70 pound dry fly sippers, the IGFA, and the quest for world record immortality.

Weighed on a certified scale by a real, live postal inspector.  Why would I do this?  Read the blog!

50 inches, with a girth just under 32 inches 65 pound

I must admit, there were many things that were a bit shocking when I made my move from Wisconsin to Iowa.  My biggest shock came on one of my very first fishing forays, to Pleasant Creek Lake, not far from my home.  I was wading through the shallows, casting for largemouth bass, a familiar quarry from home, when three fish cruised by.  They were vaguely carp like, but they clearly weren't common carp.  And they were enormous.  Tarpon enormous.  They looked like they were between four and five feet long, and bigger around then my waist, and well over fifty pounds.  As someone firmly entrenched in the cult of the big fish, I immediately had lots of questions.  I asked everyone, starting with the few local fly fishermen I knew, and ending up with Iowa fisheries biologists.

What I found out was that the fish I was seeing were white amur, a vegetarian fish that was imported from the far east and used as sort of a biological weed control in ponds.  Commonly called grass carp here.  No one believed they could be could be caught on flies (keep in mind this was 18 years ago).  Everyone agreed they did get very large, the state record at the time was right around 70 pounds.  I read everything I could, and then grabbed a seven weight.  I never believed they couldn't be caught on fly, a fish that big has to be eating lots!  It was just a matter of figuring out how.

I quickly found out that grass carp were the most challenging creatures I had ever fished for in my life.  I'm a lot more traveled now than I was then, with many more salt and freshwater critters under my belt.  I will still stand by this.  Here is what I found out.  They are incredibly spooky.  It wasn't just a poor cast that will blow them up.  Sudden changes in wind direction will put them down.  A bird flying over head will put them down.  A loud misstep on the bank will put them down.  A kayak entering the cove a hundred yards away will certainly put them down.  Thinking bad thoughts about them will put them down.

They were very leader shy.  Once I found the fly they would respond to, a foam pattern actually cut to the shape of blades of grass, I found they would actually stick their heads part way out of the water, open their mouths, and then sink back under water right beside the fly when they rejected it.  They were maddening.  I experimented and found eight pound floro to be the ticket.

I found they had a preference for quiet coves, that my best shot at them was early in the spring, as the water was warming, but BEFORE it algae bloomed, which happens here mid to late May.  My window was really about a month long, between late April and late May.  I needed a day with light winds (they wouldn't rise in moderate to heavy winds) and sun, so I could spot them.  Eventually, an amazing thing happened.  I started to catch them.  I started to catch them on the regular!  It never got easy.  But if I got out at the right time and the right conditions, I could usually hit one or two.

Finally, I had a day where it all came together.  I was fishing Amber lake, and the grass carp were everywhere.  Working the banks, great shoals of fish cruising the flats, it was hard to find a spot where there weren't twenty to sixty pound fish actively feeding.  At the end of the day, I had hooked nine, and landed seven, including a spectacular eat where i was laying flat on the ground to hide myself from the approaching fish, I laid the fly out where I thought the fish would cruise under it, and I got a great dry fly eat from a thirty pound fish six feet from the rod tip.  The smallest of the seven fish landed was around twenty pounds and the biggest about thirty five.  Driving home, I was enjoying that wonderful, satisfying feeling you get when you have figured something out.

It was then that I started to think about IGFA world records.  The IGFA is the International Game Fish Association, and they are the governing body of fishing records.  I had never been particularly interested in world records, but suddenly I was.  I had put so much time into this little obsession, I thought it would be meaningful to set a world record.  I bought "the book" from the IGFA and found out the fly rod record, for eight pound tippet was roughly 25lbs.  I had already caught some fish in the mid thirties.  I decided to wait until I had a fifty pound fish, (double the record) and then keep the fish and go through the process.

