So at the end of September I went away for a few days in the hope of getting a Boar or two.
As per my usual, I turned off emails etc a I wished to enjoy my time.
On returning home at the beginning of October, I turned everything on and one message turned in into jelly.
The Opening was “The King Dick is dead.”
I knew straight away my good friend John Costello had died.
Now most of you will never have heard of him so I make no excuse for posting what the news papers had to say about him--The epic adventure for John Murphy Costello is over.
The Wild Coast author, adventurer, photographer, NSRI commander, pioneering saltwater fly fisherman, sailor, game hunter, kayaker, diver, pilot, hotelier and renowned Port St Johns resident has died.
He was 77.
He died peacefully surrounded by family members in Durban on Saturday—
Now John was a long time friend of mine and although we had not met up for some time, we conversed on a weekly basis up to his latest illness.
He was one of those rare people who thought like me, in that we had a God given life, and that life should be used to its fullest and sitting about doing nothing was wrong. We met many moons ago, introduced by a mutual acquaintance and hit it off instantly. At the time of our meeting John was still an active well known PH by those in the know and someone who could guide to animals most wouldn’t know how or where to find.
Over the years I acted as a guide for him, guiding him on various hunts and fishing expeditions and likewise he acted and a PH for me and a fishing guide.
Money never exchanged hands between us, just great sport and banter etc.
So I think a short story of just one of our trips together will give you some measure of this man. I could have chosen the time when John expertly guided me into some of the smallest of SA game or another some of the rarest, but I think this one is the right one.
In the early 1990s I went through some serious Surgery and was incapacitated for a very long time.
When I eventually got back to working, John came to visit me and spent some time Stalking, fishing etc and asking question etc.
In January I got a letter from him asking me to make no plans for the spring summer season as he had something planned.
I spoke with him and he remained cagy but said he would let me know in good time.
March arrived with a one way ticket to Kenya in April from John. I needed to find out what was going on and fast I found out and the next thing was I was sat on a plain heading out to Kenya where I was met by John and two others.
John had hatched a plan to head out exploratory salt water fly fishing in the Indian Ocean and knowing I had not worked for two years, it was his treat!
All luggage was packed in an air conditioned minibus and we headed from Nairobi to the sea harbour at Watamu took a long time, 10+hours and I have to admit I slept most of it.
When we finally got there I was greeted by the sight of what I would call a super yacht, to John and friends it was a fishing yacht, it was 40meters or so of mother ship, towing another 15meter sport fishing boat and carrying two 5meter tenders to do the fish landing from and to land us on various shores. The following day we departed for the Seychelles, but firstly stopping at various locations along the Kenyan coast line and frequently towing the teasers. On board were five anglers and fifteen crew, although these numbers changed as people came and went at various times and places. I will not mention many names because of spoilers for upcoming books, but there was a well known America philanthropist, two very well know sea anglers John and yours truly.
The plan was to head from one island group to the next in search of sports fish in the hope of finding great places to catch them on the fly.
Fishing consisted of trolling teasers, once fish were found and attracted, we would cast fly’s attached to heavy16 weight lines and rods.
Now this sport was new to me and I must say not only exciting but also hard work as was the sport we had from various land masses, where we would wade and cast into the abyss. Although I say it was hard work both John and I were somewhat older than the others and certainly not only kept up, but often out fished them, well John did. some of the time we resorted to traditional spinning tactics is it was not suitable for the fly.
To cut a very long tale short I will say that we fished some great places, had fantastic sport and broke several world records in the process, including numerous bill fish and the company overall was brilliant.
John knowledge of the sea, fishing and the wildlife was second to none and it was a trip I would not have missed for the world. I will also say that in John company I fished the Seychelles, Maldives, Madagascar, Mauritius, Cape Verdi Islands, the west indies and many places in between including the most remote Island paradise on earth in the many months that I sailed with him.
I know I have sung his praises, but he truly deserved them for he was one rare creature. He was dubbed the “Dick King of the Wild Coast” when he found a way out of a flooded PSJ, taking goat tracks, to reach the outside world and get help.
The following in his own words to give you the measure of the man.
As per my usual, I turned off emails etc a I wished to enjoy my time.
On returning home at the beginning of October, I turned everything on and one message turned in into jelly.
The Opening was “The King Dick is dead.”
I knew straight away my good friend John Costello had died.
Now most of you will never have heard of him so I make no excuse for posting what the news papers had to say about him--The epic adventure for John Murphy Costello is over.
The Wild Coast author, adventurer, photographer, NSRI commander, pioneering saltwater fly fisherman, sailor, game hunter, kayaker, diver, pilot, hotelier and renowned Port St Johns resident has died.
He was 77.
He died peacefully surrounded by family members in Durban on Saturday—
Now John was a long time friend of mine and although we had not met up for some time, we conversed on a weekly basis up to his latest illness.
He was one of those rare people who thought like me, in that we had a God given life, and that life should be used to its fullest and sitting about doing nothing was wrong. We met many moons ago, introduced by a mutual acquaintance and hit it off instantly. At the time of our meeting John was still an active well known PH by those in the know and someone who could guide to animals most wouldn’t know how or where to find.
