Looking down into the river from the boat I could see shoal upon shoal of different fish. I could see three different species of piranha, a large shoal of pacu - a fruit-eating species, there were some long bodied fish with vertical black bars and others with stripes the length of their bodies. There were fish with red tails and others with black tails, I saw more fish in the space of five minutes than I did in the whole of my stay in Peru the year before. I got the distinct feeling that this time success was there in the Agua Boa Univini for the taking.

It did not take long for us to set up our fly rods, and we were soon in a powered flat-bottom boat with our brown-skinned Indian guide, Junior, motoring down river for our tryst with the tucanare. After about five miles we turned off the main river into a long, winding lagoon fringed by trees of many types. A large howler monkey, for once silent, stared at us as we slowly motored into this dark eerie backwater. It could have been the location for that old cult movie The Creature From The Black Lagoon.

I began casting my fly, a five-inch long streamer, whilst Darrel manfully hurled an equally large yellow-bodied Popper. On Junior's advice we endeavoured to place our flies close to the wooded bank and began to retrieve. As we recovered our lures both had takes or at least a boil behind the fly.

"Faster", cried Junior "You must pull in very quick".

Following our trusty guide's advice we began stripping back our lures as though the very devil was chasing them, casting and stripping in such a manner as to make a reservoir lure fisherman look pedestrian by comparison. Junior was right, the only way to catch these fish was to retrieve at an almost impossible speed, that is why the plug and spinner fishermen will, I believe, be generally more successful; also their method of fishing is nowhere as strenuous as using a fly rod. We both started to catch fish as we moved up the right hand bank of the lagoon. Hard fighting fish around three to four pounds, with every cast the fish showed an interest, but the big double-figure peacocks eluded us. After a few hours I began to tire; the long journey from England to this fabulous river began to take its toll and my casts became shorter and my retrieve slower and the hits from the peacocks less and less. I decided to allow my fly to drift behind the boat as I sat back to swig a beer or two and watched a large green kingfisher (Chloroceryle americana) that was perched on an overhanging branch that watched us quizzically as we progressed up the lagoon. OK, I admit I was trolling, and I was too knackered to do anything else but activate my fly now and again. Incidentally, trolling a large plug or spinner behind a motorboat is how most of the river peoples catch their fish, so in effect I was following native custom, was I not? As we swung around the top end of the lagoon I had a hit to my fly that almost jerked my fly rod out of my hands causing me to drop my can of beer. I was lucky the fish stayed on, for it thrashed and jumped with incredible power 40 yards or so behind the boat. After an exciting five minutes I brought in my first double-figure peacock. It was a male; identified by the distinct hump on its forehead, it weighed a little under eleven pounds I do not know who was the more exhausted the fish or me.

We arrived back at the camp at six in the evening just in time to see 'Rex Luther' a five-metre black caiman (Melanosuchus niger) being fed with dead fish by the camp boys. These reptiles have been hunted to near-extinction in most of the Amazon, but here in the reserve there were many of them, just one more reason why I had no intention of swimming in the river.

Every day saw us on the river at about 6.30 in the morning, fishing until 6.00 in the evening. This trip was not a laid back exercise of ease, this was serious fishing, hard fishing, for fish that you worked for with a fly and worked very hard at that. It was fly-fishing in extreme.

By now we had got the hang of it, and each day we caught double-figured peacocks. My best was a fine fish of just over 12 lb, and Darrel's stamina and persistence landed a fine specimen of fifteen and a half pounds. Both these fish fled into a veritable jungle of sunken roots and submerged bushes and we blessed the fact that we were using the recommended shock tippets of 40 pounds. On the same day, further up river, one of our fellow guests landed a fish over 20 pounds, using an orange coloured plug. This reserve in Roraima was truly living up to its name as a fisherman's paradise. Later that day, whilst fishing in the main river, a large brownish freshwater dolphin rose close to the boat. It sounded, blowing a spume of rainbow droplets into the air.