Not long after this decision, I found myself on a sunny, mostly windless evening, at the back of quiet cove on Hannen Lake, a small man made lake about 30 miles from home.  Hannen Lake is known for bluegills, largemouth bass and catfish.  That's not why I was there.  Large grass carp were cruising the surface, dorsal fins and tail lobes out of the water, sucking vegetation off the surface.  Out of all the lakes I fished, Hannen had the largest, I routinely saw fish I was sure were well over seventy pounds.   I made a cast, a large soccer ball sized head rose out of the water, slowly opened it's mouth, I waited a couple of eternities, set the hook, and.....   Here's where I confess, grass carp are pretty poor fighters.  I know I'm supposed to say they are freshwater tarpon, and make the battle sound heroic.  I can't.  A few minutes later, I had the fish on it's side.  Easily the biggest I'd landed.   I quickly took measurements, ran it through the calculation Length times girth squared times 1.33, divided by 1000.  48 pounds!  Back in the water it went.  15 minutes for things to calm down.  I made my next cast.  Again the slow rise, the long wait, the hook set, and a bit more of a battle with this one.  Even saw backing.  But soon enough, this one was beached, and definitely bigger!  With the formula I used,  58 pounds!  I whacked him over the head with a rock so he wouldn't suffer, threw him in the trunk of my car, and headed home.

Then I learned some of the challenges with documenting a world record.  First, I needed it weighed on a certified scale.  I had a friend who worked in a grocery store, but their certified scale wasn't heavy enough.  I decided on the post office, but it was Saturday night, they wouldn't open until Monday.  My friend kindly allowed the fish, which wouldn't come close to fitting in my chest freezer, to be stored in their deep freezer.  Bright and early on Monday morning, I headed to the post office.  I walked in with a very large fish cradled in my arms, and patiently waited in line.  People, not surprisingly, had lots of questions.  I finally reached the head of the line (my arms were tired!), got the fish weighed, (it weighed 56lbs 11 ounces after 36 hours on ice and tons of fluid loss in my trunk), and then I went home and sent the documentation in to the IGFA, including signed witness statements and a sample of my tippet.  My tippet actually undertested, it broke at 6 pounds, so I had the new six pound tippet record, a record that at least as of last year, was
still standing seventeen years later.

I still love me some grass carp.  I only fish them a few days a year now, I try to pick the perfect day, on the lakes and ponds that only have the true giants.  It's been four years since I've even caught one, but that one, according to the magic formula was sixty five pounds.  No more world records for me though, he's still swimming!    Although I did pick one huge scale off his side, and had my extremely creative wife turn it in to a bracelet.  I'm sure the postmaster is happy about that choice.

I

Bonefish and checkered puffers, big smallmouth and river carpsuckers, the pleasure of what is different

The picture above was taken on my honeymoon in Mexico, and is another example of how cool it is to have a wife that fly fishes.  We spent most of the week in the Sian Kaan Biosphere, a national preserve in Mexico.  It's hard to describe how fishy it is there, and how many bonefish there are, a wonderful place to fish totally unguided.  Suffice it to say we caught bonefish when we were trying and when we weren't.  We caught them cruising over white sand, we caught them working in rocky surf, and we caught them rapidly stripping flies for barracuda.  They were fun, and they were strong pullers on the seven weight.  But somehow the bonefishing got derailed by the unlikliest of candidates, the checkered puffer.  Yep, I said, the checkered puffer.  On any flat, you never had to wait very long before one of these unusual critters swam by.  In the water, they were a lovely yellowish color, with an attractive pattern of spots, and sightly demonic red eyes.  They were very bold, in fact, I was bitten by several puffers that thought the gaps in my sandals were open invitations to nip my feet.  But I couldn't catch them on typical bonefish flies, because they couldn't fit them in their mouths.  My wife, Terri, and I spent hours casting to them.  It became a bit of an obsession.  Finally, we found the right flat (where we could see them) and the right fly (one they could fit in their little beaks)  I played spotter, and told Terri where to cast, she led one just right, and we won the puffer lottery.  I few minutes later, I had one of my own.  They weren't fierce fighters, in fact, they barely fought at all.  But somehow, while all the bonefish blurred together, I remember everything about that little puffer.  Because all fish are fascinating, and every once in awhile, it good to veer off the program and experience something different!

