Boo

We were on our way back from a midi-bus tour of the seven-color mountains and the salt flats north of Salta. The salt flats were pretty cool and like similar deposits in California - Owens lake, and the deserts around Barstow and Trona - are exploited for the recovery of borates, carbonates, and here, for table salt. Many of the indigenous people living in the area make a living selling crafts, guiding tours, and running restaurants. 

The best news, though, was that my bags, including my fishing gear, made it to Salta after six flights. Checking my gear drives me nuts but it’s here and the trip to the lodge is bus ride. 

Argentina treated us pretty well. We bagged most must-see sights and the weather held up north and south. We got to see the falls on the Iguazu in full fury. The river was running so high they closed the National Park the day after our visit. I’m hoping the Rio Dorado is in better shape. 

Once again I was privileged to sample the local healthcare. It was cheap - saw a doc for $20 equivalent - and fast enough. Surprisingly no one spoke any English. One nurse had some. Not the doc, not the cashier, not the triage clerks. But the care was good, I got a scrip and am, again, in fine fettle. Language instruction is mandatory in most regions here but it hasn’t stuck. I guess the kids don’t get to use their English much. They don’t really need a lingua Franca as much as Europe. 

Jackie flew home and Friday afternoon I met the rest of the dorado crew and  drove three hours to the lodge in two pickups. The first thing scheduled there in the morning is rigging up.  They use twisted leaders with a wire bite guard, similar to Paul’s snakehead rigging - his method for making them is pretty cool. I use long ones a lot for carp and seven footers for corbina. I made my first in Malaysia this past January. Paul had set me adrift in the Ronan to explore the lake and fish on my own and I immediately tangled in the prop of the trolling motor. I had to twirl my first out on the water. I’ll find out how they do it here on Hallow’s eve. 

Update:

They twist them differently - their leaders are a little simpler - just two strand but and single strand belly direct to the bite wire. Mine have a four strand section as well. I used my own. 

Update - 

 I went out with my roomie Jarkko and  guide Fernando today and really shit the bed. Bit off more than I chould chew. The whole crew drove 40 min down a spectacularly rutted two-track to the banks of the river and split into three twosomes +1. I’m not sure where the others went but we picked our way downstream for two miles and fished up. I wasn’t up to it. Not sure whether it’s the bug that has been plagueing me, my age, or the superior fitness of my mates but by the time we got to the bottom I was puffing. The drill on this river is to fish the water fast, spending at the most 5-10 minutes at each run holding fish. I got some shots at a small golden but believe I just caused it aggravation. Jarkko got some follows and a big swing and a miss. But I was thrashed as soon as we began to fish and ultimately gave up fishing and just soaked up the surrounding sights whenever I could catch up. It was a pleasure watching Jarkko fish. He threw some Sexyloops for sure. But for sure I slowed him down - sad. He was quite the prince about it. It echoed a trek in the Sierras I made 35 years ago. Nursing a cold and climbing a 3000’ switchback to a saddle on a hot day, my legs locked up - could barely make headway. I slept it off for 36 hours and continued on in good spirits. I’m hoping for a similar outcome here. 

Updated update - 

It turned out that our group had drawn the short straw. There were three sections fished. No dorado were showing on ours and we had to cover the water as if fishing streamers for trout walking upstream. There were scads of fish showing elsewhere and four fish were brought to hand. Check out the FP pic. 

Over and out, fingers crossed, 

David Siskind