I had been living in Egypt for three months and the fishing was disappointing, which made no sense. I lived across the street from the Nile River, a two-hour train ride from the Mediterranean and six hours from the Red Sea; yet I couldn’t find a spot to fish. The Egyptian government’s determination to keep me- a foreigner- safe would not permit me to go out on the Mediterranean or anywhere to try my luck. The shoreline was always filled with Egyptians who fished with giant poles waiting for a monster fish to hit, only to pull in quarter-sized fish. Seriously, I don’t even know how they could tell that there was anything on their line.

Most of the Red Sea was protected against fishing and the section of the Nile that ran through Cairo—well let’s just say that I would have been amazed to see anything come out of there alive. There was a paragraph from the Lonely Planet Travel Guide, which would not only change my perspective on fishing but my father’s as well.

For most people, fishing is the last thing that comes to mind when they think of southern Egypt, however the size of the fish in Lake Nasser is legendary. Living in silt-rich depths of the lake, with few predators apart from the crocodiles that roam the murky waters, the fish are growing to gigantic proportions. The record for a Nile perch is almost 100 kilos. Not surprisingly, fishing enthusiasts from all over the world are lining up to come here and reel in their own record breaker. (Egypt Lonely Planet guide, 2002)

Not even completing the paragraph, I quickly began to surf the Net to research fishing in Lake Nasser. I reserved a two day fishing trip during my 2003 Christmas break with African Angler at www.african-angler.co.uk, one of a few companies permitted to run a charter out of Lake Nasser. I made it to the Old Cataract Hotel, after a two-hour flight from Cairo to Aswan. The hotel, built in 1899, overlooked the pristine Nile River; the desert distant in the background. If there were a line to catch, these gigantic fish, I could happily wait all day.

The next morning I was introduced to my captain, Captain Rambo. That had to be a good sign right? He was Nubian and wore a galabaya (full length robe) and an orange coat. The local Lake Nasser fish cop decided to join us. I’m sure that his parents named him at birth, however I was never able to get past the whole fish police business. In order to guarantee tourist safety, each fishing charter must be accompanied by a licensed police officer on board at all times. Egyptian authorities go to great lengths to protect their precious tourists.

Once on our way, Captain Rambo explained the contract. Basically, he would try to help us catch fish, big fish, “In-sha” Allah (translation: God Willing). But fishing entailed a bit of luck and he was not liable for returning empty-handed. Even though I heard this speech several times and knew it to be true, I still hated listening to it. Especially when he started to clarify that in case we lost any of the lures supplied by the charter company we would have to reimburse them- triple the cost of the lure in the states… but it was cool. We were cruising on a beautiful lake in the middle of the North African desert, hunting the largest Nile perch in the world. That wasn’t going to spoil the moment.

It was slow going at first, we had been trolling for a couple of hours using #7 in dark blue, and dark purple deep divers with only a 3 lb tiger fish to show for the time. We stopped on an island and had lunch while; Captain Rambo stood on the roof of the boat and gave praise to Allah.
It was truly a pure moment. I scanned the horizon for the scenery and to make sure no crocodiles were sneaking up on us. There was nothing else for miles but desert, water, and our boat with Rambo on top praying. It may have been this moment that changed the momentum of the rest of the fishing trip.

We started up again and it wasn’t long before we heard the screaming of the reel. Initially we thought that we were snagged, Rambo was about to cut the line and add one deep diver to my bill. But then he said, “No, no, you have fish, keep reeling”.

Now it was my turn to pray. I was a little suspect of Rambo’s opinion because it felt more like I was hooked on a floating log; then again I had never caught a monster size fish, so I kept reeling. All of a sudden that reel started screaming again, “Its big, its verdy verdy big… don’t loose it.”

This is the point of the trip that I loved, where you know you have something, but you don’t what it is or the size. It’s the point that you begin to pray, beg and promise that if you land this fish you will be a better person. Well my duration of penance was about a half hour before I saw the culprit. It was a Nile perch weighing about 100 lbs.

No one is going to believe this!

We also discovered why it felt like a log: we had hooked it in its back – oh yeah, Aswan was truly a holy place. How else do you catch a 100 lb fish in its back and land it after a 30- minute fight? The Nile Perch could compete with its saltwater cousins for size and weight; it had a gaping mouth that my head could easily fit inside.

Later, during the ride back, Rambo told me it had been several weeks since he had seen a fish that big. The next day proved to be just as exciting. No more giants but much more action we spent the day regularly pulling in 30 – 40 lb fish. All fish were returned unharmed and I returned home determined to make another reservation with African Angler for the following year.

Exactly a year later I convinced my father to fly to Egypt and visit. In exchange for the 20 + hour flight, I promised to take him fishing for Nile Perch. Now… my Pop is from the old school. You know, the school where the story is always bigger than the fish. You could find him with a bottom rig and a worm, pulling in Chesapeake Bay’s finest as his regular routine. So I was hoping to give that once in a lifetime experience to the man who had taught me to fish. But hey, there is no guarantee; fishing has its percentage of luck, and I didn’t expect him to catch a big-boy fish. Rambo had already made it clear that it wasn’t an everyday thing. But Pop was determined to land one of those 30-40 pounders.

Me and Pop at the tombs
So one year later I found myself on Lake Nasser again, this time with my father at my side. Unfortunately we weren’t able to get Rambo again, because he was already booked. Nevertheless the trip seemed to go along the same lines; cop with gun on board; slow fishing in the morning; box lunch on the island; prayer on the top of the boat; conversation about the life of a Nubian; and- BAM the slamming of the lines! I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t touch a rod until my father had landed a fish. It took a lot not to grab that rod as I yelled for my pop to get it. You could tell he never saw it coming. He grabbed the rod and started reeling but when that fish started pulling back you could here him exhale a deep quiet “whooo.”

He repositioned himself toward the back of the boat. Whatever pulled at the end of his line made that move really easy. As he got situated you could see his determination not to loose this fish. The boat was silent as Pop and that Nile perch played tug of war for about 20 minutes before it came dancing out of the water; slamming back and stripping more line off the reel. By now I had the video camera. When listening to the video you would have thought I was battling the beast…
“Get that sucka Pop,” I said.
“Oh, yo look at that thing.”
“It ain’t easy, is it?”

Ten minutes later, the Nile perch was hauled into the boat and Pop was slumped in the captain’s seat. His first words were, “Holy hell!”

Chasin’ guppies

On the anniversary of catching my first gigantic fish my father had come to Egypt and caught one even bigger – so he says. In my defense it’s hard to tell between the two pictures because of the perspective. That was the only fish we caught that day and I don’t think either of us minded. We finally had that fish that you write about. Dressed in the homeland tradition