Fishing Asia’s Wild RiversPrepared by Harold Stephens
Travel Correspondent for Thai Airways International
There’s a river in the deep jungles of central Malaysia where the fishing is unbelievable. You can fish the lower part, down around the mouth among the mangrove swamps, and get hook a few good ones. Or you can travel farther upriver to the first raids, and here it gets better. But if you really want to get to the best fishing grounds, then you must travel by native long boat all the way to the headwaters, past twelve rapids in all, and here you find fresh water fishing at its best. There’s only one problem. It takes a couple days to get there, and you need an aborigine guide. That’s not all, at night you have to camp on a riverbank where elephants and tigers come to drink side by side. Sometime, a rouge elephant may not like your presence and smash up your long boat, as it had happened to my fishing party one time. Then you have a pretty tough time getting back down river without a boat. But, still, it’s worth it if you like wild fishing.
The river is the Endau. It’s not Malaysia’s biggest river, nor its best-known river. In fact, most people won’t even consider it a major river, but perhaps that’s what makes it so great, its isolation.
The first time I fished the Endau, I did it with a combat photographer from Vietnam, Kurt Rolfes. He had befriended Tungku Bakar, a Malay Prince from the royal family in Johor, a man who was keen on fishing the wild rivers of Malaysia. Tungku Bakar organized a fishing party, and Kurt and I were invited. It started off well, but then came heavy rains and we found ourselves holed up in an Orang Asli (aborigine) fishing village waiting for the waters of the Endau to subside. One of the men in our group had been a government ranger, and during the National Emergency, when the communists were taking over the jungles of the Malay Peninsula, he was on patrol above the Endau, and there spotted on a mountaintop a pre-historic carving of an elephant on a rock face.
The stone caring could prove it be interesting. Kurt and I decided to mount an expedition and go look for the carving. We hired an Eurasian, Kenny Nelson, to be our guide and interpreter. Kenny suggested we take along fishing gear. That first trip up the Endau turned me into an avid fresh water fisherman.
I learned a lot with Kenny and our two Orang Asli porters, Bojung and Ahchin. Both men lived in an aborigine village down near the mouth of the Endau. We loaded all our gear into a 20-foot long boat with a six hp marine outboard. We used the engine to get us to the second set of rapids (there were 12 in all) and from there paddled from one set of rapids to the other. Sometimes we fought our way through the rapids, but more often we had to portage by carrying the boat and supplies around the rapids.
Kurt and I never found the stone carving, but we could have, had not a tiger growled and chased out of the jungle. Bojung said it was a female, protecting her cub. We had left the river and for two hours chopped our way into the jungle, until the tiger growled, and then we came out of the rain forest so fast that what had taken us hours to cover, took us minutes on our return to the river, and then when we reached the Endau our legs and arms were still in motion when we hit the water.
With the search for the carving out of the way, we spent our time fishing. We could not have had better teachers.
One of the difficulties of fishing the rivers and lakes of Southeast Asia is learning the names of the various fish. The waters of the Malay Peninsula, of which Malaysia and Thailand are part, are home to over 300 species of fish. Fortunately the area is suitably distant from this particular “ring of fire”—a curving line of volcanic mountains that stretch from Sumatra to Java and on to the Philippines. Sometimes there might be very minor tremors, but never an earthquake!
The Peninsula is a strip of land about a thousand km. long, with a backbone of mountains. Rivers flow from this mountain range, into the South China Sea in the East, and the Straits of Malacca and the Andaman Sea in the West. The equatorial climate with large amount of rainfall has created thick jungles that flank the high mountains, all the way down to the coast. In fact, the jungles of Malaysia and southern Thailand are reputed to be the oldest in the world and have never been touched by the Ice Age. At the mouths of the many rivers that drain into both seas, swampy forests of mangrove dominate the land. These forests are almost impenetrable except by boat. While the rivers and lakes provide over 300 species, 60 of these species of fish that can be caught on rod and line.
Many of the fishes are of the carp family, the largest being the rare Temoleh (Probarbus jullieni), a striped carp that can grow to 50 kg. (110 lb.). They can be found only in two rivers (the Perak and Pahang) in Malaysia and another than a river in Thailand. They put up a good fight and it takes skill bringing them in on a 20 pound test line.
