Henties Bay and its fishing frenzy go back a lonnng way. People have been flocking to the coastal village from far and wide to hengel and others to fish during the holiday season since toeka se dae. Eventually some of the manne met die kanna somer moved to Henties permanently and are still around to tell the tale.
We rambled into town passing houses with names like Spyker se Gat, Die Vleisfreters and a hangout called Die Skubbebar which had a sign board stating Viswas, Karwas, Keelwas, Aas. We had arrived at fisherman’s paradise and I could just imagine the tall fishing stories being conjured up here. We pulled over next to very inviting looking pubs, quaint craft shops, fishing shops and a seal shoe shop (I knew you could do more with a seal skin than make a bedside maatjie). Within seconds a bubbly woman came rushing over, waving a copy of December Weg magazine around vigorously. Someone had posted a picture of our truck to Weg magazine and she was so excited to see us in real life that we had to pose for a photo, her clutching the Weg magazine while the truck looked very dusty, salt crusty and positively more rusty. Besides being a keen photographer (she carried her camera around in a cooler box), she was connected to the local radio station, Kanaal 7, “Inspirasie vir die Nasie”. We might have got mentioned over the air but unfortunately later that day we met Gaaring and his buddy who taught us how to hengel and that was us, off the radar.
We met them just after experiencing our first tyre blow out which happened on the salt road around Henties’ endless magnificent coastline. Theo handled the moerse heavy tyre change fine and we were just done with cleaning up when Gaaring and Marius, who were out hengeling for the day, stopped to see if we needed any “refreshments”. We ended up spending the weekend with them, which became a blur of fish, feast and I suspect fowl play when it came to our glasses which never emptied.
We explored the coastline in their 4x4 bakkies, stopping when the sea looked right to cast a line. Gaaring gave the men a head start to catch their fish while he hung over the back of his bakkie, telling stories from those days when Pick ‘n Pay was still a padstal and the Castle was still a tent. He had Springbok fishing colours with a few records to show, and he knew the sea better than a woman’s body. He claimed you could read a book from cover to cover while waiting for his cast to eventually land wayyy out in the ocean. Theo caught a decent size Galjoen, about 1,2 kg’s which we braaied and which tasted deevine. Sometime over the weekend we went to Mary’s house, Gaaring’s 73 year old hot looking girlfriend, and she fried some of the massive Kabeljou (Cob) which the manne had caught the previous day. I didn’t get their weight but they were each about 3 foot long. In between the fishing and hengeling (they explained the difference to a soutie like me and basically it seems it’s the difference between having either white mussel bait or coke for your brandy in your cooler box) we stopped at a cool pub and restaurant out in the middle of nowhere for a round or 2 or 3 of Jugermeisters. The owner had 2 cute meerkate (surrogates) which were tame and I scratched their tummies while they jabbered away excitedly. Gaaring got nipped and was hoping to catch klem in die kaak so that he could have an excuse to visit the new nursie at the doctors.
We recuperated on the beachfront near town for a day, and got chatting to a young guy who together with his dad, do fishing tours up to Angola. We nearly changed our plans to go to Angola instead of the Delta and Etosha, after hearing his stories about how cheap diesel and fruit & veg was and abundant fish. We later found out that we should have done the paperwork (visas, letter of invite and yellow fever) in advance otherwise it costs a fortune. About R5 000 just for the visa. Diesel price had also gone up 2 months ago from R2,50 to R4,50 / litre – still cheap but our budget didn’t cover all the sommetjies .
The newspapers up here all report heavy rainfalls further north – rivers flooding their banks and the gravel roads sound treacherous. Since we’re heading in that direction we should be in for some excitement. I must be honest, I’m a bit dubious about mud roads and malaria mossies. We are in two minds as to whether to take Malaria tablets or not since we met many people who proclaim the tablets give worse side effects that you’d like. In fact Riaan, The Angolan fishing tour operator said he’s seen people go a bit bossies from taking the stuff and run around naked in the desert. I didn’t tell him that Theo does that anyway without a dose of quinine.
We’re not leaving Henties with a freezer full of fish since it’s not the best time of the year to catch fish, being January, but I do have a nice pair of handmade seal leather hiking boots for R450 and a bottle of seal oil for R45 containing polyunsaturated amino acids which is supposedly very good for you. All I know is it smells and tastes like the insides of old vrot fish. I hope those oomies at Doringbaai knew what they were talking about.
Henties Bay, fish, Weg magazine, hengel, 4x4 bakkie, seal shoes, Malaria
Hengel- and excuse to drink with a fishing rod at the sea
Toeka se dae – since the beginning of time
manne met die kanna – men holding drinks
somer – just because
Spyker se Gat- Someone nicknamed Nail’s house
Die Skubbebar – The Fishscale Bar
Die Vleisfreters – The Meat Eaters
Viswas, Karwas, Keelwas, Aas – Wash your fish, your car, your throat and buy bait
Maatjie – small mat
Kanaal 7, “Inspirasie vir die Nasie”- Channel 7 “Inspiration for the Nation
Moerse - massive
Bakkies – pick up truck used by 99% of Namibians
Padstal – roadside farmstal
Braaied – barbeque
Sommetjies – maths sums
Soutie – English person
klem in die kaak - lockjaw
bossies- crazy
vrot – rotten
oomies – old timers
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