The Rio Tomo is a remote tributary of Colombia’s Rio Orinoco in the Eastern Plains region of the Department of Vichada along the southern border of Venezuela. For decades it is has been a lawless frontier of drug dealers, terrorists and anti-government insurgents. Wild On The Fly's intrepid field editor, Nicolas Olano goes there in search of big peacock and files this report:

On the 1st of February I was told by a group of friends that they had secured permits from the Colombian Army, Police and the Department of Vichada for seven days of fishing on the Tomo starting on the 12th. Talk about short notice for this kind of trip.

This is a trip one cannot miss. The region has had no fishing pressure for over twenty years. First the drug lords had the place to themselves and then the FARC guerrillas took over and while keeping the drug business alive they terrorized the whole region and no one would dare go there because of the risk of being killed, or worse, being kidnapped by these bandits. So… the peacock bass and payara as well as golden catfish and cachama have multiplied and grown to uncommon sizes. But now the government forces have cleared the area of the guerrillas and the drug lords have moved to other areas, mostly in Venezuela.

So, on the 11th we met with as a group of fifteen anglers at the Dorado Airport in Bogotá. Of the fifteen, six of us were strictly fly fishers, two combined fly with hardware and the rest were dunking steel. The flight from Bogotá to Puerto Carreño, which is the capital of Vichada, took only an hour and a half on a brand new Embracer jet which is more comfortable than a 737. The arrival in Puerto Carreño is a shock. The door opens and the temperature hits you with 115ºF in the shade. I was sweating before I hit the tarmac.

We spent the first night in Puerto Carreño at the Hotel del Lago which is run by a former school teacher who has a second job as the Wicked Witch of the West. She keeps a wild boar as a pet and uses a caracara bird as a watch dog. Accommodations are basic but there was a functioning A/C which made all the difference. You don’t get a room; you get a bed in a room that you share with two others. On the other hand the food was good and the beer ice cold… heavenly!

Puerto Carreño is a frontier town. It was home turf to a lot of heavy drug lords and their henchmen. They used the Orinoco River as their private highway and Venezuela as their freight forwarder. It took the Colombian government many years and many lives to rid the region of the drug lords and then of the FARC guerrillas who had taken over the rural areas, including the rivers. Today the region is relatively safe but in order to go fishing you need to be cleared by the Army, the Navy and the Police.

The next day we were picked up by our “outfitter” with a caravan of Toyotas and headed east. We departed Puerto Carreño on a paved road that a few miles later turned into a packed dirt road that gave way to a trace road that gave way to…nothing. We were soon riding on the open plain. How our drivers new their way beats me. What was interesting is that we were going flat out at about 70 miles per hour. After about an hour things changed and the terrain became more difficult. There were thousands of termite mounds that are a real pain because they can flip you over easily if you happen to hit one. Also there were a lot of dry stream beds that fill only during the rainy season (May to November). Two hours out we came to a ferry over the Vita River. This is also a fabulous fishing destination but we were looking for the wilder upper Tomo.

After crossing the Vita we traveled along even rougher terrain for about another two hours until we stopped at the edge of what seemed to be thick jungle. But lo and behold, about twenty feet down a path was the Terecai River and in it nine Voladoras or Flyers – long boats powered by 30- to 40-horsepower outboards. There was one boat for every two anglers and two boats to carry our equipment and food for us and 14 workers that included the boatmen, two women to cook and wash, and a couple of swampers to help with the work. Among the provisions were – God bless them! – twelve coolers with ice blocks and 400 beers.

We headed downriver along the Teracai until it flowed into the Tomo. There we landed on a huge expanse of sand that looked to be imported from the best beach in Tahiti! The place was breathtaking! The water was crystal clear. Behind the beach there was a thick jungle that spread out a couple of thousand feet before giving way to the open range of “Los Llanos” which in Spanish means The Prairies.

Some idiot decided that we should pitch our tents, put away our things and then go fishing. It was 2:00 in the afternoon and the temperature had popped the thermometers hours ago. But since we were all idiots we went ahead and did just that. I thought I was going to croak! But all being classic Latin macho we labored without complaint. Later I found out that everybody felt the same as I…ready to cash in our chips. Unbelievably we made it through that ordeal and by 4:00pm we were ready to hit the water in search of pavon, or as we know it in English, peacock bass, which by the way is not a bass but a close relative of the tilapia.

