Shoal prospecting: lined with 75 cm
For this 4th day, we head south. After a 45-minute boat ride, we pass a beach bordering the rio. For 200 meters, a regular semi-transparent drop-off strewn with branches beckons us. Turning back, we decided to explore the area by drifting.
Christophe is up front and throws first. Nothing. Second cast with the popper and badaboum, explosion on the surface. The reel sings instantly and the fish heads straight for a stump. It's a beautiful fish for sure. After a second, equally worrying rush, the peacock concedes defeat. A fine 75 cm! A good start to the day.
Nothing like it to shake me out of my torpor. I mount a popper, determined to get back on the scoreboard. Two drifts later, it's my turn to be violently attacked. Picked up. I cast again and, just as I was about to take my lure out of the water and anticipate my next cast, I'm splashed by an attack as agile as it is swift. Having seen its caudal fin, I already have an idea of the beast. A fearsome battle. Another 75 cm. We're delighted.
A festival of "small" fly-fishing peacocks
Enchanted by this drift fishing, we start again a kilometer further down a narrow branch of the rio. Here, the current is stronger. We cast between 5 and 10 meters towards the crowded bank. Perfect for fly fishing! With my well weighted Rio Outbound intermediate fly line, it's ideal. On a good fifteen casts, my Andino Deceiver is systematically attacked by small peacocks of around thirty centimetres. This finer fishing is very pleasant.
12:00, time for lunch. A rocky outcrop is in sight. Perfect for a break. No sooner have I swallowed a hearty meal, carefully prepared by the chef, than a hunt distracts me from dessert. First fly cast and a medium peacock. I'd seen it bigger, but a good fight nonetheless. Second cast a little further on, same thing. Finally, while prospecting the rock, I caught no less than twenty fish from 30 to 50 cm.
Get up close to wildlife with drift fishing
José, clutching his 20 hp engine, takes us further south than ever. It's quite a change from pike, I say to myself, as I chew on a speculo. In any case, it's about time we got to work on a big fish. A quick look in my lure box. The Woodshopper from my very first peacock would be perfect. First cast, on a tree branch. I pick it up with a machete, that's the price.
From there, we let ourselves drift, not far from the shore. The smell of decomposing corpses tickles our nostrils. It's atrocious. As we cast, we watch the bank, our senses on the alert. Nothing Anaconda" José calls out from the stern. From what I gather from his explanation, it's the putrefied perfume emanating from the snake's skin when it's digesting.
I forget that my propeller lure is prospecting upstream of the drift and boom! I witness the most prodigious attack I've seen since our arrival. We cast again, nothing. "Él defiende su nido" retorts José...
