The Vampires of the Orinoco

BY Matt Harris

The reel fizzed out its sweet music and my guide unhitched the boat as backing melted off the big spool. The fish jumped again, but now it was way out in the roiling currents, a hundred yards and more from where we stood. I clambered into the skiff and not a moment too soon. Then we were off into the current in pursuit of the big silver berserker, as it disappeared downriver.

My guide grinned back at me. His name wasn’t Jock or Jens or Dima, and we weren’t fishing a big brawling salmon river in Scotland or Norway or Russia. My guide was Arnel from Venezuela, just across the river, and that river wasn’t the Tay or the Namsen or the Yokanga but the mighty Orinoco. There wasn’t a waxed jacket or a Willie Gunn in sight. The mercury was hovering at around 90 degrees Fahrenheit, and that big silver fish that was cartwheeling off downstream wasn’t a big Atlantic salmon but Hydrolycus armatus; Colombia’s finest; the Payara. The one and only Vampire Fish.

Arnel and I went careering after our quarry, my guide expertly weaving our skiff through the powerful rapids and between the towering moonscape boulders that crowd the shoals and banks and islands of the Orinoco. Finally, after what seemed an age, we caught up with our adversary. I wound down hard, and the fish danced up into the blinding white light of the jungle. A big, brawny blizzard of pearl and silver and teeth. “Grande!!” exclaimed Arnel, as he eased the boat into the slack water, and I saw him reach gingerly for the boga grip. “Grande…” I concurred, catching his eye. “Y dientes grandes” I added with a grin. “Big teeth?”

“Big teeth” doesn’t even start to cover it. As the hefty fish finally rolled over and I drew it into the slack water, Arnel edged out into the river. With exaggerated care, he reached out to grab the fish’s tail. In an instant, he had it, and he let out a yell of triumph. “Grande!! GRANDE!!!” he cried. He swung the big fish round into my eye line and held its head towards me with a grin.

It was a big fish - a magnificent fish - but all I could see were those fangs - those impossible, monstrous fangs. They were significantly longer than my fingers. It was a simply astonishing sight.

I’m a little ashamed to say that when I first saw images of Payara, they struck me as more of a curiosity than a genuine sportfishing proposition. Their freakish physiology makes them appear like something from the fevered imagination of a B-movie horror show director. However, having experienced what they can do, I would strongly advise that you do not allow this ghoulish appearance to distract you.

Be in no doubt: these fish have evolved to be perfect hunters in the heavy currents of what is - by volume - the world’s fourth-largest river. Equipped with their enormous fangs and a remarkable turn of speed, Payara terrorises the various baitfish that populate the waters of the Orinoco.

On occasion, you’ll get to see them burst through the surface and slash their poor victims to pieces with ruthless efficiency, but most of the time, they sit down deep, unseen in the heavy currents of the mighty river.

This ability to negotiate the rapids of this singularly powerful watercourse marks the Payara out as an unforgettable fly-rod adversary. Small specimens are more than game, but a big fish of twenty pounds and more that wrestles its way into the powerful main currents of the Orinocco is a real handful. These big trophy Payara are capable of stripping a lot of backing off of a big saltwater reel in very short order.

Tackling Payara involves discipline. On the Orinoco, a heavy sinking line in 400 to 600 grains is often the best way to put your fly in front of the fish in the heavy currents that they call home. A short leader and a big Flashy Profile tied to mimic the various baitfish patterns in sizes from 6-10 inches in length attached to titanium wire is the medicine, and make sure that you are capable of casting this stuff if you want to get the best out of the fishery. A stiff, fast-actioned ten or even twelve weight rod is perfect for throwing this heavy-duty gear.

I like to use tube flies so that hooks could be replaced the moment that they lost their needle-sharp point. I also like to employ a swivel to attach the obligatory wire trace to the stout 40lb mono leader as it allows the fly to track straight, which I believe is absolutely key in enticing the Payara to strike your baitfish imitation.

A needle-sharp hook that has a straight rather than offset point also helps in making the fly swim without listing onto one side, and I think that this is crucial in inducing the maximum number of strikes.