My brother in law and I were paired with a boatman named Dumar who seemed to know what he was doing in handling the long boat, which was equipped with two plastic lawn chairs that were pretty comfortable. We headed downriver on the Tomo for about 20 minutes until we came to a riffle with a lot of rocks on the bank. Dumar told us that this was a good place for pavon and we proceeded to setup. I used a 7 weight with a six-foot, medium-fast sinking tip. I tied on a 4-inch long, red, white and blue maribou and ostrich streamer and in just two casts I had a fish on. It was a hell of a fighter that used the fast water to its advantage, but was visibly rather small at about 4 lbs. It was beautiful however, a pallet of colors. Ocean blue on top, gold sides with black medallions edged in platinum. Its belly was bright orange and white while the tail was yellow and orange with a black spot. It was promptly released and a cast later I was on to another, larger fish. This one was about 6 lbs and Dumar tossed it in the cooler.

I have to mention that in these waters you fish for your food. The coolers do not allow for much meat to be brought along -- beer has a priority. We had a few live chickens along and lots of eggs, but little (and very bad) meat. The vittles were mostly rice and beans plus your catch of the day. I had never eaten a peacock bass before so I did not know what to expect.

We fished until about 6:00pm when the sun quickly drops and the lights go off. That close to the Equator sunsets are beautiful but very short. We caught several fish between 4 lbs and 8 lbs but nothing outstanding. By 6:30 we were at camp changing into our bathing trunks and ready for our evening river bath. This was a complicated ritual. We took our chairs from the boat and carried them up to the camp. Then we changed behind our tents and walked to the water with shoes (Crocks) on. The rivers in this area have a lot of sting rays so it’s better to wear shoes and drag your feet; no steps because if you tread on a ray you will get plugged and that’s the end of the trip. You have to start taking antibiotics and head for town. Fortunately rays flee noise and if you choose flowing water for your ablutions there is really not much danger. The water is refreshing after the heat of the day and we tended to stay in for about an hour before we covered ourselves with bug repellent and dressed again with long pants and sleeves for dinner.

The locals tend to fry everything and that night we had fried pavon and fried caribe, which is a very large piranha that grows to about 5 lbs and is truly delicious. The accompaniment was rice and fried plantains. Not bad at all. The pavon tastes like tilapia and has the same consistency; very nice with hot sauce and lemon. At dinner there was wine but I stuck to beer. The last thing I needed was a hangover. By 9:00pm we were in la la land.

At 6:00am I went fishing with a fellow from Houston who is Colombian and also came down for this trip. We went to a flooded lagoon on the Terecai River and fished the flats where we could see the big pavons taking the sun on sandy patches. They spooked very easily because they were in less than a foot of water and could see us when we saw them. Juan hooked one very big fish that took him by surprise and stripped the line before it broke off. I hooked one that was about 12 lbs which we released and then Juan brought in one of 15 lbs or so. We saw fish that were well over the 20-lb mark but could not get them to take a fly. They were too skittish because a couple of ospreys were turning above. At 8:00am we returned to the camp for breakfast and went out again an hour later.

This time we headed way up the Terecay River looking for rocky banks peacock bass love, but before we went far we saw another boat with two of our companions, one of whom was hooked up to a rather big fish. They were fishing with big surface plugs that made a lot of commotion and are favored to catch big fish. Jorge had hooked a fish close to 20 lbs and was fighting it really well, considering this was the first time in his life he had ever fished. What was interesting was the place where they were fishing. Along the huge beaches the current forms some “fingers” or long inlets where big pavon corral small fish and dine at their leisure. This was something I had never seen or experienced before with these fish. I did remember something similar fishing for Permit in Belize. They also herd bait fish into small coves and pursue them right on to the beach. Two worlds, two waters, two fish and the same strategy for them to hunt and for us to fish…go figure.

Further up river we came to a rocky island with a single tree. We got off the boat and fished all around the island. The fish were taking the fly eagerly and in many cases took it a foot or so from shore. Amazing! All the fish we caught here were small to medium; nothing outstanding. I started to develop a theory about these fish. The reproductive fish live in the rocky banks and stone bottom riffles. They are abundant and very aggressive and territorial, but they are not very big. The big guys live in the lagoons and hunt along the beaches, but they are past the reproductive stage and live as loners. Some of these big fellows, not all, develop a big hump just behind and above their eyes. It makes them look bullish and bigger than they really are. I caught a fish that I would have sworn was at least 20 lbs but the scale on the fish grip read 14 lbs.

We finished the day with lots of fish caught, a few mid sized ones for supper, and that unique feeling of being in the wild. That night we all had fish tales to tell and after dinner we were ready for a good night sleep.

The following morning we were up at 5:00 AM and picked up camp. Our plan was to fish far up the Tomo River and keep moving all day until about 4:00 PM when we would stop to set up camp and fish the evening.

