THE RED TAILS OF IPOH

This article was published in the June 2002 issue of Rod & Line Fishing Magazine.

When I saw the small pond (about the surface area of eight ping-pong tables), my heart sank. At that time I put on a very enthusiastic look so as not to disappoint my friend, Mong. You see it was he who, while biking over some hills, discovered this pond. Tucked away in a secluded valley, and partly obscured from the general view, it looked like a very promising snakehead habitat. His description of the place was so enthusiastic and exciting that images of giant haruans and bujuks kept leaping up in my mind. A trip was arranged in no time and thus saw Mong and me standing near the edge of the pond.

Side view of the Channa gachua. The fins were fringed with red, with greenish hue on other parts, quite similar to the fighting fish.

At first cast, my frog was tapped a few times with no hook-up. The tiny cluster of bubbles that broke the surface of the water betrayed the snakeheads. The funny thing was no matter where we cast, the same old tap, tap was the usual fare.  “Cheroots,” I declared and Mong nodded in agreement.

As anglers we were not satisfied without landing and having a look at the culprits. Thus changing to smaller hooks and putting on the smallest frogs, we immediately landed two 10cm long babies. I almost threw mine back in when I was bitten by it. Taking a closer look at this gutsy fellow, I saw the unmistakable red and green fins. “Gachua’” I shouted.

Top view of the Redtail snakehead. The head was a bit rounded and flat.

Mong gave me a confused look. I explained to him that the fish looked like the Channa gachua or the red tailed snakehead recently discovered by the Rod & Line Guinness team.

All in we both managed to catch and released more than ten fish. Immediately upon reaching home. I referred to the April 2000 issue of R & L, and true enough, it was the Channa gachua.

That night, while having our usual coffee session, we let the others into our discovery. The excitement was pervasive and we immediately planned another trip.

James and Poh Yean holding their tiny catches.

When one guy asked how much was the red tail worth in the aquarium shop, all of us gave him the murderous looks. The cold steely stares must have done their job well for he dared not even mention the topic again. Needless to say, he was not among the gang on the next trip.

Siew Mooi with her gachua.

The next Sunday, James, Miss Cheah Poh Yean, Mong, my wife (Siew Mooi) and I were in James’ Ford Splash, rocking skidding, sliding and clawing up the hill. The ride was quite harrowing as we watched with bated breath at James struggling to control the vehicle. Any misjudgment would mean disaster with us at the ravine below. After what seemed like eternity we finally lifted our sweat soaked buttocks off the car seats.

Upon the completion of the unloading of our gears, we slowly picked our way down the slope. Following the path that Mong and I had cut a week earlier. We made slow progress, as the slope was quite steep and slippery. Along the way, I pointed out the tracks made by the wild boars to the ladies. They (the wild boars) somehow always follow the same track. The openings in the bushes made by the boars as they enter and leave were their downfalls. These were the places where hunters set up their ambushes. Someone excitedly suggested that we could catch some piglets if we ground bait that place with oil palm fruits. We then told that someone, that instead of piglets, a frustrated old boar with two sharp tusks could come for dinner too (They cannot buy Viagra in the jungle, you know. Oh, I forgot the Tongkat Ali).

Mong showing off his tiny fish. Behind him was the pond.

 

This trip we let the ladies do most of the fishing. From the grass-covered edge, my wife pulled out four red tails. They were all taken with worms. Poh Yean caught six of them. Mong and I were using very tiny lures and streamers with no positive result. The tiny jewels were really ferocious. When  the worm-laden hook was lowered down the openings in the weeds, there would be a ferocious take and the tiny snakehead would self-hook. When James tried to unhook one of these miniature tigers, he was bitten by it. This chap refused to let go even when pulled gently. There is a Chinese proverb that sounded like this, “Yan sum pat chook , she ton cheong.”  Translated into English it means ‘human heart is never satisfied, like the snake trying to swallow the elephant’. That ancient Chines guy who spoke these words must have been bitten by one too.

All in we caught twelve of those rare snakeheads. As that pond was so small and the tiny gachuas were rare, we decided to release five of them into some jungle streams. The rest were gently set free in a marshy swamp. We sure hope our little effort would contribute to the spread and preservation of this fish as that small patch of water that they called home might dry up later.

TAGGING THE SAILS OF JARAK

This article was published in the February 2002 issue of Rod And Line Fishing Magazine.

Sailfish! Sailfish!” James was shouting, waking me up just as I was dozing off for the night. Bolting upright, I nearly bang my head against the upper deck. The mist slowly cleared in my mind and I realized that my friend was just trying to rub salt into my wound. You see, after trolling for the whole afternoon, I had nothing to show except for a lost sail and some bruised pride. As a result my ‘friend’ took the opportunity to needle me.

Tan (left) and Thang (right) holding Thang's sail.

Actually we had already reached Jarak at around 3.00 p.m. Sails could be seen everywhere. Sometimes just cruising past our boat or jumping playfully all over the place. When our skirts were let out that Saturday afternoon, we never expected what was to follow. Four sails were immediately raised and they followed our lures for quite a distance. Our rod tips were jerking every now and then from the slashing of their bills on the skirts, without any hook up.

At one point, what was thought to be a dead leaf stuck to James’ skirt was in fact the tip of the sail’s outstretched fin. The fish was following his lure all the way back to the boat. By the time we realized what it was, that piscatorial rascal banked away laughing.

My first sail of the day. Notice the extra hand?

With all these sails around, hooking up was a matter of time. The first to score was Thang. His store-bought molded head (found in a shop in Teluk Intan covered with dust) was hit by a sail, which leapt out of the water with the skirt dangling from its mouth.

