CATCHING THE GOOD LIFE HARUANS

This article was published in the April 2004 issue of Rod and Line Fishing Magazine.

“Ng can you help me cull some haruans from my friend’s pond ah?” asked Phang Yee Seng. “Huh!” I replied not trusting my ears. He repeated the request, which made me laugh like a hyena. Phang’s request was just like asking a tiger whether it can help take care of the lambs in a pan.

According to Phang, this pond belongs to his friend, Ah Foo. Adult fish from other ponds were transferred here to be fattened up for the market. Recently, he (Ah Foo) decided to stock this pond with thousands of tilapia fries. What followed was the biggest “kenduri” held this side of the Kinta Valley. Hordes of hungry haruans were circling schools of fries and picking them off like the RAF fighters downing German bombers during the famous Battle of Britain.

Meng with one of his haruans, taken with a spinner-bait. He was very successful with it.

You see, the pond being too big and deep to be harvested by the usual netting, had been left untouched for seven years. The method used to harvest the fish here was by dumping food into a satellite pond. When the fish rushed in to feed, a net was lowered to close the connecting channel and the trapped fish could then be harvested at will. Imagine what piscatorial monsters would lurk in a pond not harvested for seven years! Add to that, a gigantic haruan was caught recently. 

Here Phang was posing with one of his shell-spoon taken haruans.

Standing on the edge of the pond and watching the mist slowly cleared from the water surface, my hands were shaking as though going on my first date. My heart was drumming like crazy, pounding something like IGFA, IGFA, IGFA (IGFA record lah).

Ah Meng, using a weighted spinner bait and was the first to lock onto a kilo plus haruan. After a few short runs (as all haruans do), it was netted. This was followed by another, and another, then another. He seemed to be the pipe piper for haruans. Phang was really frustrated after Ah Meng caught his fifth haruan and started calling him Elvis (Chinese referred to Elvis Presley as Mow Wong or King of Cats) in the process. Just when Phang was at the point of exploding, a haruan hammered his frog bait and his scowl turned into a smile.

It had been a long time since I got a haruan of this size.

After taking some photographs for them (I had not started fishing yet), I went off to a deeper part of the pond to fish. This part of the pond had its banks covered by some overhanging shrubs. My theory was that, if kid haruans of a kilo plus were hanging around the shallower parts then the great-grandpas and great-grandmas must be somewhere else……where else?

Being relatively snag free, here I chose to use the shell spoon, introduces by Robert Goh of Taiping. Surprisingly, there were no giant strikes, as anticipated. A true follower of the concept of “The magic of thinking big”, I kept on casting and retrieving the spoon. Maybe the haruans and I went to different schools, for I just could not get any fish. From the corner of my eyes, I could see that Phang and Ah Meng were catching and landing scores of them. In the end, their “Got ANY (with emphasis on ANY) fish ah? “really got on my nerves.

Surprise of all surprises, a marble goby took Phang's frog.

Somehow, the IGFA record mission was abandoned and I rushed over to where they were (All motivational training about being positive and persistent went down the drain, or rather the pond). When my spoon hit the water, I allowed it to sink a few seconds, before starting to retrieve. Giving my rod tip a couple of twitches, I felt a light tug and wham, a kilo plus haruan was my reward!

The haruans here were so plentiful that many a time, my shell spoon was grabbed the moment it hit the water. Human beings are such, when the pickings are good, they become choosy. Yours truly was guilty of it too. You would not believe me if I were to say, we chose to cast to the big rises. Remember, that the size of the swirl was directly proportional to the size of the fish. This was the ultimate snobbish haruan fishing of the highest order, I presumed.

This tilapia, held up by Ah Meng, was one of the few that hit my spoon.

Haruans were not the only fish that were plentiful here. We were surprised when Phang pulled up a marble goby (ketutu) when it grabbed his frog bait. More surprise followed when a marble goby gobbled up my shell spoon. Mind you, the shell spoon attracted the tilapias too, as proven by the few specimens that I landed.

We were enjoying ourselves so much with the very cooperative and presentable haruans that we forgot the time. My mission of catching the IGFA record haruan was temporary forgotten too. Somehow the aim of catching record size haruans was discarded quite fast when everyone was getting fish and you got none. But your stomach always has the last say at the end of the day. When it started rumbling and my hands started shaking from hunger, I had no choice but to rest and have something to eat.

