Payara: Whispers in the Night

I learned from my grandfather how to fish, and over the years I’ve explored some of the world’s most demanding locations for anglers. But one experience on the banks of the Xingu River in the Amazon jungle was like no other.

By RODRIGO M. SALLES

The long night was preceded by an unbelievably hot afternoon. The air was heavy and humid, and the sky was filled with massive dark clouds. The Kayapó people abandoned their usual evening social activities, which traditionally involved youth eagerly listening to stories and myths skillfully shared by their elders. They also sang, danced, told stories, and walked around the village visiting neighbors. From past excursions, I’ve learned that when they stay in their huts it’s a sign to remain aware. Something just might emerge from the darkness. The Kayapó are the indigenous people who call this jungle home and know it better than anyone.

Even the dogs were nervously barking. Trees began to shake, and suddenly a loud noise came from the north. It sounded like a big dinosaur stomping through the thick jungle snapping trees as if they were mere matchsticks. It reminded me of a soundtrack to a Hollywood thriller.

Up came strong gusts of wind, hot and humid. Then, debris started to fly — sand, leaves and branches. The wind was stronger than I’d experienced in 25 years of jungle explorations. Before long, our tents and the palm leaves covering the Kayapó huts were flung great distances through the air. Fly rods and our tying material made colorful paths in the storm.

The screams of the village children mixed with the howling wind, creating an even more chaotic scene. What came next was the strongest rain I’ve ever felt. Lightning illuminated the hills.

The thunderstorm bore down for an hour. Then, our guides, Ireô and Tonhore, two of the Kayapó natives who, just a short time earlier had been watching our fly tying session with keen interest, helped us find our tents and other belongings scattered throughout the village and along the river’s banks. Everything was soaking wet, and we started to feel cold.

The sky was angry with the land, said Ireô, and the Xingu River was the only one who could bring peace. The sky revealed its anger in the form of rain.

“It’s a spirit of an animal that came from the most hidden place of the jungle.”

The land would be washed and the river would receive the moisture and give it back to the sky the next day.

But for now, the night was just beginning. It took hours to get our tents back to functional conditions. When we began tying flies again, Ireô and Tonhore were focused on the persistent lightning. And, it seemed they heard something.

Ireô asked, “Can you hear that?”I heard nothing.

After 30 seconds Ireô repeated, “Again, can you hear?”

I answered, “No, Ireô, I can hear nothing, but what you are hearing?”

“The whisper of the night. It’s a spirit of an animal that came from the most hidden place of the jungle. He came to the trees to tell a story to the other beings in the jungle.”

“And what does he say?” I asked.

“He whispers the song of the wintertime coming. The spirit comes at night after a big rainstorm to tell all animals that the winter is coming. I learned that from my grandfather,” he said.

In the Amazon, the seasons are: Summer when it’s dry and hot and the river levels are low, and winter when it’s rainy and rivers levels are high.

“What else?”

He rolled a tobacco cigarette, and we started to smoke together. He explained that the whisper of the night, the call for the beginning of the rains, awakens jungle animals, plants and even fish in the river. It’s the moment where all living creatures come back to life after months of torrid sunny and dry days.

The most emblematic fish for the Kayapó of the Xingu River — payara, or vampire fish — are considered by some to be the bloody lord of the jungle in Amazon rivers. No other sportfish in the jungle can be so scary, and at the same time so mysterious and fascinating, for a fly fisherman than a payara.

With their razor-sharp fangs, the payara come from darkness to bleed their prey to death. There are no other freshwater fish on the planet with saber-style teeth made to penetrate and slash their prey with the precision of a samurai. They kill first; then come back to eat. From the darkness of the deep runs and pools, payara swim in schools. Very quickly, they take a strong bite that bleeds their prey to death. Could you find a more appropriate name than vampire fish?

For a fly angler in the jungle, hooking that fish could be the ultimate challenge. Getting a big payara on the fly, a fish over 15 pounds, is something any angler would never forget in their fishing life. Imagine the tough and powerful take of a large peacock bass, and then the fight of a freshwater dorado. The silver-bodied payara are like the two combined.

“It’s considered the river king where all life came to earth, and where it continues to give life to those who reside on its banks.”

But, unlike other sportfish species that have been fished for decades, we have little in the way of fly fishing techniques on payara. The payara are a completely new challenge for a fly fisherman in the jungle. And the Kayapó are our best connection to understand these fish and catch them as they have been fishing for payara since time immemorial. They understand their behavior in different seasons, and they can read the water.

After chasing payara in many other places, I discovered that the Kayapó hold inside their land what may be the most important payara fishery in the Amazon — the Xingu River. This river tributary is the clearest watershed in the Amazon. Its emerald green waters are a dream for any fly fisherman. The river flows south to north in the Brazilian Amazon into a gigantic granite plateau in between hills, with many rapids, runs and deep pools. It is the perfect place for a trophy predatory fish.

For the Kayapó, the Xingu River holds special meaning. It’s considered the river king where all life came to earth, and where it continues to give life to those who reside on its banks. The payara is half fish, half myth for the Kayapó.

Their ancient ritual to transform young natives into men, and more importantly into warriors, involves being cut with the big teeth of a payara that the youth caught in the river. The old chiefs and shamans make the ritual of scarification with the teeth, mainly on the young Kayapós arms and legs, for several days.

Those scars represent power.

The Kayapó believe by bringing the force and power of the most important predator of the Xingu River, they will be transformed into better fishermen. At first light, we were ready to be in the water. The payara usually feed at night. Dawn and dusk are the best times to fish for payara, as they come to the surface and roll (just like tarpon).

But, by the end of the dry season, schools of fish start to gather for intense feeding. They need to accumulate energy before the spawning season that happens in mid-rainy season. Because payara are then active throughout the day, it’s the peak of payara fishing. The more the fish come upstream into the fast and oxygenated waters by deep pools with lots of baitfish, the better the chances are for catching payara.

There’s no room for mistakes with these fish. We were prepared with 9-weight outfits, with floating lines, intermediate tips and deep-sinking tips. As soon as we left the village, we arrived in a big pool surrounded by runs and rocky areas. Mist came to this peaceful place, and Ireô put the canoe into the pool. I just asked why that specific place, and he said, “You will see.”

I got my line out, and cast the big black streamer 45 degrees upstream, letting it sink and controlling the drift with the line in my hands and making long strips. After I got the tip of the head of the fly line back in my rod, I got a violent take. It was so fast and immediate that I couldn’t set the hook. I remembered that payara kill and come back to feed, so I kept stripping, with more twitching for action, and then: BOOM, a strong and powerful take permeated through the line and I could finally set the hook. I felt the fish come to the fly to feed, and the sequence was a violent fight: burning fingers, fly line flying out from the boat deck, and all the while I tried to control the situation. When I got the line on the reel, the fished jumped,out where the fly line was, demonstrating how fast they can come to surface.

Ireô screamed, AITÉ, which means, “Here you have it!”

That day, those mysterious jungle whispers brought to me and our guides a dozen payaras, including an incredible triple hookup of monsters, maybe the first one in history.

And it brought to me an understanding of why the whispers of the night were so special to those of us who chase payara. Those whispers are luring the big vampires out from the darkness, and we just need to be there without fear.