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It was the dark waters of the Rio Negro, stained from jungle compost, that we planned to fish. A fortunate side effect of the jungle tannins is water that is too acidic for mosquito reproduction. Outfitter Scott Swanson was my fishing buddy for the week, and the rest of the guys were a genial, fun-loving group from Pennsylvania. At dawn we were on a charter flight up the Rio Negro to the town of Barcelos. I had just enough light to peer through the plane window at the immensity of the waterway. The Rio Negro, itself just a tributary of the Amazon, stretched from directly below to almost as far as I could see. It periodically broke into mazes of channels, islands and lagoons. Beyond that, a green carpet of Amazon jungle extended in all directions to the horizon The base for the week was the Captain Peacock, a quite comfortable 98-foot mothership with air-conditioned cabins and excellent meals. Our plan was to hop on 17-foot outboard skiffs every morning and venture into jungle tributaries, fish all day, then return to the comfort of the big boat each night. The Captain Peacock would be relocated each day to give us access to new water. Despite her size, she had a very shallow draft, allowing her into areas that other boats could not penetrate.

As we began our journey upriver, the town of Barcelos gave way to jungle shorelines. We passed surprising white sandbars and beaches and enjoyed bright blue skies. It was almost dream-like. I was finally on the legendary Amazon (or a part of it anyway), and in a few hours I would be wetting a line.
After lunch we boarded our skiffs, two anglers and a guide on each, and headed off. Scott and I were guided by quiet, competent Raymondo. He led us into a labyrinth of channels and backwaters. Much of the fishing involved traveling up narrow side streams that opened out into big lagoons. Our guides were crucial, not only for their boating skill and fishing knowledge, but also for their ability to navigate back to the mothership without the aid of a GPS.

Peacock bass are powerful, and baitcasting outfits spooled with 50- to 80-pound braided line are standard. This relatively heavy gear was matched to massive 10- inch prop baits mounted with multiple heavy-duty treble hooks. As we worked through lagoons we cast to sandbar drop offs, points, gaps in the jungle growth and also “fry balls.” These schools of fingerling peacock bass, or “bambinos,” as the guides called them, were guarded by protective parents who would often attack lures presented nearby.

It was hot and humid, and the jungle didn’t allow for a breeze. We ripped our plugs across every likely piece of territory, while Raymondo silently maneuvred the boat with the electric motor. The effort began to get results. A territorial fish crashed and missed one of Scott’s lures. Farther down the bank he hooked a fish from tight in the jungle. It was a small peacock of around 4½ pounds, but the first I had seen. I marveled at its glorious colors. This was encouraging and I kept throwing and ripping back the big lure. Finally, at the end of the backwater, Raymondo spotted a fry ball and Scott got off a cast. A fish exploded on the big lure and took to the air, thrashing wildly. Scott pressured it hard and managed to keep it from cover, eventually leading it to the boat, where Raymondo secured it with a Boga- grip. Nets are frowned upon as they tangle trebles and damage fish’s protective slime layer. This was a beautiful 13- pound, three-bar peacock bass. Its head was huge and solid. We quickly released it so it could go back to its parental duties. Anything over 10 pounds is considered a nice specimen, and a 20-pound fish is a real trophy. Finally, I had seen what it was all about, and I have to admit, I was jealous.

We moved to other lagoons and kept pounding out the lures, pausing occasionally to retrieve one from a tree. Finally, late in the afternoon, it happened. I fizzed my big Woodchopper lure over a sunken log and a good peacock inhaled it. The fish jumped once and began a series of surges for cover. A tight drag and 60- pound braid enabled me to keep it out of the wood. Once I had it in open water, I could afford to ease up a bit. The fish was near invisible in the golden-brown water, but threw up huge swirls on the surface as it powered away in short, determined bursts. Eventually I led her to Raymondo’s Boga-grip. She was a fine three-bar peacock: 13 pounds, and marred only by a chunk nipped out of its tail. “Piranha rash,” said Scott. The next morning we ran up a tributary system and passed father-and-son team Bill and Scott Eaken. They had been having some success using smaller diving lures, so we changed tackle. I rigged a diving minnow on a lighter braid spinning rig, and Scott set up with a bucktail jig. We began getting hits from butterfly peacock bass. This peacock subspecies has a series of big black spots on their sides and tends to weigh from two to four pounds. Other species, such as the pikelike bicuda and the prehistoric-looking trahira, struck our lures as well.   

For more information on the trip, contact Scott Swanson at http://www.fishquest.com/