Plonking myself onto a piece of plank (of course making sure there is no protruding nail) I made myself comfortable under a shed before tucking into my ‘lunch’. Phang joined me later. While eating, he suddenly announced, “Ng, do you think you are having a good life so far?” I was taken aback by his question. Pondering for a while I answered apprehensive, “I think I am ok.” “Go take a look at what the fish are eating and then answer my question again,” he laughed.

Sauntering over to where Leo, the Indonesian worker, was preparing food for the fish, I got the surprised of my life. He was cutting open packets of large prawns, meatballs and Chinese silver pomfrets (Pamus chinesis) into a big cauldron. Yes, Chinese silver pomfrets or ‘tow tai yee’ in Cantonese! I headed back to where Phang was with head bowed and ego deflated. On the way home all of us were in deep thoughts, maybe reflecting on our lives.

Leo, the Indonesian worker, putting pomfrets, meatballs and large prawns into the cauldron.

The pond was so infested with haruans that it took us ten more trips there before we encountered a pak koh (empty handed) day. Most of the days we landed more than twenty haruans of over a kilo in size. Of course we took only one or two for our kenduries, with the rest being returned to a beaming Ah Foo.

THE SPOTTED FEATHERBACKS OF BATU GAJAH

This article was published in the March 2004 issue of Rod and Line fishing magazine.

Illegal immigrants have always been a problem in this country. If they are of the human kinds, they pose a very serious problem here. Our law enforcement and health authorities are been stretched to the limit of their capabilities trying to overcome them.

Those that are other than the human kinds also contribute a lot of troubles too. Most of these non-human illegal immigrants came into the country through the exotic animal and tropical fish trades. The problems they created to the environment and ecosystem will take a number of years to be felt.

At this very moment most of the hues and cries were over the indiscriminate release of unwanted pet tropical fishes into our waterways. The devastating erosion of the banks of our rivers and ponds by the sucker catfish has been proven beyond reasonable doubt. Recently, alarms were sounded regarding the peacock bass and the hybrid flower horn fish. Both these cichlids are predators and they do breed as though tomorrow is the end of the world (Heh, scientists, think of the opportunities and riches if you can extract the hormone responsible for making them horny).

While our concerns and attentions are directed at these fishes, the spotted leatherbacks are slowly but surely colonizing the ex-mining ponds around the Kinta Valley. Ponds that we used to catch kaluis, haruans and tilapias are now full of this graceful fish. Maybe being slow moving, the featherbacks do not threaten the ecosystem so much, but their diet does consist of small and tiny prawns. Thinks of the consequences, for when there is no small fish there is no big fish.

To catch fish we must ‘match the hatch’. Goh Tiong Boo was given the task of procuring the scissor tails (it is always the new fellows of the group that are been bullied). Kong, the one who was taking us to his secret spot, of course, was treated like a boss (One of the techniques to secure secret spots). My duty was to provide the car and be the driver lah.

Kong holding up his featherback.

Standing on the bank of the pond near Batu Gajah, Kong was telling us the few hotspots where the featherbacks like to hang around. Being quite early, those belidas have not come out to play yet. According to him, the moment the fish come up for air, the bait should be cast to the vicinity of the rise. If it is in feeding mood, the bait should be taken in a short while.

Our guide was the first to get a bite. In less than five minutes after he had cast out his bait, it was picked up by the belida. Holding up his rod, he struck the moment all his slack line had been taken up. We held our breath as the fish headed for the surface. When it exploded through the water, we ooh and aah in unison... That fish should be given a gold medal for gymnastics. The way it somersaulted and shook its head was truly spectacular. That day must be its unluckiest day for that fish failed to gain it freedom.

This was the way we rigged our baits for belidas.

I got impatient with the waiting and went lure fishing with my casting outfit. There was not a single strike even though quite a number of sinking and deep running crankbaits were tried. My method was to cast to the vicinity of the rise, allow the crankbait to sink before retrieving it. Maybe, the featherbacks were not that aggressive that day, as my efforts drew a naught. Changing to a floating Fat Rap, resulted in a tremendous strike. The rod was nearly yanked out of my hand when the lure was allowed to float up. That monster headed out, taking line with it. When it turned to my right trouble was staring at me straight in the face.

