(Jess McGlothlin photo)
April 08, 2025
By Jess McGlothlin
Affiliate Disclosure: This page contains affiliate links. We earn from qualifying purchases.
This article was originally titled “Dorado Cruisin'” in the 2024 edition of Fly Fisherman’s Destinations SIP. Click here to purchase .
For many anglers, golden dorados are bucket list fish. These amber-tinted predators with toothy jaws are creatures we marvel at on Instagram, add to our “someday, maybe” lists, and later come back to circle for emphasis. There’s something magnetic about the brutish dorado that just captures the attention of anglers. “Yes,” we think. “That. I want to catch that on a fly rod just to see what it’s like.”
It’s a good thing, then, that dorados are just as much fun on a fly rod as our imagination envisions. These fish are predatory machines, attacking well-placed flies with enough aggression to make even the most seasoned angler grin like a little kid. Once hooked, they fight well, jumping acrobatically and offering just enough play to make it an entertaining process, without the backbreaking fight of bringing in a 100-pound-plus tarpon or a pelagic gamefish. In short, they’re fun. Very fun. And, like most fishing, it’s an experience made that much better when you’re in the right place, with the right company. Which is why I’m heading to the Golden Dorado River Cruiser program.
Advertisement
Meet The Paraná Gipsy (Jess McGlothlin photo) I land at Ezeiza International Airport in Buenos Aires just after ten in the morning, zip through immigration and customs, and meet the van that’s been sent to take me to the water. As after most long international flights I’m a little blurry and wishing for a cup of strong coffee, and a quick gas station stop takes care of the latter. Soon we’re leaving the city behind, heading north on Argentina’s National Route 9. Apartment blocks and warehouses give way to vast fields and open sky, the countryside sharply reminiscent of the African savanna I’d transited earlier in the year. Eventually we come off the highway at the small town of Fighiera, and I get my first look at the Paraná River.
After the mighty Amazon, the Paraná is the second-longest river in South America. Rising in southeastern Brazil, it flows south, eventually joining the Uruguay River to form the massive Río de la Plata Estuary. In all, the Paraná’s drainage covers a massive area of about 1,081,000 square miles throughout parts of Brazil, Paraguay, Bolivia, and Argentina. Here, at the river access ramp in Fighiera, it presents as a broad swath of murky water cutting through the vast plains and ranchlands surrounding us.
(Jess McGlothlin photo) Waiting at the ramp is the boat that will take me to the Paraná Gipsy, the floating mothership of the Golden Dorado River Cruiser program. Capitan Rubén is here to pick me up, along with Martín, who will be my fishing guide for the next few days. They carry my bags from the van to the boat, I wave adios to the driver, and then we’re off, cutting across the waters of the Paraná and heading to home base.
Advertisement
The hour-or-so boat ride passes quickly and soon we’re tying up to the Paraná Gipsy. Carefully designed to support a fly-fishing operation, the ship is moored near a small copse of trees, a comfortable oasis in the midst of the delta. The luggage is quickly stowed in my cabin—a roomy affair with two twin beds and an en-suite bathroom with an actual hot-water shower. Then I head to the top deck where I meet up with our host Bones and Chef Alan, who make sure I grab a quick meal (a fresh salad, glorious after a few days of airport food) before rigging rods and heading out for fishing.
After downing lunch I head back to my cabin and unpack my bags just enough to change into fishing clothes and dig out the fishing gear. Then it’s time to rendezvous with Martín and go hunt for golden dorados. As we pull away from the Paraná Gipsy, I realize it’s been less than six hours since I stepped off my international flight. The wild ambience of the Paraná River is a remarkable change of scenery from standing in the customs line in the airport.
On The Hunt (Jess McGlothlin photo) The Golden Dorado River Cruiser program’s guide team is stellar. We exchange small talk—that friendly shared language of anglers around the world—and find out we have several friends in common. (What’s the saying? It’s a small world after all.) The days I’m on board, guides Martín, Malcolm, Toby, and Chiquito are there, keeping the anglers busy and the tone light. The weather is unseasonably hot with little wind, making for long hours on the water, but we pay little mind to it. After all, there are fish in those murky waters . . . golden dorados .
Outfitted in comfortable, roomy North Carolina boats with Yamaha motors, we zoom and weave through the vast marshland of the Paraná. Conditions change quickly here. Water levels can drop or climb rapidly, but for the moment we have seemingly endless channels to play in—marsh and river as far as the eye can see. Birds flutter among the tall grasses, and every so often small outposts comprised of homes or farm buildings appear alongside the main channel.
The dorados here cling close to the dirt banks, and we find the best success when we cast mere inches from the bank, stripping aggressively as soon as the fly hits the water—or even slightly before, to create instant movement. It’s ideal target practice, throwing poppers or big flies on sinking lines and aiming for that fine line where dirt meets water—the mind has a constant goal to work toward, and I find myself falling into the rhythm of it so much that the day’s heat, and the exhaustion of several travel days, just melt away.
I’m here to take images, and fishing’s better done in good company, so I hand Martín a rod and we both fish, one of us on the bow and the other at the stern. It’s a comfortable routine, much more fun for both of us, and much more productive as well. We end up with countless doubles—the fish seem more than happy to oblige a well-placed fly and not at all spooky about the wire leaders.
