Fishing a Rainforest River
By PAUL ITO
RAFU CONTRIBUTOR
Friday, Mar. 14, 2008

Want to reel in some nice Peacock bass? Try a trek to the Brazilian rainforest.

Photos by Paul and Michi Ito
Paul Ito of Gardena poses with a guide and his Peacock bass on the Rio Negro in the Brazilian Amazon. Ito and his wife took the journey last month.

There was no refrigeration in the markets or on the boats to keep the fish and meats fresh. Maybe that’s why so much of what they eat is deep fried?

Paul Ito of Gardena sent in this fascinating story about the fishing trip he took last month with his wife, Michi. The couple packed up their gear and headed for the Rio Negro River in the Amazon Jungle of Brazil. This is the first of two parts.

THE AMAZON JUNGLE.– It is Feb. 8, 2008 now. This date was planned about a year in advance. We are to be fishing on the Rio Negro River of the Amazon Jungle in Brazil.

We planned to do the trip to Brazil with carry-on luggage only, being that the boat had a laundry feature and our leader told us we wouldn’t need much clothes, so after a few meetings and our two bags packed, we were off.

The gang was on the flight ahead of us by one hour. They were up by 4:30ish and on their way. We were to meet up with them in Miami five hours later. A friend, not associated with the group was a retired travel agent and had fixed us up with first class tickets from LAX to Miami. How nice is that!

After a nice ride to Miami, we were notified that the weather in Miami was a downpour and our flight was put into a holding pattern until the rain let up. We circled a while but thankfully without any problems, we finally touched down safely and it was time to find the gang and regroup.

I heard someone calling us and saw our party as they gestured for us to get steppin’ quickly. Due to our late arrival, and a change of departure time unbeknownst to us, we were actually late! Racing to get checked in, we were scolded by the ticket agent for not knowing. Nobody had told anyone until a few minutes ago. We raced to our gate, boarded safely and were off to Manaus Brazil.

The plans were to stay in Manaus for one day. I’m not a very good flyer and the relief stay would do me good. It gave us a chance to tour the city and get a feeling of what life in Brazil was about. Talk about a culture shock, I was amazed! The poverty was unbelievable but to the locals it was a way of life. On one stop, we encountered a huge shopping area where people would arrive in large boats supplied with only hammocks to sleep in and packed like sardines would stay for three days to get all the shopping done before going back to their native villages scattered all over the river.

There was no refrigeration in the markets or on the boats and how the fish and meats stayed fresh, I’ll never know. Maybe that’s why everything they eat is deep fried?

The hotel we stayed at was wonderful. Great free breakfast made from fresh local fruits of the area along with the usual eggs and such filled my tummy. Our rooms were air-conditioned with comfortable beds and very cozy considering we were in a third world country. It also had swimming facilities and huge turtles swimming in ponds surrounding the huge multi-roomed complex which made for a tropical environment that impressed me to no end. They even had a mini zoo on the site.

Bright and early Sunday morning we were up, fed and off to Manaus Airport where we were to catch a little puddle jumper to Barcelos. It would be a one-hour flight. Packed with all of our gang and the rest of the fishing group, we took off and landed safely and nicely in
Barcelos. Once in Barcelos, we were off in a bus to the boat we would call home for the next six days.

The “Otter,” as the houseboat was called, is 88 feet long and 24.6 feet wide, has four decks and is propelled by two 120 hp engines. It is licensed for 28 passengers and five crewmembers, but I expect to take a maximum of 18 passengers.

On the first deck there is a kitchen, a service area, two cabins and bathrooms for the crewmembers. There is also an entrance hall, a service area, and access to the engine room, command room and a corridor with five very comfortable cabins with bathrooms. The cabins are about three meters square plus a small closet for suitcases. The cabins all have individually controlled air conditioning; the beds are large single beds that can be turned into a double bed.

Of particular note is the fourth deck, which is a solarium with a 360-degree panoramic view.

The boat is the most comfortable in the area, with ample headroom everywhere, wide corridors, light and well ventilated rooms and bathrooms.

We also had a support boat where the guides lived. It was a bit smaller, but carried everything we could possibly need and would stay with us throughout this safari. The support boat would tow our skiffs throughout the journey and when we were ready to fish, they’d bring the skiff to our motherboat where we would load on and head out.

