BLAST FROM THE PAST – ROCK and SURF FISHING: South Africa’s ‘Tragedy of the Commons’

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WORDS: Christelle van Niekerk IMAGES: Ross Vermeulen

I wish I could say that I found fishing through some post-university, revolutionizing experience that changed my entire perspective on the world, and although that is what it became, it is not how it began. It started with the frustration of watching my boyfriend, Ross Vermeulen, blank weekend after weekend.

This is not to say that one day I just picked up a rod, decided to start fishing, out-fished my boyfriend, and met a bunch of cool people all easy-peasy. My interest in fish and the ocean took hold at a young age while rotspoeletjie fishing with my Dad. I think this is what has strapped me in for the long ride. Although I must say, what has given my new-found passion its legs are the remarkable ladies and gents I have met along the way. They are really the ones who have gotten me into fishing as much as I currently find myself.

I am a plattelandse meisie who grew up in Robertson and then went over the boerewors curtain to study a BSc in Molecular Biology and Biotechnology at Stellenbosch University. In my final year, I met my boyfriend, Mombak the Second – Ross Vermeulen. I call him this because the only person who mombaks harder than he does, is our fishing mentor, Captain Mombak – Mike Dames (or Mombak Mike for short).

You see, Ross is the one who just picked up a 14’6” surf rod out of the blue and whipped me off to the beach on weekends. There, I would work on my tan and watch the idiot repeatedly throw whole chokkas at Strand, Koelbaai, Betty’s, Kleinmond, Hermanus… the list goes on. Ross, I love you, but we both know you are a much better lure angler, and only knew freshwater fishing for most of your life.

Over time I took sympathy on Ross and decided to join him in learning FG’s, limited slides and how to snell circles. Of course, this included a demonstration on how to dispatch a whole pack of White mussels on a single cast using an extra-long dingle-dangle. I say dispatch because he threw a wind-knot and snapped the terminal tackle clean off. To this day, I’m sure his tennis skills made that the first bit of mollusc matter to escape Earth’s gravitational force and enter orbit!

Ross spent much of his youth in Nelspruit, working with his Uncle Matthew Greeff, a professional hunter and safari outfitter with a great appreciation for the value of natural resources. Uncle Matt no doubt instilled Ross’s conservation-based outlook on wildlife. Ross often spoke to me about the importance of understanding where one’s food comes from and his previous experiences with Uncle Matt, sustainably harvesting that food.

Ross explained that many of the great conservationists were in fact hunters that valued a species over an individual. This philosophy ultimately led to the development of conservation models, including hunting, to generate revenue that is then used to sustain a natural environment and therefore the species itself.

I could see Ross sorely missed the Lowveld and his days with Uncle Matt, which obviously drove him to seek a similar lifestyle here in the Cape. So, with the thought of a fresh Kabeljou for the braai in mind, paired with a clear conscience and maybe a glass of good Chardonnay, I bought into Ross’s mission.

Side-note to all the ladies out there: if a man with 3-plus degrees in Biochemistry offers to cook your dinner, just say ‘yes’! To the ladies who know what I’m talking about, I’m sure you’ll understand the reason why I signed up for this fresh fish mission and kept at it! Eventually, after months of futile expeditions and my vicariously derived realization that rock and surf fishing is tough, Mike Dames fortunately took us under his wing.

Now in a more romantic story, this is where one would naturally progress to how the fish were actually the lucky ones, because – like Uncle Matt – Mike is a staunch conservationist. Or in his own words an “Ichthyologist by training and Angler by birth”. Unfortunately, in this story, I can’t quite say that the fish were indeed the lucky ones because we hadn’t caught anything, after months! OK, so that’s maybe a bit of a paradoxical or ambiguous statement, but bear with me…

You see, back then Ross and I were true hook-and-cook Extraordinaires, doggedly on the hunt for our next fresh meal. We just thought we were exceptionally bad at shore fishing, as I’m sure most people from inland do. Little did we know Mike had news for us. Yes, we were in fact horrible at scratching out fish from the surf, but that wasn’t the bad news we were expecting.