You see, my view was blocked by a tree jutting out from the bank of the pond. Stretching my hands, at the same time leaning my body out as much as I dared, I had a hard time controlling that monster. It headed into some submerged branches and stopped running. The fishing line transmitted all the jerking and shaking of its head in the water.

En. Isa, who was in a sampan nearby, came over to help. After handing my rod to him, I ran over to the other side of the tree and waited. My rod and lure minus the fish, was handed back to me. It must have dislodged the hook using the branches as leverage. We unanimously agreed that the monster could be a toman, for belidas do not fight that dirty. Thanking him for his help, we bade En. Isa farewell. Of course, only after he agreed to allow me to take a photograph of him and his jelawat.

Turning my attention back to ledgering for leatherback again, I eased my aging body into my fishing chair, and settled down to wait (My wife always complains that I am very impatient but yet can enjoy fishing).

When Goh’s rod, which was to my left suddenly started to jerk, we shouted to alert him. The trouble was he had gone to ‘buang sueh’ somewhere. When the rod was pulled out of its holder, there was no choice but for me to dive for it. As getting out of my fishing chair required some effort on my part, I lunged forward, sliding on my tummy (Try to imagine a walrus, no, no a penguin is more preferable, sliding on ice), down the bank.

My reward for a few hours of fishing. Featherback meat is very good for making fish balls.

Luckily I managed to grab his rod, but the fish had let go of the bait. Muttering under my breath all the #@!$ (Goh belongs to the other class of people where all the exclamation marks are non-existent in his vocabulary), helped to ease the pent up frustration.

Sometimes helping others has its rewards. It came in the form of a sudden movement of my line. Being agile and acrobatic did not help to save that belida for we had our photograph taken together. As Kong had some previous appointments later, we decided to call it a day.

Our usual method of fishing for the spotted belidas in ponds is by ledgering. As the ponds do not have current, the weights used need not be very big. After the running weight has hit bottom, we normally reel in some line, but still maintain some slack line for the belidas to pull. Strike when your line tightens. The fish will normally be gut hooked.

En.Isa was kind enough to pose for my camera. Here he is holding up his very presentable jelawat.

If catch and release is your way, then reel in the slack in your line. Strike as soon as your rod tip moves down and your fish will normally be hooked in the mouth.

POPPING AT THE RUSSIAN WRECK OFF PENANG ISLAND

This article was published in the February 2004 issue of Rod and Line fishing magazine.

“Sorry guys, it is no go,” declared Sia, our taikong. Six smiling faces became very long. (Try to imagine the faces of horses, got it?) Yes, disappointed was too tame a word to describe our feelings. We have planned this trip for quite a while. As we had tried popping at Tukun Perak a few times, we felt the change of venue and scenery really could do wonders to our enthusiasm, you know.

There we were bobbing in the sea with heavy rain and North-westly wind slamming into our boat. Our fading hopes were kept flickering by the fact that the taikong did not turn the boat around and head for port. We rode the storm for almost half an hour peering through the rain-splattered windows and scanning he horizon. Slowly the sky at the distant horizon started to clear. With our combined pleading, Sia relented by gunning the engine and steering the bow westward. Being only eighteen nautical miles west of Penang, we were soon circling the wreck.

James with his trevally. He did not look too happy with his size.

Sia took his time to observe the wind and tide before dropping anchor. We were all lined up at the side of the boat, rods in hands (popping rods lah, what else?) and craning our necks like giraffes, scanning  the sea for signs of GTs. Sia announced nonchantly that the time and tide was  not right yet (no wonder he was resting in the cabin). When he started to prepare our meals, we knew he really meant it was not time yet.

The taikong's assistant helping to unhook a GT.

While having our tummies filled, Sia told us that the time and the current must fit together for the baitfish to surface. Following closely behind would be the thugs and hooligans, we called giant trevallies. He added that our boat would be parallel to the wreck. That was when we had to be ready. Either we had to cold cast to entice the fish to the top or wait for them to follow the baitfish to the surface.

After our meals, we were sitting around talking and joking. Yours truly took the opportunity to narrate my fishing stories (as all old goats do), boring everyone to death in the process. I was so engrossed in my yarn spinning that I failed to see James picking up his rod. With a yell that nearly gave me a heart attack, James strained back against his rod. At the other end was a GT fighting desperately for its life. I guessed that GT was fated to be caught.

