Final Adventure and Farwell

Hello Fans, Followers, and Supporters,

This is Sir Timothy's closet PR agent and Friend Ronald M. Cunningham.

As you may have heard in global newspapers and news channels, Sir Timothy was found dead in the Sarawak providence in Borneo. His body washed up on shores of the Rajang River system. His lifeless corpse was frozen with rigor mortis still holding his signature Penn International VSX rod/reel Combo. "No other rod," Sir Timothy said, "can compete with the drag of the Penn International VSX rod/reel Combo."

The world lost a hero. Sir Timothy's ambition and reckless fishing techniques led him to the top...and tragically led him to his downfall.

As Sir Timothy would say, "Fish On " ~ Your Friend Sir Timothy Wajvoda

Sir Timothy 

1934-1979 

Sudan Territory

Sudan Territory Travel Summary

I thrive off the superstitions of others. I earn very much and the work is pretty adventurous. 

     My next angling adventure took me straight to Sudan where I was to fish on the highly dangerous Blue Nile River. I journeyed on the Red Sea and arrived at Port Sudan, a largely populated fishing a shipping port. The Sudan is home to roughly 43,939,598 inhabitants. The area of Sudan is over 2.5 million km2 with only 6% being water. This will be an excruciating journey.

My boat and I in Port Sudan

The locals believe that one of the thousands of boats harbored in Port Sudan may have brought the feared creatures to the Blue Nile. They also believe that the presence of human beings was enough to prevent that fearful creature from being released. There were several skeptical locals, believing the fish would eventually put human on their menus. My task consisted of finding this terrorizing fish on the irregular surface of the Blue Nile during the daily allowed six hours of fishing. An arduous task: the government watching me as I fish; the boat was uncomfortable, painful even; the route was boring; the locals, dangerous communities of savages; every once in a while other boats would bump into our vessel and I would sustain slight injuries. Finally, tired of it, the crew quit on me, I would have to travel alone now. The locals hastened to replace my crew with another man who, with his mere presence, would prevent the fish from taking my life. 

The unforgiving Blue Nile River

     Immediately, I learned that an indigenous lady in Wad Madani had a lost a pair of feet and that she believed, who can say why, that they were taken by the devil in the form of a fish. Since the lady, who always fished in the river, couldn't see what attacked her, she told me my best bet to catch that evil creature would be at night. I start to travel further south down the Blue Nile to see one of those devil fish I have been so intrigued by. I begin to set up a pair of rods, my guide did not fail to inform me as he points of a shadow in the water, because that's the one, without a doubt, there are the devilish fish in this area. Then I casted a line and hoped to drag it in alive so as to make all evil disappear from the faces of the locals. I stayed awake during the first nights, keeping an eye on the locals: what sneaky, angry peoples. Later I felt my zeal to be unjustified and, just as soon as the guide went to bed, I would wrap my gun in a blanket and, sit in a folding chair, I wouldn’t sleep during the entire night. So I never managed to discover which of the two local tribes hated me the most. Later I told my guide that I was going to give up that job or fish over the allowed time limit because it seemed it was bad for my health to stay awake all night. 

The locals and my new guide waiting on the boat for my arrival

Besides, I had just learned that there was an old tribe in Sinja overlooking the deep ravine I was in and, in their village, elders were depicting me as a man that will bring evil. The locals, very aggressive people, believed that I was a relative of the devil and bringing forth bad luck that would leave them to die shortly. They provided me with a unscrupulous feeling and I became the statuette of my guide. I began to depend on his knowledge to protect me from my pending death. The old Blue Nile was left to ourselves, though I suspected locals spied on us. The guide  receives my poll from the in the gloomy river. We mutually decided to fish from the shore since the unforgiving river current and the local weather is very unpredictable. I lowered my eyes, sighed, and casted out into the depths of the Blue Nile hoping to catch the evil creature, and in turn have the locals trust. Soon I answered to the rode as it was dragged nearly off the shore. I'm saving up my energy and I dig in for a long battle. Yes, I keep battling the beast since I can't stay alive more than a couple of hours until the locals agree to kill me. As I've already said, I earn very much living off other people's superstitions. The  locals started to rally up on the other side of the shore as I battled against the devil fish. After days of trying to survive and catching almost no fish, I had the beast on the line fighting. I was dragging in the monster and the locals were starting to deploy their boats to sail across the river to kill me for the bad luck I could bring. A hidden miracle revealed itself from the surface of the river. The devil fish was real. I dragged in the huge fish and the locals were nearly to my side of the shore. 

Joyous to tame the brutal monster ( my guide on my left, local who wanted to kill me on the right)

My guide and I held up the miraculous demonized fish and the villagers cheered upon their boats. They struck the shore and surrounded us cheering while we held the trophy. 

The journey back to Port Sudan was much easier as the word spread of my conquering of the devil fish. Somehow the locals devised a great communication system and I was a local hero along the Blue Nile.

My trip to Sudan was not easy and was probably the deadliest journey I have ever been on. The devil fish was not nearly as dangerous as the local people were. 

My long trip back north to Port Sudan

I can only imagine that my next adventure will be far easier than this.

