100 degrees and humid? DIdn't notice! Amazon-Day 6

So, here is an observation, something I've noticed over thousands of hours of fishing in all types of weather.  Discomfort is fairly proportional to how well the fish are biting!  I spend a lot of time swinging flies for steelhead in really cold weather, the kind of weather where chipping ice out of the guides is a thing.  On the days when fish are few, or none, it can be kind of miserable.  Attention wanes, and once the only thing you can think about is how cold you are, a trip to the car is in your near future.  A few pulls from bright, chrome steelhead, big fish racing around the pool, some whooping and hollering, and when the day is over you don't even remember that it was cold.  Why, yes, your waders did freeze solid with ice, walking back to the car in the twenty mile per hour wind and twenty degree temps, but did you see stripe on that buck! 

I'm honestly almost impervious to heat anyway.  I generally take my vacation in Florida in the summer, and honestly, am so grateful to be somewhere without snow on the ground, that basically, the hotter the better.  And it did get pretty hot today!  I heard back at the lodge that it was right at 100 degrees.  But with fishing like it was today, didnt notice!

I fished with Preto again today, which isn't the usual program, but because I switched fishing partners on Tuesday, and then switched back, I have the same guide twice.  Don't mind this at all, love fishing with Preto, and wouldn't mind a repeat of Tuesdays action at all.  Which is pretty much what I got, the day was remarkably similiar, partially because we fished most of the same water.

We started in the lagoon, fishing the west bank where Stephen and  I hit multiple big fish, and it was once again on fire.  Preto, from the platform would pick out fishing cruising, or lurking near log jams, and they were once again on a search and destroy mission.  Landed a couple of nice fish, 12 and 10 pounds, the colors on the ten pound fish were so gorgeous, the camera may have picked out some of it.

Brushpile miracle fish

I never get tired of these guys....

In the next lagoon, I had another experience that convinced me that this is just definitely my week when it comes to big fish.  I hooked up on a big fish inside a brush pile, the kind of spot where even as you cast,  you think, "how can this end well, even if I hook up?"  The fish immediately ran through the logs and then powered parallel to the bank through the sunken bushes.  I couldn't feel a thing, and as we approached the logs, Preto said, simply, "Gone"  I untangled my fly line from the first jam, reeled up another fifteen feet, and with the line pointing straight in to a tunnel of brush, I felt a tug.  Looked at Preto, and said "Still on!"  I got up on the bow of the boat and peered into the brush, and about twenty feet in, I could see my fish wallowing around.  I put my rod down, grabbed the flyline, and gently pulled on the fish, and amazingly enough, it began to swim my way, going over, under, and around the sticks in such a way that it actually untangled my line, with some helpful tugs in the right direction by me.  Once it emerged, it ran out  into the lagoon, and I just picked up the rod and basically cranked it in.  Another 12 pounder!

We took a lunch break, and while Preto was napping, I fed the fish bread from my lunch.  Sometimes, I then pull out a bread fly and extract a few, but today, there weren't any new or sizable species, so I just watched the show.  Partway through, about a six foot caiman came sliding up the bank and stopped about ten feet from the boat.  I thought he was there to try to catch the fish that were eating the bread, but then he actually began to eat the bread, which yes, I think is really weird.  We tossed a piece literally six inches from the boat, and he still came and got it, I could have patted him on the head, but didn't.

Then it was back to the main river channel, poling slowly, and searching the bank for fish.  When it was my turn, we rounded a corner, and tucked into a pocket was a herd (I know that's the wrong word, but it's fitting) of big fish.  I saw five, and then my mind just kind of shut off, Preto later told me there were probably twenty.  I got a huge, red and white popper in the air, it hit the water, I popped it twice, and a bunch of giant peacocks tried to get it, the winner was a 10.5 lb fish.

Back at the lodge later, someone mentioned how stifling hot it was, and I had to say that it didn't register.  They looked at me like I was crazy.  I really don't mind being thought of as crazy.  That night, we enjoyed a dinner of fresh piranaha, cooked whole.  Tomrrow, somehow is the last day, and I'll be fishing with an old favorite, Irmau.