Shad run, Natal Coast, July, Memories

Waking up in the dark, fishing rods in hand, lugging boxes of bait and tackle, the sand in the toes is cold, the air chills the flesh, the sun rises slowly. As we walk out onto Trafalgar Beach, South Coast, KwaZulu Natal (South Africa) the dune bush gives way to a brightening sky. The surf rolls in on the flat stretch of sand. Numb fingers cannot bait up fast enough and running into the water, cast as far as possible. The surf is not deep, distance is essential, run like to hell to escape the frothy white waves chasing. Nothing great about a drenching at that hour. Then, the wait, the tense suspense of expectation. There is nothing shy about a shad, which is a small but plentiful gamefish. When they bite, they bite and they come in schools. It's the Formula One of surf casting, running up the beach with a fish in tow, baiting up as fast as possible and back in. They go as fast as they come. An hour later a few fish, maybe four or five if lucky and hometime, proudly to return later to laze under the African sun, catching waves and generally talking about who caught that morning.

Living faraway from the South Africa, the land of my birth and where I spent the first 39 years of my life, this photograph (from the 1980s) is the most cherished of memories.