250 miles northwest of Manuas, Brazil, there is a tributary of the Unini River, called the Rio Petro. Its waters drain into the Unini, then meander their way into the Rio Negro, which in turn meets a confluence point near the city with the Rio Solimoes, forming the Amazon River Proper. The fabled river works its way to the Eastern Coast of Brazil, draining more fresh water into the ocean than any other river in the world. It’s a staggering thought – the flowage of the Amazon River could drain Lake Superior bone-dry in less than a year.

The Amazon Region is one of incredible contrasts. Scientists have estimated that there is more bio-diversity per hectare in the Amazonian Rain Forest than anywhere else on Earth, an incredible 80% of which still may remain un-identified. So in order to truly appreciate the magnitude of what the Amazon has to offer in its vastness, one really needs to constrict their sights to a smaller microcosm and take it all in.

So back to the Rio Petro – one of thousands of small tributaries that wind through the Amazonian Jungle and contribute to the largest watershed in the world. Simply put, it’s home to some of the largest Peacock Bass, known locally as Tucunare Grande found anywhere in the world. And it was home for me and five other lucky anglers for a week in mid-November of 2003.

International travel in a post 9-11 world can be an adventure, and although I’ve always been careful on a fishing trip to carry on rods and reels, current restrictions dictate that some of the essentials one needs on a trip, like flies, pliers, boga-grip, backup spinning-rod and lures, etc., be packed in your checked baggage. A delay on the ground in Chicago resulted in us barely making our connection in Miami. Our bags were not as lucky – consequently we arrived in Manaus without these things or change of clothing. Luckily we were able to buy a few T-shirts and swimsuits at the hotel, and one of our party was a talented and prolific fly-tier (not to mention quite generous). Unfortunately, we did not see our bag until we returned to the Hotel at the end of the week.

A few more hiccups later, including a day wasted sitting at the Hotel Tropical, in Manaus, due to logistical problems with the float-plane getting us to our camp, and we were finally on our way. As in Real Estate, where the maxim is, Location, location, location, they say there are three critical things for good Peacock Bass fishing in the Amazon. They are: Water level, water level, and water level. Despite the conflicting information I had in my pre-trip research regarding the Rainy Season in the region, the fact was that we were arriving at the very start of the Dry Season. Water levels were high, and rivers were still spilling the banks and into the forest, allowing the bait-fish to seek cover in the mangroves and fallen trees, with the Peacocks hot on their tails. Still, we were assured that our mobile camp was being positioned as far up the head-waters as possible, and that water levels would improve daily, which turned out to be the case.

Our outfitter had multiple "Floating Camps" which allow them to position their parties in the most optimum spots to take advantage of water levels to chase Peacock Bass. Essentially they are a series of tent-barges that consist of two-person "cabins" with twin-beds, a sink with running water, a porta-potty/shower stall, and the barge is equipped with battery power to run lights and fans as needed. They were quite comfortable, as was the main Dining Tent where we were served breakfast and dinner in a very pleasing fashion. Breakfast was usually eggs, pancakes and various fruits. Dinner included varieties of beef or chicken with local fish and rice or potatoes. For lunch we packed bag-lunches of cold-cuts and cheese to eat on the river. 

Each morning, we would awake to the shrieks and cackles of Parrots and Macaws - the rain forest’s answer to the Rooster. After breakfast, our guide would pull up next to our tent in the aluminum John-Boats that we would fish from. Although set up more with the spinning or bait-casting fisherman in mind (my un-scientific observations and questioning would estimate that conventional gear anglers outnumber Flyrodders by 20 to 1 in the Amazon) the boats had only a few line-grabbing snags we had to be wary of, and worked out nicely.

With water levels still higher than optimum the first few days, our fishing strategy would be to patrol the eddies and snags of the river, and endless side-lagoons, blind-casting streamer flies on sinking lines to likely spots. As the water level was dropping noticeably each day, it allowed us to look more for the classic scenario where we could site-fish for Peacocks on sandy banks and flats, or watch for swirls and jumping bait-fish, desperately trying to escape the bucket-mouthed, aggressive predators.

