Congo Chronicles: Chapter 1 – Borders & Beginnings

By David Graham: 6/27/2025

Looking out over Africa

I once heard it said of the Goliath Tigerfish that catching one is like summiting Mt. Everest. In the relatively small circle of die-hard travel anglers, this remarkable species is almost universally considered the most difficult freshwater fish on Earth to capture. It was maybe fifteen years ago when I first heard of this toothy monster, a fish that resides exclusively in the green heart of Africa — the Congo… and that led to a two-year headache of a logistical nightmare in finding my way there.

Somewhere along my journey as an angler, the meaning behind each fish became less about a species conquest—a proverbial box checked—and more about an opportunity to test my resolve. These extreme places and wild species are measuring points... the physical representation of what we're capable of, if only we can get our hands on them. And so, in some symbolic sense, it's not a fish anymore. To capture these incredible animals is to be ordained with a quiet testament to our fortitude. The reward is so great that it speaks for itself, leaving no question as to what we put into that critical moment.

Goliath Tigerfish - photo courtesy of Jacob Chapa

Some two years of research and planning took place before nearly 30 hours of travel from my home in Florida to the Republic of Congo. I’ve exhausted untold hours researching the grounds where these fish are found and trying to contact virtually every English-speaking person I could find who has been there. Investigative due diligence at the highest level—I felt very confident that no stone was left unturned before embarking on this trip. But all I needed was a small group of “partners” to join me.

The Congo has a reputation, and it’s not a flattering one. For months leading up to this trip, all I heard was how desolate and downtrodden the country was—full of crime, disease, and despair. To lure other people to this place, all for my own self-righteous desire to experience this remarkable fish, could really be seen as an act of irresponsible ignorance and extreme selfishness. Still—I’m asking this of fully autonomous grown adults. I pitched the idea in the rawest, most honest way I could: that this was a trip that would cost a lot and carry a great potential for complete and total failure. I think an honest approach filtered out a lot of inquiries lacking real commitment or pragmatism.

What I was left with was a small group of distinctly different anglers, each possessing the perfect blend of character types: Larry Walker (USA), Jacob Chapa (USA), and Michael Verdirame (CAN).

Larry Walker

Larry Walker is an extremely well-traveled angler. At the ripe age of 78, the guy's a machine—genuinely intrepid, with decades of experience in global adventure angling. This was something of a final frontier and ultimate target for him. I knew Larry would bring that old-school, stubborn Texan edge that would keep the group grounded and aggressive. He’s a no-bullshit type of character who mixes an intense passion for fishing with a sharp sense of humor and well-placed shit-talking.

Jacob Chapa

Jacob Chapa was a unique one... still in his 20s, he was the youngest of the group. Along with his young age, Jacob had never set foot outside the U.S. It was hard to believe the Congo would be his first time abroad, but there were elements to his character that I found ideal. Jacob is a die-hard Euro-style carp angler and a passionate photographer. I understand the Euro-carp world enough myself to know these guys can sit on a swim for hours, days—even weeks—waiting for bites. Not everyone can commit to long hours of uncertainty, but the guys in that world have mastered self-control and intuitive angling. Coupling that with his passion for photography, I knew he'd handle it well. Photographers are patient, detail-oriented, and understand what it takes to line up the perfect shot. They're artistic and introspective—often spending hours in solitude, waiting to capitalize on that perfect, fleeting moment. That kind of spirit was essential on my team.

Michael Verdirame

Michael Verdirame—the Canadian! I was familiar with Michael as a connection from my long-historied tenure in the “roughfish” community. We are friends-of-friends along several lines. Michael is quietly well-traveled and incredibly low-key —a guy who has done some expansive pursuits around the country and world for some remarkable fish... all while hardly sharing any of it at all. He’s a purist, a species hunter.

"Species guys" take a scientific approach. They fully appreciate the totality of each ecosystem from the foundation up and often have a deep understanding of all the elements in the areas they fish. These “minnow fishermen” know the food web inside and out. His pure fishing style—one that doesn’t hinge on recognition or the need to get “content”—meant his focus would be sharp on the actual task at hand.

It also doesn’t hurt that Michael is an ER doctor—and that might give us some support in the event of a medical emergency on the water!

I did not want a big group; I wanted the right group. Once this unique collective was locked in, we began the process of acquiring visas and all necessary documentation to enter the country. Getting into the Republic of Congo requires a somewhat strict visa process: an official Letter of Invitation notarized, along with a series of other supporting documents that are reviewed upon arrival to gain entry. Where we had a distinct advantage was a connection I had in the Congo —an Honorary Consulate General in Brazzaville, Hilly. Along with her husband, Marc, the two of them have lived in the Congo for decades. Having government support meant getting through some of the airport checkpoints, etc., would be substantially easier.

Flying into Brazzaville Congo

My flight path took me from Miami to New York, New York to Paris, and Paris to Brazzaville—around 30 total hours of travel. I had initially planned an extra day of downtime in Brazzaville to shake off any potential jet lag. To hell with that—we decided to grind through whatever sleep deprivation we might have and spend minimal time in the city, opting to head upriver a day early to gain an extra day of fishing. We were met at the airport by a credentialed staffer connected with Hilly—Christopher. Christopher, with a special lanyard and ID around his neck, was there waiting for us. I had wondered how he would recognize us—or we him—but then I supposed a few white Americans and a Canadian probably stuck out in Congo.

Chris was pleasant, professional, and accommodating. We were able to bypass the foot traffic, the lines, and the usual checkpoints something close to full VIP access. We moved through customs in record time, out to the lobby where we met Hilly in person. Waiting for us just outside the terminals was a series of taxis - armed guards in military attire 'satelliting' around them. It seemed the only missing was the red carpet... this flawless logistical execution continued throughout the entire experience!

My room at the apartment in Brazzaville

We were transported to a gated and guarded apartment owned by Hilly and Marc, where personnel stood outside a locked gate with the key at all times. The place immediately felt like home—a humble kitchen, dining room, lounge area, and upstairs, a pair of well-maintained and furnished bedrooms. I started to feel spoiled, and the idea of a terrible and ruined country was slowly being erased.

Admittedly, when things are going well—or too well—I get nervous. I don’t know if I’m cynical or pessimistic, but I kept wondering when the bad part was going to happen. It was like I felt this need to watch my back, brace for impact, or be ready for the crash... but it didn’t happen. Things were just perfect.

at the Mami Wata restraurant

After dropping our gear off in our quarters - we headed out to exchange USD for some local currency. While I had expected to go to some official banking system or agency - Hilly apparently had better insight. Alongside a road just outside the walls of the embassy were men sitting on buckets underneath mango trees... they had ziplocked baggies of cash, and it was quite literally here that we exchanged our monies with the men under the mango trees! Best exchange rate in town... without our government escort I don't know that I could have ever brought myself to do something so informal with wads of cash.... but its a different world!

exchanging money with the 'men under the mango trees'

With our new money exchanged we headed out for a bite to eat. We stopped at a surprisingly nice waterside restaurant called Mami Wata. It was a sort of mermaid-themed place alongside the main Congo River. Mami Wata is something of a legend in local folklore—the idea of a ‘water spirit’ often depicted as a beautiful woman with the tail of a fish or serpent. An emblematic figure fitting the mystery of these environments.

Mami Wata - the restaurant

Here, we sat in stark contrast—this unusually lavish and well-maintained dining spot right beside the dark and mysterious Congo River. We sat alongside it, smelled it, and wondered what the days ahead would be like. It was here that a very real reckoning and realization set in: after years of dreaming, wondering, and planning, the hard hour was at hand—and hope would soon be cast into the water.

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