Fishing for Piranhas
A day of dangerous angling in the MMA Conservancy
By Akash Persaud
Guyana Chronicle
March 11, 2007
Getting up at 3:30 in the morning for anything is quite a challenge. But for the members of the Dennis Street Angler’s Fishing Club (a group of amateur anglers that thrive on the adrenaline of fishing) it was like waking up to face one the best days of their lives.
Ever since hearing of the abundance of fishes of various species in the Mahaica/Mahaicony/Abary (MMA) Conservancy, our club has been trying to make hosts of contacts with anyone that has a link that can get them there. The club which started about a 2 years ago has grown from 4 to 12 persons who are always willing to get on any boat or car to give fishing their best shot. It was at the Chronicle where I work as Graphic Artist that I met Mr. Clifford Stanley – reporter with the Newspaper and a public relations personnel with the MMA that things began to materialise. When I enquired about such a trip and his answer was to the affirmative, I could barely hide the excite excitement that immediately overcame me. After three weeks of planning and putting arrangements in place the dream of this trip was about to come through.
At 5:30 on the morning we arrived at the MMA compound at Onverwagt. Mr. Rampersaud, whom everyone called Rampi, was our boat captain. Upon his arrival he was immediately greeted by the seven members of the club that made it; the others had to be left because the boat can only take about nine to ten persons including the captain and a tour guide. Rampi was introduced to the eager bunch of men. Paul, Ken, Patrick, Aaron, Kawal, Daniel and myself.
Before starting off we were all taken through a safety talk by the ever vigilant Rampi. The boat and engine were hooked up to a truck and the task of getting it to the Abary River began. Every two minutes one of the young men would ask Rampi “how long more got to go”, he tried to calm us taking their minds off the journey and telling us about the work that the MMA has done to the road we were driving on and about the wonderful scene of the rice fields we were passing, but then Aaron the youngest of the group said “are we close now”, I realized it was hard to get anybody’s mind off what has been three weeks in the making. A few anxious moments later we were their.
The Abary River was placid that day, birds flying just over the surface in search of an early morning meal of unsuspecting small fish that swimming too close to the top. The boat was taken down to the river and we started placing our equipment in it. The captain was amazed at the equipment we brought; it was if we were going on a “safari” he said. We had packed fishing rods, lures, food, drink, ice coolers, tools and a first aid kit complete with a venom extractor for snake and insect bites. When Rampi pulled the cord to start the engine we smiled and gave each other hi-fives. Our trip had officially begun.
A cooler full of sharp-toothed piranha.
The journey down the Abary River is a birdwatcher’s paradise: kestrels, huge white cranes, herons and “wisi wisi” ducks, abound. Cows, horses and buffalos lay on the banks of the river with huge pastures in the background. The boat traveled smoothly over the clam waters. Swallows were making a feast of the dragonflies hovering in little swarms over the water. As we traveled one of my friends said to me, “Even if I don’t catch any fish the scenic beauty of this place is good enough for me” I thought to myself that he would be even more awed by the beauty of the of the MMA conservancy where we were heading, but I said nothing because I did not want to blow the surprise. When we got to the conservancy we picked Mr. Bernard “Bunny” Tilack, a local tour guide and master hunter and angler.
As we were about to pick up the boat to take it over the conservancy dam, we realised that someone was missing, he was nowhere to be seen. After looking around for a while I realized that it was the same member of our party who had told me of the beauty of the river and I knew exactly where to find him. He had wandered away and was standing on the other side of the Conservacy Dam with a look of total amazement at the vast stretch of water that stood in front of him. He looked at me, smiled and asked if he was dreaming.
When we rejoined the group Patrick, a sound engineer and Paul, a project auditor made sure everyone and everything was in the boat. Our new captain was Bunny, who these waters he knew like the back of his hand. Dark sun glasses, camouflage clothing, a fly rod and the build of an athlete; we could tell this guy knew what he was about. We took off into the vast conservancy and in no time we got the glimpse of something the guys would never see in the city, wild ducks.
