You know how fishing plans go — sometimes they unfold just right, and sometimes the river has other ideas.

Dre (Andre van Wyk) and I had lined up a mission to the Berg River, chasing those golden ghosts — carp. But the night before, I got a message from Matt Kennedy saying he and Stuart Tappe were heading to Paarl to do the same thing. Did I want to join? Of course, I did. We figured we’d link up somewhere along the way.

As it turned out, Dre got pulled into work (as happens), so I joined Matt and Stu instead. When I got to one of our usual haunts, they were already on the water. Plenty of fish about — feeding too — but nothing was eating the flies. Typical Berg.

One of the reasons I love fishing the Berg is that it never looks the same twice. After every winter’s high flows, it rearranges itself — new pools, new sandbanks, fresh lies. Keeps it interesting. I wandered downstream and found a pool with a shallow, sandy inlet. A few small carp were nosing onto the sandbank, but they’d spook easily and drop back into the pool. Some bigger shapes were hanging in the current along the drop-off.

I tied on a Lalu Bug, cast it right on the edge, and let it drift off into the deeper water. I couldn’t really see my fly when I felt that subtle tap tap. I strip-struck into something solid, lifted the rod — and it tore off left and right along the sand bank edge. I braced for a proper carp run, started getting line onto the reel, when out of the corner of my eye, it jumped.

Wait… carp don’t usually jump like that. Then a flash of green. Nope — not a carp at all. A solid smallmouth bass! About 18 inches, fat and red-eyed — a proper Berg bruiser. Landed it after a couple of jumps and breathed a sigh of relief; those Lalu Bug hooks are tiny and I’ve lost a few good bass on them before.

By then, Matt and Stu had worked their way down to me. Same story for them — lots of carp around, none interested. I could see that familiar Berg River frustration creeping in. Matt muttered something about dragonflies not working and swapped to another nymph. The excitement from earlier in the day was fading fast.

Neither of them had ever landed a Berg River carp, and Matt was determined — especially after filming Tudor and me catching a bunch last summer (if you missed it, check out Berg Buddies).

We decided a change of scenery might help. New spot, new energy. Plenty of fish about again. Matt and Stu took the main pool, and I wandered up to the inlet. There were fish feeding, but also plenty doing that “don’t cast at me” slow cruise. After a few fly changes, frustration started creeping in.

I switched to a Flexpole ( tadpoles are plentiful in early summer?), thinking it might tempt one. Drifted it past a few feeding fish — still nothing. I finally pulled out an old favourite — a red squirmy that had clearly been sitting in my box for too long, stuck to half my other flies, it twanged as the elastic pulled free. It remained intact to give it a go.

First cast to the far bank — bang! Something silver darted around like a maniac. Not a bass, not a carp… I briefly thought maybe a Witvis from last summer’s stockings? Then it came off. Bugger. Cast again — same thing, but this time I landed it. A wild rainbow trout, flawless fins, perfect color, but this trout looked like Gerrie Coetzee that had been boxing with carp and bass all its life.

Just as I released it, Matt and Stu appeared. Matt had a massive grin and a 26-inch carp to match — his first Berg River carp, caught on a Lalu Bug he’d tied himself. Dragonflies were back on the menu.

Matt joked about us getting a Berg River Slam — bass, trout, and carp. I’ve never really gone out chasing slams; they usually happen by accident. But it’s funny how often they sneak up on you when you’re just enjoying the fishing.

We gave the main pool a rest and spread out again. I wandered upstream into some skinny water — nothing. The wind was picking up, sight fishing was getting tough, and I was just about ready to call it a day. I still had that squirmy on, slightly frayed tippet and all.

I went to the head of the main pool to try to pick up another trout, maybe. I spotted a good-sized orange-tailed carp feeding right on the far bank in the current. Tricky cast. First one too short. Second one, too short again. I moved my position for a better back cast, made a third cast, and drifted just right. The carp shifted. Was that an eat? Lifted the rod to solid tension.

It exploded into the pool, tearing line downstream. I had to chase it — 100 meters later, it still wasn’t giving up. With that frayed leader, I couldn’t push too hard. Just when I thought I’d lose it, Matt and Stu appeared, whooping. Stu had just caught his own carp downstream, so the energy was high.

The fight dragged on forever and the carp would just not come to the net, until Matt finally netted it perfectly. Relief.

We left the river buzzing — Matt and Stu with their first Berg River carp and, technically, a Berg River Slam between us. Not a bad day for a plan that almost didn’t happen.