain. We were real concerned for we thought he was bitten by a sea snake (They are extremely poisonous). When the source of the pain was determined, then only can we relax. A piece of jellyfish tentacle got entangled on Looi's line and he grabbed it thinking it was some plastic strands. As always, Pang was very fast in grabbing the opportunity to joke about it. "Let me urinate (ammonia neutralises the sting of the jellyfish) on your palm to stop the pain, " he offered. "This is the only time  you would ever say 'thank you' to me for pissing on you!" he joked. As I have said before, with this bunch you must never ever 'shuei' (mess up) yourself.

Ah Sam untangling a mess
of terminal tackles. A frequent
 occurence in bottom fishing
 when everyone is using
different line poundage
and long leaders.

    The dreaded rain started again. With the sea current totally dead, there was no point in torturing myself by keeping awake. Scurrying into the cabin with the rest, I tried to grab some shuteyes to refresh myself for the next tide change. I awake to the grunting and panting of Pang, He was fighting a seesaw battle with a submarine. By now he was the center of attraction. "A grouper, no a giant jenahak, no a ray lah ..........a chiam choooooo (mayong)," we chorused in cheeky satisfaction. Disappointment was written on Pang's exhausted face. "Well, a 10 kilo chiam choo is better then no fish," we consoled him (with devilish grins on our faces). He felled for it and was so grateful that we were each rewarded with a piece of the fish. Anyway, Pang got the mayong because he was hard working. No doubt the bites were scarce and far between during dead tide, but as long as your bait is in the water, you stand a chance to catch something.

Pang with his mayong.
Very tasty when cooked
in curry, though a bit
 rough ( I mean the fish).

     The tide changed and everyone started to register bites, except me. This school of fishes was a mixed bunch. A few silver grunters here and there and two very presentable mangrove jacks, which really gave a good fight were landed. Looi got a ray of 7 kilo which was not even given a chance by the electric reel. Pang as usual was cracking jokes again about the tail of the ray. He was suggesting that it would make a good whip for torture. Trust Pang to come up with this outrageous suggestion. Suddenly, Ah Choy was seen grunting with a creature on his line. It turned out to be a jenahak of 4 kilo which made him grin from ear to ear. What followed was plate size assortments of bream, groupers and others.

     By now it was daylight. We moved back to the sea-lane to try for groupers. All sorts of baits were thrown in....even whole kembungs, but we only got plate size fish. Suddenly we heard the warning 'onk' of a ship. The source was a ship heading straight at us. When faced with overwhelming odds, don't ever argue about your rights. We hightailed from there for port. While on the way back, Pang got a taste of his own medicine. His bare feet was jutting out of the cabin door while asleep. Kevin stuck a lighted cigarette in between his toes. With the strong breeze fanning it, the lighted part soon reached his toes. You should see how he jumped!

     Overall, it was not a bad trip for everyone except me as I got to sit or sleep on my side all the time. After almost one month, I can still feel some pain while I sit here typing this story.

GREEN PORRIDGE

    



Green Porridge was published in the
 February 2000 issue of Rod and Line
 fishing magazine.

     First the bill, then the head broke the mirror like surface of the sea, shaking its head from left to right. Water droplets were spraying everywhere. The whole episode was flashing past me frame by frame.......like a slow motion video show. For a split second our eyes met and I was mesmerised by the monster. "Sailfish!" everyone gasped in unison. Their shouts jogged me out of my thoughts. Yelling to James to reel in my line, I ran to get my camera hanging from the shelf behind me. I never got there as the monster shot out of he water again. This time it tail-walked from the back of the boat to our left, just five meters away. My mind was telling me to get this shot of a life time, but my legs wanted to watch this show of a lifetime. What a display! I would give an arm and a leg just for this spectacular display in real life and time, instead of watching it on videos. When this more than 70 kilo monster dropped back into the water, Phang's line was shooting out as though hooked onto the Titan Rocket. I managed to grab my camera by which time, the fish was miles away. At that very moment, Phang's Alutecnus 12 worked loose from its reel seat (Murphy's Laws at work). he was gasping, "Finish lah, finish lah." James and Chong were helping him to lock his reel back on, when his line parted with a loud crack. The monster emptied his spool of 30lb mono filament! After this all of us got to suffer and bear with Phang's repeatedly showing and telling us about his burnt thumb (He tried to stop the spool with his thumb). James counted twenty three times!



This todak was the cause
 of me being made a
laughing stock.

     
     Actually high tide was never my favourite time to fish around the Jarak area. Credit should be given to James for his persuasive power (He is a sales personnel). According to him, Phang was organising a trip to Jarak with some freshies from Cameron Highlands. Testing his custom-built rod against the might of the GTs of Jarak was James excuse. How could I refuse when the rod was built by me?
    
      Pushing off from Lumut at 9.30 am, we immediately put out three lines. After securing and setting my reel I dozed off in my fishing chair. The next thing I knew was when I awoke to the excited chatter around me. Jarak was an imposing sight with just tree capped rocky surface jutting out from the clear blue sea.

      Two lines were trolled while James and I were casting with poppers for GTs. After five fruitless times round the island, we got no choice but to drop anchor. There was not much current here, been protected by Jarak. A school of lai mang (rabbit fish) came for lunch and everybody was happy except me. When the fellows on your right, left and back were pulling up fish after fish while you didn't register a bite, the grin on your face would fade and be replaced by a scowl. On top of the taunts like, "What did you do last night, huh?" or "Forgot to bring some pomelo leaves ah?" really was hard to swallow. My oh my,I must be blowing smoke and fire through my nostrils.

Me and my lai mang. James said that in
Hong Kong people pay kerapu price
for lai mang porridge.

 

James and his tau foo yue.
He is always telling about
the big tau foo yue he
 speared during his
numerousdives off Jarak.