Neither of us is a fish counter, and we soon lose track of how many fish come to hand. Dozens. Most of them are what we’d call “cookie cutter” size back in the States—big enough to put a good bend in the 8-weight but not trophy fish. That’s all right. This isn’t that sort of fishery, though big fish have certainly been caught here. There’s something so inherently fun in catching fish after fish after fish, in having a good cast rewarded so consistently, that I find myself grinning under the Argentine sun. ¿Qué tan bueno es esto?
Dorado Tactics (Jess McGlothlin photos) Dorados like to school around their hooked brethren. It’s not uncommon to see a whirl of gold underneath the fish you’re reeling in. Other dorados will often chase a hooked fish, excited and sensing the metaphorical blood in the water. It makes for a lot of fun to have a second angler cast into that school of following fish, to see if one will take a fly while he’s chasing his friend. They’re hardy fish, these dorados, and if we want to capture a photograph it’s a quick lift, smile, and then back into the water. They all swim away hearty, healthy, and righteously pissed off.
Martín and I fish a mixture of big streamers and poppers, depending on what we’re feeling like in the moment. The big brush flies I’ve used for dorados in Bolivia work here as well, sometimes lighter colors and sometimes darker, depending on the water clarity in a particular spot. When there are obliging fish around, however, it’s hard to decline throwing a popper, and we find good success with both red and green poppers, with dorados erupting aggressively out of the murky water to smash our offerings.
We use 8- and 9-weight rods for this fishing, and while I use the 8-weight for most of the trip, it’s nice to have the option of a nine if the wind really kicks up. It’s smart to come prepared with a variety of lines. Floating lines suit poppers well, but for throwing big streamers on big water it’s good to have both an intermediate line and a heavy sinking line. Wire bite tippet is a must. Dorados are renowned for their teeth, and regular fluoro or nylon monofilament would not perform well in this fishery. Come prepared with plenty of wire (I use 40-pound-test Scientific Anglers Absolute Predator 7x7 knottable wire), stripping guards, and sun gloves.
One morning Martín heads to a spot with shallow water along one bank. The muddy bottom is firm enough that it’s easy to tread barefoot through the shallows. We wade, casting into the main body of the river, and spend a good hour catching dorado after dorado on poppers. Some eat nearly at our feet, aggressively slamming the poppers so close that they splash us as they turn to give a run. It’s a blissful break from the heat of the late morning, and I’m sorry to leave the spot when it’s time to head back to the mothership for lunch.
The Rhythm of Life on a Boat (Jess McGlothlin photo) The daily routine aboard the Paraná Gipsy is gloriously simple. Mornings are casual, with fresh coffee and a hot breakfast served before we head out for the day of fishing. The guests typically fish from 9 A.M. until 1 P.M., and then head back to the ship for a hot lunch (again masterfully crafted by Chef Alan) and a siesta in the air-conditioned cabins until 4 P.M. For those who don’t want to sleep, the Wi-Fi is just as fast as mine back home in Montana, which seems miraculous considering the remote location. Naps or work complete, it’s time to meet up with the guides again and head back out onto the river, where we then fish until 7 P.M. or so.
The evenings are relaxed. We often arrive back at the boat just as the sun is setting. There’s time for a quick shower before heading upstairs to the salon and dining room for drinks, appetizers, and the traditional telling of the day’s tales.
One would think that, on a mothership—in what feels like the middle of nowhere—we’d be dining simply, as is often the case on ship-based destination programs. But Chef Alan manages to whip up a five-star array of meals in the little galley. The first night we’re treated to a dinner of fork-tender pork followed up with a trio of orange-themed desserts, accompanied throughout by fine Argentine wines. With stellar service in all details, big and small, the team makes it easy to forget that one is, in fact, on a boat.
Sometimes there’s more storytelling, sometimes there’s fly tying, and sometimes it’s time for bed. After all, there’s more fishing tomorrow, and more dorados waiting in the depths of the Paraná.
The Golden Dorado River Cruiser program is a travel-worthy experience on its own, a productive, fun destination for anglers who want to get their first taste of fishing for golden dorados. Thanks to the program’s easy access to and from Buenos Aires, a few days aboard the Paraná Gipsy are also a wonderful way to begin or end a longer itinerary in Argentina. For anglers heading farther south to fish for trout, a few days spent chasing dorados can help shake off the airport and travel doldrums, and might serve as the perfect welcome to Argentina.
Recommended Gear While most days on the Paraná are sunny and warm, it can certainly rain, so bring along a good rain jacket. You definitely need long pants, sun shirts, a face-and-neck gaiter, and a good hat to help protect from the sun’s rays. Don’t forget stripping guards and sun gloves to help protect your hands against long days stripping poppers or streamers.
Book Your Destination Multiple U.S. cities offer flights directly into Ezeiza International Airport (EZE) in Buenos Aires. International flights typically land in the morning, giving you plenty of time to meet the Golden Dorado River Cruiser shuttle van driver and make the trip to the Paraná Gipsy. Silvia with the River Cruiser team will help arrange your transfers. If you travel on to other destinations in Argentina, you will most likely be flying out of Jorge Newbery Airport (AEP), which handles domestic flights.
hemispheresunlimited.com
Jess McGlothlin (jessmcglothlinmedia.com ) is a freelance photographer and writer who has been on assignment in 27 countries and six continents. She lives in Missoula, Montana.