Checkered puffer

Here's another example.  I love smallmouth bass.  One of the strongest fish in freshwater, they crush flies, pull hard, jump, everything you want in a gamefish.  Although many people wouldn't think of Iowa as fishing mecca, we have some pretty good smallmouth fishing.  In fact, I've got a small stream, not fifteen minutes from my house that is loaded with smallmouth.  15-18 inch fish are fairly common, and I even was fortunate enough to land a 20 inch bomber from this water several years ago.  I spend about 90 percent of the time working the water with a popper.  It's very productive, it seems to call up the biggest fish, and watching a smallmouth come up and absolutely annihilate a popper like it hates it, makes me laugh aloud.  It's just everything that fishing should be.  Sheer,  unadulterated fun.  However, smallmouth aren't the only thing swimming in these waters.  Last summer, I had an interesting experience there.  I worked upstream with poppers, and the large fish were looking up.  I managed three gorgeous fish between 18 and 19 inches, and a gar on a popper, a first.  Working back down, I chose to work through the same water subsurface, and I had a fish absolutely blast a Clouser minnow.  A big fish, pushing five pounds, but not a smallmouth, in fact when I landed it, I wasn't exactly sure what it was.  It looked a little like a carp, but it wasn't a carp.  It looked a little like a sucker, but it wasn't a sucker.  It had a dorsal fin that resembled a quillback, but it wasn't a quillback.  A little research revealed it to be a river carpsucker, perhaps a fish you've never heard of.  Although I didn't know exactly what they were, I'd sure seen them.  In any of the larger pools, there were dozens of them laying on the bottom.  They didn't respond to most smallmouth flies, in a decade of fishing this water, the one I landed was the first one I had ever hooked.  I began to wonder, could you target them?

The next time I came out I didn't have a six weight and a chest pack full of poppers.  I had a four weight, and few tiny nymphs.  I carefully crept into position, at the head of a pool where dozens of carpsuckers were working the bottom.  I made painstaking drifts, dragging the beadheads slowly directly in front of the fish.  And amazingly enough, in two hours of fishing, I hooked five of them and landed three.  They weren't half the gamefish that the smallmouth were.  The method of fishing them was frankly boring, nowhere near as rewarding as ripping a popper across the surface.  I'll probably never do it again.  And yet it was still one of  most rewarding trips of the year.  I'd figured it out!

So, I'm not saying that you should quit fishing

for your own favorites, whatever those are.  But chances are, in any water, there are some other species that may be very much worth some of your time.  For me, it's been grass carp, while I was largemouth fishing, a quest that ultimately resulted in landing a 56lb 11ounce fish on a dry fly, taking time out from beach snook to cast to squadrons of jacks, giant ladyfish in the surf in Costa Rica.  Observe, make a plan, and catch some of these "alternatives"  and I promise you, you'll be a better angler for it.  And more importantly, you will have fun!

My first intentional river carpsucker!

On 20 pound brown trout and the danger of setting goals

Let me get this out of the way.  I have actually landed a legitimate twenty pound brown trout.  In fact, I've been fortunate to land three.  Not because I have unique superpowers, or even above average fishing abilities, but mostly because I have spent several decades purposefully fishing one of the greatest brown trout fisheries on earth, the Lake Michigan tributaries of Wisconsin.

