Tristan Dummer

Casting Lines: A Morning on Dullstroom Waters

The alarm buzzes at 5:30 AM, but I'm already awake. A fly fishing morning has a way of making sleep feel impossible. Dad is making coffee in the kitchen, and within the hour, we are driving through the misty South Africa countryside towards Dullstroom, our breath visible in the cold morning air.

This is not just about catching rainbow trout. It is about switching off from the relentless pace of corporate life and reconnecting with something real. Out here on the lakes and rivers around Dullstroom, mobile phones become paperweights and deadlines fade into distant memory.

The Art of the Cast

We reach the water just as the sun breaks the horizon. Dad is already rigging his rod with a woolly bugger, his go to fly for these waters. I opt for a Montana nymph, hoping the trout are feeding below the surface. The anticipation builds as we wade into the shallows, the cold water shocking our legs awake.

The first hundred casts yield nothing but exercise. This is fly fishing in its purest form. Patience, persistence, and faith that the next cast might be the one. Dad chuckles as I miss a strike for the first bite of the day.

Moments Between Casts

Between the rhythm of casting and retrieving, we talk absolute rubbish. Dad tells stories from his youth, I complain about work politics, and somehow we solve the world's problems while standing knee deep in pristine water. These conversations happen nowhere else. Not at home, not over dinner, but here in the outdoors where pretence dissolves like morning mist.

The beauty of Dullstroom lies not just in its world class trout fishing, but in its ability to strip away everything unnecessary. Out here, success is not measured in meetings attended or emails answered. It is simpler. It is the perfect cast, the rise of a fish, the quiet satisfaction of being present.

The Strike

Three hours in, something changes. A shadow moves beneath my fly, following it with interest. My heart rate spikes as I watch the trout track my fly across the current. At the last second, it turns away.

Then Dad's line goes tight. His rod bends into a beautiful arc as something substantial takes his woolly bugger. The adrenaline is instant and infectious. This is why we are here, for this moment when everything aligns. The fish runs, the drag sings, and Dad grins like a schoolboy.

5 minutes later, we are admiring a beautiful rainbow trout before releasing it back to the depths. One fish between us, but it feels like a shared victory.

Finding What Matters

As we pack up our gear, I realise something has shifted. The corporate stress that felt so pressing this morning seems manageable now. There is a clarity that comes from spending hours focused on something as simple as presenting a fly to a fish.

Dullstroom offers more than excellent fieldsports. It provides perspective. The rivers and lakes here do not care about your job title or your deadlines. They demand presence, patience, and respect. In return, they offer peace and the occasional fish.

Dad loads the rods into the car, already planning our escape. Because some things matter more than the urgent demands of daily life. Sometimes you need to cast a line to remember what they are.

If fly fishing and conservation are your thing, read about how anglers are saving England’s chalk streams and why every fly fisher is a water quality advocate. Track your catches and favourite waters with the Ambulo game book.