Deep in a Congolese rainforest, scientist Russell Tate took a moment to put down his electrofisher and nets, and pick up his fly rod instead.

I’m one lucky bastard. I studied the effects of chemicals on aquatic organisms, and this niche area of expertise has taken me all over Africa looking at rivers. I’m part of a team who classifies important natural habitats. We use this information to produce strategies that protect these areas from development. As part of the work I am tasked to catch as many species of fish as possible. To do this I will usually use a backpack electrofisher and an array of nets, but rarely get to do any angling let alone fly fishing. 

Despite this, on these trips I always carry at least one of my fly rods, packed in tightly with all the scientific equipment. Most of my recent work has taken me into the dense, jungled Afro-Tropics, places like Cameroon, Ghana, Sierra Leone and Liberia. Rivers in these places are insane, highly biodiverse, breath-takingly beautiful and very much understudied either by scientists or by fly anglers. 

The rivers I’ve end up surveying are usually small (1-5m), mostly rocky and under the complete shade of massive riverine forest. Fly fishing is usually tight under the forest canopy and the fish aren’t massive so there isn’t a need for any large rods. I typically pack my Reel Fly Fishing Origin 8’ 1-weight. It’s small enough to fit into my boxes and perfect for the small tropical streams.

A recent opportunity saw me team up with my two close colleagues, Llwelyn Coertzen, our botanist (usually balls deep in swamp forest), and Phil Patton, our birder (usually seen with a pair of binoculars glued to his face), to conduct a rapid survey of habitats in a part of coastal northern Republic of Congo. When I received the news of this survey, I immediately thought of the African Waters camp at Sette Cama and my mind went into overdrive thinking that I’d be knee deep in some seriously fishy waters. For this trip I decided I’d probably need to up the ante in terms of rod size, so packed my Stealth Bomber 8-weight. I also took the opportunity to steal some flies – gamechangers, NYAPS’s, and brushflies – from my fly fishing brother Gareth Tate, in prep for the trip. 

“Pulling into the ranger camp for the night to the calls of chimpanzees, the place hummed with life. For any fisherman, it was impossible not to feel excited.” 

A survey in remote Central Africa is never straightforward. Landing in the Republic of Congo with a valid visa from Pretoria, only to be promptly ushered into a small room for questioning, quickly confirmed that fact. After surrendering our gear for a “thorough inspection,” we were eventually released and headed west, towards the Gabonese border and the wilds of Conkouati-Douli National Park (CDNP). The park has recently opened to tourists, with a few cottages and lodges being built, but getting around can be a bit tricky and if you want to head deeper into the jungle, a boat is needed. 

The rolling grasslands and forested valleys of the park quickly made us forget the drama of lost luggage. We’ve worked across Central and West Africa’s tropics, but never witnessed wildlife in such abundance. A silverback gorilla here, a troop of chimpanzees there and, as if on cue, a herd of forest elephants bursting from the canopy into the open grasslands. The place felt raw, alive, and utterly untamed. 

Time, however, was not on our side. Delayed logistics and gear meant our deeper jungle survey, to be reached only by boat, was postponed. When transport finally arrived, we pushed off across wide estuarine lakes, into dense swamp forest, and slowly meandered upstream into a winding, rocky river shaded by trees rising 20–30 metres above the banks. 

Pulling into the ranger camp for the night to the calls of chimpanzees, the place hummed with life. For any fisherman, it was impossible not to feel excited. Every swirl, splash, or bubble could mean an undiscovered fish species or a lurking tropical giant. Yet the jungle kept us on edge too, every crack of a branch or sudden rustle was a reminder of the forest elephants that dominate these valleys. 

We had only one night before heading back downstream, so we strung up hammocks by the river, sipped whiskey, and guessed at the creatures stirring beyond the firelight. It’s always exciting sleeping in these wild spaces, the jungle is never really a quiet place and you never really know what’s lurking in the shadows.  The whiskey helps with that though. 

Morning came. The boat didn’t which, in hindsight, was perfect. Lemons and lemonade, hay and the sunshine. The jungle came alive, birds screaming, mist hanging low over the river, and fish rising all over the place. I could feel that buzz building. I just knew it was still going to be a good day.

Out came the fly rods and, with the schedule briefly out the window, it was time to fish. Fish communities in these rivers are really understudied and we weren’t sure what we might encounter on the rods. Based on lists from surrounding rivers, there were an estimated 32 different species of barb and yellowfish in the river, so we really weren’t sure what to expect! 

The section of river that we decided to fish was the tail end of a large deep pool emptying into a cobbled braided riffle which then became a series of interconnected sandy pools. In the pools, woody debris falling from the adjacent riverine forest formed structure we thought we would target. 

I started simply, in a section where a cobbled riffle emptied into a small pool, casting for “anything that bites,” usually small insectivores but. in a place like this, even the smallest fish felt like a discovery waiting to happen. Every birthday since about the age of 13 my boet, Gareth, usually sends me a box of his discarded nymphs, what he refers to as “all sorts”. These are usually nymph imitations (Flashback Hares Ears, PTNs, GHREs etc.). His trash, my GOLD! I have found that these flashy flies work a charm on the smaller fish like the barbs (Enteromius) and tetra (Brachyalestes). 

“After a few adjustments to get the flies down into the strike zone, success! A stunning Ngongo blue-tinged yellowfish (Labeobarbus cardozoi) slid into the net.” 

Dry flies also work a trick. I’ve found that the larger flies work well to instigate a take, imitating an unfortunate insect falling from the forest canopy. It didn’t take long before the first fish hit, a dark-striped, feisty Kingsley’s Robber (Brachyalestes kingsleyae). Aggressive beyond its size, it hammered a dry Royal Coachman with all the attitude of a miniature tigerfish. A few more followed in quick succession, but nothing else showed up. So I switched tactics. Out came my go-to river rig, a heavy tungsten beaded caddisfly imitation as point and a PTN hotspot. After a few adjustments to get the flies down into the strike zone of the cobbled riffle, success! A stunning Ngongo blue-tinged yellowfish (Labeobarbus cardozoi) slid into the net. With that beauty in hand it felt like time to scale things up and hunt for predators, some mysterious migrants from the estuarine lakes downstream that are known to migrate for kilometres upriver.  

I was certain that migratory estuarine species from the lakes were present, as I had caught an Atlantic Spotted Grunter in my gill nets. This meant exciting species like Guinea River snapper (Lutjanus endecacanthus) and springer (Elops senegalensis) might have migrated upriver from the extensive coastal lakes. 

Llwelyn and I began probing the deeper pools and runs with large streamers, mixing up retrieves. In many ways, the fishing was like what I had experienced fishing for tigerfish on the Pongola River, fishing tight against woody debris and drifting into pools with drop-offs. 

On one cast, I swung the fly past a tangle of woody debris and let it sink deep. The line went tight and I thought, ‘This is it, perhaps I have one of the snappers?’ After a short but exciting fight, a toothy surprise came to hand, a Hepsetus lineatus, the lined African pike. Sleek, mean-looking, and a new species on fly for me. 

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