The Everest of Freshwater: My Journey Chasing the Goliath Tigerfish

Jul 17

The background of the fish and how I got here

If you’ve found yourself here reading this, than chances are likely that you’ve watched an episode or two of river monsters at some point in your life — I’m no different myself. However, while I have the upmost respect for Jeremy Wade, that’s not what led me here. What kickstarted this entire journey was actually a chance encounter with an Instagram post made by David Graham of Boundless Pursuit. He put a picture on his story of a picture of a goliath tigerfish with a few words . Something to the effect of announcing the early stages trip planning, and an invitation to join should anyone be serious about going. Did I reach out? Of Course! Did I ever think I’d actually go? Never. It’s not that I was trying to waste his time or anything, no far from it actually. It was just something entirely out of my wheelhouse. I had never been on a trip like this. Africa? For Fishing? I had never even left the continent! I initially only reached out just out of curiosity. I wanted to know the details, and once I did I think I was even more hesitant. On top of the hefty lumpsum needed for the trip itself, there was still the cost of flights, a passport, visa, and vaccinations . All of that to afford 10 days fishing in the Congo, where you’d be lucky to even catch just a single fish? I was out. My mind was made, and I had put the idea to rest for what I thought was forever… or at least I thought.

Over the following days, weeks, and eventual months, I found myself progressively thinking about this fish more and more until it eventually turned into a full on obsession. I was completely entranced by the allure of what seemed impossible. I couldn’t get the goliath out of my head even if I wanted to (at one point I even had actual dreams about this trip, it was bad). At this point is when I started to reconsider the reality of going. Over the next few weeks I did some more research of my own and started looking to people who have trekked this path before me. Anything I could find I tried to absorb — articles, photos, videos, rumors… anything! There wasn’t much, and a lot of what I could find didn’t really paint the prettiest pretty picture. The fishing would be tough and so would the living conditions. Sleeping in tents, fighting off bugs, bathing in the river, etc… All of that I had already expected, that’s not what worried me. What did worry me was this recurring theme of corruption I kept hearing about the country. Stories of getting detained at customs and heckled for money, being help up for not having permits that didn’t exist, being wrongfully arrested being in hopes you pay up for an early release. Was any of this true? Or was it just an exaggeration of reality to exasperate one’s accomplishments? I had no idea, but at this point I was too far deep. I had my concerns, but I knew that if I didn’t go I’d always be left with regret. Growing old and thinking what could of been scared me more than any of the horror stories I had heard. So, I messaged David. I could tell at the time he was still a little doubtful about my verbal commitment, but I don’t blame him. Even after I had bought my flights and put my deposit down I still had my own concerns that some other external factor would prevent me from going. Contextually I knew I was going, but it was still so hard to imagine.

The Journey begins - June 7th-8th

Fast forward to June 7th. It’s early morning on a Saturday, and I’m doing a bit of last minute prep. Running through my pack list double and triple checking my luggage in an attempt to ensure nothing I needed would be left behind. My grandparents would be taking me to the airport, and I had gotten the text that they had arrived. This is kind of a full circle moment for me, my grandpa was the one who got me into fishing and now he’d be dropping me off for my craziest journey yet.

The trip itinerary consisted of three different flights - Austin to Atlanta, Atlanta to Paris, and Paris to Brazzaville... About 19-20 hours of just flight time. It was a lot, but thankfully it was broken up into a few sizeable chunks with some layovers scattered in between. Other than myself there were three others going on this trip: David Graham, Larry Walker, and Michael Verdirame. All very well traveled and extremely accomplished anglers in their own right (I knew I was in good hands, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel underqualified). Everyone in our group had the same flight going into Brazzaville, so the plan was to meet up together once we all arrived in Paris. Up until this point Larry was the only person I had met that was going, and it was only for a brief moment the year before. David and I had talked a lot online, but never actually met. And as for Michael, well, I still didn’t know much about him other than a few pictures I had seen on Facebook. After about 11 hours of flying I land in Paris, take a long series of trams to arrive at my wing, and make an even longer walk towards my gate. This airport was massive, it felt like a small city with it’s own enclosed ecosystem. As I approach I see David waving me down. Shortly after Larry returns from the bathroom to join us, and then about an hour later Michael Arrives. We get to chatting, game planning, and day dreaming about the possibilities of what could happen. I always knew we had a solid group, but now I got to experience it firsthand. We were so close, and the real journey was just about to begin…