The moment that you feel that savage take, use a really aggressive strip-strike to set the hook. Grab the line tight and jab both hands backwards, setting the hook as hard as you can. 40lb nylon should ensure that you don’t break off, but use a bimini twist as a shock absorber, and employ

‘soft’ hands, as these fish will often take off downstream in a hurry. Stay tight and use a fairly heavy drag setting to keep the hook buried in the fish’s bony maw. Be ready to jump into the boat as these fish can run 200 yards and more in a heartbeat once they hit the heavy current, and the shallow, rocky, snag-filled nature of the Orinoco means that you want to keep the distance between you and your quarry to a minimum.

Once you catch up with your prey, play them hard - any slack and you will almost certainly lose your prize. Once you can get your hands on them, handle them gently and support their weight by keeping them in the water for as long as possible - these fish are fragile despite their savage dentistry. Oh, and mind your fingers…

There are a growing number of options for tackling Payara. I fished with my great friend Beto Mejia who runs the excellent Orinoco Lodge, part of his Fish Colombia operation.

Beto’s camp is based on an island in the middle of the river. It’s a perfect base to access numerous rapids and trophy Payara of twenty pounds and more are a real possibility from any number of riffles and runs. Fish can be caught from the boat, but I most enjoy targeting them from the bank, prospecting each likely seam and slot, much as you might look for salmon in the broken pocket water of a salmon river.

When the fishing is on, it can be red-hot but like many apex predators, Payara are prone to capricious and violent mood swings. No matter.

The moment we felt that the fish were going off the take, we would head upstream to fish the waters of the Orinoco’s numerous tributaries, where myriad lagoons offered epic peacock bass fishing.

Anyone unfamiliar with peacocks is in for a treat. These flamboyant berserkers offer adrenaline filled afternoons, bursting out of their lairs to attack big streamers and pole dancer poppers with malevolent gusto.

Colombian peacocks are every bit as aggressive as their Brazilian cousins, and trophy fish of twenty pounds and more are a real possibility. Another great friend Alex Wilkie, a brilliant and relentless fly angler, caught a fabulous 21-pound trophy on our first visit.

Other species will also vie for your attention. Off of the main currents of the Orinoco, you may well come across big schools of Sardinata - a wonderful quarry that resembles a small, golden tarpon and that take streamers and even poppers willingly from the surface.

While Sardinata rarely grow much larger than seven or eight pounds, they are game fighters, often launching into the crackling heat of the jungle to flip spectacular somersaults. There’s also big piranhas and even surubi catfish to tackle with a fly if you get bored of the big Payara... but trust me, you won’t.

Colombia has suffered enormously in recent years, and it has become synonymous with drug cartels and lawlessness. However, the country is now emerging from this dark past and is becoming a safe and fascinating tourist destination. As Beto and I strolled down the main drag of our transport hub, Puerto Carreño, on the way back from our trip, I felt the warmth and vibrancy of the bustling little town.

It was a Saturday evening, and as the market stalls started to shut up shop for the day, the street came alive with young, friendly folk, giggling and flirting and fooling around in the warm evening air. There was an irresistible, intoxicating vibe about the place. Colombia offers stunningly beautiful landscapes, a lively, engaging culture and truly remarkable fly fishing opportunities in both fresh and saltwater that are only just beginning to be explored.

Beto and I climbed the hill and suddenly we crested the brow of the incline and were looking down at the wide waters of the Orinoco. We sat down at a little bar perched above the river, and I took a first long draft of the icy ‘Aguila’ beer that the beautiful waitress had set down before me with a smile.

I thought of the poor souls who had declined to come with me, muttering nervously about Colombia’s reputation and now hunkered down in the grip of an icy Northern winter back home.

Their loss, I thought smugly, with the big Payara of the Orinoco running the river and waiting to dance into the white light of the Colombian jungle.

I raised my glass to Beto and toasted my pioneering friend. I knew that I would be back here again to join him, drinking cold beer in the January sunshine, smiling at the pretty girls of Puerto Carreño, and mixing it up with the sparkling, freak-fanged Vampires of the Orinoco River.