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When you are an amazonian first timer and you sit in this boat that will take you fishing and start to fly on water, the first thing that hits you is the expanse of the sky. This sky is opening his arms for you, this sky reassures you with its beauty and majesty. Like in the forest where each trees seems to be different from the other, sometimes tall, often dense and leafy, amazonian sky dress its blue with varieties of clouds : huge and fluffy, thin and vaporous. It’s a piece of paradise that is accompanying you, and you bless it.

Danilo with whom I am sharing my boat seems to go out for some trout’s nymph fishing with his lovely vest and its traditional fleece patch. On my side I am covering my legs with insect repellent. Nazareno our guide who speaks caboclo a kind of patois mixed with portuguese and native amazonian languages stop the boat in front of a current that goes straight into the forest.

Waters are very high for this time of the year, most of the banks are shrouded, sometimes trees are almost completely under water. Incredible to believe that for few months they learn to survive the trunk half drawned. The river is overflowed, it goes in every corner of the forest. What is in front of you is probably only an island, a branch is probably flowing 60 yards behind it. In fact there is a reel current that goes right into the wood. Cast over there, tells us Nazareno lifting his head up towards the sweeping water. And we are instantly executing this order.

 Baté ! (Hit !) scream Danilo on its first cast, the brazilian gentleman is fishing with a leaded streamer that sinks like a metal spinner. At the first cast this is highly promising. I am still with my popper fly trying to tear out of it the more noise I can. I decided to make a pause with the bait just to see if it could work. By reflex, and because the 90°F heat plus humidity makes my glasses drawns on my nose, I took half a second to adjust them. But at the same precise moment my popper disappear in what seems to be the most violent and noisy rise ever, a kind of atomic sucking… Damn’ I lift my arm, try to hook what could eventually still be there with my slipping finger. It took me a century to hook the fish, but… it ‘s shaking on the other side ! Bless ! In the amazonian currents the fight of a peacock bass is way stronger than in Balbina’s lake. At the end it’s a small one whom has eaten the fly nearly to the capping.

Right after the picture & release, Danilo will have his peacock bass too. Now we move to another spot and it’s another 20 minutes ride on the water. I am comfortably sitting in front, crossed harms on my neck, enjoying one of the most amazing river panorama ever. Unfortunately the fishing will gets harder, peacock bass gets more and more shy, only few of them intend to play a bit with us, and no big ones (where normally 10 pounders are daily dose of fun). We will heard that some other fishermen didn’t even get one fish. Tomorrow is another day, can’t wait…