Fishing Guinjata with the Joneses
Fishing Guinjata with the Joneses: I was very lucky to have had firsthand knowledge of the Joneses of Guinjata Bay. I had grown up with them!
My brother and I went to school with the Jones kids. Brad. And his older brother Ralph Junior. Mtubatuba. Man oh man were they tough kids to grow up with.
And so with just a tiny little bit of trepidation, I took on a job working at Seabound charters for uncle Ralph. And skippering a boat next to Ralph Jr.
Ralph Junior was driving an Acecat 555. Uncle Ralph had a huge Invader cat with twin 175hps. And I was on the nicest 19ft Yeld cat. We had all three boats in the water each day and man oh man did we have buckets of fun.
One morning, all three of us started together. We had lures and baits and all sorts out with the three boats trolling abreast. A marlin came straight in at us from the front. It peeled off to Seabound and uncle Ralph had a jumper on. Next thing a sailfish come screaming in from the other sideband Ralph Junior was vas. Whilst all this is going on two of my rods start screaming. A huge shark comes barrelling up at us and obliterates one of my fish on the surface. Making a tennis court-sized fuss of my spread.
All three boats got their fish. Mine was a couta.
But it was the early morning walk to the boat house on the beach that I savoured the most. The tractor would bring my boat down the hill to join the other two on the beach. 7 am Was launch time each day. But I start super early and I had only recently discovered the drop shot.
My neat little 7ft two-piece was mated to a little Calcutta filled with light braid and a top line. I could almost cast all the 100m of line right out the reel.
And I had also learned that if I tie a fly, onto the Allbright above the lure, it would entice many smaller fish to jump on. Baby GTs mainly with the odd other species of kingfish in between.
By the time I got to the boats, I might have caught ten little guys along the way.
However this particular morning, I ended up not being alone. I was being shadowed. Stalked. By a young whippersnapper. He was barely at the age where he could speak Portuguese.
But he did…
The fish were going crazy in the corner. Every cast was a chase or a hookup. As I let go my 30th kingfish of the morning, I felt a tap on my arm. It was this little kid.
He stated vehemently in Portuguese – that if I let one more fish go, he was going to call the police and have me thrown in jail?!
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