WAVES nearly two feet high. Thunder shook the water and clapped my eardrums. Lightning whiting everything, blinding me.

I didn’t take my own advice and let myself be caught in the very teeth of a lightning storm in the middle of Lake Kenneth yesterday.

I found out first hand that when lightning strikes near enough, it is AUDIBLE. The sound of the crackling bolt is very similar to that of a matchstick being snapped in two.

Launching from Peacock Point with the first rays of the sun, the day started quite well. Other than a pleasant brace of peacock bass and toman landed, I even managed to land a table size sebarau on a 14gm Duel Shallow Stick (fire green colour). That was a real surprise; rare in Lake Kenneth. By 5pm, I was trying to get the haruan to strike in Arnold’s Nook.

This Google Earth map will probably not be very clear here. Which is fine, since it is meant to be exclusive to our gang of kayak fishers. But for illustration purposes, I was paddling from the far left to the far right on the main lake.

I could see a storm system wreaking havoc on Kampar to the northeast. It was 16km away if I draw a straight line on the map. But since the wind was blowing from the south, I figured that the storm wouldn’t reach Lake Kenneth.

Then the wind went shivering cold.

Oh shit.

The first sign of a storm coming down on heads after a hot, hot day is always when the wind suddenly turns very cold.

I studied the sky and found another, slightly smaller storm system suddenly developing from the southwest. And the southern wind was blowing it hard to join up with the system terrorizing Kampar.

I knew things were gonna get bad. But I didn’t really worry at first. I took my sweet time paddling out of the Hideout. When I reached Toman Corner, I paused for a cigarette and let the southern wind carry me back to Peacock Point. By the time I finished my puff, I realised I had made a horrible mistake. I was now right between two clashing storms.

The wind suddenly changed direction, and blew hard from the west. I was still at least 1km away from Peacock Point and right in the centre of the lake. Even as I began to paddle hard, the water took the cue from the gusts. Waves nearly two feet tall crashed into my starboard side. My Boogeese rocked like crazy. No choice. Must angle the kayak to take the waves diagonally and reach Peacock Point on a triangular route.

The crashing waves sent volumes of water up deck. Water splashed into my face and sunglasses, obscuring my vision. But I didn’t dare to miss even one stroke of the paddle to clean my face or the wind and waves would push my bow and make me face the waves fully from the starboard again. The winds and waves were so strong that I only had to keep paddling port side most times to keep the kayak in the right direction.

As the fear rose, adrenalin flooded my bloodstream. And I felt gloriously alive! I really love adrenalin, man. I paddled ceaselessly, with a power I never knew I had. The precious hormone fueled my muscles, and I laughed and whooped and shrieked and screamed for none but the jealous gods to hear. Too bad I didn’t bring my camera along. Just a photo of the bow crashing into the two-foot waves, sending spray high up, would have been beautiful.

No storm photo. But here, the section of the lake in the background is where I was caught. I was way out there. This photo makes the lake look so placid, doesn't it? Photo by Howard, with thanks.

Then I officially became in trouble. It sounds just like a matchstick being snapped in two. Just a slight ‘tck-tck’. White filled my vision. Half a second later, the thunder clapped. It was so loud that I felt it in my chest cavity.

A few seconds later. It happened again. Tck-tck. White. Thunderclap.

The realization that I was attracting lightning brought a sickening feeling of horror. I was out on flat terrain. My stupid head was the highest point on the lake. My rod was graphite composite. My paddle was aluminum. My bloodstream was now nearly neat with adrenalin.

Old photo. Nearly in the centre of Lake Kenneth. Photo by Gerald, with thanks.

When I reached Peacock Point, in one smooth flow, I jumped out, ran forward, grabbed the Boogeese tow line, pulled the kayak up the beach and raced to squat beneath a rock ledge. Always find the lowest depression on the ground. Never hide under a tree.

But 10 seconds later, I raced back to the kayak to grab my tackle box and doubled back just as quickly to the rock ledge, all the time imagining that Zeus had his sniper scope aimed directly at me. Why did I do that? Because my cigarettes were in my tackle box! It might be great to die in Lake Kenneth, but if it’s gonna be like that, I wanna die with a cigarette between my teeth!

The rain never did hit Lake Kenneth. The hard wind blew the two storms together in a mad symphony of crashing thunder. I watched the western wind send the storm off from Kampar to the Teluk Intan area.

When I finally felt safe enough to stand up, the sky right above me was bright again.

Still intoxicated with adrenalin, I drove the 20km off road to reach home while singing to Bon Jovi at the top of my lungs.

Alive. Gloriously alive.

Sporting a gleaming golden hue, stark black vertical stripes, and a conspicuous black mark framed in bright yellow on its tail like the peacock, the fish has won a regal name for itself in our local tongue. Its Malay name is ikan raja, while its Chinese name is wang ti yue (literally, “emperor fish”).

