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We awoke this morning in Santa Cruz to the sound of 50 mph winds and low clouds ripping across the sky. Despite the traveler trepidation, the lodge and charter airlines called us with news that “today is a perfect day for flying.” We scrambled together, headed to the airport, loaded up a couple of little planes, closed the doors, started engines, and off we went.

It was bumpy, hot, and borderline pukey the first hour. We made it though. It’s rained hard here the last couple of days so the river is dirty and high, but it is clearing and on its way down. The guides say that tomorrow should be perfect…heard that before.

I have no idea where we are at, but this is where we are. We landed in a tiny little airstrip in the jungle, met by a large gathering of local folks. After a quick boat ride up the river, we arrived to the camp around noon, did some settling in, made a few casts, and a little bit of nothing.

So far, so good.