That seems like hyperbole, I'm sure.  But consider this, every year, until three years ago when the stocking program ceased, tens of thousands of fingerling brown trout were planted in various tributaries and harbors.  Soon these trout make their way out the lake, where they are ferocious eating machines.  Three to four years later, they return to those very same tributaries.  Now, they are esentially wild fish, at least behavior wise, and they are much bigger.  The average brown trout I catch is between six and ten pounds, or somewhere in the 26-30 inch range, and bigger fish are very common.  Because the Lake Michigan environment is complex, each fall looks very different.  Sometimes there are heavy returns of fish, sometimes they are very few.  Sometimes the bulk of the fish are smaller trout in the four to eight pound range, and sometimes they are larger.  Much larger.  And then, occasionally, there are years like 2016.

In 2016, a massive rain event in October kicked off the main "run" of
 fish a bit earlier than usual.  Within a few minutes of entering the water, I became aware that it looked like this could be a special year.  First, there were a lot of fish.  They were bumping into your legs.  They were rolling, sometimes jumping clear of the water.  They weren't all brown trout, there were steelhead, coho salmon, and few chinook salmon mixed in, but a high percentage of them were browns.  Secondly, they were tanks.  There were very few fish below ten pounds.  And there appeared to be many fish above fifteen pounds, and while not documented, some of the fish that were throwing themselves out of the water and giving us good looks at them, were definitely north of twenty pounds.  I saw a few that were no doubt between twenty five and thirty pounds.

Right there, a goal was formed.  It may not have even been stated.  But I was going to be quite disappointed if I didn't land a twenty pound fish.  And maybe a little disappointed if I didn't get a twenty five.  That fall I made four trips up to Wisconsin, and spent a total of ten days on the water.  I didn't get a 20 my first trip, or my second, or my third.  On the last trip, in late November, I was swinging my fly along a deep bank, the water temperature was now in the mid thirties, so I was keeping the swing as "low and slow" as I could.  In the bucket of the run, I felt a couple of gentle tugs, but simply let the fly continue to swing, and few seconds later, got that good, hard, pull that this blog is named after,  Immediately the fish came up shaking it's head, and there was no doubt that it was the "one".  Somewhere in the 36-38 inch range and thick, was a no doubt a 23-26 pound fish.  The battle was actually over fairly quickly, lake run brown trout arent actually always strong fighters, but I ran into a problem.  I usually don't carry a net, preferring to lead fish into shallow water, and then leader them or beach them.  In this particular spot, there just wasn't a good place to do this, and I ended up trying to leader the fish in waist deep water, on about the third attempt, the fish took off, and as I steered it back again, the fly just pulled out.  I felt all those familiar emotions, despair, recrimination, self doubt.  And as I packed up and prepared to make the long trip back home, knowing my season was over, it felt for all the world like the season was failure.  And looking back, how silly was that?

I had just enjoyed many days of truly world class fishing.  I had landed 35 brown trout over the course of the fall.  The smallest fish I landed all fall was 27 inches long and probably weighed around eight pounds.  My average fish was around 32 inches and 12 pounds, I had landed numberous fish over fifteen pounds, including three over 17, the biggest being a 35 inch, 18.5 pound fish.   Mixed in were dozens of steelhead and hard fighting coho salmon  It honestly was one of the best seasons I have ever enjoyed..  I should have had a big grin on my face from sun-up to sun-down.  But all because  I had set a goal, and decided without putting it in to words that if I didn't reach it,the season was a failure, that's exactly what it felt like.  Honestly, how crazy is that?  The difference between an 18.5 pound fish, and a twenty pound fish, can be as little as a half an inch of length, and an extra inch of girth.  Objectively, is it really any better?

Goal setting is generally a good thing, right?  It's certainly helpful in business.  It's helpful in financial planning.  And it even has it's place on fishing trips.  Sometimes, you're not going to catch a big fish unless you specifically chase one.  And there's nothing wrong with even shooting for numbers, saying, "I'd like to catch ten fish today."  But, I encourage you not to let the pursuit of your goals wring the joy out of the experience.  Because joy is precisely what this is all about!