      Phang, Chong and I decided to drift out whole kembongs for GTs. Less than half an hour later, Phang's reel screamed with the sailfish mentioned earlier. Whew! This trip was worth every miserly sen of mine. What , with a ringside seat view of a tail-walking sailfish, "No fish also worth it lah!" I exclaimed. Ten minutes later, as though to taunt us, another smaller version of the sailfish suddenly leap clear of the water and landed with a splash just seven meters away. What a day! My hands were still shaking from all the excitement when my rod jerked and the alarm sounded. Humility was never one of my virtues. "Here comes my sailfish," I bragged. "Watch out for the name, Ng Chan Chiew, written on the fish," I needled. Be calm man, I reminded myself. "Let out line, let out line," advised all my sifus. I didn't think I heard them as my heart was drumming out of my chest.
    

One of the tau foo yue I caught.

      The fish was slowly taking line-too suspiciously slow. Funny though at moment such as this your mind can totally shut out the distractions around you and concentrate on the job at hand. The waiting was agonizing. After what seemed like hours, I pushed the lever into gears and struck hard. The boat chose to rock at the wrong moment for I stumbled and accidentally loosened the drag (Murphy's Law). Creeeech and I had my bird nest soup served piping hot. The fish was still pulling very hard, while Phang and I were trying to untangles the mess. It is always in situation such as this that you'll find your hands have only thumbs and toes.

       Somehow we cleared up the mess, but when I pumped there was no resistance. Frustration swept over me. We agreed that it was not a sailfish for my line would have been broken if it was. While reeling in I felt something at the end of the line again. But it was like pulling a gunnysack. Finally, we saw what I had hooked. The whole gang broke out laughing. Phang even pretended to roll on the deck holding his stomach.
I must have looked stupid with the todak at the end of the line. It was hooked in the center of the body. "Heh Ng, you are going to eat green porridge until you turn green soon," someone shouted. "Green fish and chips do taste fantastic, you know?" added another. James even teased that my family will be mistaken for Martians! (Todaks carry a green sheen on its skin. Even their bones are green). How I wished it was medieval time for I could tie them up with rocks to their feet and force them to walk the gang plank at knife point. My todak was not that bad after all as it weighed about three kilos. Not too bad eating too if well prepared.

The rookie, Ah Meng, with his
 'beginner's luck' jenahak.






       Everything calm down again. Only then did I realised I was having gastric pains. With litres of gastric juice pumped into my empty stomach during the excitement, it was a miracle I got only gastric pain. Two anti-acid and a piping hot cup of milk eased the pain somewhat.
     
      Soon it was evening. We started trolling with four lines again, while the others were casting for GTs. Four fruitless round island trips later we decided to drop anchor again. From now on until the early hours of the morning, the bottom fishing was the lousiest I had ever encountered. Most of the time, we were trying to avoid waves, which had grown in intensity during the night.The six rookies might turn green without eating todak, you know. This was their first trip, remember? Sometimes, I believe in the hypothesis, "beginners' luck." The whole night we seniors were using car jacks to keep our eyelids open so that  we could fish, while the rookies were sleeping, holding each other comfortably.
   



Liew and his trevally. You don't need
to fish like crazy. Sleep well and the fish
 will come to you automatically, he said.

      At around 5.00am Liew and Ah Meng got up and immediately caught a jenahak and a trevally of respectable sizes. We seniors felt like kicking each others' backs. After breakfast, a group of lai mang and tau foo yue came by and I made up for my bad luck the previous day. Double and triple hook-ups were made by me with Sabiki apollos hooks. Fishing with a vengeance I finally disperse the black cloud hanging over my head. Another boat was trolling nearby. They were having better luck for we did see jumping and tail-walking sails behind them.

      All in all we counted four hook-ups of sails (all released) and two barracudas. At around 11.00am taikong Kwai Loh upped anchor and captained the Ocean Star back to Lumut.

KALUI KEBAB.

Kalui Kebab was published in the
 January 2000 issue of Rod and Line
fishing magazine.

    


     Mention kalui fishing, normally there will be either of the two types of reactions. One is an enthusiastic, "where?" The other is a contemptuous, "cheh!"
     As a dish, the kalui is not rated as mouth-watering (thanks God for that). But as a fighter, it should be among the top ten Malaysian freshwater fish. Being flat bodied, it will not run like the toman or leap like the kelisa. It is a bruiser that fights doggedly to the last, giving short powerful runs in between.
     A few weeks ago, Kok phoned me about his 'secret kalui spot' in Tanjung Tualang. "My line was broken three times!" he exclaimed excitedly. "We are going there this Saturday and you can come provided we blindfold you all the way, he offered. 'We' here meant Kok, Chow and Chan...my buddies from my Chenderoh days around the seventies. In fact Kok and I were classmates in Clifford School, Kuala Kangsar. Blindfolding was a trick we played on one of our friends back in the seventies. We had him salivating with our many colourful tales of giant tomans at our 'toman secret spot'. After a few days of tarik hargaing, we had him eating out of our palms. What really happened was we showed him a dead pet toman of one of our friends, weighing bout 12 kilos. Tales of imaginary fight was related to him with pepper, chilly and spices added in. It worked beautifully for he begged and even threatened us with bodily harm to take him along. At last we promised to take him, provided he was blindfolded to prevent him from knowing the way. When his blindfold was eventually removed, he found that the pond was the one he took us to a month earlier. We ran helter-skelter when he pulled out his parang. Well, as close friends, everything was forgiven after a day of sulking. Today we even laugh together about that very incident.
     Early morning at 5.30a.m. we assembled at Chow's place. Breakfast in Tanjung Tualang was a hurried affair as we were eager to fish. Parking our car, we still got to walk almost another kilometre before we were at the pond side. It was a big pond with weed and water hyacinth covering the edges.

Ripe juicy buah ara. The smell itself
makes you want to eat them.

