Golden Dorado are a dream for any fly fisherman who has ever watched a video of the amazing fish attacking big flies and making wild jumps across crystal clear rivers in Argentina and Bolivia. They exist elsewhere with populations in Peru, Ecuador and Uruguay but Argentina and Bolivia are hot spots on the map.
The trouble with chasing golden dorado for most anglers not already living in these countries is the destination based nature of the trips. I considered eating the visa tax and making a run into Bolivia but research quickly revealed the exclusive nature of golden dorado waters in the country. The best fishing is tribal controlled and lodge partnerships makes the whole thing tricky to navigate and very expensive. Granted, they are conserving the resources and funding the tribes so it’s really a good thing, just not for a poor boy like myself.
That left me researching Argentina, a country where road systems offer access to a few areas. The guides and lodges in the area are operating on a mix of publicly accessible water and private areas that are difficult to reach. The Juaramento and Rio Dorado are the primary reaches in the area I explored but after reaching the region, I realized there are a few others around and some backcountry reaches that require horses and local knowledge.
I started on the Juaramento River, trying the upper section without knowing if it holds fish. The main stretch on this river is below a dam but the upper water looked good and I gave it a try without success. The flow was high and I wade fished a few spots before moving on to a backroad that crossed a series of smaller streams and tributaries.
I fished a few of these and they all held the local whitefish called Buga. These fish were spooky and very difficult to catch. I was carrying streamer gear and they were clearly eating the very small biting gnats and midge larvae. I hiked one fair sized stream for a full day and never crossed a dorado. The road ended at the river and it ran through a roadless lowland jungle zone. There were a few gauchos living on their horses and they said the dorado are far up in the mountains this time of year and I’d need at least 2 days on foot to reach the big ones. Without a trail however, this was not happening.
I moved on to the Juaramento below the dam and found the area completely trashed with garbage and plastic bottles. The river itself was beautiful but the shores were a disaster. I still fished alongside the guys throwing spinners in the deep fast water that rushes below the concrete. I spotted a few fish but am still unsure if they were Golden Dorado.
After working hard without moving a fish, I swapped to a 6-weight and zebra midge to target the Buga feeding everywhere. They are largely ignored by anglers and are very abundant and visible. I caught a few of the bigger ones and they fought like crazy, pressing the limits of my rod and tippet.
After sightfishing to a group of these selective feeders, I setup for a float trip, leaving the raft at the launch and attempting to hitch back up the road from the takeout. A good 12k of walking and no rides later and I launched, quickly realizing I’d forgotten long pants. The biting gnats went to work on my exposed legs, leaving so many bites that my ankles swelled beyond the width of my sandals.
I managed to row few beautiful lines, casting big streamers against structure on slow banks. Fishing solo from a moving raft isn’t easy but I managed to pry through really nice water. After a few hours of enduring the bugs, I pushed through a bit and fished the final stretch before landing at the car. Not a single dorado moved. Later, I drove a long dirt road down the river and found it landlocked by private without access.
After failing on the Juaramento River, I moved up to the Rio Dorado and again found access difficult. One ranch let me camp and fish the river and I used the access to walk and fish a long stretch of river. It was mostly shallow, too shallow to hold any fish. On every bend with adequate depth however, I moved and hooked a fish. A few jumped and shook the hook loose and I brought a few to hand. None big but they were exciting, fast and plenty for a 6-weight.
The second day on this property went much the same and I celebrated my birthday with a few nice fish. The locals also hit this spot hard with bait and I’m surprised it gave up a few fish. I tried reaching more water on this river and was turned around by gauchos at every trespass. So it goes.
Off the Grid
I had a date with Patagonia approaching and that meant a trip to the Parana River was out of the question. Guide boats were also out of the budget so I moved south, crossing paths with one more not so known river system. It began in a fairly popular tourist town where the fishing didn’t amount to anything. The river then turned into a very rural region, clearly feeding the dry landscape, tiny villages and the livestock that supports them.
I followed a dirt road that eventually turned into a cattle trail, scratching my car against the thorns and spines found on every piece of scrub brush. The next attempt led to a diversion dam where small buga were stacked so thick I could’ve walked across the channel on their backs. They sprang constantly up the diversion waterfall, falling back into the pool below. A few dorado made the same leap and I quickly strung up the rod here.
The first cast was met with a viscous strike and a nice fish, bigger than I’d found on the more popular rivers. And the next with another. It went on like this for a few hours. Every couple of casts, I’d have a fish. On a few, there were 2 or 3 swarming the fly. No monsters, but I could catch these all day long and easily would classify this as one of my best days ever on the water.
I had this stretch of river to myself and met only one other person who was filling a water truck. He showed me photos of bigger fish much farther down the river system, leaving me with a desire to return and explore more here. After 3 days of fishing a single bank and catching hundreds of cookie cutter golden dorado, my flies were shredded and the heat was wearing on Shale dog and myself. Reluctantly, I loaded the car and hit the road for Patagonia.