Most of the time it was a waiting game. Here we were scanning the sea for action.

Suddenly, Sia was onto another fish. That was when everyone wised up and started scrambling all over to grab their popping rods. Tan’s popper was gulped the moment it started to skip on the surface. With a lot of groaning and swearing, the fish was finally landed. Looking around, I saw Sia leaning back against a hard running trevally. I was rather worried as he had one leg jammed against the railing and another on the deck. Though not very religious, I was praying hard that his line did not snap. He would be in for a nasty accident, should that happened. Well, he not only did not fall but won the battle too.

Thang was helping his best friend, Tan,  to charge up his luminous jig with a small torch light during their night jigging session.

When Thong yelled, his rod was already bent into a perfect C. Thrusting the rod butt into his belly cup, he could just managed to move into a Bruce Lee’s Jeet Kune Do stance. All the while the fish kept on taking line. There must be something wrong with his drag, for that turbo charged submarine emptied his spool again  (He was spooled once at Tekun Perak). Above the din of crashing waves and excited shouts, I could not clearly make out what he was saying, but I could make an intelligent guess. Most of the time, those @#$% do help to ease tension and frustration, you know.

Thong’s fish must have led the whole school away as everything quieted down after that. When all the casting di not bring us any result, we had to give up. Taking the opportunity from the lull, I asked James how he could sense the GTs was coming. Putting on that cunning smile of his, he said, “You people not only got to work smart, but to fish smart too.” He added that when he saw the taikong standing against the railing, popping rod in his right hand and his left hand shading his eyes (just like the legendary Monkey God) he knew the GTs were coming.

The lull lasted into evening when Tang suddenly tied onto a trevally during one of his random casting. That was the signal for all of us to move into action station. My skipping popper suddenly disappeared from the surface of the sea and I was into my first fight of this trip. Moving along the boat, I slowly fell back to the stern. Line was slowly but steadily been peeled from my spool. There was nothing much I could do, except to use the railing as a leverage to prevent myself from been pulled overboard (The boat was rocking and rolling quite badly, mind you).

Feathering the spool ever so lightly, just to make that thug work harder, I could feel the heat from the overworked drag radiating onto the spool. Suddenly, every angler’s nightmare happened. My line went slack and I nearly fell backward. Reeling back my popper, I noticed that the center treble was missing. Well, who was I to be blame except myself for been too lazy and careless. While changing the hooks and split rings to stronger ones, I was aware that the split ring had developed a gap, which I was too lazy to close. The hook must have worked its way out through that gap. I paid the price for underestimating the power of the GTs.

That night everything was quiet. Tan and his best friend Thang were jigging for the GTs that we knew were around at the bottom. All methods and jigs were tried with no result. In the end they had to give up too. 

Our taikong and Tan holding up some of their catches.

Even before the sky began to lighten in the morning, we were already scanning the water surface with rods in our hands. Everyone did their duties by taking turns to cast, hoping to trigger the fish to strike. When there was no result from all our efforts even the most persistent guy would rethink. In the end, the motto “if you do not succeed try again” got to make way for “if you do not succeed just give up lah”.

On the way back, everyone were teasing me about been luckless again. I hope this bad luck streak does not follow me around too often or else the will attach the initial “P. K.” (Pak Kor) to my name.

REVISITING KOTA TAMPAN – Part Two (Toman Fishing)

This article was published in the January 2004 issue of Rod and Line fishing magazine.

After our previous two trips to hunt for the sebaraus of Kota Tampan, we felt we needed a change. Too much of a good thing is dull, you know. Variety is the spice of life, so they said (Only true for fishing, or else I will get a lot of protests from readers’ irate spouses). As a result we decided to target the tomans this time.

Reaching Lenggong at 6.15a.m., James and I headed for Sen Huat Restaurant. You could get some of the best pows and tim sum (sorry, they are non-halal) around here. The proprietor named his large pows, Yip Chee Mei (a very well-endowed Hong Kong actress) pows. Anyone with good imagination should be able to visualize their sizes. With that type of pows, you got no choice but to feel bloated and burp regularly after breakfast.

Not very big, but there was a good population here.