     After tackling up, Kok took out his secret bait. No wonder the car was having an aromatic fresh fruit smell. The buah ara were just ripe and juicy. Some were chopped finely and thrown into the water as ground baits, while others were diced and gingerly pierced by the hook and strung like kebabs. We settled down to wait after tenderly casting the baits out.
     The water surface was calm, except for some tomans chasing their preys, Once in a while some big head carps could be seen playing in he center of the pond. Judging from the splashes and the occasional tails jutting out of he water, they must be big! A few professionals were seen collecting their catches from the numerous nets and rawais strung all over the pond like spider webs. Their catches were mostly big head carps, kaluis, belidas and lampams. The one-man sampans they used were almost sinking from the weight of their harvest, which consisted of many whoppers. It seemed the grass carps here were even bigger, but were very smart.






Encik Hasmzy with his
 sampan full of the day's catch.

     When all the fishermen were gone, Kok hit pay dirt. His line went taut and he struck and played this fish well. All of us got to reel in our lines to give him room to fight. A 3.8 kilo kalui was the reward,. This fellow really gave him a good run for his money. Subsequently, he landed four more kaluis of about 2 kilo plus. Talk about luck, we asked Kok which bomoh he consulted as he was the one to get all the bites. We began to budge in on his hot spot. In the end he was kicked out like the proverbial Arab. Almost immediately he hooked another two kaluis of about 3 kilos from our just vacated spot. I guessed we fitted the name 'stingko' with no room to spare. Boy! You should hear how Kok crowed and bragged. We were already planning to throw him into the pond, but the idea of us spending our lives behind bars with no fishing saved him.

The kalui kebab. Fruits
were cut and gingerly strung
 onto the hook and line.

     Kaluis sometimes can be very finicky feeders. There was one incident many years ago, where the lotus plants in one pond all died leaving the kaluis with no cover. Scores of heads were seen bobbing up when kaluis came up for air. One guy was pulling up fish after fish while my friend and I  got nothing. Other than James Bond, I think I am the next best spy around. He was using 10lb trace while we were using 16lbs. My other talent was thick face begging. Armed with the new 10lb trace I was in business too. You see, if your line is too thick, the kaluis will not bite, and if it is too thin the tiny teeth will cut the line.

Kok and his big kalui. I think he
could 'jampi' them into taking his baits
 as he was the only one who caught
 eight!  Notice his hairy legs? Try
 to guess his nickname.

     There was a lull in the activities and I took this opportunity to ask Kok the estimated size of the kaluis that broke his lines. Smiling devilishly he explained what actually happened. Twice his kalui entangled themselves around some rawais and once his line scrapped  against some underwater snags. One thing I learnt was when anglers tell you their fishing stories, especially those about the big ones that got away, you got to read the fine prints with a microscope. At around noon, I changed over to float fishing. Casting to a far patch of hyacinth, I let out line so my float could follow the floating weed. After just five minutes, my float disappeared and I struck. Immediately, I know I had a big one on. There were three long runs and another five short ones before we could see the fish. It was my biggest kalui at 3.6 kilos. Half an hour later I landed another 2.6 kilo kalui. Now Kok and I belonged to the same camp and we started to needle the other two have-nots. Well, that was part of the fun of fishing. Kok caught one more kalui of about 2 kilos. All were released except for the three biggest. We finally called it quits at around 2.00p.m. as the sky was threatening.
     Seeing the number of bighead carps and spotted belidas being caught daily, I think these migrants had transplanted well and are breeding themselves in our water. If that is the case then the future of freshwater fishing in our country could be improved by breeding and releasing more fish. We are fast becoming a notable player in the fishing tackle manufacturing industry. So if we don't nurture and actively encourage angling, I think we may suffer from lack of field test feedback for our research and development.

Encik Aziz with his day's
catch. Look at those carps!.

STARGATE POND, TANJUNG TUALANG.

This article was published in the December
1999 issue of Rod and Line fishing magazine.

  

   It had been quite sometime since I went toman fishing at Temenggor Lake. Needless to say, the pull of a toman was getting the better of me. Anglers are such if you own an outdoor vehicle, you're quite popular and if you have a car-topper, your rating will double up. My friend Ronnie, had both! The main problem was he had lost interest in fishing since joining our photographic club. In fact, he had stopped fishing for almost a year. Luring fish to take baits have been our specialty. Enticing Ronnie to fish, well.....



   Stories of giant tomans (blown up a few kilos of course) chewing up Rapalas were told within earshot of him. Exciting tales of our fights with the freshwater tigers were discreetly circulated during our photographic club meetings (Much to the chagrin of our club president). Slowly but surely, the tales sank in. He swallowed the bait, hook, line and sinker. The day he invited James and I to go fishing with him was the anticlimax.

   Being quite busy, we decided to go on a day trip to Tanjung Tualang. This small town near Ipoh had being a toman fishing paradise for ages. Lately, the uncontrolled harvesting using nets and rawais is devastating the toman population. To be able to have a reasonable good result, we have to go to places, which are quite inaccessible to most others.

   Our favourite is the Stargate Pond. Just like its namesake, this pond is accessible at certain time only. The narrow and weedy passage between two adjoining ponds is closed most of the time. Our boat must be pushed with us standing on the floating weeds. If you are unlucky, one of those giant leeches might home in on you. Most of the time, you'll be unaware until you feel the sharp pain. Pulling out one of these aquatic Draculas is no easy task and the bite mark resembles that of a bearing scraper puncture.

The perpetual nuisance. Water hyacinth
 near the entrance of the Stargate Pond.

   After passing through the Stargate, the other side is an immense pond. Here the tomans are quite ulu, as most have never seen a Rapala before. One word of caution though. While you are here you have to be knowledgeable about Feng Shui. What I meant is the wind and water flow. One moment of inattentiveness and your exit will be cut off by water hyacinth, which are in abundance. Now you know why the name Stargate? Being stranded mean you have to spend a night here as the wind direction will only change the next day. Well, if you don't mind being sucked dry by those flying bloodsuckers that come to you by the million at night, then you need not worry.

