Bolivia: The Jungle never sleeps!

While the mist of fog slowly lifts from the calm riffles of the Rio Casaré with the first touches of the sunlight on the water’s surface, thousands upon thousands of birds have already cheerfully welcomed the day. The silhouette of this jungle riverbed starts to shape and the ever-increasing sunlight unveils new footsteps in the sand around our tents. Colorful butterflies start to flutter though the air while the cicadas are chirping their mating songs. It seems like a change of shifts between the countless creatures of this ecosystem: the jungle never sleeps.

By PAULO HOFFMAN

It could not have come more unexpectedly for me to get the chance to visit this magnificent place – and for two straight months. In December 2014 I got hooked up with Patrick Taendler and Federico Marancenbaum from Angling Frontiers who were looking for someone, who could complement the team as a guide for the 2015 season. Golden Dorado in the Bolivian headwaters of the Amazon? My eyes started twitching and I instantly agreed to this deal, having to move around my entire schedule while restricting this gig to “only” two months.

Although I had a good nine months of forward planning prior to leaving Germany in September, it seemed like the very next moment I was sitting in a classy Cessna 206 aircraft hovering over the steep jungle mountains into what seemed like unchartered territory. Even though this was not my first experience with the Bolivian jungle it seemed like something completely new and out of this world: living, fishing, communicating and working with indigenous Tsimané people, who (most of them) don’t even speak a word Spanish, was something I faced with a bit of anxiety, a lot of excitement, and most of all respect. But more about that later…

The Amazon

It’s not a secret that the Amazon basin is one of the most diverse and complex ecosystems on the face of the earth - and by far the biggest. With over 2.000 documented fish species (and a great deal of undescribed ones) – which is more than all other river-systems combined – most anglers can’t even imagine the fishing potential this system offers.

Way up in these headwaters, the water is crystal clear and home to some of the coolest gamefish to be caught on a fly: Golden Dorado, Pacu, Yatorana, Surubi and even the mighty Muturo.

The origin of the unbelievable amounts of water is the western boundary of the basin is the Andes mountain range that stretches all the way from Venezuela down to the abandoned sceneries of Southern Patagonia. Countless springs and mountain creeks merge along the way forming a massive river system that drains into the Atlantic Ocean on the other side of the continent.

Way up in these headwaters, the water is crystal clear and home to some of the coolest gamefish to be caught on a fly: Golden Dorado, Pacu, Yatorana, Surubi and even the mighty Muturo. Fish like these catfish species all of the sudden become accessible on a fly due to the relatively shallow and clear water conditions that allow for super visual fisheries.

Our way upstream

We landed on a tiny jungle airstrip that is occupied by a few nuns of a Christian mission in the middle of the jungle. A couple dozen Tsimané kids ran up to the still moving plane to bid us a warm welcome. Families of indigenous communities had settled along a small creek, that flows into the Rio Casaré – a name the indigenous gave the river according to the name for Golden Dorado in the Tsimané language – the river that we would depend on for the next two months: whether it was for transportation, as a food source or for laundry. After loading the gear from the aircrafts into the already packed boats that had met us at the mission after a 3-day ride from the last accessible port downstream, we started the engines and with that our journey upstream began.

35 °C temperatures, the beating sun, and unbelievable humidity made the going tough and chewing Coca leaves was a welcomed local custom that we all adapted quickly.

At first, the river seemed murky, with beige-orange sandy bottom and filled with log-jams that had gotten stuck in the sand from previous floods. The long propeller-shaft on our engines made it possible to navigate in a slalom-manner through and in-between the tree barks and branches, that the current had piled up onto one another. Our means of transportation: hand carved, dug-out canoes made out of a single big tree trunk, allowing for the best hydrodynamics and stability under those harsh conditions that awaited us. The first couple of days were easy-going and the riverbed was deep enough to be passed through at a persistent pace.

Slowly, however, the environment started to change and what used to be sand turned into pebbles, causing the water to become much clearer. You could tell that we were moving towards the headwaters of this river. Not only did the river seem to gradually narrow down and the banks were getting significantly steeper, the riding also became significantly tougher: shallower runs and rapids required us to exit the boat more frequently, push it upriver and eventually move rocks and boulders to build aisles for the boat. 35 °C temperatures, the beating sun, and unbelievable humidity made the going tough and chewing Coca leaves was a welcomed local custom that we all adapted quickly.

This may sound tough, but damn was it worth it!

The Bolivian Jungle

The jungle here is not necessarily a dangerous place per se, but a very isolated and unforgiving one to say the least. Any major injury or illness here can cause you the trip and evoke the need for a heli-evacuation. Paying utmost attention to every step is the single most important key to prevent a disaster, because after all it turns out there are nonetheless quite a few opportunities to get yourself injured, hurt or poisoned. Like waking up to a tarantula on the inseam of your tent zipper while still half asleep seeking for a calm spot to empty the bladder, almost getting bit by a bushmaster snake because it missed your leg by an inch, or overseeing a wandering spider that has found shelter in your wading boots, just to name a few.

All of those almost-moments remind you of the dangers that can occur while not paying attention. And it turns out (not like it’s a big surprise), that the critters that could harm you the most are the small ones that happen to perfectly blend in with the environment. And then there are mosquitos, no-seeums, wasps, bees, ants, even bigger (bullet) ants, and other annoying creatures, that are always around – basically everywhere and which you learn to ignore at some point in time.

Being part of such a vast and diverse ecosystem puts a lot of things into perspective. Like the role of the human species in the fauna-network, and it’s important to embrace and cherish these thoughts, because not always are we the ones in total control of everything. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you will truly (and I mean truly) learn to appreciate this environment. So let’s focus on the stunning beauty and mystery of this place.