When we thought the sail was ours, it got its second wind and bolted leaving an empty hook behind. Ten minute later he hooked on another sail. After pumping and cranking like crazy for a while he surrendered his rod to his close friend, Tan. Poor Thang, I think he was really out of condition. The sail was finally tagged, photographed and released.

My TLD 30 2-speeds was the next to scream with a fish on. That confused monster just shot up, shaking its head (could have taken some ecstasy pills) like crazy before dropping back into the water. The next time it left the water, it tail-walked for quite a distance.

My drag was giving out line in jerky motion, which had me worried. As expected, the fish threw the hook and I found that both Tan’s and Thang’s lures were entangled with my line. Mystery of the jerky drag solved.

After these two hits, everything went quiet. Except for the occasional jerking rod tips, the action seemed to have ended. Once in a while someone’s alarm went off for a few seconds with no hookup. The false alarms kept us all on our toes. On occasions the sails were cruising so near the boat that we could see the color in their eyes. Rigging up a kembong, I cast it out to them. Luckily there was no takes, as I did not think my Navi 6000 spinning outfit was any match for these bill gladiators.

James got his one very late in the evening and kept us awake with his babbling.

The doldrums lasted until the late evening, when James’ reel suddenly screamed in protest. With a determined look on his face, my friend was in no mood to compromise. When he finally had his photos taken, he was a worn out figure. From the moment the fish was released, it was a real torture for fishless Tan and I. James never stopped talking about his fight. The detailed commentary was repeated so many times that I thought we were back in the old days of the broken vinyl records. He was finally shut up with two hard boiled eggs.

Thang desperately trying to keep in contact with this tail-walking sail.

This trip was actually more of a tagging trip. The Malaysian Billfish Tagging Program was launched slightly more than a year ago. It was the cooperation between PeMM and The Billfish Foundation that resulted in this program. At the recently held Project IGFA Malaysia Seminar in Kuala Lumpur, we were given nine of the two hundred billfish tags and tag pole sponsored by Siow Chiang (M) Sdn. Bhd. Uncle Bob of Tightline was kind enough to brief us on the finer points of tagging. Armed with these tools, we pitted in to contribute our small parts to the success of the program.

A sail being revived and released by Tan.

When the sun was slowly peeking shyly over the eastern horizon, we were gulping down our breakfast. With food in their stomachs, the three young guys decided to cast for GTs.  As the boat was moving rather slowly, I let out a floating Rapala. Maybe the fish were not ready for breakfast yet, or it could be the tide was out. Except for the irritating todaks, there was not even a slight peck from our targeted quarries.

After ten passes around the island, I guessed even the most persistent angler would give up. Our speed was pushed up to 7 knots and four skirts were let out. Almost immediately, Tan’s lure was hit. The fish took some line before heading to the bottom.

From then on it was a long pump and crank affair. Our guesses were correct as only a GT would fight like that. The 11kg brute was finally gaffed. Tan changed over to a bibbed lure which was whacked fifteen minutes later. A handsome tenggiri of 5 kg was his prize.

By now James was asking cynical question about what I had being doing the night before we came fishing. All of them were laughing their heads off at my expense.

The needling intensified when Tan again locked on to a sail. They both fought to a standstill with Tan grimacing and gasping for breath. In the end our biggest sail (about 29kg) so far was released unharmed.

With all the needling and being fishless, I had no choice but to be superstitious. Changing to a molded head skirt (to buang syuei lah), I almost immediately hit jackpot. The fish leapt clear of the water, came down with a splash (2 points only in competition diving terms) and headed off to Sumatra. The pumping and reeling really took their toll on me. By the time the sail was tagged I did not have any strength left to hold it for photograph. Somehow the fish refused to strike after this one.

Many passes were made round the island with no more hits. It was not that there were no sails around. Some were seen jumping and cruising around with their outstretched sails.

These were the lures used by us. A) James' skirt which accounted for one sail. B) My molded head that hooked up one sail too. C) This DYI chrome head lost one fish and took another sail of about 34kg. D) This was the favorite. Thang's skirt accounted for many missed hits. Lost one and landed one sail. The GTs also cherished it. E) This bibbed lure caught one tenggiri for Tan.

The sun was almost overhead by now. Attaching my DIY chromed head skirt on I let it out. My rod gave a jerk and the alarm went off. The sail just kept on tail-walking and taking line. Trying my best to pull my rod out of the holder, I watched in horror as my braided line (about 800 yards) was pulled out. When the mono backing started to get dangerously low I screamed for the boat to follow the fish. “Where, where?” the taikong yelled back. Luckily for me though, the sail decided to tail-walk again. When the bow turned In that direction I felt the tension easing off. Jamming the butt into my belly, I cranked like crazy. When some of the braided line was back onto the spool, I heaved a sigh of relief. This sail somehow tail-walked a few more times before settling down to a drawn out battle. The fish exhausted itself from all the leaping and tail-walking which helped made my work a lot easier. After what seemed like hours, we finally could see the sail floundering near the surface. A couple of half-hearted runs later, my sail was photographed and released. At about 34kg it was our biggest.

This 5kg tenggiri fell to Tan's trolled bibbed lure.

Hanging up my tackle, I felt I had enough for the day. One more long drawn out fight like that might over stress my main pump too much. When James enquired disbelievingly, “Enough already ah?” I looked up to the sky with a grateful contented look. As they say, revenge is sweet.

All our sails were tagged, measured, photographed and released alive. Our only regret was that we had brought the fish up to the boat the causing a lot of unnecessary stress. We felt that the measurement could be taken while the fish was still in the water. Then the weight of the fish could be calculated by the formula provided in R & Line September 2001 issue. If landing the fish is inevitable, do use only your gloved hands. It is important to drag the fish slowly along the water until it is strong enough to struggle before releasing it.