   On Sunday 5.00a.m. sharp, Ronnie was at my front gate with boat and everything loaded on his van (His employees helped to load the boat the previous day). After picking up James, we were on our way. Breakfast was the delicious loh shi fun of Tanjung Tualang.

    By 6.45 a.m. we were unloading the boat. Ronnie is always boasting about his unbreakable reinforced boat. The boat is unbreakable, our backbones aren't. Unless you are in pretty good shape, lifting his boat is a torture. After unloading everything we still had to break our backs holding the boat steady for our Emperor James to board.




Ronnie and his huge toman.
 The keli bait still intact.


   Anchoring near a water inlet, we cast our keli to one side of the boat. James and I were casting lures to the other side. After just ten minutes, Ronnie shouted excitedly that something had taken his bait. Sure, line was shooting out from his Calcutta. When he struck, the bend on his rod told the whole story. He could only hold on to his rod while the fish ran. Grunting and pumping, he had the fish close before it shot out of the water. Wah so big lah!" we exclaimed in unison. When it jumped, water sprayed everywhere. The keli bait rode up the line swinging left and right, just like marlin fishing, but on a much smaller scale. There were two more aerial displays before it was finally netted. We guesstimated its weight to be around 7 kilos. It was released after photos were taken.

Tail-walking toman.
 Just like marlin fishing,
but on a much smaller scale.

Emperor James and a
 battered toman. Notice
the teeth marks?

   We moved off to another spot after an hour of boring wait. Here, my bait was taken.  Allowing it to run with the bait for some distance I closed my bail manually and struck. Splat..... Oh, no! The bail arm had opened and that toman would be inviting friends for thanks-giving kenduri that very night. I think it is true that fish communicate for we never got a nudge for more than an hour after that.


   Moving to a narrow channel covered with weeds, the three of us were casting with lures. James, being a good cook, fried us a plate of sing chow mai with his bait caster (You must be well verse with bait caster jargon to know what I meant). It was the first of the two fried mee hoon he had that day. Ronnie soon had a strike, but the fish had the last laugh. After untangling his fried mee hoon, James was casting with a jig head which promptly invited an attack. Following a short struggle a 2 kilo toman was boated.This fish must have jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. There were teeth marks on both sides of it tail end. My outstretched palm and fingers could barely cover them all. Only a granddaddy of a toman could have made those teeth marks! The fish was kept as it would never survive if released.

The monster that did this must be huge.

   The proof that giants did lurk here gave us renewed energy and enthusiasm to cast. But tried as much as we did, there was no taker. James practised his frying skills again, serving chin heong mai this time. While he was busy getting untangled I was observing the surroundings. Once in a while the water surface was broken by some monsters coming up for air, but there was no hits. Maybe the hot sun was making the fish lose their appetite.

   The wind direction suddenly changed bringing the hyacinth our ways. Being a bit anaemic I suggested we leave, as I was not generous enough to give blood donations that night. Loading the boat on to the van took us almost an hour, as it was very heavy, especially when we were very tired. During the drive home we were excitedly planning our next trip. With teeth marks like that we must be crazy not to go back for more.
.

CHENDEROH RENDEVOUS.

Chenderoh Rendezvous was published in the November 1999 issue of Rod and Line fishing magazine.

   

    The awesome structure of Chenderoh Dam never failed to impress anyone looking at it from the bank of the Perak River. Being the first hydroelectric power station of our country, it indeed was an engineering feat at that time and still is today. Of course more modern and bigger ones like Temenggor and Kenyir had overshadowed it, but Chenderoh still holds a lot of memories for me.

    When I first started fishing at Chenderoh back in 1965, I was still in school. You know lah, while in school, where to get money to go fishing far away from home? Luckily one of the engineers there took a few of us under his wings and taught us the finer art of fishing at Chenderoh. I am forever indebted to him, but sad to say, he had since gone to the fishing paradise.

    My second pilgrimage to Chenderoh was around 1972 to 1980. Those days we practrically made it a monthly affair as most of my kakis then were working for Perak Hydro or Kinta Electric Distribution Companies(Now absorbed into Tenaga National). In fact among them are two of my former classmates. We used to spend our Saturdays and Sundays at the dam. Nights were spent fishing, barbecuing and having 'happy hours' right up to the wee hours. Our catches consisted of featherbacks, baungs, kaluis, tengalans, lampams, tomans and sebaraus. During our sojourns there, we used to see a lot of locals using winch-like reels filled with 50lbs to 80lbs mono attached to broomstick like rods to foul hook at the spillway. They sometimes did hook on to whoppers too, but most of the time the lines were broken or fish scales of 50 cent coin size were left sticking on their trebles. Even those days we were already cursing them for being unsporting. Well, time moved on. Some of us got married. Some were too busy making money. While others got other interests to occupy their time. So our trips to Chenderoh stopped.

    Recently, Foo invited me to fish at Chenderoh with him. When something good was offered don't ever stop to think. My yes was loud and clear .He told me that he and his friends, consisting of Leong, Tan and Chooi (Tengas Reconnaissance Team) would be going.

Even the foot of the concrete
dam was not spared by the nets.

    We had our breakfast at Kuala Kangsar at around 6.30 a.m. Kuala Kangsar being a sleepy hollow did not have 24 hour restaurant. We managed to find a stall that started to serve at 6.30 a.m. As they say, "Beggars got no choice", so we just filled our stomachs before pushing off. After another hour of winding road we finally reached the foot of the dam. Looking at the majestic structure, nostalgic feelings kept flooding back. As we came here to fish, Foo and I wasted no time to tackle up. I was using shallow running shad raps of different colours. Casts after casts were made but there was no result. A few sampans were seen cruising up and down with their owners casting their cast nets. Some were collecting fish from their nets and rawais strung all over the place. Even the concrete foot of the dam was not spared. These go on day after day, year after year and we anglers are always being blamed for the diminishing fish stock!

