Pre-fishing the big tournament
We spent three days pre-fishing Venezuela’s last big bass tournament of 2009, on Lake Calabozo—-just before competition arrived from all over the country. Contestants weren’t allowed to fish the lake for a week before this event, and expect to win the biggest trophies. But our hosts, Venezuela’s Bass Association, wanted to see Americans, especially pro-bass fishermen, fish their big event. Since my two companions had never seen a peacock bass, nobody seemed to mind. And what a great time we had…Our hosts know how to put on a fine tournament. Every day including the actual tournament, someone either lent us their boat or took us out all day in that 90 degree November heat. In a lake filled with tropical trees and stumps that have somewhat petrified after several generations. Our drivers dodged flailing treble hooks by keeping low in the boat, in the driver’s seat.
The North Americanos with me, pro-bassers Ron Klys of Florida and big Preston Henson from California, had never seen a peacock bass. I had fished Lake Coromoto in Venezuela several years before, so knew what to expect from these hard-hitting fish. On our first day out, a 7-pounder nailed my oversized Rattletrap. The guys were impressed, watching that fish make a powerful run for deeper water. Once around the boat, that fish had other ideas about a landing net, avoiding it several times. Suffice to say, no black bass ever fought this hard.
Long days followed on that lake under a hot equatorial sun, and we gave it our best. We learned the lake, or at least the best coves on the east side, protected from the dominant wind. While casting for those peacocks we also caught cruel piranha, Amazonian catfish, freshwater stingrays and fang-toothed payara, which is like a big ladyfish turned into a vampire. Ron’s smaller red Rattletrap caught many piranha.
Piranha are something you just grow up with in much of South America. We met three guys who had been bitten by them in years past, but always while trying to remove a hook, or trying to crush one that was tangled in a castnet. They reminded me of the saw-toothed critter from the movie Aliens…We grew used to them, after a fashion. Piranha must have a great sense of smell, because they attacked a pizza crust we tossed overboard after lunch. (We had even caught piranha at night, years ago on Lake Coromoto, using chicken wings). Our friends at Calabozo said a cow, presumably stuck in muddy bottom, had recently been cleaned out on the inside by a horde of piranha. Avoiding the cow’s tough hide, these fish had chewed their way inside through the cow’s back door, so to speak, one bite at a time…Or even five at a time, which is a hard way to die.
A pair of needlenose pliers was always handy around these fish, because a piranha can easily snap off a piece of flesh from a careless hand. John’s dad had that happen years ago, and meat from his trigger finger fell in the bottom of the boat. He saved it, taped it back on, and it healed.
Despite the critters lurking just beneath the surface, Calabozo is a peaceful lake, with only an occasional commercial skiff in the distance, and a few swimmers near the boat ramp. No planes passing overhead, very quiet. Exploring up the lake, we found several gillnets in the main river tributary, but they don’t seem to threaten peacock bass much. Aside from all that protective timber, peacocks are said to have a rare gift: They can actually back away from gillnet mesh.
We also saw four trees in the lake with big nests of africanized killer bees, and were cautioned not to bump our boat into one of these trees. These bees have attacked with far less provocation. Our friends, while fishing one lake in Venezuela, saw a boat crew bump a tree and were attacked, the woman and man soon diving overboard. Our friends put on rain suits buttoned tight, and tried to rescue them, but were repeatedly stung and had to retreat. The couple hid under the boat’s bow until dark, when the bees retired for the night. The guy was stung several hundred times and barely lived in the hospital. The lady angler was much luckier. Our friend with the rain suit said his face swelled up from a dozen stings. (These killer bees have migrated all the way north to Texas, where they attacked my friends for no reason last summer, while they were cleaning fish outside their house).
By day’s end in the heat, we had consumed all water, Polar beer and cokes on the boat. The tasty cokes are still made from old-fashioned sugar cane, instead of corn syrup that pervades most American food and drink we’re accustomed to. Each sunset at the boat ramp, our host would arrive with the boat trailer and winch us up. On the shoreline, locals fished with handlines for their dinner. Some fishers were moms with small kids. I donated several fat piranha, which the kids were glad to have; these fish are meaty and tasty, and fairly harmless after being buried in ice for hours. A scrawny dog who lived at the boat ramp was always there, hoping for pizza scraps or anything else. His ribs were showing; give him a pizza crust and he was your friend for life.
On the way back through town at dusk with the boat, we stopped at the town’s tackle store, run by our friends Vicente and Gustavo. We shared stories, grabbed a few lures for the tournament the next day, including a replacement for my lucky firetiger-colored Rattletrap which had finally, after three days of timber fishing, been lost on a submerged stump. We were also given samples of a bone-colored lure, a swimming minnow from Brazil called a Juana, made by Borboleta. These lures would come in very handy later that week, though after the tournament. It’s always nice to visit a tackle store in any country, and share stories. More photos of our prefishing tournament days on my web site at:
http://seafavorites.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=269_270_273