Mike broke it to us, the story all Kapenaars know and few Vaalies are interested in. Our fisheries are way overtaxed, with many species on the brink of collapse and for the most part not much is being done about it. This means that although Ross and I had good intentions in our catch and cook endeavours, permits in hand, we had the wrong conservation model in mind.

You see, the act of hunting and fishing share many parallels, however, effective conservation practices of these two natural resources are almost complete opposites. Note that I am no trained conservationist and by no means do I want to step on anyone’s toes, this notion is my opinion.

Hunting grounds and the animals that occupy them are far easier to tally and manage, if need be. Furthermore, the managers of those environments act as game wardens whose best interests lie in maintaining a good diversity, population, and biome. These wardens are implicitly responsible for collecting the debt that hunters owe to the land, and it’s beneficial to the wardens to reinvest a fair share of the money back into the natural resource. In this way, preservation is maintained through co-dependency.

Obviously, this model cannot be as easily applied to fishing.

This is because regardless of how many fish are taken, it does not directly affect anyone – at least not until the fisheries are completely gone. Is this perhaps South Africa’s “tragedy of the commons”?  This realization rocked my world. However, it’s what Mike said next that made up my mind on what I am going to do about it. He said that depletion of our fisheries is happening at such a rate that “the good old days are now”.

My goal is therefore to reach out to as many people as I can and influence their perspective on South African coastal fishing. I am not opposed to a good old vissie op die kole, but I want people to realize that at this stage we should feel good about releasing more than what we keep. Even though many South Africans only go shore fishing once a year, they don’t realize that it takes Mother Nature a much longer time to prepare the prize.

Fish are far more residential and slower growing than the majority of people know, paired with the difficulty to manage fish, makes for a vulnerable resource.

If I can ask anything from readers, it would be for them to go and check out “SAffers” such as Mike Dames, Stefan Oosthuizen, Vivian Dames and Xander de Beer. I think these guys are nothing but the steeziest catch and release anglers and seeing them in action has made me a truly proud South African. The ball is in our hands and these guys are leading the way. By watching and learning from them, beginners and “hooked” youngbloods can have their mindsets tuned and kept current.

For example, Ross and I have been exposed to more and more tagging as we have gotten into the sport. We thought it was an awesome idea, because researchers gain knowledge through a public effort, SA can keep better tabs on its fish stocks, and of course anglers can flex their competitive sides. Once again, Stefan put my perspective on its head.

Stefan told us about a study he was involved in that simply looked at old newspaper clippings detailing trophy fish caught in the Garden Route between 1950 and 2010. Not surprisingly, they found a decrease in the frequency of trophy fish caught over time. So how does this tie into tagging?

Well, in Struisbaai Stefan also put me onto my personal best Kob, a decent 98 cm, head shaking, dusky-silver beast! Upon landing, we saw that it had been previously tagged and to my amazement Stefan immediately recognized the tag number as one of his own. I was of course beyond stoked to say the least, but thinking back Stefan seemed a bit bleak.

I now realize this was because the plight of trophy fish means there are not only less big fish, but altogether less fish along our coastlines in general. Therefore, tagging is reaffirming that we are all re-catching the same fish and more often. Stefan has since told me that from the respectable number of fish he has tagged, close to 10% have been recaptured. I wonder, should it be this way?

No doubt, I will have mixed feelings about recaptures in the future, but most of those feelings will still be of excitement and pride because of my reconditioned hunting instincts. That is, I don’t think the answer is to just stop fishing all together, but to do it in a way that benefits fisheries as a whole. Therefore, I look forward to tipping the “one-metery” Kobbie mark, my first Bronzie and Sea Flap-Flap. Beyond this, I look even more forward to sharing future adventures with my new-found friends and our common cause. I am excited to be engaged and empowered in doing my little bit for my country, and maybe I have convinced some of you to join “our mission”. I’d like to end this on a quote from my idiot, Mombak the Second. As Ross once said, on the rare occasion that he got a fish: “with the right to interaction, comes the responsibility to respect”.

Tight lines all, and keep safe!

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