Whether it is the amazing variety of exotic birds that captivates you, or the sheer beauty of an incredible flora, each turn of the river unveils new amazing sights that will put you awed into silence. Colorful orchids that have learned to grow on gigantic treesbarks to harvest more sunlight, red & blue and green macaws that majestically glide over the high treetops of this dense jungle roof, or the little waterfalls that appear out of nowhere on those big rock walls that line the banks of Rio Casaré here and there.

Whatever it is that leaves you in awe this place will haunt your dreams, and so will the fishing…

Digging for gold…

… is a serious problem and one of the diminishing factors that cause the biodiversity to decrease in the amazon: panning for gold with the means of quicksilver – one of the main reasons why explorers from the western world first ventured into these jungle territories. But this is not why we are here or ever will be! The gold we are looking for is ferocious, mean, and has a muscular jaw, packed with razor-sharp teeth that will rip your fly apart and leave you nothing but the bare hook-shank.

Upon our arrival, the water conditions were low - very low. Lower than Patrick and Federico had ever seen in five years. It was one of the effects of the El Niño Southern Oscillation, which causes heavy rains and floods on the western coastline of South America, droughts and low water on the eastern side of the Andes – the Amazon basin. This made it even tougher to move upriver, as some of the runs were only ankle-deep.

On your way you see all kinds of fishy action. Mostly splashing schools of Sabalos, the main baitfish and substantial food-source of the Tsimané people, which around this time move upriver in big schools to their spawning grounds in the headwaters. The further we got up however, the more clearly we got reminded about who dominated these rivers. Packs of hunting fish, feeding frenzies with bait flying through the air, gigantic Pacus smashing fruits under overhanging Ambaiba trees, or football shaped Dorados surfacing in the tail-out of a long runs. The excitement got us all pumped up, but Patrick and Fede calmed us down with the words: “wait ‘till we get up there”. And although there was no way we could resist a few casts and land the first couple of fish, we didn’t waist much time. We were curious to find out if they were right…

Once a fish is hooked and realizes it, it will go ballistic, thrashing and shaking its head on the other end of your line. And most of all jump, I mean really jump and put on an artistic airshow.

Once past the last Tsimané village, the fishing became nothing short of spectacular. And you could tell by the excitement of our indigenous guides, who relentlessly pushed, navigated and sacrificed their lifeblood to get the team upriver. The given conditions massively affected the fishing with regard to the spookiness of the fish. Low and clear water called for realistic, smaller, light-colored baitfish pattern. This subtle approach however, made for amazing sight-fishing with violent attacks. Pretty much every promising run produced fish and it was not unusual to see half a dozen Dorado all well over 15 pounds compete over your fly.

Once a fish is hooked and realizes it, it will go ballistic, thrashing and shaking its head on the other end of your line. And most of all jump, I mean really jump and put on an artistic airshow. If not, its either a truly big fish, or not a Golden Dorado. I will never forget the sight, when pulling in a smaller fish out of a short run, and suddenly a fish twice its size had buried its teeth in the one on my line. The fly popped out and a split-second later a third Dorado had collected it: what a mayhem.

The fishing is very much like that for trout in terms of reading the current and locating fish, and the river is rarely wider than 80-100 ft. really. You’ll find fish hiding in pocket water behind large boulders, on the transition line of fast and slow flowing water – basically in the back-eddies, and in the tail ends of the pools almost motionlessly attached to the gravelly bottom.

The best indicator for the presence of these fish however, are nervous schools of Sabalos, that are being pushed into the shallow bank areas, while the predatory Dorados lie in wait behind the drop-off. Sometimes you’ll be lucky enough to see groups of 2-3 large fish literally patrol Sabalo schools of 500 or more fish, to all of a sudden launch at the school and unleash a spectacular feeding frenzy. 30 seconds later all fish will be gone.

I could go on and on about this trip – and for instance tell about the amazing night fishing under the full moon, when you couldn’t see, but only hear the fish smash your titanic-slider from 60 feet away, but you get the point: The fishery is something special, and it does not do justice to simply write about it. You have to experience, feel, breathe and live this adventure to ever truly appreciate it. I, for my part, will be back again and again, to soothe the pain of wanderlust to these forgotten places…

The gear

I recommend a rather fast 9-weight, rigged up with a short, aggressive taper that can handle big flies (e.g. Rio Tropical Outbound Short F/I). Intermediate or S1 heads will help submerge the fly even in fast rapids. The first couple of runs after the bite are powerful and, although Golden Dorados are not so much enduring fighters than airborne acrobats, I recommend 100 yards of 30 lbs backing, as the fish could always use the current to its advantage and take you downstream. The leader can be fairly short (6 feet is enough in most scenarios), especially if you fish a clear intermediate head, but should be 35-40 lbs in test, attached to a 40 lbs steel wire (at least 10 inches, in case it gets wrapped around the fish’s head during the fight). This might sound like an overkill-setup at first, but the strong headshakes while jumping and the powerful jaws have made us look like idiots more than once.

For Pacu, a 9-weight with floating line (Rio Permit works really well), to be able to present fruit-/nut-flies and smaller streamers accurately, will do the trick.

And if you want to play it a little lighter, take a 5/6 weight outfit with floating line (Rio Bonefish Quickshooter is my choice for this) for Yatorana. These guys will eat smaller streamers (although, we’ve even had them on 8-inch Dorado flies, too), terrestrials or fruit imitations. Just like Pacus, these omnivorous-living fish will be happy to kick your butt in the fight and leave you gaping at your crying reel.