I recently went on a trip to the Amazon.  I had a goal.  I wanted to catch a peacock bass of fourteen pounds.  It wasn't a hard goal to reach.  My wife got one that was sixteen pounds.  Almost everyone else in camp had landed a fish of fourteen pounds.  But we reached the last day, and  my best was twelve.  But I've learned my lesson.  I just decided to relax and enjoy the day.  I decided to simply enjoy every fish I caught.  In fact, it was sight fishing, and if I had a challenging cast, I even cast at the smaller fish.  It was a beautiful day of throwing to aggressive, hard fighting fish, and I enjoyed every second of it.  If I didn't get a big one, it would have been fine.  I when I got a fourteen pound fish, followed by a fifteen pound fish it made it even sweeter.  It was my favorite day of the week!

Hoping all your dreams come true and all your goals are accomplished this year.  But if they not,  I also hope that every day on the water is a successful day that leaves you a little better person when you exit the water than you were when you entered it.

Rumble in Jungle Day 7 - The Last, Best Day in the Amazon

 I can't believe it's the last day!  Today, we are heading to the lowest beat in the river, a ninety minute boat ride with our guide Samuel Almeida.  It's a day I've been looking forward to for a couple of reasons.  Sam is a great guide, and just a lot of fun.  He's a little bit of a cowboy, but will do just about anything to get you into a fish.  And like all the guides there, very attuned to his clients.  My wife loves taking photos of birds, and any interesting bird we saw on the river, Sam has noticed this, and swings the boat closer for a better photo opportunity.  He also can mimic the call of about any animal in the jungle, which will come in handy later!  Secondly, I love the water he fishes.  There is a section of the lower river where we pole the boat down the main channel, it's wide, and crystal clear, over light sand.  You can see the fish coming a long ways away, and you have the opportunity to make some really long casts, which I love to do.  I don't always know exactly where they're going, but I truly do enjoy casting.  Fishing with Sam is like bonefishing for peacocks.

I do have two goals today.  I'd like to land a fourteen pound peacock, and I'd like to catch an arawana.  Arawanas are this fascinating, somewhat eel-like fish, that are known to occasionally leap out of the water and catch birds.  They're pretty aggressive, and not that hard to catch.  But...they're not super common and there isn't really a way to target them.  They just kind of mosey by the boat while you're fishing to peacocks, and if you see one, you throw at them.  Last year, when I was at Agua Boa, there just weren't many around.  This year,  there are, and almost everyone else has caught one, I just have a little bit of an arawana curse.  Two days ago, we were fishing a lagoon, and I snagged the fly on a deep, unseen sunken log.  Just as I did, the guided called out arawana, 12 o'clock.  And sure enough, five arawana were cruising along the surface about 20 feet from the bow of the boat.  Except of course, I couldn't do anything about it, because I was snagged up.  Kind of the way it's gone for me.  But I also made a decision to make sure I really enjoyed this day, our last day, no matter what happened.

We started out the day with a long hike to a remote lagoon, where another boat was stored.  The fishing started slowly, although Terri was catching them a little quicker up in the bow of the boat.  Terri has the magic this week.  We were catching a species of peacock the guides call Tawa.  They're smaller, I've never caught one exceeding three pounds, they have very few markings, almost solid yellow, but the orange patch underneath their throat is absolutely brilliant.  In about an hour, we probably landed about 20 tawa and butterfly peacocks.  Two notable things, we saw a large redtail cat cruising near the surface ( I lust after one of these on fly)but were unable to get the boat in a position where we could cast to it before it disappeared, and I managed to stick Terri with a cast.  I was fishing from the middle, when you do this this, the drill is shoot the backcast between yourself and the person on the bow, and then lift slightly on the forward cast to bring it over them.  I miscalculated and on a long cast with a lot of line speed, whacked Terri in the head bringing the backcast through the boat.  She was a good sport and posed for a picture, and the hook was barbless, and just stuck in clothing, so it was all good.  Always wear glasses!