The first time I hooked a true "Grande", as our guide, Carlito, referred to double-digit fish, I thought I had snagged a sunken tree or stick – something that is a common occurrence when blind-casting in the Amazon – the line simply came tight and stopped dead. As I sighed and turned to look back to the guide with that "I blew it – let’s go over an un-snag me" look, I felt the line in my stripping hand start to pull through my fingers with alarming urgency. The line then proceeded to slice through the water to the left of the bow with that delightful "hiss" cutting through the surface, throwing off a rooster-tail in a manner that I have only readily experienced on a bonefish flat. Next the water erupted, and out shot a fish of startling size, flipping end-over with mouth agape and gill-plates flared and flapping, tarpon-style. Immediately it made a dash for the mangroves, a short distance away. The fly-line sliced through the second finger of my rod-hand as I tried unsuccessfully to stop it from reaching the snags, fearing I’d lose the fish. Safe for the moment under the snags, I had no choice but to give the fish slack, as the guide brought the boat around the bushes into a smaller lagoon in hopes of freeing the line. Luck was on my side – the line did come free, and the 44lb straight fluorocarbon leader I was using held. With sideways pressure I was able to encourage the fish to bolt into open water, as the guide backed us away from the snags with the trolling motor. Again in open water, it jumped and tried to spit the hook – a large fish jumping repeatedly in a tight little lagoon, followed by powerful bursts trying to get back to the snags – each time slicing the flyline into my hands. It was an unforgettable experience. Some few anxious minutes later, the guide had the netted fish and proclaimed it 8 Kilos (about 17.5 lbs) after weighing it on his grip/scale. My hands were shaking with adrenaline as I hoisted the brute up for a photo.

This scenario repeated itself over and over for the next few days, as Lori and I averaged between 6-12 fish each per day, with probably one third of those fish being in the mid to high "teens" weight wise. We also lost numerous fish. We changed from the 44 lb. fluorocarbon leaders to using straight 50 lb. mono. What we gave up in abrasion resistance, we got back in leader stretch, which helped minimize breakoffs during the multiple short, powerful bursts that typify the Peacock Bass’s fighting style. Although lacking teeth, these fish have abrasive mouths, and it was critical to check the leader for even the smallest nick, for failure to retie the fly would place it in serious jeopardy on the next big fish. We learned our lessons the painful ways in the first few days, and thank goodness - for we’d need everything we learned for day six…

Our fishing for the first five days had been steady, if unspectacular compared to other members of our group. Although size-wise we had done well, in simple numbers the other boats had fared better due to the fact that only one of us was fishing at a time, as we both were fly-fishing. On day six, all of that changed. Right out of the gate we started catching fish. Water levels were down, allowing us to head down-river, rather than up, and fish were up on the banks and flats – we caught them sight fishing, and casting to swirls - and we caught a lot. But then it happened; I hooked onto a fish in a cut between two sandbars that I knew was bigger than the rest. After an unforgettable battle, the fish weighed in at 9 Kilos (about 19.7 lbs – just under the magical 20 lb mark that would compare to the 10lb. threshold for Largemouth Bass). I was happy to surrender the casting platform to Lori, having caught my "fish of the trip".

As we entered into another cove, we saw a swirl and Carlito said that magical word – "Grande!" Lori made a couple casts to the swirl before her line came tight. The fish cleared the surface and cartwheeled through the air, coming back to the water with the kind of "thwump" that can only be achieved by the perfect "cannonball" off a springboard. This fish was a hog – a true Grande! Lori fought it like a pro. Luckily it was hooked in the middle of the lagoon, and there was room for her to stop it as it made repeated runs towards the snags. With that strategy not working, it launched into the air repeatedly trying to throw the hook. Finally it resorted to massive downward bursts every time Carlito tried to get the net close. After several anxious minutes of trying to net the fish, relief came when it was finally secured. Carlito proclaimed it "nueve y media kilos" with a wide smile – nine and a half kilos, or just under 21 lbs.! Although we’re not record seekers, and our leaders would have precluded consideration, with an appropriate leader this fish in all probability would have qualified as a Female Angler record for Peacock on a fly.  The icing on the cake came later in the day when I caught a beautiful Leopard Catfish of nice size – a very rare catch indeed on a fly. Amazingly enough, our good friend Richard Wright, the very next morning caught two fish over 20 lbs on fly, with the largest at 22 lbs. Our group managed three 20 lb-ers, and all of them on Richard’s large Bozo-Haired streamers that he had worked so hard on for this trip!

If the fishing alone was not enough to make a trip to the Amazon an incredible experience then the beauty of the region and the wildlife are the clinchers. We saw snakes, caimans, turtles, toads, lizards, beautifully colored birds too numerous to identify or mention, a Tapir, Giant River Otters, Freshwater Dolphins and Stingrays, monkeys, and one of the guides even spotted a Jaguar. If you are a nature lover, and you appreciate being able to see animals in their natural habitat, the Amazon is a destination that you need to bump to the top of your list.

It was with sad but fulfilled hearts that we waited for the float plane to come to pick us up and drop the next group of anglers off. This group happened to be all Brazilian, and although none of us could speak Portuguese, some things are universal – like the beaming smiles on their faces when Richard gave them the "thumbs up" signal, as our boats passed, and he spoke the magical word – "Grandes!"