Fishing the Amazon
Fishing the Amazon
By PATRICK KNOWLES
I was sitting in my favorite chair watching television and only vaguely listening to my wife in the background when the epiphany struck. There on the screen was a commercial for peacock bass fishing in the Amazon. What the hey, the wife’s on my ass, I’ll go catch a bass.
After the necessary paperwork was complete and payment made, I was on my way to Brazil for truly one of the most exciting fishing trips of my life. The Amazon peacock bass is pound for pound the hardest hitting and fighting freshwater game fish on earth. Interestingly enough, the "bass" portion of the fish's name is a bit incorrect. Peacock bass are actually members of the cichlid family.
A five hour flight from Miami landed me in Manaus, Brazil on the banks of the Rio Negro. No problem. A guide met me and whisked me away to a hotel in the middle of the red light district that had the rates posted by the hour in the lobby and notices about Aids on the back of the room door. Problem. Well, I wasn’t visiting the Amazon to stay in a hotel anyway.
That evening I met the rest of the fishing group. There was a real nice doctor and a terminally ill patient of his on one last "great adventure." There was also ten guys from a Chicago fishing club who apparently were going to interrupt their drinking to go fishing. Maybe.
The remainder of the evening passed uneventfully, except for the funeral. Evidently a very well-known member of the cockroach community had passed and all his friends and family dropped in to pay respects.
Bright and early we were on our way to a small airport to board the two Cessnas that would take us on our 90 minute flight into the Amazon jungle. The fishing camp is only accessible by air.
The view from the plane was overwhelming. The Amazon is all green with intertwining rivers and creeks. From horizon to horizon there’s no sign of people, just sheer jungle.
We landed on a 1500 foot red clay runway with the river at one wing tip and the jungle on the other. Our accommodations for the week, houseboats, awaited on the nearby Unini River. The nearest village housed maybe 30 people and was four or five days away by boat.
Now for the fish.
Since I was the 13th person, I lucked out and got a boat and guide all to myself. Late rains had caused high water and the fish had moved into the flooded jungle making fishing for the "big one" more difficult. However, my first evening was pleasurable and I boated several 5-8 pound fish before returning to camp.
While the thought of traveling to the Amazon rainforest conjures up images of old movies of 30-foot snakes, schools of man-eating piranhas, and the creature from the Black Lagoon, in actuality the Amazon is a peaceful place. Nature has its own sound of silence. No sound from anything but water and wind in the trees. There were no horns, no airplanes flying over, just nature.
Each day we headed out right after breakfast was eaten and lunches were packed. Our guides were rotated giving us the benefit of trying new fishing spots. Each native guide seemed personally disappointed if you didn’t get a fish and made sure to get you to the best fishing. Each evening we returned to camp. Dinner was as varied as spaghetti to something that looked back at me from the plate. Fresh fruits and Brazilian sweet bread always filled out the menu.
Unless you appreciate loneliness, the Amazon scenery can be repetitious... water and jungle, water and jungle, jungle and water. But there were lots of wild birds, brightly colored parrots and once in a while, monkeys. Fresh water porpoises swam by the boat daily.
Caimans, alligators, and crocodiles populated the river. Not very visible during daylight hours, at night a spotlight reflected orange eyes all around the boats. Nighttime strolls around the beach were not recommended.
Oddly enough, while there are bugs, mosquitoes are almost non-existent. The black waters of the Unini are too acidic to support the growth of mosquitoes. The heat and humidity are fierce. At sunrise the temperature was about 90 degrees and rising with humidity over 100 percent. But
being hot, sweaty or tired is no problem with the anticipation of that trophy peacock bass at the end of the next cast.
Each day melted into the next with a few good size peacocks and even a few piranhas making it into my boat. Then it happened. My 16 lb. big peacock exploded on my lure like a hand grenade and ran off like a wild pig.
There’s no experience to equal the fish I had at the end of the line. It literally pulled my out of my seat. The rod bent over and he made long, grinding runs, and several spectacular jumps. Out of all the fish I had ever caught, the peacock bass is the strongest. I can only imagine what it would be like to bring in one like the 26 lb. world record fish.
Once in the boat and we had him on the scale, we reached for the camera. Wouldn’t you know, I was out of film. One picture is worth a 1000 lies, so no picture must be better. Right? The story’s always better that the fish.
The remaining days were filled with fishing, heat, humidity, and tons of 50 SPF sunblock.
During the last hours of the last day, my guide pulled behind a small sandbar. Since he spoke no English and I certainly don’t speak Portuguese, he just pointed for me to cast over the sandbar. I slung my banjo minnow with as much heft and I had left and as it hit the water, I was awed by the sight of what resembled a multi-colored torpedo literally pushing a wave toward my lure.
Even the guide stood frozen as the fish struck the lure with the power of a nuclear explosion and just kept going. The rod bent double and whatever it was promptly broke the line. It was like hooking on to a mac truck going 90 mph down the highway.
No doubt that fish would have earned me a picture on the wall of fame back at the houseboat, but it certainly was a fitting end to my Brazil fishing adventure. Oh, and now, like a true fisherman, I can always brag about the one that got away.
About the author: Patrick Knowles was born and raised in Miami. He grew up fishing in the Everglades and Keys as part of the family’s commercial fishing business. Mr. Knowles moved to Baker County, Florida in 1974 as a State Wildlife Officer. He retired after 28 years with the state.
According to Mr. Knowles, he now lives on a meager pension and works to beautify the roadways while collecting recyclables to pay for his fishing trips. (Note to readers: Pat asks that you please don’t throw your cans from your vehicles... Please just drop them so he doesn’t have to get into the ditches and bushes.)