It was slow at first but about an hour up river we came to a lagoon which we entered through a long channel that was totally covered by vegetation overhead. What little light filtered through was whimsical and illuminated beautiful orchids up in the trees. This was a truly magical place. The lagoon was big and was shaped like a hand with long fingers going in every direction. We chose one protected from the sun by tall trees and started casting to any structure we could see. Soon Alfonso, my brother in law, was on to fish. This was only his second venture at fly fishing and here he was, a novice fly fisher locked on to a really big peacock bass. He was overpowered by the fish and even though he managed to bring it close to the boat, it ran the line and broke off. It was a brute. We saw its big dark hump and a mouth the size of a dinner plate. I can’t even guess what size it was. What I did notice was that the fish took almost on the surface while Alfonso was trying to roll cast and as the fly broke the surface and went in again the fish exploded on it. I promptly switched to a floating line and rigged a big popper with a yellow head and bright red and green feathers with some flash and rubber whiskers.

This was what we needed. One cast and two strips made the popper do its thing and I was on to a large fish. It took aggressively, greedily, bashing water all over the place. An instant later it made itself felt on the line as it screamed out of the reel. My 10 weight rod bent to its limit but held beautifully working with me to change the fish’s direction. It jumped nicely a couple of times and showed off its colors in the bright sunlight. These fish fight hard but not long. They don’t exactly give up, they’ll fight you right up to the boat and then swim up to your hands; it’s kind of weird. This fish was a bit over 16 lbs and was known as a “strapped” peacock.

In these waters of the Orinoco effluents there are three kinds of peacock bass. The most abundant but smallest is the butterfly which is by far the most beautiful of the three. It has more color and figures than the others showing off blues, gold, orange, green and white with deep black spots edged in gold or platinum. Then there is the spotted peacock, locally called “pinta de lapa” because its markings are similar to those of the lapa or guagua, a giant rodent that is very abundant in the whole of the fluvial area of South America and is found from Colombia and Venezuela in the north, all the way down to Brazil and Argentina. Both the meat and skin are highly sought and this has led to them being protected in some areas. Finally there is the “strapped” or “cinchao” peacock which grows to an awesome 30 lbs or more and is distinguished by three to five straps along its sides. These markings are the same as those found on the sergeant bass of Gato Lagoon in Panama and are genetically the same, though, for some reason; the Panama fish rarely exceed 10 lbs.

I found that the pinta de lapa, though not as big as the strapped peacock, was by far the best fighter. It takes to the air frequently and does amazing runs taking with it line and backing almost to the arbor of the reel. It shows both stamina and aggressiveness that make it an admirable foe.

That day, Uriel, one of the hardware fishermen, caught a 22 lb fish on a surface lure that I had never seen before. It was football shaped, red and white wood plug about six inches long with propellers at both ends. It is cast out and retrieved as fast as possible creating a lot of surface commotion. That day he had hooked another fish that had straightened out the treble hooks of that plug. I can only guess at the size of that fish.

That evening on the way to camp, on the eastern bank, on a beach that was illuminated by the last rays of the sun, we saw a magnificent jaguar. It was standing on a fallen tree looking at us float by. We were silent and awed by the beauty and visible power of this extraordinary predator. It is at the top of the food pyramid and happily feasts on caiman and boas bigger than it. Its favorite food and very easy prey are the “chiguiros” a small tailless boar that lives along the fringe jungle that borders all these rivers and is now abundant after it was almost extinct by the late ‘60s. An interesting story about these pigs is that they live in herds of 20 to 50 animals that occupy a territory of a few square miles where they forage for roots and fallen fruit; and are very dangerous if they feel attacked. So, the Jaguar only kills the last one of the herd as the other animals won’t look back; but if another animal further up is taken, the whole herd will turn on the hunter and tear it…or him, into shreds with some very mean teeth that protrude at wide angles from its snout. More than a few people have lost limb and even life to these animals.

We reluctantly watched the Jaguar disappear into the thick jungle. This is a once in a lifetime sighting as these cats are very nocturnal and are rarely seen in daylight. That night we heard a lot of stories about fish caught and fish that got away. The fish kept were roasted over embers and sprinkled with some local herbs, delicious! The side dishes were rice and lentils with a lot of cumin and unknown spices. We were hungry and ate abundantly. That night one of the boatmen pulled out a “cuatro” a small four string instrument that is reminiscent of a ukulele. He sang a lot of Joropo and Bunde, which are local folk music of either romantic or very funny lyrics. We had a great time.