To my fans and supporters

“Fish On! “~ Your friend Sir Timothy Wajvoda

Bosnia Territory

Bosnia Territory Travel Summary 

Just a mile outside the country limits of Bosnia, I am in dirty jeans and a soiled gray sweatshirt standing on an overpass looking down on the Croatia/Bosnia border. It was an early November morning, the sun just becoming visible in the East, and I rubbed my hands and wrists together in an attempt to alleviate the chill in my newly healed wrist bones. Eighteen wheelers were starting to fly by in both directions. Trucks headed east went on into Croatia, from Bosnia. The river that leads to the Adriatic Sea travels through Croatia and maybe all the way to Hungry or Romania. Possibly it keeps flowing east over to my fishing spot. Might take this river and go straight on to Jablanica. I should arrive there by mid-afternoon.

     I decided to follow the westbound river. There just seemed to be fewer options that way. Other boats and locals heading west had kept me for decent stops to tell the tales of the Neretva River. I had never gone this far west into Bosnia before. It was years before at the age of 26 when I last visited this Bosnian river system. That had been nice. I remember how I went north up into the Neretva Valley for big game hunting. Even though there weren't any mountains along the river, I could still feel the climbing into higher altitude. I hadn't thought of there being a higher kind of flat than this.

     I made it to Jablanica and I started walking with the head elder of the town down along the river, his voice rose whenever he told the horrific tales of the Neretva River. He knew that fishermen had used meth to stay awake on long fishing journeys. Recycled meth wasn't as pure a dose, but a batch of good meth still gets them five hours of awake fishing.

Neretva River Bridge

 I continued walking, thinking that this is for sure the reason that there are dangers on the fishing trips. He shoved his hands onto my head to bless me with luck, but I kept thinking about the meth in his stories, causing the fishermen to dissapear. I also wondered what the beast looked like, if there was one at all. Probably another giant monster, and at that point, I suppose I kind of thought it could be a fish doing this. I left the Jablanica with only a week left in my trip, in less than a day I should be after the monster in its home waters. 

     I had gone a long distance with a couple local folks in a beat up boat, which was in a terrible condition. We made it to the Neretva River and the popular fishing grounds where fisherman couldn't be seen anymore. I would administer a drug test if I could, knowing my companions were drugged up. They were fools. So was I for trusting their drug-tainted knowledge of the river. I knew this could end badly.

My old boat on the Neretva River

     The weather was becoming more acute, I contemplated crossing the river to search the other side for stable waters. I thought about the dynamics of moving to a new spot with this crap boat, it could not make it. Would I really catch or see a mutant fish in these waters? The severity of waves separated shore from my boat and we started traveling eastbound even though we were supposed to be westbound.

     He was wondering if the fish will still find and take the bait or would it stop in the median when he caught sight of the bait knowing it could get taken down the river from the current. The unthinkable happened. A golden color was nearly concealed by the dramatic waves surrounding it. It slid down to the and picked at it until it snagged. It wasn't getting away now. I wondered if that mattered. With thoughts of separation from the boat and death I started my battle against the beast. It twisted and fought the line and I was wishing there was some way to know if it would drag me in. I didn't think it could.

With a harsh pull on my line and the boat rocking from the brutality of the waves, I was taken out of my boat and forced into the river. My companions, high on meth, did not do anything as the boat capsized. I then was determined to still real in this mutated freak of nature. I was reeling it in while it dragged and towed me down the river. I fought for my breath so that I can beat this creature and not drown. An hour of back and forth fighting lead to me get caught on a fallen tree. This was my time to counter the beast and reel it all the way in.

Stuck on the tree and fighting against the monster, I devised a pulling system using the branches and my line. I used my entire body weight to pull in the fish. I see its massive size and I was left breathless. 

Giant Bosnia Neretva Cat Fish (Female)

This fish was well over 136 kilograms. 

As it turned out, the combination of meth and the size of the fish resulted in the death of so many meth-head fishermen. I now know that Bosnian rivers contain some terrible beasts that should be left alone. If it were not for my amazing angling abilities, I would have certainly died that day.

With a mutant fish in my boat and a five hour journey back to my base, I had only a day to spare before my flight left. I caught a true monster and I will always remember my second trip to Bosnia. 

Glorious Bosnian Sunset

 On to my next fishing adventure!

To my fans and supporters

“Fish On! “ ~ Your Friend Sir Timothy Wajvoda

Bangladesh Territory

Bangladesh Territory Travel Summary

I have decided to put my angling skills to the test of all test, Bangladesh. There are nearly 164 million inhabitants of this 147,570 squared kilometer landmass. Although only 6.6% of Bangladesh is water in liquid form, I have heard many tales from this part of the world. So I leave to Bangladesh hoping to conquer any local beasts.

I set sail out of Faridpur and I start my amazing angling adventure.

Me and the boat I had used to go to the marsh

I slid my boat right ashore by a largely overgrown field then the experience takes a weird turn.