After about another eight and a half hour flight we begin our descent into the Republic of the Congo. I had an aisle seat, but that didn’t stop me from trying to catch a glimpse outside the window. I lean over to my right - we were very close to landing at this point and the lights of the city begin to appear. The sky was dense with fog and there were countless fires scattered throughout the hills in the countryside. The plane lands, we de-board, and begin making our way through the airport. As soon as we get off the plane we’re immediately hit with a wave of hot and humid air. I didn’t expect much air conditioning this trip, but of all the places I thought they would have it the airport would be one of them - nope! We had a VIP airport personnel waiting there for us to ease the process of going through customs. His name was Christopher and made the experience so much easier than I had anticipated. He was nice, professional, and spoke just enough English to get the job done - what more could you ask for! As soon as we make it out of baggage claim and walk towards the exit we see Hilly, our operator, standing there with a huge smile waving us down. For me this moment was a big sigh or relief, I knew we were now in good hands. We introduce ourselves to each other and make our way outside where there was a couple of taxis waiting for us. Throughout or time in Brazzaville we’d be staying with Hilly in one of her houses, so we begin making our way to her place to settle in for the night. We walk through the doors and immediately see a couple of men with AK’s standing outside guarding the place. We load up the vehicles and begin driving to Hilly’s… this is where where I get my first taste of the city. Bumpy roads, incessant honking, and a thriving night life. Here the car lanes are just a suggestion - there wasn’t much free space on the road, but anywhere your vehicle could fit was open game. 20 minutes and a bit of car sickness later we arrive at Hilly’s place. We unload our luggage and the five of us begin chatting a bit, but it was late and we were tired. We make a rough game plan of what tomorrow looks like and get ready for bed.

First day in the Congo - June 9th

The plan for today was simple but eventful: get some breakfast, acquire local currency, and head upriver to our camp. We started our morning at a surprisingly nice and sophisticated restaurant located right on the river called “Mami Wata” (which roughly translates to mermaid in English). Hilly put a good word in and they opened up early just for us. We had the entire place to ourselves, I truly felt like a VIP throughout this entire trip.

Our server seats us at a table that’s as close to the water as we can get (almost a little too close actually, I had to make sure and empty might pockets so nothing fell out into the river). We had the best croissants I’ve ever tried and were freshly squeezed bissap juice which I had never even heard of before. Apparently it’s made from roselle, a type of hibiscus that is local to Western Africa. It was sweet, refreshing, and a little tart - overall I thoroughly enjoyed it, it reminded me a little bit of cranberry juice. As we enjoy our breakfast and gaze upon the vastness of the river Hilly is giving us a thorough crash course on the history of the country. How she ended up here, why she chose to stay, and life on the other side of the river. It was all really fascinating stuff, and helped to shine a light to a lot of the stuff we heard coming into the trip. Breakfast wraps up and we call our taxis to come get us so we could exchange some of the USD we had for the local currency. Hilly tells us we’re going to stop under the mango trees on the way home. I kind of thought she was making some light hearted joke, but no - there’s a street downtown that has multiple mango trees where people go to exchange money. No tellers needed, just good ol’ fashioned bargaining. Thankfully she had a friend there who she’s known for awhile and was able to negotiate a better rate than I would’ve gotten in a million years. We exchanged our money under the mango trees and headed back towards Hilly’s. It was time to load up our stuff so we could head down to the port. There’s a very strict no picture policy at the port, so I wasn’t able to document this part of the journey. But it was kind of exactly what you’d expect. Lots of boats and not very many people.

*Playing a delicate game of tetris getting everything in the truck for our drive to the port*

We fueled up the vessel, loaded it with all of our gear, and started started driving. There was no turning back now. As our 70+ mile journey up river began the realization set in that everything I had been prepping for over the last 6 months was coming into fruition. Despite all the research I did nothing could have prepared for the beauty of this place. It was mesmerizing, and over the next 10 days I’d be fully immersed.