The fourth day when I got up about 6:00 AM I walked out of my tent to see a huge danta or tapir, a close relative of the elephant that can grow to several hundred pounds. It walked placidly along the beach and then swam across 200 feet of river to disappear into the jungle at the other side. That day we fished more lagoons and some of those fingers along the beaches. We caught lots of fish but nothing to write about. I lost one that could have made this story but like many big ones, this one got away.

Until now we hadn’t seen another human being on the river. No other boats or people anywhere but as we approached our camp we were met by a Marine patrol that had been sent by the local command to check up on us. They had a list with all our names, ID numbers and a physical description of each of us. They were very cordial and very professional. In a few seconds there was a perimeter guard around our camp while we talked with the lieutenant and his sergeant. These are Colombian Marines, trained and equipped by US Marines and are seasoned combat troops of volunteers that have eradicated drug lords and guerrillas from this whole territory. They look as tough and self assured as any US soldier. They accepted a few soft drinks from us and then boarded their Colombian made PT boat which bristled with automatic weapons and rocket launchers. It looked like a real mean fighting machine. As swiftly as they came, the Marines were gone and we were back in the solitude of the river. You rest easy when the Marines are looking after you.

For dinner that evening we had dorado catfish. It is exceptionally delicious. One of the swampers had set up a line baited with a small pavon and caught a 40-lb fish that fed us all. The flesh is reminiscent of pork, firm and white.

The next day we headed downriver on a long float that would take us to our new campsite about three hours away from the Orinoco. We fished on the way down stopping at all the rocky banks and a few beaches. We didn’t catch anything outstanding that day except for fly fisher named Lucas who landed a 20-lb fish on a popper. He, his father and his young son, as well as his very lovely wife were part of our party. He and his father Andres are very avid and skilled fly fishers. They, as I, have been fortunate enough to fly fish our way around the world. Both Lucas and his father are close to seven feet tall which makes a hell of a difference when casting. That extra leverage and longer arch make for good and long loop. You couldn’t find nicer people anywhere in the world. Andres, Lucas and Lorenzo who was eight years old and already five feet tall made up three generations of fly fishers; a wonderful thing to see.

For the next three days we moved camp every day, which I found tiresome and not conducive to good fishing. The last day on the Tomo was spent mostly in a lagoon properly named “la pavonera” which roughly translated means the “peacock bassery “. The place boiled with fish. There were very, very large fish in those waters. I hooked one that took my line and all the backing on a big Able reel and finally straightened out my hook and left me dazed. How big was it? I can’t even guess. All I saw was the huge splash when it took a big popper and a wake that reminded me of a big bonefish in skinny waters.

Uriel was again the man with the big fish; he caught a cinchao of more than 25 lbs that had a hump the size of a small watermelon. A truly beautiful fish but sadly caught on a surface plug and not a fly.

We fly anglers caught and released many fish that day but none exceeded 15 lbs. The most memorable was a fluke. I cast my fly too far and it landed over a log and into a circle of water surrounded by wood. I was trying to snap it over the log without tangling it when a fish took it. I thought I would lose the fly and the fish, but it graciously jumped over the log into open water where it gave me a good run for my money.

I learned a lot about these fish on this trip. They are very aggressive and not shy at all. Many took the fly right next to the boat or the shore. Also, the reproductive size fish live in pairs or small schools. When you hook one, the other or others try to steel the fly from it and if the other angler tosses a fly in the vicinity almost always you get a double. If you see the fish following your fly but you run out of space, simply make circles or 8’s with the rod tip and they will eagerly take the fly.

Our boatmen come guides were incredibly helpful. They won’t let you lose a fly because of a snag. They will if necessary dive into the river to retrieve it. Snags on the rocks are frequent because these are of volcanic origin and catch the hook if it so much as touches one. In most cases a roll cast can save the fly, but other times the guys will row up to the fly and dislodge it by hand or with an oar.

The peacocks will eat anything. They are not too particular but some colors worked better than others. Yellow and green as well as red and white or red white & blue worked better than chartreuse and orange flies. What seemed to be critical was the depth at which you fished. For some reason the fly had to be fished at mid-water. Say you were fishing in four feet of water you wanted to fish at two feet depth, or if the water was eight feet deep you would want to be four or five feet down. The exception to this is obviously the popper. These were more productive in the calm waters of the lagoons while the streamers worked better along the rocks or in faster water such as riffles.