On the way back out, Sam spotted a large peacock and told me, I had one cast, and it had to be perfect.  Hmmmm, lots of wind, the fish was about 65 feet away, and if you tell me I need to make a perfect cast, that is recipe for me not to make a perfect cast.  But this time, the fly landed where it was supposed to, and this gorgeous, thick fish rose up and ate it, and did all the wonderful things peacocks do on the end of a fly line.  I knew it was big, and when we landed it, it weighed out at 14 lbs.  Happy!

We left the lagoon, and did a little fishing in the main river channel.  While we were traveling, we came across a group of giant Amazon river otters.  Sam actually called to them, and when he did they approached the boat to check us out.  Terri got some great photos, and then a few minutes later we saw something she had been hoping to get pictures of all week, a group of jabiru storks.  Sam swung the boat over, and Terri shot a ton of pictures, I had one very happy wife.

We stopped for lunch, and were actually near a fairly deep pool, so while Sam napped, and Terri shot pictures, I grabbed a five weight and some small Clousers.  I landed some small peacocks, got broken off by a couple that I was undergunned for, and of course, had two large arawana swim by.  I had no room to backcast, and they were too far away for me to rollcast to.  The curse continues.

After this, we spent the afternoon, fishing the main river channel.  Terri decided she had caught "so many big fish" that she was done fishing, so I got the bow.  I didn't argue.  It was a wonderful afternoon of fishing the main channel.  Lots of sighted big fish, visual eats, strong tussles.  3 memorable events.

While landing a butterfly peacock, a large school of black piranhas suddenly boiled out from the depths and were swirling all over him.  Black piranhas are large, up to eight pounds, have huge teeth, red eyes, and look slightly demonic.  I landed the little guy as fast as I could, but he still lost a portion of his tail.  Better him than me I guess.

Sam spotted a group of large fish swimming fast up the bank about 70 feet out.  I made a quick cast, dropped it about ten feet in front of them, stripped once, and they all raced for it.  When the fish ate, I thought it was six to seven pounds.  But it sure didn't pull like a seven pound fish.  It ran hard and deep, and then suddenly exploded into the air about 30 feet from the boat.  It looked huge!  And when I landed it, it was, 15  pounds, my best ever, and more importantly, caught in a perfect way, a cruising hunter, that blasted the fly after a long cast.  Perfecto!

By now, we were nearing the end of the day.  Sam spotted two large peacocks, again running the bank about 80 feet away.  Just as I was hauling and preparing to drop the fly, Sam shouted, Arawana, close.  I grabbed the line and stopped the cast in mid air, it fell to the surface, about thirty feet from the boat, the arawana spooked, but when I frantically stripped the extra line, and eventually got the fly moving, it turned around, came back and ate it!  After some cool jumps, Sam let me out of the boat, where I took it over to the bank and beached it.  What an amazing fish!  Some beautiful pink hues to the scales that a camera can't seem to pick up, and a unique body shape like nothing else.  I couldn't stop looking at it.  And that was it.  My last cast in the Amazon, it was time to head back.  It was an absolutely perfect day in an absolutely perfect place, and I can't wait to get back next year!

Rumble in the jungle - Day 6- Land of the giants

Today we are fishing with Coboclo, which is legit cause for excitement.  Each guide has a certain beat on the river, you get a different guide every day.  Coboclos beat has been a big fish beat this year.  And Coboclo is a big fish guide.  He really doesn't want you casting at the butterfly peacocks, and often, will try to talk you into shaking even four to five pound peacocks off the hook, so you can hone in on the big guys.
He is also very directive, reading the fishes body language as it chases your fly, and directing your stripping accordingly, often, this will change several times in a cast.  "Fast, fast, stop, slow, slow, fast."  And he is usually right.  He is very good at what he does.  My biggest fish ever at Agua Boa is a 12 lb fish, I hoped for at least a 14 lb fish today.