A little over two hours and a sight filled boat ride later we arrive at our camp, a gorgeous lodge hidden in the bush with a sandy beach acting as its patio. The boats slide onto the sand and we are greeted by the crew who’d be taking care of us throughout this trip. Not many words were exchanged (as we didn’t speak French), but their smiles were big enough that we had felt more than welcomed. We climb out of the boats and begin walking up a set of stairs that led up to the lodge. Waiting there was Hilly’s husband Marc, and older gentleman who’s been fishing for goliaths for as long as he can remember. Marc spoke decent English, so we introduced ourselves, have a few brief words and continued making our way up the short flight of stairs where we finally arrive at the lodge. Hilly showed us around the place and took us to where we’d be sleeping during our stay. In of itself, the lodge was way beyond anything I would have ever expected (to be honest, I had thought we were going to be staying in tents the entire time). Each of us had our own private cabins equipped with a bed, a bathroom, and working electricity to charge our devices at night. It wasn’t luxury by western standards, but it was cozy. It had everything we needed and nothing we didn’t. We set down our bags and make our way towards the massive dining table located under the pavilion. Waiting for us was an absolute feast - grilled steaks, roasted potatoes, fresh baked French bread, and a variety of drinks from juices to local beer.

Constant (pronounced “kohn-stahn”) was the private chef for the French embassy before he retired.

By the time we got settled in it was too late to do any fishing, but Marc could see how eager we were to get out there, so as a comprise he took us to a break in the river that is spring fed. It’s a short boat ride away, b

It felt so surreal, almost like something out of a movie. The entire time I was prepping for this trip there were so many negative things I had heard that I had no idea what to expect, but ever since I arrived it had been nothing but a steady stream of pleasant surprises. The sun starts to set so we get back in the boat and make the short drive back to camp for the night, where we chatted a little bit before we head off to bed for the night.

Fishing begins

It was officially go time. The moment of truth - our first day on the water. I got out of bed, threw some clothes on and walked over to the main dining area under the awning where everyone was hanging out. To my surprise there was a wide assortment of juices and some freshly brewed coffee waiting for us! We hydrate, caffeinate, and chat about how the day is going to go daydreaming about the possibilities ahead. Walking down the the stone stairs onto the sandy beach we were awaited by two aluminum boats powered by Yamaha 60hp motors. David and Larry would be in one boat with Marc, while Mike and I would be in other with 3 people from our camp. We headed up the river while they went down. Our first stop, a local legend named Île des Éléphants, or Elephant Island in English. Now Daniel would be the Goliath expert in our boat showing us different spots around the river that had produced for him in the past, and Elephant Island seemed to be one of his favorite honey holes. It also wasn’t too far from the lodge, so it made sense to that it would be our first stop and we would start our day there. We had some local catfish that we were using as live bait, and while I was fishing with the live bait Mike would be making some casts with a large swimbait, and vice versa. We carried on with this strategy to cover all grounds at multiple different spots throughout the day, but ultimately we ended the day with no bites. It was tough fishing, but that was to be expected. As the sun starts to set we make our way back too the lodge for the night. Just like when we arrived previously we were welcomed by the staff who made sure we didn’t lift a finger and unloaded all our gear for us. We make our way to the awning and begin decompressing. Dinner was almost ready and while we waited Hilly went around chatting with us about our day and asked if we wanted anything to drink while we waited. Everything from water and juice to beer and wine was an option, it was really nice.

Our Second Day on the Water

Having known that the day previously both David and Larry each got a bite I began to question my own tactics a bit. A lot of thoughts start to cross my mind - Was the hook spacing right? Should I change to a different treble size? Is my float in the wrong position? I look around as we get ready to head down to the boats and see everyone is making adjustments to their rigs. I start feeling like I should too or else I would start falling behind, but ultimately I decided to mine as is.

Whenever I'm on a long carp session and struggling to get a bite ill change up my tactics in an attempt to adapt to the situation (like many people do), however, when i do this I always like to leave at least one rig out with what I had on originally. I think of it like a control group, and having one provides me some insight as to whether or not it was truly the rig/bait change that made the difference. By not adjusting my goliath rig I considered myself as the group for the day.

We get out on the water and begin making our way upriver. Like yesterday we make a stop at elephant island and put our rigs out into the slack water and let the current drift us. Also like yesterday, we find ourselves with no bites in this spot.

Day 4

-my fish