The infamous Bangladesh Marsh (morning hours)

Running and stumbling across a neglected field next to the infamous marsh, frantic with fright, I repeatedly look behind me. Although my senses tell me that something is amiss, I can see nor hear nothing in this murky, dark evening except the singing of crickets and local tribes chanting. Perhaps I should have stayed on rickety fishing boat , instead of taking a short cut across this field towards the parlous marsh I see in the distance.

Earlier, I communicated with local indigenous peoples, they spoke of un-fished waters because after years of fishing there had been not a single fishing vessel to return. Yet, something had bumped against my brain several times. Something made me feel like I could be the one to return safely home from a fishing journey. My determination and my sense of fear escalated as the sky darkened, welcoming the approaching night.

Finally, I could no longer just sit there thinking of impending doom. With all the courage that I could muster, I opened up to the marsh and started running the boat as fast as I could towards the local legend. Thinking, perhaps I'd strike some fish gold there, conquering whoever or whatever was frightening the locals away from the marsh.

With a new boat I am sitting at the fishing spot, it seems that the longer I wait for a bite, the farther away that legend of a mystical monster appears to be. I hear a loud crack in the tall grass, it had to be a fish gasping for air gasping for breath as I run my line across the area. Avoiding thick brush, I am unmindful of the fallen tree limbs in the marsh possible of causing my line to snag. I do not see the fish grab my line, I only feel the sharp pain as fish juddered the pole and wretched my wrists. Howling in agony, I fall face down upon the floor of the boat, biting my lip. I can taste the anger and the warm blood dripping from the gash that my teeth have made.

Picture I took myself of one of my broken wrists

Alarmed, I am now aware of an eerie beast looming directly in front of me. Its form, a twisted, swaying silhouette, dances an entrancing minuet as it burst through the water’s surface. The beast raced toward me with my rod and line following, resenting and beckoning, as if beseeching my embrace.

A most horrid sense of dread has now taken hold of me, squeezing my broken wrists. My throat is a spit-less dry desert, my body, damp and limp, watching upon this unstable boat. Tears merge with mucus from my nostrils and flow down onto my bloody lips and chin.

Something gleams in this evening's mist and I see flashes of white teeth and strange inhuman, glowing eyes. An unfamiliar and powerful odor has infused this night's air. It seems that this odor is having a hypnotic affect upon me. I barely hear the low growls and snarls as I wonder if I'm imagining this, if this is illusion or reality.

 

Me at night with the bait I am using to catch this huge fish creature

I suddenly have my answer, as low rumbling thunder is accompanied by lightning flashes that light up this dismal landscape. My fears are validated! I see it! I am frozen with fright, realizing I have been stalked and encircled by this unknown evil. In this split second, my mind's perception of reality changes! Yet, it refuses to comprehend this sight. It refuses to categorize this evil that has surrounded me! I mentally "lose it" momentarily.

I realize somewhere within my confused mind, that there is a large machete in my boat. I try to stand in the wobbling boat, the pain is excruciating! I fall again as an icy cold numbness spreads throughout my arms. I have been stalked by unknown fiends that now hover around me. They wait for what, I do not know, possibly to taste human once again, if the legends are true.

Pain surges through my arm, accompanied by shortness of breath and dizziness, and yet, I clearly understand that these alarming signals confirm that this night's evil will not win. It can only pray that I finish it before it is our meal. With the rusty machete I glance over the portside of the boat. I mustered up any strength I had left and held that rusty machete with my hands, broken wrists numb and pain gone. I glance at the water and I slice through the surface when I see the dorsal fin peek out of the still water. Blood spewed out of the beast leaving a red trail to follow.

Fish's blood on my machete

About 4 kilometers later of traveling through thick brushes and fallen trees I met up with the beast. Could these Bangladesh be true? Can this mutant fish actually cause several locals to never return home?

The boat slowing prowls through the water and the fish is still alive but not moving. I grab my Ningbo Longkai Import & Export Co.,Ltd. dip net, one of many dip nets in my arsenal. Unfortunately this colossal fish was too heavy for my Ningbo Linkai Import & Export Co., Ltd. dip net. I dragged the beast 5 more kilometers in the Ningbo Linkai Import & Export Co., Ltd. dip net until the boat cracked through fresh sand on the shore of the river that outlets from the marsh.

This fish was a beauty. I manager to get the beast out of the water enough to notice the huge slice I provided to its side. This fish is truly a behemoth of the marsh. Weighing in at about 105.7 kilograms, this fish is a truly disgusting mutant. What a fish! 

Bangladesh Man Eating Catfish (Female)

The 3 hour trip back to the village is started from made it clear that this fierce fighter of a fish took me 2 hours further away from the village. If something were to happen to me I would most likely fall victim to this fish. I think that this fish is the reason for all the disappearing indigenous fishermen. 

I bring the fish back to the village and there is an uproar of cheers and chats coming from the locals. This is what it is all about. Giving the locals warning of what is in their marsh and now providing them with a feast, not to mention giving them some sort of horrific closure to what happened to their missing fishermen. 

I now travel via airplane to my next adventure. 

View of me traveling to my next adventure

To my fans and supporters

“Fish On! “ ~ Your Friend Sir Timothy Wajvoda