Our support boat was slightly smaller and much more crude. No state rooms or beds. Our guides slept in hammocks on the top level. The space available was used to store huge bottles of water and extra fuel for our skiffs. The boat was purely a utilitarian vessel. The guides had all the basics they needed to eat and survive, but it was nothing close to how we lived. Our guides were considered upper class in town but the way they lived was far less than desirable to me. I guess it’s all relative.

The weather on our first day was muggy but actually cool compared to the norm. At around 80 degrees and the humidity probably close to 100 percent it was livable. Once we were introduced to our rooms and got settled in we were ready to go fishing!

The plan was to have a different guide each day. There were a total of six little skiffs. Each skiff guide received an incentive where they would get paid for the most fish caught, and also the largest fish caught for the first half of the day and also the second half of the day.

Before we knew it, we boarded the first of the little skiffs. We had no idea what we were doing and what was in store for us. We were still within reasonable distance of the town and were told the fishing may be a bit slow for this very reason, but off we went. I could never figure out how the guides could navigate through the mangroves without any electronics and know where they were or how to find the motherboat. All they had were CB radios! In and out of coves and lagoons we would fish selected bushes, points, and underbrush, and never knowing when the exotic Peacock Bass would explode from underneath and eat our lure. Our first day on the water would prove to be a tough one with only a small fish here and there caught, but hell, we were still spellbound.

Upon arriving back to the motherboat tired and hungry, we were still acclimating to the temperate climate of the rainforest. For some reason the day wasn’t as hot as we’d been warned. We showered in heated river water that the boat pumped throughout the boat. It was said to be very clean and bleached of minerals which caused the water to look exactly like coffee. The locals drink the water but for safe keeping we opted not to.

Soon after the gang had all arrived back from their journeys, the eating area was bustling with stories and chatter. We grouped up and heard how everyone did and those of us who have never been here before were astounded by the repeat patrons of the trip. We all compared notes while enjoying our first dinner of Amazon fish and a variety of dishes that satisfied our raging hunger.

The next morning (Monday) we were awakened at 5:30 a.m. by the skipper. The beauty of this trip is that we can get up whenever we wanted and there was no agenda. Some folks woke up late and headed out while others woke up at “O-dark thirty” and got off fishing as soon as a hint of sunrise started. We finally got up and had our breakfast of fried bananas, eggs, and an assortment of breads and fresh fruits. It had been rumored to not drink the water or eat fresh fruits and a bunch of other things that we found to be malarkey later.

Finally, we called in our skiff, loaded up and were off. We were further down the river and it was said that the fishing should get better. Being we were using straight artificials, we would cast these huge broomstick sized plugs. Whoosh, whoosh all day long. Talk about exercising in the heated sun, this would be the norm for the day. I was riding an adrenalin rush and would cast nonstop for hours. Once in a while a nice bass would bust out from nowhere attacking the plug and the anticipation was enough to keep the adrenalin flowing all day.

It was purely a visual high and not knowing when or if it was going to happen was such a rush of excitement. Michi was still learning some techniques and the guide spent most of his time helping her cast and assisting her every need while I concentrated and slaved over my quest to keep up with the Jones. We would catch a few small bass and some exotics but our trophy 20-pound bass was not going to happen.

We were caught in the worst rainforest rain yet Monday. I found a new respect for my wife watching her kinda smirk. She later told me there wasn’t a thing she could do about it and just laughed. So there we were casting in a downpour so bad, we could not see in front of us. We came back to the mothership for lunch and the hot topic of course was the downpour. Most of us got into it while some actually missed it.

At the dinner table again we compared notes and it sounded like the others were doing well. Some already had achieved big fish accolades while others chattered about how many they got. I was getting frustrated by hearing these stories. I was doing everything correctly and my casting abilities had gotten very precise after throwing for hours nonstop. The repeat patrons told me not to fret and it was only going to get better. I know as a fisherman that no matter what, I’d rather be lucky than good. There’s nothing worse than bad karma. This of all trips is not the trip to have a case of the bad “Juju”!

–To be continued in next week’s
Travel & Leisure section.