My sebarau taken with a
Rapalla shad rap deep runner.

    By 10.00a.m. most of the sampans were gone and things quietened down. Changing to a shad rap deep runner, I hit paydirt at last. With the help of the strong current, the fish shot down river. Pumping and winding, I managed to gain some line before it careened off to the opposite side of the river. The less than a klio sebarau was no match against my Ambassadeur SM3600c and 17lb class Daiwa Procaster rod. Ten minutes later I hooked another almost identical sebarau with a fat rap deep runner. All sebaraus caught and released  (except for two)  that day were of almost the same size. Could be they were having an age group gathering.

Another worker with
 a sizeable kerai.

    Taking a rest as the sun was very hot overhead, I sauntered over to the walkway at the dam. Some workers were fishing at the railing. Kerai after kerais were pulled up. Another guy was using handline to fish for kaluis. The giants were seen swimming and being tossed around in the turbulence of the spillway. Once in a while one could be seen coming up for air. Surprisingly they still could managed to take baits. Their method was quite successful as a number were caught this way. Unfortunately, a few dropped back into the water while being hauled up.

    Foo and I decided to see what the rest of our friends were doing. The three of them were further downstream happily pulling up and throwing back lampams. Leong suddenly pulled up a freshwater buntal. This rascal immediately puffed itself up like a balloon. Puffer fish are fascinating creatures. Some species have poisonous roes that the Japanese relish as a delicacy. Maybe the uncertainty of being poisoned made the dish more appealing.

    Seeing this puffer fish remined me of my younger days in Kuala Kangsar. Those days we didn't need politicians to tell us about muhibbah. We kids of different races used to swim and fish in the Perak and Kangsar Rivers. Pollution was unheard of, except once in a while someone's overnight meal from up river was seen floating pass.

Four happy young men.

    I learnt to paddle the sampan then, as many of my Malay friends owned at least one. Our carefree frolicking in the rivers sometimes were interupted by someone screaming in pain, which would result in a stempede for the bank. No it was not the jaw, though the scenerio was similar to the film of the same name. (I have seen freshwater sharks, saw fish and rays being caught and sold at the riverbank market back then).You see, some of us swam in our birthday suits. In the water, our male pride looked very much like some tasty morsels to the buntals.The bite from their shear-like teeth was enough to even make adults scream. Fittingly the buntals were refered to as ikan laxxxx (Colloquial for male pride).The buntals were also the curse of the prawn fuishermen as lines were always cut by these rascals. They were not called cham sin kwai (line cutting devils) for nothing, you know. The poor fellows were the butt of torture of many a frustrated prawn fishermen. As the sun was already overhead, we decided to call it a day. Stopping at Sauk for lunch and to freshen up before the long drive home. We felt quite happy with this trip, which also prompted our decision to come back soon.

Note: Sigh! On our subsequent trip, we were not allowed to fish anymore. As  always, there are some inconsiderate, selfish and ugly Malaysians in anglers' clothes to spoil everyone's fun by misusing and overtaxing the hosts' hospitality. Remember we were banned once from certain Internet facilities too?

ANGLING CHARACTERS.

"Angling Characters" was published in the October 1999 issue of Rod and Line magazine.

    

     While fishing I not only observe the surrounding for signs of fish, but I also was observing my fellow anglers too. Here is a list of some of the most extreme characters whom I feel most of our fishing 'kakis' can fit into.

1.  The One Rod Man:  Owns only one rod and one reel. Usually those nine to ten footer rods and knuckle buster reel that can pull the jaw out of the Great White. He will brag about how sensitive his outfit is for tilapias and terobols.

2.  The Borrower:  Just like those smokers who never buy cigarettes, he will always be after you for hooks, sinkers, snaps and sometimes even rod and reel. Another species is the one who goes to fishing competition with the barest minimum because he feels he knows everything. When he finds his arsenal is inadequate he will start pestering you for everything. Should you refuse him for one reason or another he'll start cursing and swearing behind you.

3.  The Backgound Poser:  One can always see him in photos of big catches. Not the one holding athe fish, but the one standing behind. He is a fast mover. Before the click of the camera shutter, he is already behind the hero.

4.  The Otter:  As the name suggests, when this one is around all the fish will be miles away. He is the one that always come back empty handed. If ever the group hits bumper harvest, then maybe, maybe only, he will catch one of two for consolation.

5.  The Territorial Violator:  Unscrupulous thick skinned idiots who have no qualms about elbowing you out of a hot biting corner. They will just move next to you and start casting should you hit jackpot. Beware or you'll end up like the Arab in the "Arab and the camel" story. Those not so thick skinned will cast from his corner to your side at the same time preventing those in between from fishing. If you are at the stern and he is at the bow of the boat, he'll use very light sinkers so that the current will carry his bait to your place, and entangling everyone's line in between at the same time.

6.  The Million $ Man:  He comes with branded rods(custom made if possible), limited edtion reels, cowboy hat, Camel jacket, slack and boots. He will swagger around brandishing his gears and doing everything to attract attention, except to fish.

7.  The Selfish Angler:  He will be very nice to you when you have a nice spot. Even your pet dog will lose out to him when it comes to following you around. The moment he gets it out from you, he'll vanish from your sight. Whenever he has a nice spot, you can bet your bottom dollar that he is the only one to know.

8.  The Postman:  He will catch fish as though there is no tomorrow. He gets his thrill not from catching, fighting and releasing fish, but the praise heap on him by the neighbours when he goes round the neighbourhood distributing his catches.