With this monster, Boon Cheng gets life membership to the Peacock Bass Hall of Fame.

It is a delectable fish. Its firm, white flesh compares well with saltwater favourites like the tenggiri (Spanish mackerel), bawal hitam (Black pomfret) and kurau (Threadfin salmon).

This is the sort of fish to fry. Or to make curry or asam pedas. Any attempt to steam it would result in an unhappy culinary adventure, for the fish is a speedy hunter that runs down its prey and it is, therefore, a muscular thing, low in juicy body fat. Being a carnivore, it is a difficult fish to farm.

Lake Kenneth

The hands-down, most popular place to catch the fish is in Perak. Specifically, in the ex-mining lakes of the state where the fish thrives. A well-known ex-mining lake to catch the Peacock Bass is in the general area of Air Kuning, not far from Tapah.

The lake has no official name of its own and is known informally to the sports fishing community as Lake Kenneth, in honour of one gentleman angler called Kenneth who helped spread the word about the lake.

Jubilantly hugging a 8.87kg giant snakehead.

Getting to the lake involves driving with 4WD vehicles across more than 20km of uneven, at times flooded, ex-mining terrain. Thus, the lake is far from human civilisation. Once badly scarred by tin mining activities, Lake Kenneth is now part of a naturalised, lush wetland system spanning over 200ha.

Viewed from Google Earth’s satellite images, Lake Kenneth exceeds 40ha in size. The rest of the wetland system comprises narrow canals, meandering channels, and weedy marshes. The system is also connected to the Kinta River, bringing with it a wide variety of fish species.

Over the years, sports anglers who make almost weekly pilgrimages to the lake have put fancy names to the fishing spots, such as Peacock Point, The Hideout, Toman Bay and Haruan Hole.

All in all, Lake Kenneth is a freshwater sports fishing haven, rich in Peacock Bass, Giant Snakehead (toman) and the Striated Snakehead (haruan).

Catching the Peacock Bass

Catching the Peacock Bass is not a simple matter of baiting a hook. The fish is drawn to schooling minnows. Here is where their brilliant colour becomes an offensive tool.

The Peacock Bass uses speed and its brilliance to thwart and dazzle a school of fish into chaos. Working as a team, a pack of Peacock Bass dart around a school of fish, bunching them together, preferably pushing them to the surface. When the prey becomes confused, the Peacock Bass picks them off one by one.

Juheni Omar, 28 and daughters Ratana (left) and Ariya out for a paddle on a Boogeese X'plorer.

They lunge at their prey with jaw-dropping dexterity.

The best way to catch them is to patrol the water in search of schools of baitfish darting around just below the surface for seemingly no apparent reason. Managing live bait while searching long stretches of water can be difficult, so the stock method for Peacock Bass fishing is to use lures.

The standard fishing lure is a thing of plastic, wood or metal that is shaped and coloured exactly like a fish and comes attached with hooks. When the lure is in motion, it will appear to swim like a fish — many in exaggerated wobbles like injured baitfish.

Since these hunters roam so widely, you need patience and a good eye to find them. Some means of moving on the water would help too. A boat and an engine would be conventional, but not optimal, because the drone of the engine can spook a hunting party of Peacock Bass.

A more effective method that is becoming popular in Malaysia is to use sit-on-top fishing kayaks. Sleek and light, the kayak is mobile and stealthy.

Traditional sit-in kayaks have openings in the middle for paddlers to snuggle into that leaves them visible only from the waist up. These are great for long distance paddling or white-water tussling.

Sit-on-tops are different.

Moulded from plastic, these allow fishers to sit on top of the water craft, granting them a greater degree of comfort and mobility. They allow anglers to roam about with relative ease compared to rowing a boat.

The following is a personal account of kayak fisher Arnold J. S. Loh, 37, who has been fishing Lake Kenneth almost weekly for two years:

The past week, the daily downpour had drummed down to a forgiving drizzle.

Lake Kenneth’s waters would have dropped a little. The Peacock Bass would have just left the grass-choked shallows and could be mulling about in the open. So the next morning, I found myself standing on the banks of Lake Kenneth.

Before I had time to unload my gear, a pack of Peacock Bass was busting baitfish in the water right beside my car! I hurriedly tied on a pencil lure, designed to flit across the water surface on a fast retrieve. They gave chase immediately. Two, sometimes three, V-shaped wakes tailed behind my lure as I skittered it back to me.

But they would not bite! Must change the lure. I picked a lure that would still play on top, but would sink the moment I stopped retrieving. They gave chase again. I slowed down the retrieve but kept the lure flitting on the surface. The predators closed in a little more. Then I stopped. The lure wobbled meekly as it sank. And suddenly everything became tight.