One that I liked to hook by fly-casting is the Sebarau (Hampala macrolepidota). Erroneously referred to as Malaysian Jungle Perch, it is a roving fish that readily takes lures. It can grow beyond 15 kg. (33 lb., although average sizes are between 1 to 3 kg.
Another popular sportfish family are the snakeheads and Toman. The Toman is an especially ferocious fighter, able to tear even Rapala plugs to shreds and break your wire leader. It can grow to about 30 kg. (66 lb.), but average sizes are between 3 to 10 kg. We caught few snakeheads on the Peninsula, but I have to save my tales about snakeheads for later when I fished for them in the lakes in central Thailand.
The ultimate quarry for upstream rivers are the fishes from the Mahseer family: the Kelah (Tor tambroides) and the Tengas (Acrossocheilus hexagonolepsis). The Kelah is also called Greater Brook Carp, or Malaysian Red Mahseer. It represents the greatest challenge for the river angler.
On that first trip, our small group caught more than 400 pounds of fish, not counting the fifty or more pounds we ate. Bojung was pleased with the catch, for it meant the people in his village would feast for the next week. He built racks and smoke-dried the fish with smouldering fires. Bojung insisted that we return one day and hunt for the giant catfish. According to him, and the rangers I later fished with, the giant Tapah (Wallago attu) reaches 100 kg. (220 lb.), though most specimens are around 35 to 50 kg. (110 lb.). They inhabit the deep pools of large rivers. The Patin (Pangasius pangasius) is smaller (3 to 10 kg.) but more gregarious. We caught a few of these.
The lures we used are comparatively small. Most spoons were silver, and even with our seasoned aborigines, fly-fishing to them is a challenge. It is especially a challenge when trying to land fish among the fallen trees and stumps.
Mohammed Khan was the Chief Game Warded in Malaysia, and being a friend, he invited me often to join him and his rangers each year when they went into the jungle to survey the wild elephant herds, or maybe check on the whereabouts of the Sumatran rhino. Since some of these expeditions took weeks, we were limited to what we could carry. We depended heavily upon the fish we caught. We fished every break we had, and some of my most memorable fish diners were on the banks of rivers at night. The rivers we fished were the Taman Negara (in the National Park) at Kuala Tahan, the Tembeling, the Tahan and the Keniam Rivers.
The National Park at Kuala Tahan is the oldest Park in the country. Established in the early 1900’s, the park is now a preciously conserved pristine area of jungle, a last vestige of a fast-disappearing eco-system. The Keniam and Tahan Rivers, tributaries of the Tembeling, are about the only rivers in the country truly gazetted for angling, for no other forms of fishing (nets etc.) are allowed here. The waters are pristine, and the beauty of these jungles is unsurpassed. The rivers are shaded by giant hardwoods, and have inviting deep pools interspersed with fast-moving rapids. The water is so pure and fresh, you can drink from the steams. The nights under the stars, providing you don’t mind elephants trumpeting in the distance, are beautiful, especially after bathing in the river and dieting on campfire baked fish. It nice to know there are places on this earth, still, that are all peace and quiet. And where the fishing is good.
I was told by Jean-Francois Helias, who operates Fishing Adventures Thailand (www.anglingthailand.com) that fixing in Thailand is equally as good. I plan to join Jean-Francois on one of his trips and I’ll report on that later.
Next week we are going to take to the sky and take a look at the Paris Air Show. QUESTIONS & ANSWERSQ. Dear Mr. Stephens. I am arriving in Bangkok by Thai Airways from Sydney en route to Phuket but I have a few days to spend waiting for the rest of my family to arrive. I don’t like big cities. Can you suggest something to do, perhaps something that’s different? Ben Carrigan, Sydney
A. Dear Ben, Many visitors want to bypass Bangkok completely; which I think is a bad mistake. Bangkok is one of the great cities of the world, with much to see and do. What I suggest is that you go to the THAI office near you and get a copy of the Royal Orchid Holidays booklet. When you see what there is to do in Bangkok I am sure you will change your mind. Have a good trip and enjoy your flight.
Harold Stephens
Bangkok
E-mail: ROH Weekly Travel (booking@inet.co.th)
Note: The article is the personal view of the writer and does not necessarily reflect the view of Thai Airways International Public Company Limited | 