9.  The Mass Murderer:  Killing is his game and mass murderer is his name. Hitler himself has to 'kow tow' and call him 'Tai Kor'. Fish not targeted by him will be diembowered should they be unlucky enough to swallow his bait. Juvenile fish are thrown and squashed to pulp with his leg so as not to irritate him again. Medium size ones are good for his neighbour's cats and dogs and of course the big ones are for himself. Those that he can't consume will be sold off dirt cheap just to pay for his worms. The word 'conservation' can never be found in his dictionary. When the fish or prawn stock is depleted in one area it is because they (fish and prawns) have shifted house.

10.  The Braggart:  You can hear him miles away bragging all the time. His previous catch is always two to three kilos bigger than your present one. The one kilo fish, that he is holding in the photograph, which he caught with a jaw puller filled with twenty kilo line becomes the ten kilo fish caught on the tiniest outfit filled with two kilo line. Whatever he owns, catches or touches will always be the best to him.

11.  The Stinger Poker:  He can be found in most fishing groups. When it comes to paying for makan, petrol or baits, he'll be the first to fight to pay. the trouble is he tries pulling his wallet from his right pocket with his left hand. The only solution for this type of characters is 'PRO-RATA'.

12.  The Samurai:  Keep this guy at thirty footed bamboo's length. This chap spells danger. He is trained from the foul-hooking dojo (karate gym). His sensei (master) taught him to get fish by hook or by crook or by foul hooking with treble hooks and thick broomsticks. To him the samurai's code of ethic, BUSHIDO', does not exist. If you are stupid enough to be behind him you'll be split in halves when he strikes or get struck in the eye by his shuriken (samurai dart-treble hook).

GLITTERING DIAMONDS a.k.a. GROUPER BONANZA.

Glittering  Diamonds a.k.a. Grouper Bonanza was published in the September 1999 issue of Rod and Line fishing magazine.

Jackson and his 17.5 kg grouper on the cover of Rod and Line magazine.

     "Good morning Ng, want to go deep sea fishing ah?" asked my friend Ah Chuen. "When and whose boat?" I inquired. "22nd May, Tai Pei Pak's (Uncle Big Nose) boat," he answered. "How can? We are going on the same day and on the same boat!" I exclaimed.

      After he had confirmed with Pangkor that he indeed was the hirer, I immediately phoned my captain, Old Man Ho about the latest development. The mix-up occurred because the owner forgot to record our booking made three months ago. Alls well that ends well. Ah Chuen could only mustered five members and combined with our four die-hards the trip was on. For administration sake, we divided ourselves into Team A (us) and Team B (them).

      On Saturday, 22nd May, we were at the Lumut International Yatch Club Jetty. Introductions were made and we settled down to wait. When the boat, Victoria, finally turned up one hour late, at 11 a.m. we were already restless. The two teams helped each other to load gears onto the boat and off we went.

     I awoke to the beeps of the GPS and immediately took up my position at the center-right  of the boat. On shouts of OK from the taikong, my kembong strip was lowered. Our position was the 2nd shipping lane north of Pulau Jarak, just one hour away from the ill-fated Sun Vista. (Another secret spot coming up). Almost immediately my rod tip started dancing up and down. Actually, it was due to some insignificant rascals stealing baits. Hearing the @#$% around me, I guessed it was the same with the other guys too.

     Among the din and curses I barely heard Old Man Ho saying something to me from the back of the boat. As I couldn't decipher what his gibbering was all about, I carried on fishing. Again, this timed louder, I heard him shouting for the gaff. rushing to the back, I tried to remove Ho's gaff from where it was tied. With the urgent calling and the excited shouts of the others my fingers seemed confused.

Old Man Ho straining to
 lift his 12 kilo grouper.

     Seeing my fumbling the taikong grabbed the gaff and told me to stand aside. Ho was struggling with his electric reel as it was whining loudly without gaining any line. The battle lasted almost fifteen minutes before a grouper of 12 kilos was boated.

The taikong trying to free Ho's fingers
 from the gill rakes of the giant grouper.

     Everyone was excited and in high spirit. While photographing, I suggested to Ho that he could get a better grip by hooking the gill plate with his fingers.  (I never expected him to push his whole hand inside). After taking my shots, I quietly tiptoed away, (before he murder me) while the taikong and Ah Chuen helped Ho to extract his fingers from the gill-rakes. The poor fellow was howling with pain. I made myself very inconspicuous until everything settled down again. The fish stopped feeding and nothing happened for almost an hour.

    A school of leng chims (pig face bream) and tandas (finger mark) suddenly decided to have dinner and everyone was happily pulling up fish again. Amid the excitement, there were shouts from the stern again. Jackson was so excited that he was almost croaking. Line kept shooting out from his reel while he was oohing and aahing away. Maybe his drag was too lightly set for the fish almost emptied his spool before stopping. The grouper floated up after almost half an hour's seesaw battle. Foong was trying to gaff the fish when I shouted teasingly, from the roof where I was photographing, that his head was causing lens flare again. (see R & L, May issue. If ever you find me floating in the sea then Foong should be the main suspect). Jackson was jumping with joy as his grouper of 17.5 kilos was 99% sure (His own words) of winning the jackpot. (Team B had a bet of RM20.00 each).

Foong gaffing Jackson's fish. This time
 there was no lens flare from his head.

     Suddenly the bites stopped again and we settled down to some delicious porridge. (Ah Chuen called it pei tan hiong chook or fragrant million year egg porridge. (Asked him to explain as it was X-rated).

Foong landed this quite early
 and was very jovial and chirpy.

     We changed a few more places, all around the 2nd shipping lane areas without success. At around 6.00 p.m. Foong caught a grouper of 3 kilos. Low Pan (Big Boss) from the bow connected to and landed a grouper of 5 kilos and everyone was into fish again. I had only a leng chim and two tandas of insignificant size to show. Frustration must have been written all over my face for Foong seemed very jovial and chirpy. Humming and singing whenever he passed my place, I detected some hint of deliberate needling. He even generously offered me two hard boiled eggs, which I declined (luckily). Friend, huh! Resigning to my fate, I sipped coffee. to console myself.

