THE ULTIMATE ANGLING BUCKET LIST

up into the jungle. So late in fact that when darkness came, we were still around twenty miles short of
our destination.
Dawn Williams & Marcel Gondonneau Frank with a nice double figure Pacu
What a journey that turned out to be, shooting rapids and dodging boulders in the pitch dark. On-board
was an old car headlight with two pieces of wire to a battery which we had to use to scan the water
ahead, trying to pick out and avoid boulders and the banks.
In the calmer areas, this also picked out the red eyes of caiman crocodiles which were everywhere, and
as soon as it was switched on, the lamp would also attract vast swarms of moths which would come
swooping in, followed by hundreds of bats feeding on them all around our heads.
For miles we endured this until eventually we spotted a gas light on a pole at the bottom of some steps
cut out of the steep river bank leading up to the lodge. Quite an experience to say the least.
The lodge itself was a collection of sheds in a clearing with a large open planned seating and eating
area, where for a few hours in the evening, a small generator would provide light and pump water up
from the river. So if you wanted a shower, it was cold and muddy.
As for the huts, these had been soaked in diesel to stop the termites eating them, and all around were
strange creepy crawlies, including lots of huge tarantulas, plus poison arrow frogs. Vultures too
attracted by the rubbish bins, and every morning we would wake up to the strangest blend of sounds
I've ever heard.
I say wake up, but that implies that you were able to sleep, what with the sounds outside and the feeling
that you had just swallowed a gallon of diesel fuel.
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