Before we went out, I had a little early morning session down on the dock, looking for new species.  And I caught three.  The first was really fun, I hooked it in the first couple of casts, and it powered off like a rocket, nearly taking me to the backing on a five weight.  Just look at the tail on that thing!  Great fish.  The locals call it a cabeza gorda, or big head.  Haven't got a good ID on it yet.  This was followed up by a small, minnow like critter called a covina, then by a new species of piranha that I haven't been able to identify yet.

After breakfast, it was off to the big fish lagoons with Coboclo.  At first, honestly, it was pretty slow.  We spotted plenty of good fish, but even when we made what seemed like perfect casts, many of them were spooking.  Lengthening the leader, and messing around with fly selection didn't really make too much difference.  We spent several hours and didn't have much to show for it.

In the early afternoon, it was like a switch flipped.  Suddenly, all those fish that were barely paying attention to flies, were crushing them.  Very few of them were small.  True to form, Coboclo began treating anything under six pounds or so as a pest, encouraging us to give them slack so they could shake the barbless hook.  In a pretty short time frame, I had landed four fish of 11 pounds or larger, 2 11's, and 11.5, and a 12, and Terri had landed a couple of tens.  Then it happened, just not for me.  We came across a very large fish, Terri made a nice cast, hooked up, and I knew from the second I saw the fish, that it was 15 or better.  It screamed off and immediately powered under a sunken tree trunk that was right off the bottom,and continued to run off line.  Then, everything stopped.  We were unsure if we were still hooked up or not.  The guide jumped in the water, freed the line, and the fish was still on!  After a little more big fish drama, the fish was boatside.  I looked at the guide, and said, "16"?, and when we put the fish on the boga that is exactly what it was.  Just an amazing fish.  Just something I want to clarify.  I was very happy for my wife.  Proud.  Elated.  And a little bit insanely jealous at the same time.  It's not that I didn't want her to catch that fish.  I just very much want one just like it!

I did have a shot.  As we were drifting, a fish suddenly loomed up from deep water and was cruising the surface not twenty feet from the boat.  The biggest peacock I've ever seen.  Easily twenty pounds!  I got off a quick cast, but the fish just slowly sank back into the depths, never to be seen again.  See you next year!

We closed out the day blind casting a deep bank in the main river channel.  Terri was done fishing at this point, apparently having reached her saturation point with big fish.  And this bank was loaded with big fish, it was simply one seven to nine pound fish after another.  And they were all the spotted peacocks, which somehow seem to pull twice as hard as the others.  Some of the nine pound fish, it felt like I was hooked to the bottom of the earth!  They're tough!  Too soon, the day was over, and we were headed back to the lodge.  But what a day it was!  I didn't get my 14, but Terri got a 16, and between us we landed 7 fish of ten pounds or over.  Cobloclo definitely got it done.

On Thursday night, the guides have casting contents amongst themselves.  A course is set up for both distance and accuracy, and all the cabins kick in some dollars.  It's a good time, and fun to see how skilled the guides were with the long rod.  After this, Terri and I headed down to the docks, I played guide to see if I could get her into something she hadn't caught yet, and she got a nice aracu!  Tomorrow, we will be fishing the lower river with Sam, one of my favorite guides.  I can't wait!

Terri and her giant 16, that I'm not jealous of at all

Rumble in the Jungle- Day 5, Unicorn fishing

Marie Antoinette Pacu

Certain fish have mythical qualities.  There is no doubt that arapaima are one of those fish.  They're huge, primitive, and mysterious.  They breath air like a tarpon, and have hard, interlocking scales like a gar.  I really want one!  The plan is some day to go to Pirarucu lodge, a location deep in the jungle where they specialize in these fish, and where they occur in large numbers.  But this year, we at least have a chance at good old Agua Boa!  We are headed out with Bacaba, for our last best chance at one.

I started the morning early, fishing the dock while others had coffee, looking for unusual species, and I caught one.  This pacu has a slash so deeply crimson that I actually touched it to see if it was really blood.  I showed the picture to Carlos, the lodge manager, they call it a Marie Antoinette pacu, which is certainly fitting. 

