Rendezvous on the Unini

By David Fields

La Querencia

As we lifted off of the terra cotta colored earthen runway, I looked out through the window to my left at the Unini River as it snaked its’ way easterly along a meandering path that would eventually reach the Rio Negro. Gaining altitude, I was beginning to see the numerous lagoons, sand bars, islands and tributaries and a red gleam… could it possibly be…the gleam of that same fiery, carnelian colored, eye that I had come face to face with only few days earlier.

I was returning from a six and a half day sportfishing adventure of daylight to dark-thirty…lure rippin’…drag screamin’…gear grindin’…hook bendin’…line bustin’ (yes, it happens to often) …explosive Peacock fishin’! This 10 day, action packed adventure had begun on January 10, 2004, the week before. Our group convened in the Miami International Airport and departed Miami on LAB at 9:00pm for arrival in Manaus, Brazil at 2:30 am. After clearing customs, we were greeted by our bi-lingual representative and shuttled to the Holiday Inn for a little rest and breakfast before boarding our charter for a 90 minute flight into the upper reaches of the Brazilian Rain Forest.

Our destination was the Amazon Explorer, a large aluminum fixed base houseboat located at the Jungles edge about 165 miles up the Unini River from the confluence of the Unini and Rio Negro Rivers. The black water Unini lies approximately 200 miles northwest of Manaus and meanders northwesterly some 200 miles from the confluence to the headwaters. Scattered along the way are some 250 lagoons. To reach the camp we flew via twin engine charter to a landing strip carved out in the jungle and adjacent to the Amazon Explorer Camp.

The Amazon Explorer houseboat offers five staterooms, each appointed with bunk beds, air-conditioning and private bathrooms. The kitchen, dining room and lounge area are located on the same level and the upper level deck makes for wonderful place of camaraderie and viewing of the Amazon sunsets and Jungle floral.

The bump, a slight air pocket, brought me back from the daydream. As the pilot banked the plane to the right away from the Unini and southeast towards Manaus, I already knew I would one day return to guide Gonsaga’s secret ”Black Lake Lagoon” located somewhere along the Unini. A rendezvous to be sure, with the Brazilian Tucanare Azul…Mr. Bad Attitude himself…the explosive Peacock Bass!

Few gamefish species evoke the kind of passion and almost obsessive following as that of the peacock bass. Although referred to as a bass, the peacock is actually not a member of the bass family at all. It is just one of the 1600 plus members of the family of tropical fish called Cichlids. The body profile resembles that of the largemouth bass and they have a ravenous appetite similar to a largemouth. They are aggressive and produce awe inspiring strikes. But that’s about where the similarities stop.

The coloration of this world class gamefish is startlingly different than that of the largemouth bass. Largely dependent on the watershed and the subspecies of peacock bass, you will find colorations ranging from varying shades of green and blue to black and orange and gold. Their eyes are fiery red and the tail fin displays the trademark of the peacock, a circular black spot, dramatically trimmed in gold.

But don’t get caught up simply observing the beauty of this fish, the peacock bass is extremely aggressive, beyond anything the veteran largemouth angler, but novice peacock angler, can comprehend.

They viciously attack and often destroy lures while the strikes they produce on subsurface baits can be bone jarring. Their surface strikes can leave you trembling and sometimes incapable of responding to the second and sometimes third startling explosion and the runs that a peacock can produce from a ‘locked down’ baitcaster are heart stopping. Don’t even consider trying to horse this fish when it is still green. They can become violent with one; two or more powerful runs left…to tame even the veteran angler. They will destroy your tackle and shatter your nerves.

La Querencia is a Spanish word not easily translated into English but meaning roughly, the power of place or longing to a place; the desired place or where the heart is. It comes from the verb quere, which means to desire, to want…the “wanting place”. To writers, that burning urge to write is our Querencia. To one who fishes for the ferocious peacock bass, the urge will become overwhelming to return to that “wanting place”, the Brazilian Rain Forest of South America and the Amazon River and its tributaries.

