The Call of the Wild: A Craving for Adventure
There are outings, trips, and adventures… and then there are expeditions. Each has its time and place, but more often than not, they’re bound by the limits of money, responsibility and age.
Life can be peculiar like that, offering opportunities to those wise enough to see their value yet shrewd enough to recognise their consequence. A job that can’t be neglected, a relative that can’t be left, a body that won’t cooperate. Some say youth is wasted on the young; I say freedom is wasted on the free.
I know this all too well from experience. Raising a daughter, I’ve lost the privilege of carelessness, opting instead for family excursions or, as my husband puts it, trips that guarantee me “back home in one piece”.
But I craved the wild; needed the expanse; was desperate for adventure.
The Epiphany: When Adventure Calls, You Answer
It hit me over a margarita in a little bar near the Montana airport. My flight was hours away, and I’d managed to squeeze in lunch with friend and past colleague, Sam Lungren. We caught up on life, work, fishing reports and travel, but it was in the last five minutes that the magic happened.
“So what else do you have coming up?” I asked casually as I prepared to leave.
He told me about an upcoming jungle adventure in Guyana, where they’d sleep in hammocks, kill their own food, and catch huge, untouched fish. I sat my ass back down.
Six months later, we were on a prop plane headed south to Lethem, a small village near the Brazilian border. From there, it was a five hour van ride and an additional six hours by boat to meet the guides and operators who lived in a small village along the riverbank.
Arapaima: The Colossal Freshwater Giants of the Jungle
Historically, this land has been home to indigenous groups like the Wapishana and Makushi, whose deep-rooted connection to the jungle underscores its significance. They run a small operation upstream in a camp that hugs the left bend of the Rewa river. This region, relatively untouched compared to other tropical zones, is a crucial haven for conservation and a treasure trove for scientific exploration.
We arrived at nightfall, just in time to see the familiar scavenge of last-light in camp. The guides set hand-lines for catfish, refuelled boats, and eyed us from afar. As did the glaring eyes of caiman, which snuck closer under the veil of nightfall. We met outfitter Jules Fredericks, a native of Lethem who ran the camp operation and briefed us on what to expect in terms of fishing over the next ten days.
First on our list was the mighty arapaima. A colossal freshwater fish that can exceed ten feet in length and weigh over 400 pounds, the arapaima is one of the largest freshwater fish in the world. They inhabit slow-moving rivers and landlocked lagoons, inhaling their prey rather than pursuing it.
Arapaima are ancient creatures, with origins tracing back to prehistoric times. One of their most fascinating traits is their ability to breathe air. They have a modified swim bladder functioning like a lung, allowing them to surface and gulp air—an adaptation crucial for survival in oxygen-poor waters. It was also an important clue to spot them.
I’m not sure why I assumed arapaima were fierce feeders chasing everything that moved, as they’re actually quite an elegant, slow-moving creature. Rolling like bronze dragons, our guide Terry poled us through the still lagoon, pointing out signs where a fish was or had recently been—slight air bubbles, gentle water ripples, the sheen of a tail.
Sam, who fished these waters the previous year, demonstrated fly presentation with ease. Casting to the fish’s head, he let the fly sink, stripped, waited, and then strip-set into the first arapaima of the trip. Sidenote, if you’d like to see the action firsthand and learn more about these incredible fish, our film will be featured at this year’s Fly Fishing Film Tour (F3T).
Together, we hooked and lost several jumping arapaima before landing one. Admiring its pink-flecked scales and textured head, it looked as though it had been etched by an artist. With our guides handling most of the wrangling (absolute legends that they are), we had a moment to appreciate the arapaima’s stunning details. The moment was short-lived, as it was only a matter of time before it would burst with power again. Sam had warned us of the arapimai’s strength and spring-loaded tail, further intimidating me with a spectacular photo of a hundred-pounder connecting with his face. We opted for a quick release, watching it slip back into the murky depths.
Payara: The Fanged Hunters of the Deep
In addition to arapaima, the jungle waters teem with other incredible fish like payara (vampire fish), peacock bass, pacu, black piranha, catfish, wolffish and more. Every pull was exciting; every lost fish assumed to be a record.
For me, the best was yet to come: the payara. With menacing fangs up to six inches long and a diet consisting of anything with bones to crunch, the payara grows up to 48 inches long. I found it the most impressive of the species in the Midcurrent trip gallery, so I’m not sure why I assumed it’d be the least appealing to target on the fly.
Whatever my expectations were, they were wrong. We sight-fished for them, watching as they attacked our flies on both dry and sunk lines. They ran fast, moved erratically, jumped, spat and snarled (not really, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if they did). And that was only if we managed to hook them. The payara’s bony mouth tested even the most experienced anglers’ patience.
Payara are skilled hunters, using their sharp teeth to impale and immobilize prey, primarily targeting smaller fish like piranhas. These apex predators inhabit fast-flowing rivers and deep pools, lurking in shadows, waiting to ambush unsuspecting victims. In my case, it was a red and white deceiver fished on a piece of wire long enough to outrun the payara’s gaping mouth.
When I finally got one in, it was easy to see why they fight so well. With a torpedo body and a square paddle tail, it looked like a mix of chinook salmon, tigerfish, and bulldog. Apparently, its upper jaw has holes to fit its sharp fangs, allowing it to close its mouth without damaging its teeth. I didn’t get close enough to confirm these facts.
Ten Days in the Jungle: A Return to My Wild Self
Ten days in the jungle with a bunch of strangers and even stranger fish is a humbling experience. I felt the all too familiar pull of the wild—tempting me to go one step farther, to be unbridled and stealthy and focused… to revert to the 25-year old girl happily lost in the mountains.
So, at night, down by the river and in the openness of the starry sky, I gave myself full permission to trust my instincts and be my true self. As a small, sweet voice crackled and glitched on the other end of my satellite phone, I threw sticks at approaching caiman, kept one ear open for rustling in the bushes, and the other for updates about how little “Harvey was a real pain on the bus at school today”.
Just a slightly feral, fully in-tune mother with a passion for the wilderness and her offspring, I realised in that moment that I didn’t have to make a decision. Like the outdoorsmen and women before me, the wild will always be there waiting, because it never truly left me at all.
Want to join my trip to New Guinea next year? Find those details here.
Check out the behind the scenes video of our trip here.