We headed out with Bacaba and beached the boat on a sandbar, and then hiked through the jungle to an isolated lagoon. On our way, we saw fresh tapir tracks, and could actually smell the tapir!  Bacaba called to it, but it never answered back and we never saw it. We poled slowly around the outer edges of the lagoon looking for rolling fish or laid up fish.  We spotted a couple of fish laid up in the shallow water really close to shore, easy 40 foot casts.  Too easy.  Somehow, I missed one of the shots by about seven feet.  Because fish don't eat with their tails.  I may have been a bit nervous.  Then Bacaba suddenly smiled and said, I see the group.  We poled a couple hundred yards down, staked out, and there were arapaima everywhere.  Very, very windy, but not windy enough to obscure the giant fish rolling.  Every few minutes, one would roll up to breathe air  Some of these looked like smaller fish in the 15-20 range, some of them were six feet long.  But in several hours of dropping flies on the rolling fish, not one grab.  Bacaba looked at me and said, "not hungry" and occasionally that is what it comes down to.  Finally, at about 12:30, Bacaba, said, "Let's go do something else.  The wind will drop later, we'll come back at 3:00.  Maybe the fish will be hungry then."  So we went off to look for peacocks.

I can make this quick.  Peacock fishing was super slow.  First we tried a large lagoon, just a few small fish.  Then we went to fish the main channel of the river.  Note that one of the cool things you see are in the Amazon, are large, freshwater dolphins.  Some are grey, some are bubble gum pink, some a combination of those colors.  They are supreme predators.  We had just located some fish, and Terri had released a nice speckled or paca peacock, when two dolphins came busting down the channel, and scooped up the just released fish.  Then a whole group started actively and rapidly swimming up and down the banks.  Bacaba looked a little forlorn.  And yep, fishing this section of the river was definitely over.  It was back to the arapaima lagoon.

Bacaba was right, the wind had laid down considerably.  And there were still fish rolling.  Almost immediately I had a 50-60 pound fish roll up close to the boat.  I dropped the fly on it, got whacked, came tight and strip set for all I was worth.  The fly just fell out.  They're tough.  My wife graciously offered to let me have all the shots, but I had a counter offer.   You fish the middle of the boat and take the close ones, I'll fish the bow and take the far ones.  No use just watching!  A fish rolled about 40 feet straight out, Terri, didn't see it, and when trying to respond to directions, missed her spot by about 25 feet.  But always fish a cast out!  She stripped the fly SLOWLY back to the boat as we have been taught, and got a grab.  She strip set hard, and the fish swam right at the boat.  She was sure it was a peacock, but I looked down deep and saw it, and yelled, Arapaima!  I don't think I've ever seen Terri so nervous, but she handled the fish perfectly, and soon we had it alongside the boat.  Lots of relief when we got the boga on it.  It was a little guy at 15 lbs or so, but still an amazing fish.  Bucket list accomplished.  And once again, I was happy for and jealous of my wife who has been killing it all week.

I fished another hour or so, and we were down to the last few minutes before it was time to head back.  A fish rolled off the back of the boat a long ways out, not sure how long, but looking at my reel later in the pics, only a few wraps of fly line left on the reel.  The fly dropped right in the middle of the boil, sank a few seconds, and the fish ate.  Set up hard, and it stayed hooked!  Nothing very dramatic after, it was a fish about the same size as Terri had earlier, but it was an arapaima, it was beautiful, (in it's own way) and I couldn't have been happier.  Bottom of the ninth and two strikes, and I got my fish!

Back to the lodge, high fives all around.  Tomorrow, we are headed out with Coboclo, who has had the big fish beat this year.  So far, everyone has caught their best peacock while fishing with him.  My goal is to catch a 14 pound fish this year, but my wife and I both have our sights set on knocking off Ron Smiths 17.5 pounder!  Can't wait.