THE ULTIMATE ANGLING BUCKET LIST

As was often the case, the chat went off in all sorts of directions, which included a report I'd read of an
alien space craft having crashed in the jungle over on the Brazilian side of the border. The 'occupants'
had reportedly been captured by local Indians and taken to a medical centre, where some American's
turned up and spirited them away.
As an evolutionary scientist myself, which includes cosmology, I am well aware that alien visitations
are nigh on impossible due to the distances involved, and therefore I'm always sceptical. But an
interesting thread to the conversation none the less. So I asked German what he thought of it.
I knew he'd been involved in meetings with his US counterparts, including the CIA, so I asked him what
he knew about Area 51 and the like from those contacts. As you would expect, he said very little. But
one thing he did say which has always stuck with me, was "put it like this, I firmly believe in aliens".
So make of that what you will.
The main jungle fishing was no less interesting, but not
much more fruitful either. What you need to understand is
that despite this being virtually un-spoiled rain forest with
abundant and varied wildlife everywhere, you don't see
much of it, and the river too seemed loathe to give up any
of its fish.
If you've ever watched Jeremy Wade fishing the Amazon,
you will quickly appreciate the many frustrations and
blank hours he regularly endures, and for us it was to be no
different.
We expected much, but considering the time put in, and the
pristine location, we were rewarded with so little. That
said, there were still some stand-out moments, plus a
reasonable variety of fish, even though they were few and
far between.
One particular recollection is of heading off upstream in
the boat with a group of bird watchers, including my wife
Dawn, who were being taken to see what is know as a
parrot lick. A particular stretch of the river bank rich in
essential minerals to which birds in the area flock to stock
up on their bodily requirements.
Phill Williams, Pacu
The idea was to drop us anglers off on a shallow gravel bar
mid river adjacent to a deep pool where we would fish for an hour or so until the boat returned to ferry
us about for the rest of the day.
We trotted our baits down through the pool, but to no avail. I could see Marcel looking at his watch.
The boat was obviously late back, and he was getting frustrated. So much so that in the end he waded
ashore and off he went along the river bank looking for it. Meanwhile, we fished on. Then suddenly he
came darting back, jumped into the water and waded as fast as he could back to the gravel bar, where
once he'd managed to catch his breath, he told us what had happened.
On one of the bends he'd been greeted by dozens of frightened capybara, some in the water, with others
running in all directions along the bank. And there a short distance in front of him was the reason why.
He'd stumbled into a puma that had just killed one of the capybara and was looking him straight in the
eye. Time for a quick exit leaving the big cat to get on with it.
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