The morning mists rolled and caressed the undulating land. Eventually the sun came out, showering everything with its golden light. The dew glistened on the green canopy of fruit trees. The pond lay still, occasionally rippling by rises of sturdy fish. I cast a soft plastic frog to the fringe of half-sunken elephant grass. At the third crank of the reel handle, a black shape darted from the left and pounced on the lure. Moments later, it streaked across the pond, taking metres of line, the reel screaming in protest.

I nearly lost my footing on the steep slope of the pond bank. Quickly recovering my composure, I proceeded to play the fish out. But it had other ideas; without warning, the haruan suddenly darted into a clump of cattail weed, snagging itself in the green mess.

I loosened the line, hoping the fish would come out of hiding eventually. Minutes ticked by, but the deadlock was firmly set. I knew I had to go for broke. I slowly handlined the fish out of its cover, praying that the 10lb line would hold. Thankfully, it did. With the fish out in the open, I slowly cranked it in towards the landing net.

It was a handsome fish of 1.5kg. You don't get haruan of this calibre often these days, so I was understandably pleased. Moments later, Foo Weng Keong and Jeay Taib came to do the honours with their Sony and Pentax compacts. We then released the haruan back to the water, none the worse for wear.

It was the highlight of the trip for me. We had come a long way to this place, a scattering of wild ponds near Bandar Penawar, at this northern nook of Johor. We caught lots of fish, but none compared to that noble haruan.

We had arrived at the place at dawn, after overnighting in Johor Baru. As in most cases of fishing, the early hours of the morning promises good fishing. Local boy Soo Boob Seng has been here before, so he served as our guide. There were too many ponds, and you could easily get lost in the myriad laterite tracks that criss-crossed this thousand-acre fruit plantation.

The first pond we tried was almost choked with weeds. Using diving lures was thus out of the question. Even my favourite spinner bait took a liking to the trailing cattails. We resorted to tiny spoons and spinners retrieved just an inch or so below the surface.

The pond was spoiled with haruan. Though small, they provided good fun for all. But soon we tired of them and longed for something different. Soo suggested another pond well-known for its strong pacu and jelawat. It didn't take us long to get back to the Isuzu Trooper.

It was another oblong-shaped pond. They almost all are, that's the only negative comment about the place. But I can't object to the quality of fishing.

The tactic for this pond was completely different. We threw offerings of bread, waited a while for the fish to start feeding, and then cast our free-lined baits. Soon, all of us were on to good, kilo-sized fish.

On light 4lb tackle, it was a thrill to have the pacu streak across the pond, the long rod bent all the way to the butt. This pond was weed-free, so no problems with snagged lines and lost fish.

We spent a long time at this second pond. The sun was finally getting too hot for comfort, so we proceeded to a place which Soo promised to be wilder and more "jungle-like'.

I lost track of the route; the trails over rolling hills and regimented groves of jambu trees started to look the same everywhere. After some 15 minutes of rumbling over hard gravel, we turned into a stand of tall forest trees. Smack in the middle of it is a series of shallow ponds fed by a small stream and connected to each other by murmuring cascades.

The first and largest pond even has a two-metre waterfall. Nice! Only the odd garden shrub reminded us that it's a man-made fishery.

We had lunch in the cool shade of the trees, then lazed about waiting for the day to cool down. When the clouds covered the sun, we couldn't wait any longer. Soo and his cousin Foo trekked downstream, whilst Jeay and I took our chances with the big pool.

There were heaps of lampam and small jelawat there, and Jeay was having fun catching and releasing one after another. I went to the bottom of the pool casting small lures, hoping for the odd haruan.

A brace of them kept me smiling. They were small, but it's always satisfying to feel that sudden tug on the line and see the small bubbles appear at the surface, signifying that a snakehead has pounced on your lure.

The fishing cousins came back with reports of a dozen sebarau caught and released from a long overgrown channel.

The sun was dipping the horizon when we called it quits. We had lost count of the number of fish we had caught and released, which only meant that we had caught enough. We hurriedly packed up. Foo gunned the Trooper to life, and we sped back to the main track. We needed to get out before it got too dark, for you could easily get lost out here.

We had a long drive back to KL ahead of us. Each of us wished loudly that this place with sporting fish was closer to home. I had the feeling, though, that we would be back to this place one day.

Top photo: Jeay Taib holding up Lampam Jawa.