The ideal line was a medium sink tip of five to eight feet in length. I was fishing the streamers with this and the poppers with a floating bass bug line. The ideal rod for these waters is an 8- or 9-wt. Less is useless and more is overkill. The waters are wide open and you can cast at your hearts desire. The best technique to cover more water and keep the fly where it catches fish is to strip in to the length of the rod, do a rapid roll cast with release and then instantly back cast with release and as soon as the rod loads shoot your line. You can get very good distance, cover a lot of water and avoid too many false casts where the fly in the air is doing nothing.

The flies here are bold. Both the streamers and the poppers need volume and size to them. I’m not too particular about the precise size of the hook. All I care is that it can carry the amount of material needed. Long and short shanks hooks work well if the fly is tied properly. The weight of the hook should be more rather than less as you want a good keel so it swims true. The same goes for poppers.

One thing that I found interesting was that the flies needed eyes. I was catching a lot of fish on a dear head Dalberg Diver pattern with doll eyes. With use and a couple of snags it lost the eyes and the takes diminished notably. I changed the fly for one with eyes and the action was back immediately.

I would put weed guards on all the streamers. The rocks are a real pain when it comes to snags and more than anything they make you lose time and good water. A good wire weed guard pushes the fly over the rock and with the aggressive take of these fish it does not make you lose too many strikes.

Our last day of fishing we spent it on the Orinoco River looking for payara which are fish that look like they belong in Jurasic Park; they have huge teeth in both jaws they are sharp as needles. They look mean as hell. Payaras are caught in fast water in big runs. They fight violently for a couple of minutes and then give up. Some of these fish can grow to three feet and weigh up to 30 lbs. I didn’t catch any but several of the other fly fishers caught small to mid size fish (photo at top of page). What’s really fascinating about the Orinoco River is the size of it. Take a nice trout stream in the Catskill Mountains or even Idaho or Montana and multiply it all by a million and you have the Orinoco. It flows through huge boulders the size of large houses or mid sized buildings. The water at this time of year is clear and low; even though that means that the river is only three or four hundred feet wide instead of a mile wide at the peak of the rainy season. In the place we were the Orinoco forms the widest Class 3 to Class 5 rapids in the world. The water is treacherous and our boatmen made us walk along the shore at some spots because the boat has to be as light as possible.

That night we camped across from a small village that at some time belonged to a drug lord who had built himself a large compound with all the amenities including a harem, a disco and stables. Later the place fell in the hands of the guerrillas who recruited the girls and took over the drug business; then came the army who blew everything to kingdom come and now all that is left is a small outpost of the army and a kiosk that sells soft drinks and fruit juice to travelers like us; that and several mounds of ruble that once was the drug lord’s playground.

The next day we headed for Puerto Carreño and navigated downriver for most of the day having to get out of the boats frequently and walk over rocks and hills so that we were not in them through the rapids. The Orinoco is a veritable highway along which the inhabitants of this zone transit and do commerce. Lately, and because of the growing friction between Venezuela and Colombia, the transit between the two countries along the river has diminished dramatically. That day we stopped for lunch in a small town called Causarito and were treated to local game such as tapir, lapa and chiguiro, interesting but not memorable. The cold beer was!

Along all these rivers and lagoons we saw an incredible variety of wildlife. Most outstanding were the birds. Birds of prey such as eagles, osprey, hawks, falcons and owls were everywhere. Herons of all kinds and sizes were seen along the shore. Parrots and guacamayas were more heard than seen, but they would fly in flocks to their roost in the evening. Then there was a myriad of small colorful birds that flew and sang from early morning till dusk.

The evening concert was presented by howling monkeys that could be heard from miles away and you thought they were in the next tree. The night sounds were awesome; hoots, howls, chirps and grunts were all around, but the most impressive was the soft, profound growl of the jaguar. When the jaguar growls all others become silent. The night seems darker and the air crisper. There is something startling about this cat. I’ve heard lions in Kruger and tigers in the Punjab but there is nothing that reaches a primal cord in our soul as the ongoing growl of the Jaguar.

We navigated the last few hours of our trip down the Orinoco uneventfully admiring the beauty of the place. Across from Causarito there is the Venezuelan town of Puerto Ayacucho with about half-a-million people living there. It used to be an obligatory stop for adventure hunters as it was a place to rest and relax in some comfort. Now nobody goes there because the socialist regime in Venezuela does not welcome Colombians or U.S. citizens.

We arrived at Puerto Carreño at dusk and went to the hotel for a shower and change before we going out for our last diner together. Like everywhere that I’ve gone fishing with other anglers, friends and strangers, the best part of it all is the camaraderie among us all.

NOTE: Nicolas Olano is organizing another adventure angling trip into the Orinoco River region this upcoming February or March. If you are interested in joining please call us at 866-723-7776 or by email to travel @wildonthefly.com.