When we first decided to go on that trip, one of the first things we did was go to a travel doctor who vaccinates you for all kinds of shit and gives you pills to ward off any number of things. On our last visit to him, he asked me if I planned on getting in the water. I said noooo way, buddy. He told me it wasn't a big deal if I did, but that I should be careful not to urinate with my waist below the water because of those fish Nach posted the article about. Just the story of that fish alone was enough to keep me out of the water the whole week.
The problem was that most trips on the Amazon are in January or February as it's fairly warm and it's a dry part of the year. As a result, the river was down probably 7 to 8 feet when we got there, so all the good fishing spots were sometimes a mile off the main river through very shallow water. I'd say that within the first half hour of getting onto our first boat, before we'd even had a chance to use our rods, our guide ran the fishing boat aground... and we had to get out and push. Our first day there and I'd say I was in the water maybe a total of five times.
They tell you that if you're walking around in the river, you should always sort of shuffle your feet to move because there are freshwater stingrays all over the place... if you kick them rather than step on them, you're less likely to get stung, but really it doesn't fucking matter either way because stingrays in the water is unnerving. Couple that with the fact that we've flown about 2 hours out of Manaus, Brazil into the jungle and for hundreds of miles in all directions there is absolutely nothing and the thought of being stung by a stingray is scary for a whole new slew of different reasons I hadn't thought of before.
I guess of all the things that stick with me about my week there, it's the intensity of nature there. It's kind of like stepping into Jurassic Park or something becuase there is so much shit out there that can hurt you. You see things move out of the corner of your eye and realize you're not just seeing things, it's a snake or an alligator or a monkey. The fish most often caught on any given day is called a dogfish. They have poisonous bites that can really mess up your skin. You're not allowed to handle them at all and every one of the guides killed any that we caught. Sometimes we'd throw them in the water and you could watch pirhanas eat them. It's just everywhere and it's unforgiving and it's a rush just being out in it, not to mention that the fish you're catching are among the most stupidly violent I've ever witnessed.
Peacock bass are highly territorial which is part of the reason they're so much fun to catch. They will hit a lure as many times as they have to to eat it... once I hooked one only to have it leap out of the water and toss my lure... it dove back into the water and then came up and hit my Dad's and Dad caught the fish.
You use these lures called woodchoppers that are maybe 6 or 8 inches long and have huge propellers on either side. They make a buzzing sound if you pull them through the water right and it drives peacocks nuts. Typically, you'll be fishing and all you see is just a huge V rip out from under a log or near the shore... and it's just humming right at your bait. So a lot of times, you've got a second to prepare yourself, and then when the fish finally hits there is just an explosion of water everywhere. It looks like what you'd imagine would happen if someone dropped a 30 inch television into the water from a 2 story building. The next minute or two is total chaos as you try to out wrestle a 15 pound fish that feels like it's about to pull you right off the boat.
The trip itself is physically daunting. After an hour of hucking woodchoppers through the water, it feels more like boot camp. You just want to rest or fish with a fucking bobber or anything... anything but fling this murderious chunk of wood out there again. After the trip, my arms would be so swollen that I couldn't put on my watch for an entire week. If I ever go on a trip like this again, then I'm working out for a good 6 months beforehand, because it was exhausting.
The day we went out with Leno was the worst as far as how much time we spent in the water. The guide he was following was dead set on getting to this place at least a mile off the main river channel. For 2 hours, both ways, we'd drive the boat forward 15 or 20 feet, run aground and then have to push it another 20... over and over again for most of the morning. At one point, we were in a shallow little alcove and I could see thousands of these black minnows swimming around my feet. I pointed down to them and Leno says, "Pee-rah-na!". Sweet.
FINALLY we get back to this hole and start to fish. In the distance, I can see the other guide and the two guy's he's with catch a pretty large peacock bass and as he does, the second guy tosses a lure at a log which then turns and swallows his bait... he's got an alligator on the line. What was even more amazing was that they wrestled the thing into the boat and got the lure back.
After maybe an hour of fishing, it was time to turn around and start the 2 hour trek back towards the channel for lunch. With the other guide in front of us, Leno starts to follow him back the way we'd come. I may have mentioned that the other guides had clearly stuck Leno with the shittiest of the fishing boats. The thing was abysmal. It would stall and take him minutes to restart. Multiple times, Leno had the cover off the top of it to work on it... he'd get it going again and then we'd run into a log or sandbar and it would stall again. While all this is happening, the guide he's following is getting further and further away, so Leno is becoming more and more frantic each time the motor stalls.
Eventually we start getting back into some deeper water again and the boat's able to travel pretty well without running aground. Leno's now 50 or 100 feet behind the second guide and we're zipping along a space of river that's maybe 20 feet wide. As we approach a fork in our little channel, I see the lead boat turn left and disappear around a corner. Leno follows him, only just as we're beginning to turn left, Leno and I see a little man paddling a canoe made from a hollowed out tree... and he is right in the middle of the path of water we're headed to. My Dad is sitting in the front of the boat sitting so that he's looking out the back, so he doesn't even see this guy. Leno panics and instead of throttling down and trying to avoid him, he just jerks the steering wheel right and heads off down the other portion of the fork. This would have been fine, except for the massive tree down across the width of it. The tree is only a few inches below water and we hit it full tilt... I just see my father roll over backwards, his feet up in the air and then I'm hit in the back of the head by the cover of the motor as it goes flying out the front of the boat. There was a very brief moment there where I thought we were in big trouble. Everyone was very quiet as we mentally checked that our arms and legs were still attached and that we weren't being ambushed by tigers or angry hornets that had been living in the downed tree. The little dude in the canoe is now sitting 20 feet away just looking at us like we're going to start doing magic tricks or something. The motor had tilted all the way forward as far as it could go and we could see clearly that Leno had destroyed the prop. Somehow he managed to get the damn thing started again and we were able to limp back to the main boat for food.
I survived with just a bump on the head and luckily Dad was able to stay in the boat. After lunch that day, though, Leno had a new boat with a much better motor.