A Peacock Bass gulped in the lure and turned away in a flash. The hooks firmly set. I could not crank my reel. Must loosen the drag to let the fish pull some line out. A minute later, I guided the tired fish to the bank. Table-size, a little over 1kg. Victory!

The kayak finally in the water, I paddle to a stretch of shallows near Peacock Point. The water was shielded from the breeze here. It reflected the sky like a mirror. The slightest movement of fish near the surface would show. I stopped and scanned the water for several minutes. Finally, a disturbance.

A circular patch of water about a meter in diameter began to shimmer. Baitfish were being pushed to the surface. I closed in quietly and picked a top-water lure again. The swim here was littered with underwater vegetation that would snag a diving lure.

I cast into the centre of the shimmering water and made it streak back towards me. Nothing. They must be lurking a little too deep to bother. The shimmer died off. Then, the water rippled a little ahead at the edge of a solitary lotus leaf. It was just a small swirl. If not because the distance and direction of the rise made it so easy, I would not have bothered to send my lure there.

The fish was still swirling near the surface as my lure landed centimeters beside it. I twitched the lure only twice, and pandemonium seized my world.

That single lotus leaf disappeared beneath the water as a large Peacock Bass sucked in my lure with an oddly sickening sound. As it dove away, the tightened line caught the leaf’s stem, pulling everything under. The fish swerved to the right, tearing apart large clumps of underwater weeds that rose messily to the top.

I could only hold on.

The fish was pulling my kayak around. I regained some line when the fish stalled in its confusion. As I reeled it in, the fish realised that the silhouette of my kayak was a source of danger, and pandemonium struck again.

Minutes later, the fish finally tired out and came up gleaming beneath the mid-morning sun. It was the largest Peacock Bass I had ever hooked! A male, judging by the over-developed hump on top of its head. Length: 62cm. Weight: 3.1kg. I broke my Peacock Bass record!

I decided to try a further spot called The Hideout. The 2km of paddling was invigorating after the cold drizzle. On arriving at this system of broad, meandering channels, I had to grin. All the fish were having a party. Rises everywhere. A peculiar sort of rise caught my eye in the distance near a curving stretch of weed-line. Could it be?

I drew in closer, dipping my paddle silently into the water, hugging the weed-line as closely as I could to camouflage the kayak’s silhouette. The fish, a large one, rose again in the same spot. Oh! Could it be!?

As close as I dared to go without raising an alarm, I cast hard to reach the spot. The lure only just made it. Phew. I still had on a top-water lure. This time I moved the lure in a technique called Walk-The-Dog. By cranking the reel slowly and twitching the rod at a correct tempo, the lure began to swish left and right in a clumsy and heavy fashion.

Slorrp.

I swear that was what I heard before my line went so tight that it played a whining note as it rubbed hard along the rod guides. The situation was out of my hands. The fish made a break for the middle of the channel in search of deeper water, and I was compelled to follow on my kayak! I actually became scared that I had finally caught one too many fish.

Slowly but surely, the fish got tired of towing me and showed itself. A black torpedo with a white underside draped in emerald blotches. Meet the venerable Giant Snakehead. Length, 1.1m. Weight, 8.87kg. It is, in every sense of the term, a specimen size. Now I’ve broken my Giant Snakehead record.

An old friend once said: “A bad day at fishing is always better than a good day at work.”

Well, a good day at fishing is surprisingly quiet, making us feel humble and thankful to nature. Those wishing to fish Lake Kenneth are advised to observe good fishing ethics to preserve the haven. Stick to bag limits and take no more than three fish per angler.

Release all fish under 1kg. Avoid littering. Allow common sense to prevail. Be cordial to other anglers on the lake.

Good or bad, Air Kuning is not easily accessible by road. Yes, you need a 4WD to access some of these lakes.  But, that’s not all. You need a boat too, if you want to explore the many hotspots around the lakes and the river system. Air Kuning is definitely an ideal place for kayak anglers.

Our first stop is a lake we named Tasik Tucunare (also known as Lake Kenneth, depending on who you talked too). Other than Sungai Kinta, all other water bodies in the area are nameless. Tucunare is a common name for Peacock Bass in Brazil, the country of their largest native region. Tasik Tucunare (or Lake Tucunare) is the largest lake in the Air Kuning wetlands.

The journey to Tasik Tucunare from Kuala Lumpur took about 3 hours. I found the journey itself exciting. The drive from Kuala Lumpur to Temoh (exit Tapah toll) on the North-South highway took about 2 hours. From Temoh to Lake Tucunare, it was off-road for one hour all the way. Going off-road with a convoy of 4WDs and driving through oil palm estates and ex-mining areas was an exhilarating experience itself.

