Thursday, May 16, 2024

Sitting in our little boat, fishing. It’s night, we are attached to some bushes along the river. Clouds are rolling in, hiding the half moon that shone so brightly over the water just a while ago. But the water is still reflecting the last bit of light in the sky.

During the afternoon we started on the other side because there was shade there.

Didi is fishing for big catfish with a large hook and half a piranha. He casts it as far as he can to a quiet spot in the middle of the river. Then he rests his fishing rod. The fish should swim by, suck up all that hook and bait, and start swimming away. At that moment the real start to give out the line, which produces a ticking sound.

Yesterday it happened and today again. The ticking started slowly, and gradually increased in frequency. With this catfish, apparently, you should let it run out for a long time. This quickly becomes nerve-racking, because the line zooms out, the ticking becomes so fast, it almost feels like a tone. And you feel the fish is getting away.

And then… you apply pressure. The giant fish fights back. You have to pull hard, put your back into it.  … and the fish unhooked and got away.

Highly frustrating.

Your bald Dutchman on the other hand is catching piranha, both for dinner and for bait. I cast in my tiny bait right beside the boat, drop it until it touches the bottom. And then wait for the angry jerking. Piranha has teeth and doesn’t swallow the bait. It bites pieces out of it. And while the locals catch them left and right right, I pull up a clean hook half the time.

But today we are doing well. Except on this side of the river. Nothing happens. It’s getting really dark. I’m sitting down, my fishing rod jammed between the rim of the boat and a fuel drum and listen to the jungle sounds. 

It’s strange how complete darkness changes the senses. You’d think that my rod was all bend. But if you look from another angle… it still does. 

My goodness, I am catching a fish! I grab the rod at the moment the line starts to peel. And not just a little, it sings out. I tighten the resistance but the fish is laughing at me. I tighten and tighten, until the peeling slows down, and I need to pull hard.

I get the feeling that I may get the upper hand, but suddenly I feel something breaking and the tension is gone. 

Still completely baffled I reel in all the line, and the last thing to emerge from the black water is a broken hook. Some fish!

The rain is close now, and we have enough for dinner. We return to camp. Hard to find amidst the jungle on shore.

There Didi and Sam make fish soup and spaghetti while I write these words.

It’s pitch dark and everything is dripping from the rain.

This morning we made a trail in the jungle to use tonight to see jungle animals. But the rain makes it too muddy and hard to take pictures.

We’ll make it an early night. Strange, we don’t do much but we are exhausted every night. Maybe a combination of sunburn, hunger and physical activity. Not what I am used to as a civil servant. But Didi is no different, although much stronger.

Good night from the rain forest.