Low Pan and his grouper.
 He won the jackpot
with an 18 kilo ray.

     My coffee must had buang sui for me, for my rod tip dipped twice before bending almost to the water. Line was slowly peeling out from my TLD25. All I could do was to hold on. The moment it stopped I pumped and cranked like crazy. Ten minutes passed before a grouper of 9 kilos was gaffed. Immediately, Low Pan was seen struggling with a monster at the bow. Switching off his electric reel, he pumped and cranked, but the submarine just kept going. Maybe he was getting impatient for he tightened his drag and immediately his line parted with a loud crack. Long  lives the submarine! ( Lesson 1: Adjust your drag properly  before fishing). The action stopped again and I took the opportunity to freshen up with a bath and a change of clean clothes.

This huge grouper almost
 fooled me when it nibbled
 my bait.

     The inactivity continued passed midnight. A few of us went to sleep as the rocking boat reminded us of our rocking cradle days. With coffee laden blood coursing through my veins I was still having very bright eyes. Around 3 a.m. my rod dipped all so slightly. Cranking my TLD 30 (I had changed reel), I thought I was into another leng chim, when all of sudden all hell broke loose. When I felt the fish giving way after 5 minutes of back breaking pumping I hollered for help and Low Pan gaffed it in for me.

     This 10 kilo grouper together with the earlier 9 kilo made a fantastic outing out of this trip. Jumping and shouting with joy, at athe same time waking up some of the sleeping beauties, I was really happy.

My two groupers-9 kilos and 10 kilos.

     Foong was very grumpy about fish biting only when he was sleeping. (He never heard of Murphy's Law). Suddenly I was very jovial and chirpy. (Lesson 2: Never be cocky when you were ahead as God was watching. How come I was so God fearing all of a sudden?) Almost immediately Low Pan locked on to another monster. For half an hour he was gaining and losing line. When a stingray was gaffed finally, the taikong said it was smaller than 17 kilo and we all agreed including Low Pan. (The jackpot, remember?) We must have finished off all the big fellows for only tandas and leng chims were hauled up regularly until the current stopped.

     Most of us took naps on our fishing chairs until 8.00 a.m. We had our breakfast and continued fishing. Other than the taikong pulling up a grouper of 4 kilos the rest of us got nothing. We decided to up anchor at 11 a.m. and head for home.

     During the photo session, Low Pan decided to weigh his ray and it pulled the scale to 18 kilos, surprising all of us. Jackson's jaw dropped when he saw the proof, for he lost his "99% sure to win" jackpot. (Lesson 3: Never judge a fish by its look).

Happy anglers, but no diamonds found.

     Old Man Ho and I decided to gut our groupers. (Actually I had been fishing with Ho since 1972 when I was transferred to Ipoh. Before that my fishing was confined to the fresh water around Chenderoh Dam, Perak and Kangsar River areas. He in fact is my sifu for saltwater bottom fishing). My heart nearly stopped when Ho suddenly grabbed my hand, as I was about to throw the groupers' guts away. He insisted that I cut the stomachs open so he could search for diamonds inside! Yes, diamonds, glittering diamonds! According to him, one of his friends, who worked on a kelong, had found gold rings and diamonds in grouper stomachs before. (Don't ask me how the jewelery got there.) I don't think I like to eat grouper again!

TENGAS RECONNAISSANCE.

Be careful here, as it is a
 long way from home should
 you hurt yourselves.
(Tengas Reconnaisance was published in the August 1999 issue of Rod and Line magazine.)

     People your age should be comfortably fishing near some pay pond instead of climbing and trekking up mountain stream to fish. That was my wife grumbling while rubbing ointment onto my tired and aching calves. I had spent the whole Sunday trekking from 9.00a.m. up to the reservoir near Gopeng before reaching our car at the base at 6.45a p.m. with three new friends, Foo, Tan and Leong.

     Sometime late last year I met Foo at a tackle shop. You know lah,  when piscatorial crazy friends got together, they yakked about nothing else but fishing. My eyes brightened up and my ears straightened when Foo related his fishing  and trekking experiences. I made him promise to call me the next time he goes hunting for fish. After a few months of silence, I decided that when the mountain does not come to you, you then have to go to the mountain.

     This trip was the culmination of many persistent calls (I think he really got fed up.). Maybe to get this VIP (Very Irritating Pest) off his back, he told me that he and his friends will be going on a discovery trip up Sungai Kampar. "There are tengas in the river," he said. I too heard about it sometime back, but never got to go for lack of like minded crazy kakis.

     Four of us set off for Gopeng for breakfast at 7.00a.m. The three of them are young men in their thirties, while I was already an old man of fifty. Breakfast was also time to get to know them better.

     We parked our car at Kampong Sungai Itek and started walking. Actually, a four-wheel drive should be more comfortable and easier, but we were more interested in scouting for lubuks. To do that effectively, nothing can beat rice power. OK lah, I admit it. A 4X4 is out of my financial capabilities.

Orang Asli, Bah El, advising Foo
and Leong on how to rig for tengas.

     Joking and laughing, we trekked up hill. For most part, the river runs parallel to the dirt road. Stopping now and then, we checked for promising spots. A passing Orang Asli, named Bah El, showed us a lubuk and taught us the finer point of baiting a hook with oil palm fruit. But he also advised that night fishing produced the best result. (Maybe, but the idea of ending up as Pak Belang's main dish was not worth all the giant tengas in the world).

One of the lubuks where
 we fished. Night fishing
should be good here.

     After almost an hour of patient waiting, Leong's rod got a good pull, but there was no hook-up. Ten minutes later Tan got a bite too. He struck and the fish shot down stream with the current. Due to the previous two days of rain the river was quite full and swift. His line parted when it scrapped against some rocks. Poor Tan, his face was full of disappointment. Soon another hour passed without any action. As the trip was more of a reconnaissance, we packed up and moved on. Our destination was the reservoir at the end of the pipeline that supplies water to Gopeng Town.

