Second day in the Amazon–piranha fishing
We made our way back to the Lodge, seeing the neat sights in reverse. We passed ole bird shooter, but he wasn’t visible this time. Good thing. Robo had been practicing up on his blow gun, and wasn’t in the mood for any rudeness.
When we pulled up to the dock at the Lodge, it was just like being home again. The exact same feeling you’d get at camp the second day. You’ve laid your scent down, recognize enough faces, and have had gobs of fun. Your bed is familiar, and the way to the dining hall is, too. First thing I learned after the way to the bar.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, we met the rest of the group for lunch.
Sebastian was hovering over the giant fish he had just put out for us. You’ve seen him hover. Now look at the fish in all its limãoey glory.
We ate with Yavor, Natacha and Rupi, whose identifying carvings had been moved to our table. Once we adopted them and our table expanded, it all became even more fun. The Indian family sat right across from us against the railing, and we frequently conversed across the aisle with them during meals and moved chairs around for drinks afterwards. The father’s name was Laxman Valecha, but I never got the names of his wife or daughters. Robo learned his and Rupi’s names at some time–by writing them down. (Rupi’s actual name is Rupendra Mukherji. Cool. I wonder how many Rupendra Mukherjis there are in India. Probably more than I would imagine.)
Food was delicious, and afterwards, we retired to the lobby for relaxation. We had a couple of hours before our next outing: piranha fishing, so I lounged on one of the couches while Robo and Pettus played checkers and Jean looked on.
The Kennemers are both competitive, and it’s always fun to enjoy their marital banterings in addition to their sparring on the card table or checkerboard. Look at Jean’s sublime expression as she is able to enjoy the game without any skin involved.
The big Amazon beer and fish were enough to put me down for a while. It was so totally relaxing, listening to their voices drone on in the background while a light breeze wafted through the room. I was actually not hot at the moment. This is a nice picture Jean took. Good, flattering angle. Looks like I’ve got a life preserver on under my shirt. No angle in the world can cure that.
Here’re Robo and Pettus still hard at it. I don’t know what the final score was, but I believe I heard word that Robo was obnoxiously victorious.
I woke up in time to see the owners come in to talk to Jean and the Kennemers about the afternoon plans. We had originally been scheduled for something else, but found that piranha fishing would fill our bill the best. It would be fine to go, the owner said, but he didn’t have anybody that spoke English to take us.
“That’s no problem,” we said. “We’re ready!”
Here’s a shot Pettus took of us with her little Canon. Before the trip down the big steps. Notice the information about the archipelago that is Anavilhanas. Notice Jean’s and my matching Magellans! If there were a Six Flags in the Amazon, we’d fit right in there. The only thing to make it better would be to have “I’m with Stupid.” on Jean’s shirt, and “Stupid” on mine.
Our guide was the boatman from the dawn cruise. He was a thoughtful looking guy, kind of serious, but quick to smile or even laugh when provoked. Which we did. He was great, and it was fun being with him, neither of us being able to communicate much beyond “obrigado” and the like. I asked the guides his name a couple of times, and was told a couple of times, but I couldn’t retain it. I suck. So I’m gonna call him Capitão Piranha.
He took us over near where we had gone that morning, but detoured into a bunch of sloughs with heavy overhanging branches. Robo and I loved that. I kept waiting for some sort of tree mambaconda kind of thing to drop its writhing ass on me, and given the fact that Robo had suddenly lost his neck, I’d say he felt the same way.
Once we had settled down, the Captain baited all our hooks with chicken. Cane poles and chicken. That was it. Sounds strangely southern. After we were all baited up and he had put his hook in, he began to quickly slap the water with the tip of his pole. Obviously indicating an animal in distress. It sounded so cool the way he did it–quick, random, and thrashy. Of course we had to all try to imitate him, which must have sounded like animals in distress from doing water aerobics. It was hilarious, and every time we tried to do it, we would all laugh, and so would the Captain.
Pettus was particularly aggressive at the pole shake, being as she was dying to be the first one to catch a piranha. Robo’s lips of concentration indicate his support for team Kennemer.
What was really happening under the water was something like this:
“Olá! irmão!”
“Olá! yourself.”
“The gringos are above us trying to catch us again.”
“You can smell them all the way to Manaus. I am never fooled.”
“Crazy gringos, they’ll never learn. Hey wait! There’s a small animal in distress right over there. I think I’ll go check it out.”
“Okay, see you later, irmão!”
That’s right. O Capitão was the first to catch a piranha. And the second. And the third. Meanwhile, we continued to thrash the water like the smelly gringos we were, failing miserably, but having a high old time. Pettus and Jean started really putting the English on their casts, and ended up in the trees a couple of times. Before we knew it, Captain Piranha was high in the branches untying the line with efficient aplomb. Robo and I were especially mindful that he didn’t dislodge some kind of tree boa in the process. But there he was, in his Havaianas (or equivalent), like it was something he did every day. Oh. Yeah.
Pettus took this shot of Jean and me with her litttle Canon. Isn’t Jean’s hat great? 10 bucks! Can you believe it?
The Captain patiently piloted us to several great sloughs to help us catch something, but it was not to be. He caught 4 the whole trip, and released them all. It would have been great to catch one, but at least nobody did. The scenery was beautiful in a threatening sort of way. It sort of said “You could never survive out here, pal.”
It was time to let the waters of the Rio Negro settle back down after our severe thrashing. So we started the motor to go back home. Yeah, the motor was less disturbing than our “fake animals in distress.” Totally hilarious and fun.
The ride back was slow and pleasant. And very beautiful. Once we were underway really good, Jean began to strike one of her standard poses inherited from her mother. I had just taken a shot of the Captain, then took one of her in her pensive state. I then gave her the standard line to anybody with their fingers on their face: “Shit on a stick.” This made her laugh, then quickly respond with a digital remark very similar to the grumpy guy on the way to the dolphins. I couldn’t be married to anybody else.
I like this shot of Pettus’ camera screen with Robo bottom left. Great gag.
And HERE’S the picture that Pettus was taking. It’s all too cool. Like looking in a mirror in a mirror.
After docking in shame for being such lousy fisherpeople, we feebly hustled on up the stairs because it was cocktail hour! Who really CARES if you can’t fish?