David Siskind | Sunday, 8 November 2026
Election Day in the US and probably the beginning of a protracted struggle to limit some of Donald Trump's so far unchecked power - if the results align with public opinion polls. These thugs have crossed so many lines of propriety and law, emiserating their constituents and spreading violence world-wide. Trump and the whole enabling bunch will fight tooth and nail to avoid the accountability that will surely come if they lose their grip. Step one is today. I’ve got my fingers crossed. Then someday knock down the ballroom, beautify the golf course - installing running trails and opening up free to the public, block the arch, defund ICE and prosecute their villains, release the detained, prosecute the operators of the detention facilities - the list can go on and on. But I’m fishing, or trying to, this week.
This dorado trip is an arduous adventure for an old fart but the guides and the other five fishers have been supportive. Those guys can really fish, seeing fish well and covering water efficiently when they can’t. They march on over sandy trails and cobbled rivers in double step and go on forever. I think I could almost get there - I’m suffering from some sort of bug - but to exploit the experience as well as my juniors will take working on fitness for a year. If I take it on I might live forever.
I caught my first golden after a couple of skunk days. I was fishing a foam cicada in some pocket water and got a splashy eat. It was overcast at the time and while the fish looked light green in the water, it shone bright gold against the dark water as it jumped a half dozen times. It wasn’t a big one, but fuck it, you’ve gotta start somewhere. Its stomach was obviously swollen with food from the night before. So these fish are not particularly hungry.
We started at 8 and I was off the water at 11:30. It was hot this morning but I was feeling the warm wind as chilly and feeling well away from correct. We are all bundled up in sunshirts over a tee layer tucked into tights to keep the ticks out. We’re also slathered with deet-juice to repel the no-see-ems. This year was my year for bug bites.
I’ve got two more days to catch a Big One but regardless this has been a great experience and a reality check. The proximal cause of death is birth - according to the Buddhists - but there are infinite pathways. I choose adventur. There are three beats of the Rio Dorado that we’re fishing. The Seco, a more accessible river, has been fishing poorly so each twosome will spend two days on each beat. The guides have found appropriate locations in the jungle to leave me behind when I crap out so I am getting in my licks and not slowing partner Jarkko down too much. That’s good.
Oh yeah - my Patagonia River-Salt boots are working well for me. I’ve added some neoprene gators to my merino socks and am comfy enough.
Morning Five Update
“And then America went to the polls. The Democratic trouncing of the Republicans and the propulsion of the revulsion against the Trump administration are remarkable — beyond anyone’s imagination.” - M. Dowd NYT
The whole world is following this. It feels great. The blue wave has swept aside perceptions that Americans want the crazy. Everyone I know feels giddy. To my mind Democratic leadership doesn't quite get the moment. Temperamentally they are always ready to yield, and are already showing signs of moving forward with regular order without holding the criminally cruel and corrupt accountable. They’ll write sternly worded letters while stephen Miller and Russel Vought do whatever the fuck they want, urging Trump to use violent means to govern by fiat, calling out troops if people object. The Trumpers are out on a limb and can’t retreat. Their foul intentions have to be met with determination.
Today is the last fishing day here. I took a day off yesterday, basking for a day in the afterglow of the election. I chilled, enjoyed a delicious lunch with Ivan, the lodge proprietor here. The rest of the guys went out and had a good day on the river. I’m hoping for another.
We shuffled the deck a bit so Peter and I will be going out on the middle beat with Fernando while Jarkko and Nicholas will take the upper with Oscar, planning to quickly push upstream past any trails. Too much for me. Peter’s already done it. He’ll spend a less ambitious day with me. The two docs, Jon and Seth will fish the bottom.
Epilog
I never caught my Big One. Que se le va a hacer, tant pis, too bad. But all in all the trip has been wonderful. To survive the arduous trekking in the heat, bad footing, while eaten by voracious insects was satisfying for this hombre viejo. It inspires me to train better and try again. The fish are wonderful and the casting challenging enough. It’s difficult fishing. Next time I’ll bring a stripping basket - the stream-side flora and rocks were a nuisance. The Swedes used them to good effect.
Nicholas and Jarkko killed while bushwhacking at the upper end but had to walk nearly three hours to get back to the ATV. They were ebullient, finding fish that had never been pressured. I don’t think I’ll ever get up there, but I’ll never say never.
At the last supper we - fisherman, guides, chef, and host - were all over-served vin rouge and partied until midnight, listening to loud, mostly anthem rock which the Europeans love. Great pop-up party, fine fellows, all. Remarkable good cheer - many fist bumps and bro-hugs all around. I’m flying home now so I’ll post some deets on the lodge and how to sign up next week.
Happy days,
David Siskind