The ‘minds eye’. How it continues to play the scene over and over again, like the tune of a song. What could I have done different? The day started much the same as each of the previous four days. Dan Tracy, my partner for the day, and I had been paired with our Brazilian guide Gonsaga, for this our fifth day of a six day adventure aboard the Amazon Explorer. I had fished with Gonsaga the second day of the trip with Oklahoma angler, Dan Smith. I knew the capabilities of Gonsaga. Dan and I had caught several fish that day up to fourteen and sixteen pounds respectively, fishing several miles up river from the Explorer, in a lagoon near the entrance to the Preto River. But today we were headed down river, to his “secret lagoon”, a lagoon reported to be excellent for heavyweight Peacocks. Gonsaga called it the “Black Lake”.

The waters in this geographic area of the Rain Forest are stained black as a result of the tannic acid released from decaying tree leaves and vegetation. A prime benefit to the jungle traveler and angler since mosquitoes can’t breed in the tannic water, reducing the chance of contracting malaria.

Gonsaga advised that the ride would take perhaps forty-five minutes so I took this opportunity to retie baits; check braid for any nicks or weak spots; sharpen hooks and lubricate the reels. The daylight to dark-thirty wear and tear on equipment is brutal in this equatorial environment and the tackle must be properly maintained on a daily basis. One never knows when the hook-up with a monster peacock will occur. It can happen at any time and on any cast…you must be ready. It is imperative that the peacock angler take every precaution in preparing for an encounter with the fish that has been called “the fiercest fighting fish in all the world”.

At approximately twenty five minutes into the run we rounded a bend in the river, much like a switch back, and came within thirty yards or so of a large caiman exiting the river onto the bank. This was my first sighting of one for the trip and, not too much further downriver, I encountered my second and last sighting of the native reptile. By the time we reached the “boca” or entrance to the “Black Lake” we had photographed several kinds of noisy parrots including macaws, toucan and a green colored variety Gonsaga called, papagaios. All in all, a spectacular array of birdlife. Fresh water porpoises were plentiful in the main river channels. And, we were entertained for a fleeting few moments by a tribe of monkeys, referred to as “howlers”, moving through the trees. All along the rivers shoreline we had observed countless numbers of beautifully colored butterflies, with very large radiant purple wings.

Making our way between two sand bars and under the overhanging jungle canopy, I noticed an almost imperceptible opening through the dense jungle growth. Gonsaga cut the outboard. After several minutes of cutting away brush and vegetation with his machete and perhaps 100 yards of the three of us pushing and pulling the little flat bottom aluminum boat over logs and mini sand bars, Gonsaga, Dan and I jumped back in the boat and quietly glided through the entrance into the dark…dark waters of Black Lake. As I looked around the lagoon, I sensed that our efforts would soon be rewarded.

Gonsaga stood to inspect the water and conditions. I stood also, after all, we had been on the water now for over two hours and I hadn’t made the first cast. To call my condition anything less than PUMPED would be a misnomer. We were now sitting ‘smack dab’ in the middle of what had been called by our camp manager Lance, the “Big Fish Lagoon”. It certainly looked it, with laydowns and interlaced vegetation, sand points, stumps, overhanging limbs… you name the structure and this lagoon had it… perfect peacock habitat.

Moreover, Gonsoga had proven to be the best guide in the camp, at least for this week. I was particularly impressed by his attention to detail and his superb ability to ‘pattern the fish’. And, his relentless insistence on providing perfect boat position wherever possible, proved invaluable. Proper boat positioning and ‘set up’ are mandatory for the angler wishing to increase their odds for hook-up and bringing the fish to net.

I had just risen from my seat to stretch, prepare my tackle and move to the front casting deck when I heard Gonsaga, who spoke very little English, say, “CALM”. Dan and I chuckled and agreed with him that, indeed the water in the lagoon was calm. No Mr. David, how to say,” You be calm”. Gonsoga knew that my adrenalin pump was on overload but there was just something about this lagoon that had me charged. I could feel my heart pounding when again I heard Gonsaga’s voice calling for CALM. I sat down…Dan sat down… and Gonsaga smiled as he slowly paddled us across the lagoon to a small cove with one lone laydown resting on a sandy point located in the very back of the pocket.

Anxiously awaiting that first cast I sat with my rod and reel in hand examining the Luhr Jensen 7” Big Game Woodchopper I had tied on earlier that morning on our downriver run. The Speckled Peacock finish I had selected suddenly seemed wrong for this water color and the present light conditions. I removed it in exchange for the black and silver model which I had caught the 16.5 lb. Peacock on the day before.