Lake Tucunare proper is approximately 380acres in size, making it easily in the top 5 largest ex-mining water bodies in Perak. Our depth sounder showed uneven bottom and depths of no more than 30 feet.  To paddle around this entire lake while combing the water for fish took us 6 hours. The whole wetlands system that Tasik Tucunare is a part of is about 2,000 acres. We’ve explored less than 10% of this area.

Peacock Point. Viewed by satellite, the amazingly good fishing in Peacock Point is understandable. This is the largest area in the lake that is a lagoon that ends in a narrow point of less than 45 degrees. We believe seluangs and lampams who find their way into this “V” will be boxed in for a time, leading giant peacocks to swim right into casting distance to hunt them. The largest PB we caught here is passed the 3kg mark.

Kenny with his catch at Peacock Point

Muara Tucunare (or Tucunare Inlet).  Here, a feeder creek flows into the lake and if you know where the drop-off is, you will find both PBs and tomans patrol this inlet. There is a slight drop-off at the mouth of the feeder where the water has gouged out a hole in the lake. Even a minor drop-off of only a few inches offers many fish a place to hold and wait in ambush for food washed out of the feeder creek. If you use teeny, tiny hooks to catch the really large minnows here and use them as live bait, you have better chances of hooking up good size PBs and even tomans. 

Muara Tucunare

Toman Bay. Frustrating place. We have lost some very good lures here. Our sonar showed a shelf in this location. The top is less than 8 ft. The bottom is more than 20ft. PBs are aplenty too. But on a windless day, anchor your kayak, light a cigarette, keep your rod cocked and ready, and vigilantly watch the mirror-like water. Tomans will rise calmly, showing only their pointy nose and not a ripple more. Some times, the rises are less than 10 ft from your kayak. Casting accuracy is so crucial here. Too close and you frighten the toman into the depths. Too far, and they ain’t bothered. The cast has to be just right and when done so, the strike is almost immediate and very ferocious.

Toman Bay. Caught a PB instead.

The Shallows. The water here is shallow and fighting toman in shallow water will be a challenge, but the number of tomans here are really shocking.

Buffalo Lake. We named it so cos the water smells like buffalo dung. A friend once caught a toman here that was so large that it was beyond control. Probably about 7kg. In the end, the fish crushed the treble hook and spit out the lure. You can also find PBs around 2.5kg here. The lake’s earthy, chalky, mineral smell and in some parts, it smells like buffalo dung, since buffalo dung is probably what contributes to the water’s tint, is probably the reason why you find the fish there. 

Mystery Fish Cove. There’s a lot of a strange kind of fish here. They school in packs of 30-50 strong and rise in unison, making a rolling motion that reveals the whole of their dorsal fins. Dunno what they are.  That’s why I call them mystery fish.

The River System

The trip is mildly challenging because you will have to paddle out of Lake Tucunare and cross the river system to reach this cove. The current is meandering and just nice to give you a good workout. Fishing pressure here is delightfully low cos the cove is impossible to reach on foot or wheels. Must have boats to reach it. And tomans and haruans abound here too but the water is shallow, so fighting a big toman here will be tough.

North of this system, there are two more small lakes where you can find more PBs and tomans, but prospect of getting the monsters are much higher in the Lake Tucunare system.

Lake Tucunare (also known as Lake Kenneth)

By the way, if you are there on Saturday, head into Kampar town pasar malam for the best luk luk ever. All the stuff is fresh, especially the cockles. The sauces are spectacular and if you love pedas, the chilli sauce will make your hair sweat!

Best Luk Luk ever

Last but not least, please practice ethical bag limits and release those less than 1kg size.

Lake with no name, Kota Bahru, Gopeng

I too couldn’t wait for another exciting fishing trip. We decided we should do it sooner than later. Two days later, exactly two weeks after our Tronoh trip, we were on our way to Kota Bahru, Perak. I arrived at Mah’s house at 10 past 5am and began our journey 20 minutes later. Like our Tronoh trip, it had started to rain soon after we left PJ.

We arrived at the lake 3 hours later and quickly surveyed the place for a launching site. We could see dark clouds hovering above us. We had brought along our ponchos and decided to push ahead rain or shine.

We decided to fish nearby just in case it started to pour. I had brought along my soon-to-be-launched Boogeese kayak (named after the fearless Bugis people of the Malay Archipelago aka the Bogeyman) for a real test. We quickly landed Mayans soon after. Not long after, the wind came and blew the dark clouds away. We then paddled out in search of bigger fish and the elusive PBs. The wind kept blowing and made flyfishing difficult.

In search of Peacock Bass...

A duck farm nearby

Me and my Boogeese

My catch...Mayan cichlids

Mah's catch...more Mayan cichlids

By 3.30pm we had landed only Mayans. I guess the PBs had taken the day off. There were big splashes too, but it looked like only the Mayans were interested to play. Half an hour later, we were on our way back to KL.

Another exciting kayak fishing experience nonetheless.