     At the 7 km mark was a promising lubuk. The water here was calm, smooth and deep. Pictures of big fat tengas kept dancing in my mind, but the trouble was the lubuk lies on the opposite side of the  river. Promising ourselves to fish the spot the next time, we pushed on. Soon the road branched out into a "Y". The right one led to a Buddhist temple 5km further uphill. It seemed there was a huge statue of Lord Buddha. The left branch was just a footpath up the hill. Other than walking, a scrambler would be convenient.

     Trekking up hill, we could see the river far below cascading and winding like a snake. Now I am beginning to feel my age. How I wished I had a scrambler. Crossing two more hills, our path met the river again. Clambering down to the river edge, we surveyed this stretch of river for a place to fish. There was a deep pool here, but the current was quite swift. Worth fishing during the dry season though. Small fish could be seen darting here and there in the clear mountain water. My childhood past came flashing back and soon saw us splashing in the cool water like kids. It sure was invigorating. The water was so cold that I could feel energy surging through my body charging up my tired muscles again.

We later teased Foo about
his sun-tanned bra strap mark.
 He should be featured in
Playgirl magazine-centerfold.

Rajah Brookes abandoned.

     As we still had a long walk ahead of us, we reluctantly pushed on. Nearing the upper reaches, we were literally walking on the pipeline itself .A few Orang Aslis were seen catching butterflies to be sold to collectors. There was a lot of wastage as those that were slightly damaged were killed and thrown away. Many magnificent Rajah Brookes were seen strewn all over the place. What a waste! So much for conservation.

The Orang Aslis were living in relative
 comfort as there were solar panels in
front of almost every house.

     Entering the first of the four Asli settlements, we were surprised to see TV aerials everywhere .Where did they get their electricity? Solar panels! Almost every house had a solar panel outside. They sure lived in comfort, as many possessed refrigerators. The other settlements were almost the same. One house was standing on stilts of which one had branches and leaves growing too. I guessed I know where those ignorant Mat Sallehs got the notion of "Malaysians living on tree tops" now.

Anymore groans about your
 life being full of hardship?

     At the third settlement we passed a small built, pregnant Asli woman carrying a bundle of firewood much heavier than her. She had to do it four more times. That shut us up permanently as we were moaning and groaning all the way.

An Orang Asli boy with
 his day's catch. Look at
 his modern tackles.

     A faint roaring sound told us that the reservoir was near. Quickening our pace, we finally were standing at the reservoir. Baits of oil palm fruit were cast. There were some nibbles. Some small fish were caught and thrown back. Nothing big to shout about though. An Orang Asli named Zainal told us it was pointless to fish as his people always jala and spear the fish here. We nodded in agreement as we passed a few boys carrying spears, fishing rods and bags full of palm size fish. Weaving a story of big lubuks further up river with giant tengas, he offered to take us there. The plan was to come during the dry season, pass a night in one of the vacant huts and push up river the next day. "Four days three nights, living 'Rambo Style' should be sufficient," he said. Looking around I noticed my three young friends drooling with saliva dripping down their mouths. We promised Zainal we would be back soon.

In search of upstream paradise.

     After resting and filling our stomachs we bade our Asli friend farewell. I uttered Mac Arthur style, "I shall return!" and pushed off. It 4.15p.m. Walking non-stop, maybe we could reach base at around 7.00p.m. How I wished I could fly. If only Quicksilver could lend me his flying sandals. My legs were really hurting.

     The trip down was faster as we didn't stop to fish. For most parts we were going downhill. Blisters began to form on my feet and toes. My respect and sympathy to our soldiers who trekked for days through the jungle.

     Maybe God took pity on us, for after two hours of walking and stumbling we saw a 4WD coming up hill. I rubbed my eyes and pinched myself. "Your car broke down ah?" the driver, Mr. Lee asked. " No, but we went fishing," Foo answered. He smiled and asked, "Want a lift?" Before he could finished saying "lift", we were already on board. It took us twenty minutes to reach base. I dare not imagine how long it would take us by leg power. He bade us farewell and even offered us a durian treat during the coming durian season. Smiling, he drove off, maybe thinking there were still a few coo-coo fellows not locked up in Hospital Bahagia yet!

A leafy stilt. Probably the reason
why ignorant Mat Sallehs said
we Malaysians live on tree tops.

     Looking back, the fishing on this trip was almost a disaster. Most of the rivers in Malaysia are in similar condition. To really get to taste the cream of freshwater fishing one has got to go deep into the interior where angels fear ato tread. Soon such fishing will only be the domain of the few rich kakis with plenty of money and time to throw.

     I fully agree with what Mr. Charles Ogilvie said in his article in the Malaysian Angling Association Journal (Vol.1, No. 1 June 1953). Quote: "The further one proceeds from man's beaten track the more surely will the anglers find paradise he is in search of." He continued, "It is not the taking of a few fish with rod and line that causes the denudation of fish population in rivers; but the indiscriminate taking of all manner of immature fishes by every conceivable means to hand." I would like to add. "The uncontrolled use of detergent, pesticides, chemicals and also the unbridled logging, that is causing all the depletion of our once abundant fish stock.

     I am hereby appealing to the power that be to heed the anguish cries of all sport anglers (Please do not lump us with poachers and fishermen.) and PeMM to please do something, and fast too.


Note: Many years after this article was published, this place is now dotted with resorts that cater to holiday makers and other adventurers. The Orang Asli here together with the resort managements can take people on trekking adventures,  river rafting and climbs to watch the Rafflesia in bloom.
For more reading on Rafflesia trip please read about it in my photography blog: Shoot The Hooker. http://shootthehooker.blogspot.com/

The big water pipe is now gone...taken down and sold as metal scraps. Other than the upper reaches, the whole place is now easily accessible by car.