Over the years I acted as a guide for him, guiding him on various hunts and fishing expeditions and likewise he acted and a PH for me and a fishing guide.
Money never exchanged hands between us, just great sport and banter etc.
So I think a short story of just one of our trips together will give you some measure of this man. I could have chosen the time when John expertly guided me into some of the smallest of SA game or another some of the rarest, but I think this one is the right one.
In the early 1990s I went through some serious Surgery and was incapacitated for a very long time.
When I eventually got back to working, John came to visit me and spent some time Stalking, fishing etc and asking question etc.
In January I got a letter from him asking me to make no plans for the spring summer season as he had something planned.
I spoke with him and he remained cagy but said he would let me know in good time.
March arrived with a one way ticket to Kenya in April from John. I needed to find out what was going on and fast I found out and the next thing was I was sat on a plain heading out to Kenya where I was met by John and two others.
John had hatched a plan to head out exploratory salt water fly fishing in the Indian Ocean and knowing I had not worked for two years, it was his treat!
All luggage was packed in an air conditioned minibus and we headed from Nairobi to the sea harbour at Watamu took a long time, 10+hours and I have to admit I slept most of it.
When we finally got there I was greeted by the sight of what I would call a super yacht, to John and friends it was a fishing yacht, it was 40meters or so of mother ship, towing another 15meter sport fishing boat and carrying two 5meter tenders to do the fish landing from and to land us on various shores. The following day we departed for the Seychelles, but firstly stopping at various locations along the Kenyan coast line and frequently towing the teasers. On board were five anglers and fifteen crew, although these numbers changed as people came and went at various times and places. I will not mention many names because of spoilers for upcoming books, but there was a well known America philanthropist, two very well know sea anglers John and yours truly.
The plan was to head from one island group to the next in search of sports fish in the hope of finding great places to catch them on the fly.
Fishing consisted of trolling teasers, once fish were found and attracted, we would cast fly’s attached to heavy16 weight lines and rods.
Now this sport was new to me and I must say not only exciting but also hard work as was the sport we had from various land masses, where we would wade and cast into the abyss. Although I say it was hard work both John and I were somewhat older than the others and certainly not only kept up, but often out fished them, well John did. some of the time we resorted to traditional spinning tactics is it was not suitable for the fly.
To cut a very long tale short I will say that we fished some great places, had fantastic sport and broke several world records in the process, including numerous bill fish and the company overall was brilliant.
John knowledge of the sea, fishing and the wildlife was second to none and it was a trip I would not have missed for the world. I will also say that in John company I fished the Seychelles, Maldives, Madagascar, Mauritius, Cape Verdi Islands, the west indies and many places in between including the most remote Island paradise on earth in the many months that I sailed with him.
I know I have sung his praises, but he truly deserved them for he was one rare creature. He was dubbed the “Dick King of the Wild Coast” when he found a way out of a flooded PSJ, taking goat tracks, to reach the outside world and get help.
The following in his own words to give you the measure of the man.
- These Past few months have been spent recovering and rehabilitating from a spinal op which has sorted out the back problems that I had been suffering for some time, this resulting from years of abuse or shall I rather say overuse, so I occupied myself with delving into my photo files and dredging out old memories and adventures.
- The recent floods in Port St Johns brought back memories of the 1978 floods when the bridge over the Umzimvubu River washed away, and all the roads leading to the town blocked by land slides which swept away the telephone wires strung on poles which criss crossed the county, these providing the only means of communication, and with these having been damaged there was no way to communicate the situation to the outside world.
- Port St Johns was totally isolated and the whiskey was running dry.
- I got fed up and bored after days of contending with the town and its inhabitants isolation and seemingly helpless inactivity, so borrowed a 185cc light weight Suzuki motor cycle from a friend, and set off to see if I could get through to Umtata and tell the world about our plight.
- It took me almost two days to reach Umtata, riding over a landscape that was totally devastated and largely turned to mud, with the mudslides so treacherous that crossing them created the real possibility of provoking them into sliding again. The mountains dripped water and large areas on the slopes had slipped and lay and puddles of mud at the base of the hills.
- Reaching Umtata was where the fun started when a mud and grime coated motor cyclist presented himself to the various authorities and tried to explain to them the magnitude of devastation that the rain had caused and that part of the large bridge crossing the Umzimvubu was washed away, that the mountain passes were no longer passable with no less than seven landslides blocking the old Mlengana pass on the main road, and that a whole community was isolated.
- Rescue operations eventually got underway over the next day with helicopters ferrying down supplies and evacuating people, and even STOL (short take off and landing) aircraft using the section of road between town and the Hermes Hotel as a runway.
- I was offered to opportunity of being flown back but elected to ride and was seriously amused when reaching the first of the main landslides found, poised to tackle the job of clearing the slides, a large Transkei roads department grader with a flat wheel.
- But at least the whiskey never ran dry, and having at last gotten around to digging the material out of the files means that I will one way write the story of that ride in greater detail.
- Most of the photos are by John and not me and from his private collection.
- I have been very lucky to know this great person and some of him lives on in his children and grandchildren, who I hope to guide for in the near future.
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