The previous year, in Peru, we had seen the other dolphin a pink coloured species called by the local people 'boto', a creature that is almost blind and which relies on echo-sounding to find its whereabouts and its prey. This is an animal that is surrounded and protected by the fear and superstition of the natives. Any person in their villages that behaves in a strange manner is some times referred to as a child of a 'boto', for they believe that at certain times the dolphins leave the water to mate with the local village women.

Each day we landed other species of fish, most with mouthfuls of flesh-tearing teeth. Many of them resembled barracuda, and all of them fought like aquatic demons; tail-walking and leaping in the air with a display of aerobatics that would rival many of the world's saltwater species, and certainly equal to any fight I have ever had from our trout. One such fish that is to be found lurking in the main river, behind islands of submerged bushes and other obstructions is the 'matrinxa' (Brycon sp). This is a silver coloured fish with a black banded tail and with a touch of orange on the fins, it would be worth going to the Amazon to seek out this fish with lighter tackle and the appropriate flies for it is truly a sporting, hard-fighting fish, and the local Indian consider it to be of the finest eating.

In one quiet lagoon where even the birds were silent, we saw our first 'arapiama'; (Arapaima gigas) to give it is full scientific title, the world's largest freshwater fish. Some maintain that this fish can grow to 400 lb but large specimens seen in the local markets are about 200 lb and I believe this to be the norm for this species, but in the Amazon fact and legend go hand in hand. They have hard scales like armour-plating that can be used as nail files. There would be no contest to try for them with a fly rod, believe you me, not only would the strongest line be broken, the heaviest fly rod would probably be smashed, and the effort would in all probability bring on a coronary to aged anglers like myself.

One lunchtime, when the temperature crept over 100 degrees, and I for one needed to rest, we pulled into the shade of the river bank to eat our lunch and sink a few welcoming cans of cold beer. We decided to fish for the ubiquitous piranha, by putting on a small metal trace and a small bright fly about a size 12. Every cast brought a snapping silver-disked fish into the boat until all the dressing was stripped from my fly and I was left with a bare hook. Junior grabbed my bare hook fly and threaded a small piece of fish skin onto the shank and with this skin fly. I continued to cast and catch more teeth-snapping piranha. I sat back in the boat, munching on a sandwich and drinking a can of Polar beer. I had left my line in the water to fish for itself, when yet another piranha took, but this time it was different. My line started to move slowly away from the boat and into the main body of the river away from the sheltering bank. Junior untied the boat and followed it muttering "Pirara" as he manoeuvred the boat against the current. My fly rod curved into an almost unbelievable arc with every spigot creaking and with line backing leaving my reel at a rate of knots. With Darrel shouting advice and Junior laughing, I tried to look nonchalant and endeavoured to pump as best as I could to recover line only to lose out, as the fished dived to the bottom of the riverbed. Eventually I got it up onto the surface. God it was big, its dark grey shape looked colossal, with its broad cream flanks shining through the gloom of the cocoa brown water and its large red tail thrashing away at the surface. It was a red-tailed catfish (Phractocephalus hemioliopetrus) one of the larger Amazon catfish (there are species that are much bigger). As it came over the side of the boat it started to make grotesque gurgling sounds whilst twitching its foot long whiskers in the process. Our scales only went to 30 pounds but this fish slammed them down to the bottom. Junior who has a good eye and feel for his native fish said it was at least 50 lb. We returned the fish and I sat back in the boat exhausted from the tussle with the monster. I considered myself extremely lucky to have landed this fish on a fly rod and with only a size twelve hook; I admit it was not fly fishing, but what the hell!

I cracked open another can of Polar beer and lay back in the boat looking awfully smug. I had the same self-satisfied look when I landed back at Heathrow a few days later.

