By Troyce Brunson

On Friday, February 8, 2002, at 10 a.m., eight intrepid fishermen boarded Delta Airlines Flight 1488 to Atlanta, and embarked on the first leg of an epic journey that would take them from the Heart of Dixie to the heart of the jungle in North-Central Brazil. Flying first from Atlanta to Miami, the group then flew to Sao Paulo, Brazil, before finally disembarking in Manaus, Brazil. Waiting for them were three single-engine chartered planes, destined for a small, rough landing strip cleared from the jungle near the bank of the Xeriuini River, an hour and a half away.

The fishermen, Troyce Brunson, Jack Cobb, Lewis Cunningham, Sonny Insco, Matt DiGiovanna, Charles Gagliano, Charley Spivak, and Al Jordan, then boarded four small boats for another hour and half journey up the river to their final destination; a small fishing camp deep in the thick of the Brazilian jungle, arriving at around 3 p.m. Saturday, after 30 hours of travel. At the camp, Matt, Charles, Al, and Charley unpacked quickly, gathered their tackle, and headed to the river to be the first to experience the world famous fishing, while the rest, Troyce, Jack, Lewis and Sonny relaxed with a cool drink while dinner was being prepared.

All were delighted with the accommodations prepared for them. The cabins were constructed from local logs, and covered with primitive, but sturdy, thatched roofs. To their surprise and delight, the cabins were air conditioned thanks to portable generators supplied by the camp; a great relief from the sometimes oppressive heat and humidity.

Sunday morning found the men scrambling to acquaint themselves with their guides, and gathering the gear they would need for the day: tackle, water, and food. They were divided into groups of two, each pair with their own guide and boat. Matt and Charles reigned over the first full day of fishing. They were fortunate enough to be the only pair that was guided by a native that could speak and understand some English, and they were the only ones to possess Yo-zuri lures.

The Peacock Bass seemed to prefer these lures over all others, much to the chagrin of the other fishermen, and they kept Matt and Charles busy reeling in fish after fish. By Wednesday, both men had begun keeping their special lures under lock and key, leaving the rest of the crew searching for the magic lure that would equal the results produced by the Yo-zuri. Though each member of the party caught large fish, many over 15 lbs., Matt and Charles remained in the lead, using their lures to procure the largest quantity of big fish.

In contrast to the relaxing activity of the past two days, Wednesday evening brought tension and worry, as six members of the party nervously awaited news of two of their number hat had not arrived at the expected time. That morning, Lewis Cunningham, representative for the camp in the US, was invited to fish at the north camp. Lewis boarded a small float plane, named the MOSQUITO, and used by the camp owner for jumps between the north and south camps, for the 70 mile journey north.

The trip went smoothly until they began their return. As the men were flying to a rendezvous point some 35 miles down river, the two-passenger ultra-light developed engine trouble and began to overheat. The two men were forced to make an emergency landing on the river. Repairs were made hastily, and the men finally arrived at the rendezvous two hours late. At this point, Lewis had arranged to trade places with a representative for the north camp, and to return to the south camp via Sonny's boat. Unfortunately, it seemed as though luck had turned against him. As they prepared to shove off, they discovered that the plan had a bad battery, and the engine failed to start.

When Lewis and Sonny's party failed to arrive for dinner at the south camp, members of the staff became worried and sent two guides into the jungle in search of the men. They found them still stranded at the rendezvous point, and while making arrangements to ferry them to the camp, soon encountered another problem. There were now seven adults and only two small boats in which to make the 35 mile trip back to the camp.

Normally, this wouldn't have been cause for alarm. But, due to the length of time that was taken to make repairs to the plane, and in waiting for the search party, night had fallen, shrouding them in darkness. The night in the jungle was pitch black. The skies were clouded, allowing neither moon nor stars to shine through, and the rumble of thunder warned them of storms approaching from the distance. Thankfully, two of the guides felt enough confidence in their abilities and knowledge of the river to risk navigating it in near total darkness.

Shortly before midnight the two boats arrived at the sough camp with all aboard exhausted but safe, and were welcomed by their relieved friends. Sonny Insco, who had suffered a mild, but potentially dangerous case of heat exhaustion on Monday, and had been at rest all day Tuesday, had been a growing cause of concern for the six awaiting his arrival at camp. But the old saying "You can't keep a good man down," certainly applied to Sonny, and he arrived feeling well and ready to fish. The remainder of the trip had the fishermen and their guides scouring the river, looking for the best spots in which to catch the biggest Peacock Bass.

Occasionally, the guides would steer the boats to a clearing on the shore and motion for the men to follow them into the jungle for a exploratory stroll,. While the guides spoke very little English, the intrepid fishermen were able to piece together, via hand signals, body language, and personal encounters, that the river and its surrounding lagoons, were populated not only with Peacock Bass, but also with both Piranha and alligators. After some initial apprehension, the fishing continued with all the men wading into the teeming water, in spite of the potential dangers, in search of the elusive "Mucho Grande" Peacock Bass. Friday morning, the day of their departure, arrived much too quickly and preparations for the long journey home were begun.

All belongings were loaded into a single large boat, and the eight men fished quietly for the last time as they drifted downriver toward their rendezvous point where several small planes would be waiting. At the small airstrip, the camp manager decided to put all eight members of the party and their luggage on only two planes as a cost-saving measure. This provided the party with one more moment of excitement as the little planes struggled to become airborne with their heavy cargo, finally taking to the air only a few feet from the river.
The remainder of the trip home was uneventful, with none of the further eleven flights having so much as a delay.

Those interested in planning the fishing trip of a lifetime should contact Lewis Cunningham at (205) 970-0152. He represents several camps in South America, Canada, and Mexico.