Breaking In the Belly Boat: Chasing the Giant Mojarras of La Frisolera

Back to La Frisolera: An Old Debt to Settle

Three years had gone by since I bought my Belly Boat (or “pato” — “duck” — as we call it here), and between scheduling and weather, I never managed to line up a trip to break it in. The perfect chance came when Felipe from Anglers Colombia reached out. He told me about some private lakes in La Frisolera, waters that see very little fishing pressure, home to mojarra, morrudo, tilapia, and a few hybrid peacock bass.

I already knew the place — I had fished it from shore a while back, but that time I went home empty-handed, with a shed snakeskin as my only souvenir. This time, the story was going to be very different.

The Anglers Colombia Experience

After one weather-related postponement, on August 15th my friend Andrés and I finally headed out to the lakes. Felipe’s logistics were flawless. It’s a plan priced at $1,000,000 COP for two people, letting you focus on nothing but fishing. The service includes:

• Round-trip transportation from Medellín.
• Full meals (breakfast, lunch, and snacks).
• Fishing gear and lures recommended for the area.
• Travel insurance and use of the Belly Boats.
• Felipe’s guidance throughout the entire day.

On the Water in the “Duck”: First Catches

Once we got the hang of moving around with the fins on the “duck,” we started casting.

The action didn’t take long: a few small mojarras came up first, and shortly after, a beautiful 35.5 cm one that put up a spectacular fight. Sitting right at water level in the Belly Boat amplifies every movement and every pull, making the connection with the fish feel total.

The Climax: The Monsters That Broke the Line

After lunch, I decided to go after the bigger ones and tied on a lure that’s given me great results in the past at Jaguas. What followed were strikes from the two most massive mojarras I’ve ever seen in my life.

Even with my drag set to give them the right amount of resistance, running 15 lb line and a 20 lb leader, there was no stopping them. The first run was so violent that the fish made it into a brush pile and worked itself free. The second was even more aggressive: on one of its sharp jerks, it snapped the line clean. It left a hollow feeling in my stomach — that mix of adrenaline and frustration that comes with knowing you just lost what was almost certainly a new personal best.

The afternoon went on — I managed to land a Nile tilapia and another good-sized mojarra that put up a solid fight, but my mind was already fixed on those monsters. We closed out the day exhausted but happy, with one certainty: we have to go back for the giants that got the better of us.

My friend Andrés, for his part, looked completely at home on the water and thoroughly enjoyed this style of fishing from the “duck.” His effort paid off too: as the day wound down he landed a tilapia and a small mojarra, closing out his day on a high note.