In December of 99 we were to repeat this trip to the Agua Boa Univini. We should have gone there in November but late rains meant that the river was still in the forest along with most of the fish. This time we went via Georgetown in Guyana to the Brazilian border at Lethem. We crossed a small river by motorised canoe and though in the middle of nowhere we were, we hoped in Brazil. Our journey was an adventure in itself but I will leave its telling for another time and another place. Sufficient to say, we eventually arrived at the camp on the bank of the river to find that we were to be the only two guests that week. This meant we had a room each and a boat apiece with our own guides. We had returned not only to try once more for the big peacocks but also to see what other species we could tempt with our flies. Having gone through a sharp learning curve the previous year we felt pretty confident that we had the fishing sussed out and that was proved to be right for from day one we were into good fish. My best fish of our stay was one of 13 lb whilst Darrel matched his previous year's catch with another over 15 pounds.

One morning my new guide El Silvaldo motored to an area where sandy beaches fingered into the river. Large stingrays fled at the approach of our boat there were many of these dangerous fish in the shallows. In one bay we spooked a small shoal of aruana sometimes spelt arawana (Osteoglossum ferreirai), fish with hard teeth on their tongues. These fish were featured in the BBC programme 'The Flooded Forest' where they were shown leaping out of the water to take insects from the leaves of trees. They have been known to take small birds and even bats and will come readily to the fly or Popper. Most of the week El Silvaldo and I hunted these fish on the sandy shallows or in the dark water lakes and lagoons, but I have to tell you I hooked and lost ten. Either the line snapped or they spat my flies out because I had not set the hook properly in their bone-hard mouths. Later in the week Darrel caught one almost a yard long but like me, he lost many others which broke shock tippets of 50 lb breaking strain, and once a fish even broke a strong saltwater fly hook. I was to catch one small one at the end of the week in the Rio Branco so I was not completely blanked on this species. One morning as we entered a quiet lagoon seven giant otters lifted their heads out of the water to look at us as we poled by it was a thrill to see for they are one of the rarest mammals in the world and on the endangered list. I was casting speculatively toward the margins, when suddenly in a welter of foam my fly was taken by an explosive fish called by the native's, trahira, (Hoplias malabaricus); it sometimes known as the mud characin. This fish has a mouthful of teeth and has been known to sever fingers in one bite; they lie camouflaged in the detritus of the shallows from where they dart out to seize whatever swims by. It was just another of the dangerous fish of the Amazon basin river that precludes me from any swimming activity in the rivers of Brazil.

One morning whilst hunting for the elusive aruana I spotted some dark shapes moving across the sandy shallows.

"Aruana" I cried.

"No, subarim", replied El Silvaldo.

The subarim or to give its English name, the shovel-nosed tiger catfish (Pseudoplatystoma fasciatum), is a very common predatory catfish of the Amazonian rivers. Like most large catfish it hunts by smell so after casting fruitlessly for ten minutes or so watching my fly being totally ignored I once more resorted to a little cheating; I placed a small piece of fish on the bend of my hook in order to give my fly a little 'scent', if you know what I mean. Two cats immediately followed my fly and the larger of the fish grabbed the lure and sped off into the deep water with my reel singing and the backing zipping off the reel in a mist of spray. This striped fish was duly landed and released; it weighed about 15 lb. I know the purists amongst you will deplore the use of a little bait, but after travelling thousands of miles, I for one am not prepared to look at my fly lying totally ignored by the fish. Needs must when the catfish drives. Returning to legitimate tactics of unadulterated flies I was to catch two other species in a quiet lagoon, my guide called the first carra assu, known by aquarists as an 'Oscar' (Astronotus ocellatus). The other fish was a magnificent fish, a cichlid pike, that the natives call jucunda with the scientific name Crenichicla.

Over the week Darrel and I caught fifteen different species of fish between us, great fishing by any standard but the lack of success with the snake-like aruana means we shall have to return next year and indulge ourselves once more in the extreme sport of fly fishing the Amazon waters.

Ecotur camp e-mail: ecotur@technet.com.br

Article taken from the November/December issue of Fly Fishing & Fly Tying (International Fly Fisher's Guide supplement)