As someone who does the vast majority of his fishing aboard small boats launched from exposed sandy beaches, it is always interesting to see how other people cope with similar situations elsewhere, such as on a recent visit to Zululand. I say similar, and at Sodwana Bay the general concept was similar, though for much of the time more extreme. The sand was soft though the beach was not too steep and there was no shingle bank to negotiate along the upper shore like we have at Blackpool. On the other hand, the boats used were typical South African ski boats which are much bigger and heavier. None the less, Richard Scott who runs Magnum charters was still doing all the donkey work on the beach with an old Landrover, which coped remarkable well.

The boat itself was a beautifully fitted out 7 metre long self draining Yeld Cat powered by twin 115 hp Mercury's. A self-draining deck is an important feature for dealing with some of the conditions regularly experienced at Sodwana, as was the metal keel band fitted to each of the two keels. The open Indian Ocean pushing in onto this exposed stretch of sand tucked away in the most northerly corner of Kwazulu-Natal can throw up some interesting handling conditions as I was to find out. Least ways I found them interesting and exciting. Anglers fishing these parts regularly probably see them as run of the mill, as unlike back home in the UK, they have to deal with them as a matter of course.

Sodwana Bay itself in a small indentation angled away slightly from the open coastline, along the lip of which white capped swells from the open ocean come rolling in. For this reason it is a legal requirement for fare paying passengers to wear a life jacket both on the way out and back in. In the UK we are occasionally faced with similar conditions at high water in winter on big tides with a good stiff onshore wind picking up, but always with the sea on our tail as we hurry home to base looking to get back in and onto the beach. Never before have I been in the position of actually going out in them. As I said earlier, when like Richard you've seen it all so many times before, I suppose you simply take it in your stride without a second thought.

The Landrover pushed the trailer into the water, and with both outboards ticking over ready, we were off. But not before we had shipped a couple of big ones in over the stern. Fortunately the boat had plenty of watertight stowage on board for camera's and the like. This is where the self-draining deck was called on to earn its keep. With both throttles opened wide to bring the bow up, much of the water immediately ran out over the shallow transom, and that which didn't was soon disposed of through the scuppers. In no time at all the deck matting was steaming dry under the hot South African sun.

My inclination would have been to keep the power down and nose slowly over the swells looking for the calmer deeper water beyond a few hundred metres off. Then I would have opened up the power. Not so here. Like a bat out of hell we were off racing across the bay beam on to the swell, running along the crests looking for 'quiet' spots to slide the boat over the top, then go racing off along the building crest of the next one. It reminded me of those surfers you see on TV flying along the slopes before easing their boards over the crest when the power of the wave runs out.

Not the approach I personally would have adopted, but I have to say, much more preferable to the roller coaster ride that my taking them bow on at low speed would have produced. Beyond the third or fourth big roller, the crests were no longer breaking, leaving the sea out beyond reminiscent of days I have spent codding in our Warrior 165 off Whitby. Within minutes of leaving the beach a spread of small plugs was in the water and immediately picking up small Bonito for live and dead baits. The fish in these parts run very close to the shore and can include kingfish, sailfish, black marlin and wahoo, the latter chopping some of our bonito in half as we played them back to the boat.

The thing I dislike most about trips such as this is having choices put in front of me. If you lived there, you could try everything in the appropriate place and at the appropriate time. Unfortunately, with time at a premium, choices have to be made. In my experience you have to be decisive. Compromises rarely seem to work. The trade off seems to come between going for really big fish such as marlin which are always going to be thinner on the ground and liable to eat up lots of time with no guarantee at the end of the day, or to fish for other things with much more of a certainty of some fun and a result.

To an extent, the 'fun' fishing also has an element of compromise to it in that working the smaller baits such as a pilchard with a small leaded muppet on its nose can pick up sailfish, wahoo, tuna, dorado, and kingfish. Slowly trolling a live bonito has more of a limiting effect, though it will usually produce the better fish such as marlin. There are however some pretty big sharks in these parts which are only too willing to pick off an easy meal. Large wahoo and king fish will also tackle a whole bonito, though not necessarily successfully as we were to find out. In an ideal world you would work your way down through the list of species available starting with marlin until you had them all. However, we decided to do things the other way round, to satisfy ourselves with plenty of early action, then devote any remaining time to the more elusive end of the availability list.

The general inshore fishing is done within a mile or so of the shore in around 30 feet of water working between two patches of reef. Their summer (our winter) is the best time for variety and numbers of fish, though for the better sailfish, wahoo and kings, September is reportedly a very good month. For everything else, November through to June is the prime time, and we had timed our trip smack in the middle of it. The fact that marlin had been a little thin over the ground in the weeks preceding our visit also elped steer us towards concentrating on the king fish, though we did have a couple of spells of slow trolling live bonito for a bill fish, each aborted after wahoo smashed our live baits to pieces. After that it was back to the pilchard dead baits rigged to troll at or just below the surface with lightly weighed skirts on their nose.

The king fish seemed to be holed up in one particular area clearly defined by markers on the shore. They also appeared to be affected by the tide, for it wasn't until the run properly got going that any significant feeding also got underway. This then died later in the tide as the run began to ease towards high water. Kings are the bread and butter game fish in these parts. They hit hard, fight hard, and are great on the plate as we were to find out later in the day on arrival back at the lodge, as Richard Scott Sr. runs the site restaurant. The best king we managed tipped the scales at just over 11 kg, which in old money is around 25 pounds. They can get as big as 20 kg, which, judging by the never say die attitude they show when they see the boat would be enough to keep anyone happy.

As the day wore on the wind began to freshen kicking up a fair swell with white caps starting to show everywhere. Nothing the Yeld Cat couldn't handle. In fact when it was time to call a halt, I have to say I was very impressed with the boats big sea handling performance. Oh to have the money and facilities for something similar back home. But I couldn't help pondering what might lie ahead as we reached the Sodwana shoreline. Richard Jr. telephoned our departure time back to Richard Sr. to have the Landrover and trailer standing by on the beach. Nobody in their right mind relishes the idea of being out in un-comfortable conditions. But as we approached Sodwana Point and I started putting my life jacket on, I couldn't help thinking 'This is going to be interesting'.

Beaching in a big sea back home is probably the hardest handling experience to master, mainly because you try not to get too much practical experience at doing it. As we ran up to the entrance to the bay, swell size increased dramatically. These were real land vanishers, quite a few of which were breaking along their tops. My way back in the UK of dealing with a big sea onto a beach is to pick a wave, run with it (no turning back or stopping), and hit the sand hard. Richard had the same general philosophy, though on a much grander scale. He picked his wave then opened the twin throttles right up blasting a path straight through the lot. And it didn't end there. At Blackpool, we try to hit the beach hard. Richard hit it full bore. Forget the paint on the prop and the skeg. We ended up around 10 metres up the sand clear of the waters edge. My philosophy for the future on small boat handling in tricky conditions certainly looks set to have some sort of over haul.