Mahseer adventure
At the confluence of two rivers on the border of India and Nepal monster fish can be found – if you can take your eyes off the scenery
Roger Sharpley heads to the River Saryu in India in pursuit of the country’s iconic sporting fish
EVER since I was regaled by a friend with stories about the golden mahseer, its illusiveness and fighting prowess, a trip in pursuit of it has been on my bucket list. In October, I decided the time had come to strike it off.
The mahseer is India’s iconic sporting fish, offering enormous sporting potential and requiring much skill to catch, spinning or on the fly. It lives in fast-flowing rivers and is renowned for its power, with specimens as large as 100lb having been caught. Traditionally, the local population caught them for food by bait fishing, but there has been a significant decline in stocks. Consequently, in recent years a strict catch-and-release policy has been adopted.
The weather conditions in October are far more to my liking than earlier in the year. I arranged the trip through Field Sports Travel, run by my partner, Liz Cavell-taylor. We wanted to experience the remoteness of the Himalayas so decided on a tented camp on the border of India and Nepal. After 48 hours in Delhi to recover from the culture shock of our arrival in India, we were met by Mickey Sidhu, the owner of Himalayan
Outback, whose camp we were fishing at. He had not recommended the overnight sleeper from Delhi to Kathgodam but it was an unforgettable experience, although the Orient Express it definitely was not.
HIMALAYAN FOOTHILLS
The camp on the Saryu river is approximately six hours’ drive from the station and we chose to explore the Nainital district in the Himalayan foothills, once home of the legendary man-eating tiger hunter and naturalist, Jim Corbett. Sidhu’s friend, Runjiv J Kapur, a documentary producer and photographer from Mumbai, accompanied us and we stopped en route and stayed in a beautiful local boutique hotel high up in the mountains. The four-hour journey the next day was through stunning scenery on roads of all conditions, which snaked through the mountains and villages, eventually arriving at the bustling market town of Lohaghat, a few miles from our destination. Twenty minutes later we came across the unforgettable vista of the confluence of the Saryu and Mahakali rivers, looking emerald blue from above and forming the border between India and Nepal. All travel tiredness disappeared as we crossed the Saryu by boat to arrive at the camp, which nestles in the trees on the riverbank with six tents discretely situated.
After refreshments and lunch I fished with head gillie Bobby, who Sidhu met as a village boy with no experience many years ago; he now has a knowledge of fishing for mahseer that is second to none. He holds the record for the largest mahseer caught on a fly: 56lb.
Bobby explained to me that the mahseer swim upstream from the beginning of April to mid June to spawn in smaller rivers and tributaries, and make the return journey from the beginning of September to late October, and these are the two seasons for catching them. The best chance of catching the largest fish is from late May until the run ends, but the heat and humidity are testing with fishing mainly through the night.
I set off with a 9ft 6in single-handed 8wt rod with a sunk line and was soon fishing in very fast water. It took a while to become used to fishing in the same spot for several minutes as the fish are continually on the move looking for food, but Bobby’s guidance paid off as before too long I felt a take and a sharp strike resulted in a mahseer of around 1½lb being landed. They are beautiful fish and very strong, with even small ones putting up a fight. Further success followed but Bobby’s record was definitely not in danger.
Dinner under canvas overlooking the river as evening closes in after a glass of whisky by the campfire is as good as it gets, especially following the inspirational Indian cuisine served by the cook, Gajju. An early night after an outdoor shower under the stars was not an issue.
We crossed the Saryu by boat to arrive at the camp, the six tents nestling discretely in the trees on the riverbank
We had breakfast at 8am full of anticipation, with Kapur keen for photo opportunities. Once again, I was with Bobby whilst Liz was with Sanju and Roshan. The river needed to warm up before the mahseer would take so we started fishing around 9.30/10am after a walk downstream looking across the river at farmers ploughing the terraced fields with oxen and singlefurrow wooden ploughs. The river scenery is stunning and it is a joy to fish in the clear, jade-blue, rushing water in the sun, keeping cool in the river up to our knees with lightweight trousers and no waders.
We were both fishing with 13ft 6in doublehanded rods, although a 15ft rod would have been useful at times, given my casting limitations. Liz soon caught her first fish but the larger specimens remained elusive. Bobby explained that the big fish are always more shy on the return journey from spawning but there was every chance of a double-digit one – which would be more than enough to satisfy us. Lunch back at the camp was followed by a siesta during the heat of the day and then a switch of gillies and back on the river until the shadows lengthened and the prospect of sundowners proved too strong to resist. Equally pleasurable was the lack of mosquitoes and other such insects.
The next morning we set out for an hour’s walk upstream, soon sighting leopard tracks on the sand and accompanied for much of the way by long-tailed monkeys (langurs) in the trees and village children riding and swimming with a cow in the river. The pools we fished and the setting made it an unforgettable morning – it truly was a joy to be alive.
After lunch, Sunil, the youngest gillie and Bobby’s nephew, persuaded me to try my luck for bigger fish with a spinning rod on a stretch of water that was more difficult for fly-fishing. Sunil was hugely enthusiastic and was determined not to return empty handed but the light was gone when we agreed on three more casts. On the second, I felt a take, struck hard and then the fight began with a big mahseer jumping clear of the water with a huge splash in the darkness.
Sunil was, if possible, more excited than me but terrified I would lose it and not without reason. After 10 or so minutes eventually I landed it and then knelt in the river to capture the obligatory photo to ensure that
I felt a take, struck hard and then the fight began with a big mahseer jumping clear of the water with a huge splash
when I lifted the 22lb specimen it was out of the water for the minimum time. It was difficult to believe that this fish was the same species as the lovely smaller ones that we had caught and the excitement was at a different level. We stumbled down the track in the dark, thankful for our head torches, returning to the camp for high fives all round and more than one celebratory drink.
RIVER JUNCTION
In the morning, Liz went with Mickey Sidhu and Runjiv to the local temple where a 1960s-style hippie priest presided, whilst Bobby and I went to the famous junction of the Saryu and Mahakali river, which ultimately flows into the Ganges. I had been warned that not only was this a good spot to catch large mahseer but also a holy place where the locals come to cremate the dead on burning log funeral pyres floating downstream. Sadly, I did not achieve the former and, thankfully, didn’t witness the latter.
On the final afternoon, Sunil insisted we return to the same pool for another large fish but I struck too slowly on the one take I had and there was no repeat of the lastthree-casts miracle of the day before. Our final dinner was a wonderful barbecue on the river shore: chapatis baked in a clay tandoori oven together with the usual delicious delicacies and meats from the cook’s tent.
We left early the next morning for the trip back after saying fond farewells to all the gillies and staff who had looked after us so wonderfully. After the novel and totally relaxing experience of no communications of any kind for more than three days, a mass of messages passed the time on the way back to Kathgodam, where Sidhu and Runjiv’s wives were joining them for a weekend in Nainital, whilst Pritam, Sidhu’s right-hand man, escorted Liz and I on the day train (preferable to the night one) to our hotel in Delhi and the next stage of our trip to Darjeeling and Calcutta. The fishing adventure was an unforgettable experience in every way and I might well say the trip of a lifetime – except I will return…
A 10-day fishing trip at Pancheshwar on the River Saryu costs from £3,450 per rod. Includes: Roseate House Hotel, New Delhi; private transfers; accompanying guide; first-class train tickets; camp accommodation and full board; fishing permit and taxes. Excludes international flights and all drinks.
Season: April to June; October
For tailor-made journeys arranged by
Liz Cavell-taylor, call 07971 088153; email: liz@fieldsportstravel.com or go to: fieldsportstravel.com