Congo Chronicles: Chapter 5 - The Summit

By David Graham: June 27, 2025

The best stories always have an arc—a U-shaped narrative.I wouldn’t have it any other way. Even as I sat in the thick of it, I could feel the pattern taking form. The hardships didn’t bother me; I welcomed them, knowing the swing upward was coming—as long as I stayed patient and positive. I had spent an entire day on the river entirely solo because of Jacob’s illness—and yielded zero bites. Par for the course... this fish is still too mysterious. I don’t think we truly understand them yet.

It’s easy to chalk it up to rarity, to say there just aren’t many of them in the river. But the truth is, we were relying on a rudimentary tactic—floating a mostly dead catfish, suspended just three feet below the surface in the deepest river on Earth. Out in the main flow, surrounded by untold volumes of moving water, it felt like searching for a ghost.

Day 8, set up along a current rip near a rocky point, I finally got my shot. We were posted next to a sharp, conical stone rising from the surface like chimney stack in the flow. Jacob and I were killing time in lighthearted banter when the river erupted.

The tranquility shattered in an instant—a fish freight-trained my line toward the current so violently it nearly yanked me from my seat. Fully engaged, I loosened the drag just a bit for the immense initial run of what was clearly a giant animal. As had been the tactic that beat us time and time again... the fish took the bait and immediately headed for the main current—taking a hard right turn and getting the full force of the Congo River’s main flow behind its shoulders.

I’ve never known a freshwater fish to make such relentless, high-speed runs. While we struggled to unchain the pirogue from the rocks, it kept peeling line, unbothered, vanishing deeper into the heart of the current.

When we finally broke free and drifted into the main flow—leveling the field—I began to gain back line. Then it surfaced. Not a leap, not a splash, just a glimpse—just enough to etch an image into my brain that would’ve haunted me forever… if I’d lost it.

Once these fish near the boat, they fight with maddening precision—zigzagging beneath the boat, dragging the line underfoot and overhead in a chaotic dance, a frantic tango of desperation and control.

As the behemoth rose, it tilted sideways—finally relenting—as Tonal lowered the sling into the water. I watched as the creature I’d obsessed over for two years slid into its fate. The sling closed. The moment sealed. Overwhelmed, I let out a primal yell and all but collapsed to my knees as the fish hit the splintered deck of that old wooden boat.

This is why we come—to chase that edge where fear and euphoria collide. Where you can lose everything in a heartbeat… or rise with a monster in your hands.

On the same day, Larry—who had really been put through the wringer—also finally got his fish. No monster by any means, but a goliath to his name nonetheless. On the 8th day, every member of our four-man crew had earned a fish to their name.

The final two days were quiet for me. I ditched the bait entirely, switching to plugs, poppers, bucktail spinners. We explored the Mary River, a clearwater tributary, and within just 90 minutes I had three solid hits—more than we’d had on some full days in the main river. I only wish I’d spent more time there… but that’s the beauty of a place like this: it leaves you with something to come back for.

This was the absolute trip of a lifetime—a venture I had dreamt of, meticulously planned, and executed. I recall being met with skepticism and doubt by some who had entertained the idea of joining. The voices of people who had nothing but terrible things to say about the Congo as a country...

But I think our voyage did more than highlight a tremendous fish. What we found was a beautiful country, amazing people, and a wildly misunderstood place.

The goliath lived up to its legend. Among the world’s freshwater predators, it’s one of the last that still carries true mystery—undiscovered, unspoiled, untamed. To have this fish to my name is something I take tremendous pride in.

The goliath tigerfish has been described as the Everest of freshwater fishing. We made the climb that seemingly no other Americans had completed. And while I’m certain more will come after the publication of our success, the flag was planted by Boundless Pursuit.