 

With stomachs filled, we headed back to Raban and unloaded our boat. My outboard was purring slowly as we ‘tiptoed’ out to the Perak River. Why the caution, you may ask. Well, the whole stretch of the mist covered lake was criss-crossed with drift nets. One wrong move and you not only had a tough time untangling the propeller from the net, but you had also to pacify some parang-wielding fishermen too.

This chap hit James' Tail Dancer in the Perak River itself.

When the entrance of the first pond came into sight, I eased up on the throttle. Lo, behold! A ball of toman fries was rippling on the surface of the water. James’ Tail Dancer was grabbed even before I could kill the engine and position the boat. The fight was fast and furious with runs and dashes to the left and right. Anyway, the battle was quickly ended with the release of the fish to join its brood.

Inching our way into the first pond, we headed for some drowned trees. Casting to a submerged log, I started my retrieve. Suddenly a huge toman shot out from nowhere to go for my lure. Too late, for I had lifted my lure out of the water. Before I could react, that confused fish dashed off with a flick of its tail. Well, that was our only excitement here after almost an hour of casting.

The second that we headed for was very misleading. After emerging from the passageway, you would be very disappointed with the size. Anyway, we explored this small pond for signs of the giant snakeheads.

Toby also worked well here. This toman grabbed one and earned a sore mouth.

Suddenly, James’s lure was stopped in its track. Poor James, that monster was a well-trained street fighter. He lost more than RM20 when that brute headed for some submerged branches. Well, I do admit that I was a bit of a sadist. I did derive some pleasure from ribbing him on his lost lure. “Aiyoo, your heart must be aching badly loh. If you were to give me a treat with that money, at least I would say thank you,” I teased.

The fact that 'Tom Thumb' went or my lure proved that they were ferocious.

I was going to regret it later for I ended up losing more than a hundred ringgit of lures (who said that fishing is cheap?).

At the far end of the pond, there were quite a number of dead tree trunks jutting out of the water. Once we had maneuvered pass this mess, the expense of water in front was as big as two football fields. As soon as we had quieted down, the freshwater tigers began to rise.

Another fell for the Tail Dancer. This lure proved to be very effective.

The moment we spotted a rise, two lures immediately shot out pass the concentric rings. The attack would come the moment the lure wriggled pass the approximate position of the rise. There was no exploding jerk, only a sudden stopping of the lure when the toman struck.

Well, I thought someone said that ‘fishing is just a jerk at one end of the line waiting for a jerk on the other end’. The action that followed could only be described as fantastic. Though I lost quite a number of lures, I still enjoyed myself tremendously.

The condom man.

Somehow the Almighty always has his own plans. The sky darkened and the wind began to pick up, forcing us to pack. My chubby fishing partner suddenly announced that it was time to put on his condom.

Puzzled, I watched him slowly unfurled a small pack of thin plastic. He got me quite worried then for I thought that he had a slight short circuit in his head. When he finally had finished putting that piece of plastic on, only then did I realize it was a piece of disposable raincoat.

For our next trip we went to the pond that I first fished a few decades ago. This was the pond that we had to trek inland risking being shot, as there were quite a number of army patrols going around the jungles here.

This was the pond we had to trek and risk been shot to reach in the past. But now a road has been built just passing a stone throw from it.

Instead of trekking, James and I could drive across a bridge reaching almost to the edge of the pond now. Well, development has its pros and cons. My first cast at this pond resulted in a small toman. This small fellow grabbed my Abu Toby. The Toby accounted for another toman of respectable size, which was released.

The locals called this bridge 'San Sin Kiew' or 'Fairies' Bridge'. We did not fish here as it was full of criss-crossing branches. I took James on a tour here to show him where I caught my first kuang (toman bunga) decades ago. Just showing of.

Most of the tomans here were more of the below average size. Small though they rare but they made up with their numbers. There were quite a number of fry balls here too. Most of the time our lure would be grabbed the moment they were retrieved pass the fries.

There were a few groups of fries that we termed as ‘anak yatim piatu’ (orphans). No matter how many times we cast or how many lures we changed, there was no hit from their parents. Those that were caught were let off as near to the fries as possible. The fights were kept short so as not to stress the fish too much.

The pond that we fished in was still very well populated with fish. If you ask me whether the professionals have moved in, I think the number of times we had to recover our lures from discarded nets provided the answer. The number of sunken trees and weeds did offer some protection to the fish and helped to maintain a reasonable population. Let us hope the situation remains.