Gonsoga positioned the boat about thirty yards or so from the laydown and the point. I turned, winked at Dan and looking past him to Gonsaga, I asked Gonsaga if it was now time for our first cast. With that big toothy grin and a wave of his hand Gonsaga replied, “O-kay Mr. David”.

A half a dozen casts later Dan had landed his largest of the trip, a three bar “teener” of 15 pounds. “What a fish to start the day out with”, I heard Dan saying while still trying to catch his breath. It was time for photos and high-fives all around. But as I laid down the Boga Grip, I noticed Gonsaga, quietly paddling us out into the center of the lagoon.

After the customary exchange of congratulations and a little trash talking from Dan regarding my seemingly inability to coax a strike from the textbook perfect piece of peacock structure, Gonsaga again began moving us ever so quietly back towards the sandy point. But this time he paddled us around to the back side of the laydown. My question to Gonsaga of ‘onde’ or where was quickly answered by his pointing towards the sandy point and the submerged trees’ outer most limbs. I lofted a cast across the sandy point. It landed next to the outside tip of the laydown. One, two, three rips and I hit cadence with the Woodchopper…then came the explosion. The giant fish either blew or knocked the Woodchopper three feet in the air and moved it at least eight feet laterally. I was momentarily stunned and couldn’t seem to get my cadence going again. Dan had completed his retrieve and was yelling, “cast back in there” while all the while Gonsaga is repeating over and over “Grande, Grande, Grande Tucunare”.

With my second attempt, I mirrored the first cast to the sandy point and the tip of the submerged tree. Again the rhythmic cadence, rip pause, rip pause, rip pause and as the Woodchopper crosses the sandy point the Monster Peacock again explodes on the Woodchopper sending spray in all directions. My medium heavy rod was straining and taking the shape of a horseshoe. My mind, for an instant, returned to the scene of my first broken rod of the trip. This time the barbs bury in the tough mouth of the giant fish and the 80# PowerPro braid sings as the fish pulls drag from the ‘locked down’ baitcaster. Gonsaga is again shouting Grande, Grande, Grande Tucunare, Vinte, Vinte (Big, Big, Big Peacock, 20, 20). This fish is ripping line and headed deep into the brushy laydown. I realize that I’ve got to move this giant away from the laydown and brush. I power into the fish moving my rod laterally away from the fish…but to no avail. The orange and black turbine powered giant is already wrapped in the laydown. Gonsaga kicks the trolling motor on high and rapidly moves us toward the laydown. I can feel this monster sawing the line against the wood and the line goes limp. The fish is off? No, it’s still on… now the fish is miraculously free of the tree limbs and charging again, but now towards deep water. I sense that now I’ve got him, he’s hooked good and in open water. And then the monster fish erupts through the surface, no more than five yards from the boat, with gills shaking and hooks rattling, and for a split second it feels as though this fiery red eye is focused directly on me…as though I’m captured in its vision. Now Gonsaga changes from his chorus of, “Grande, Grande to CALM, CALM Mr. David, big fish”. The monster Peacock makes another bull run to the right…pulls more drag…and then the line goes limp again… for the last time.

Sweating… trembling and visibly shaken, I find myself stammering and stuttering… no…no, it‘s not possible…it can’t be. The line has parted or the knot has failed. As I slowly begin to reel in the slack all of our eyes are glued to that last spot where we had seen the giant surface… where I was certain the Grande and I had looked eye to eye. The fish was gone but the Woodchopper was still attached to the line. The PowerPro had not failed… the knot had not failed…but the rear treble was straightened and the center treble hook of the Woodchopper was gone. In its place was a hole where the .092 x 1” screw eye had once been, along with a deeply gouged lateral mark on the body of the Woodchopper.

The plane continued to gain altitude and another bit of turbulence again brought me back to the present. We had fished the Unini River for six and one half days trekking up river past the confluence of the Rio Preto and Unini and over twenty miles down river past the Black Lake. Two fish over twenty pounds had been caught during the six days by members of our group of eight. Seven of the group caught “teeners”, fish over 13 pounds. Six set new personal bests. My largest was 18.5 pounds with seven additional “teeners” for the week. I now understood why the Unini was earning the reputation as the “Big Fish River” of the Amazon.

Now, I could clearly see the maze of canals, lagoons, oxbows, tributaries, sandy beaches and the boca's connecting the river and the black water lakes… the Brazilian Rain Forest…the “wanting place”…the Grande Tucunare…My Querencia.

To be continued…