As the boat slid over the still water, passing between small floating islands two massive Muscovy ducks flew with majestic and powerful flapping wings. In no time everyone in the boat could see ducks flying at regular intervals. Bonny said he was going to take a “short cut” to save us on our limited gas. There were palm trees growing like towers rising out of the water and little flowering plants created a lilac carpet over the water, it was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen.
Our guide got us to the fishing ground in no time and what the members of the club saw next was a master at work. Bunny, stood on the deck of the boat and like a lion tamer whipped his fly-rod back and fort cracking it on the surface, then pulling the surface lure to entice the fishes then in a flash whip it out of the water and “crack” back at the exact spot again while the boat move slowly. He repeated this again and again, everyone sat and watched where the lure was landing and waited to see any sign of a fish striking the bait, then suddenly it happened a Peacock Bass locally called Lukanani leapt at the lure, unfortunately or should I say fortunately is miss much to our disgust. But our disappointment was not for long and this time he got it.
The Peacock Bass is known to be the big prize of game fishing in South America; it puts up a fight and ‘standing’ on its tail, leaping and tugging at the line like a true fighter. Without strong rods and a good grip it can break off your line at will. As Bunny hit a spot near a rotting tree stump something disturbed the water near the lure; he flung the line back and with marksman precision hit the same spot again.
The majestic fish leapt at the fly bait and locked onto it. There was a huge splash and the fish darted under a clump of Victoria Regia water lilies then all of a sudden out again everyone in the boat was excited except for Bunny, a man who had done “this thousands of times” as he had reliably informed us. He began landing catches at regular intervals and when he said he would take us to a spot where the club members could catch fish as fast as they could take off, there was a great sense of anticipation among us. We were going to catch the infamous piranha.
Known throughout the world for it ferocious jaws and razor teeth that can sever the toe or finger of someone with just one bite, this was not a fish to mess with; danger lurked in the waters below. A school of piranhas can strip a 70-pound adult Capybara (the world’s largest rodent and commonly called watrash in Guyana) to bare bones in just a matter of seconds. All the members got spinning rods out and put on the bait of small fishes we ahd brought. Bunny gave us a run-down on how to deal with these “chaps” when caught. He told us that only he would take them off the hook when caught.
“Oh my God,” Patrick suddenly exclaimed. As we turned and looked at him we all knew why he had said that. He stood there with a look of fear and anxiety, his hook and wire leader bitten off, cut clean by the razor-sharp teeth of a piranha. Bunny put on another hooked and it was back to the business at hand. “
Got him” Daniel said. The first strike, it was a big one; it put up quite a fight as it was reeled in, the rod was bending right down under the pressure. When it came out of the water it sparkled under the mid-day sun, the top of its back as black as the water below and the belly white like the light above – a perfect camouflage for the perfect predator. Everyone began pulling in piranhas at will. Ken affixed bait to the many hooks waiting to go back in, some after catching, some after near misses and some after total misses. Daniel, Patrick and Kawal were leading the race in that order with the occasional strike from Aaron and Paul, only I did not strike as yet. Then my luck changed and I was reward for my patience – a good-sized one latched on to my hook.
At the end of this fishing fest we had acquired half a large ice box of piranhas in just about two hours or under. Rampi and Bunny said it was time to go and he would take to another place to fishes casting net. The journey out the Conservancy seemed faster than we got in. We soon came to the place where we had to lift the boat over again.
Bunny took us to his home and introduced us to his parents who spoke of protecting the fishing grounds, flora and fauna and the animals. The said that they do not support commercial fishing and hunting in the area and would advise people not to throw anything in the conservancy especially if it’s not bio-degradable. Bunny’s father said he would only catch as many fish as he could eat because the rest would just be wasted. He is hoping that more people can understand the value of protected area systems not only in his area but across Guyana. He said that generations to come will reap the benefits of one of the best tourist destinations in the world. As the guys sipped on fresh, hot coffee that Bonny prepared for us, they couldn’t help but talk about the wonderful time they had in this place some people only dream of. It was one of the best days the Dennis Street Anglers’ Fishing Club has ever experiences and we can’t wait to get back.