River Monsters (2009–2017): Season 4, Episode 4 - Asian Slayer - full transcript

My name's Jeremy Wade.

I've been fishing
for over 40 years,

but I've never had an experience

like the one
you're about to see.

Ooh!

It began as an investigation

into vicious attacks in India.

But somewhere along the line,
it crossed over into obsession.

I set my sights on a fish
so elusive and hard to catch...

Ooh! Oh!

That it tested my patience
to breaking point.



This is the story

of how a fish said
to be protected by the gods

took me to my limit and beyond.

He's come around.
He's come there.

I'm in northern India.

India is where
my extreme-angling career began

three decades ago.

And it was where,
four years ago,

I caught one
of my most shocking monsters...

I'm gonna have to go for a swim.

A 160-pound goonch...

which proved there are
man-eating-sized fish in India.

Since then, my search
for freshwater horrors

has taken me
all around the globe.



And now fresh reports
are emerging

from India and Southeast Asia

of something else attacking
people in the water...

Something said to make the
goonch look like a goldfish.

These reports speak of stealthy,

lightning-fast strikes
by a cunning predator

that appears to patrol
near the surface.

Something blasting
out of the shallows,

sometimes
clean out of the water,

taking birds, dogs,
even children

from the edges
of rivers and lakes.

There are even reports
of fish being cut open

to reveal human remains
in their stomachs.

This doesn't sound
like the goonch...

A silent assassin rising slowly
from the depths.

If these reports are true,

there must be something else
lurking in these rivers.

Over the years,
I've learned a lot about India.

Here, reality is awash
with mystery and magic.

And this bubbles through
most powerfully in the rivers.

These rivers are sacred...

The gateway between this world
and the next...

and the focus for devotion
for millions of Hindus.

I've seen strange things happen
in India's rivers

and with the fish
that lurk beneath.

I have a background in science,

but out here,
that's not always enough

to understand
what's going on around me.

To solve the mystery
of these new attacks,

I start with straightforward
door-to-door inquiries.

I'm looking up a friend who
I haven't seen for 30 years.

It's not this one.
It's a bit further up.

Might be this one.

But word travels fast,
and Umesh comes to find me.

Hi, Jeremy!
Hello!

- How do you do?!
- I'm very well.

Look at your hair.
It's turned white.

I tell him why I'm back and
about the monster I'm hunting.

How do I look?

I've heard one story

about a spear fisherman
out hunting at night...

trying to spot his targets
by flashlight.

But in the darkness,
this hunter became the hunted.

Jaws sunk into his leg
with such force

that the culprit
had to be cut off him.

I need to get a line
in the water.

Umesh suggests a place to start.

The water in this river
is running shallow and clear.

A wary hunter in this water

could easily see me
before I see it.

So I need to adopt
a stealthy approach.

To start with,
I decide to try fly fishing.

That's what I'm using
on the end.

Now, they call this fly fishing,

but that's actually designed
to mimic small fish,

particularly when it's pulled in
through the water in jerks.

That makes that tail sort of
wave around a little bit.

This movement could trigger
the attack reflex

of any predator
that's down there.

But I'm already
at a disadvantage,

because I'm no expert
in this technique.

The last time
I tried fly fishing,

it landed me in more trouble
than it was worth.

Wade:
Okay, you can have the fish.
You can have the fish.

Man: Go on.
- Whoa.

And this time, it's proving
just as frustrating.

How did that happen?

That's rubbish. That was
rubbish... absolute rubbish.

Time to go again.

I need to keep my line aloft
and untangled

while I work out enough
distance to hit my spot.

But that's easier said
than done.

I saw a flash of silver,

a very slight tap on the line,

and then nothing there.

But I'm starting
to get the hang of it.

Hooking a fish should be
just a matter of time.

Yeah. Yep.
Here we go.

It's actually
coming up the current.

It's actually very small.

This is just a juvenile,

but it could grow
into something much bigger.

Right.
That's a very small fish,

a lot smaller
than what I'm used to,

but this is actually
a memorable fish for me.

This is my first mahseer
on a fly.

I've caught mahseer before,
but not on a fly.

I'll get him out of the sun.

It doesn't look much,

but I've caught mahseer
to over 90 pounds.

At that size,
they're a real muscle fish

and one of the most valued
sport fish in the world.

But even the giants
pose no threat to people,

so this can't be the attacker
I'm after.

Progress is being made,
you know, notch by notch.

The mechanics of this fishing
is slowly coming, slowly coming.

My fly fishing is not pretty,

but it's starting
to be effective.

I just hope it's a match

for the predatory heavyweight
I've come to catch.

I've heard rumors
of another attack south of here

on a lake that's harvested
by commercial fishermen,

so I'm heading there
to investigate.

At first, it's tough going,
as the fishermen on the lake

are tight-lipped
and wary of outsiders,

but I manage to persuade
one of them to talk.

Biswas:

Mihin Biswas tells me of a boy
who was wading in the shallows

searching for worms
to use as bait.

But something else
was lying in wait.

So, like, the fish actually
took the whole hand?

Wade:
The child was bitten...

Actually pulled his hand
out of the water,

and the fish was still attached.

The child's mother had to come

and pries the jaws open
to get the fish off.

He tells me the attacker was
a catfish known as the sareng.

Mr. Biswas said, you know, a big
sareng... a 40-, 50-pounder.

He said it's got jaws big enough

to almost grab him
around the waist.

This isn't your usual
bottom-feeding catfish.

Going under many aliases,

the sareng
is a formidable predator.

Explosive speed flows from
a streamlined, muscular body

and jets of water shooting
through its gill slits.

Banks of needle-sharp teeth
bristle in its jaws.

And it's been reported
to grow to the size of a man.

The unprovoked attacks
I'm hearing about

make it one of
the most aggressive hunters

I've ever come across.

But its reputation
doesn't stop there.

Mr. Biswas tells me

that Hindus also believe
this fish to be untouchable.

I want to start fishing,

but mention of the sareng has
touched a superstitious nerve.

I can't ignore local beliefs,

and the lake's fishermen
have asked to speak to me.

Is this a fish
that fishermen are afraid of?

It seems the sareng is the
subject of a religious taboo.

Before I return to the water,

I need to seek an audience
with a Hindu holy man.

Right.

I'm a scientist.

My investigations deal with
hard evidence and deduction.

But for many, fishing
is a superstitious game.

And I've done this long enough

to understand the power
of belief.

This holy man may be
more than just a detour.

Part monk and part magician,

he lives in a cave high above
the holy river Ganges.

It's said that he can levitate

and even inhabit the bodies
of animals.

I ask him about the sareng.

Wade: It's a big fish.
It lives in the river.

It lives in lakes,
and it cleans things up.

It eats dead matter.
It eats dead animals.

And, according to the holy man,

this fish also eats dead people.

When a Hindu dies, a funeral
pyre is built beside the river.

The corpse is brought down
to the water's edge.

As the pyre burns down, the
remains end up in the river...

as easy pickings for the sareng.

But it's not just the body
it's eating.

This is a fish
that not only eats

the physical part of people,

it also takes human souls
to the gods.

Hindus believe in reincarnation.

When you die,
your soul leaves your body.

The sareng swallows the soul
and carries it to the gods,

who, in turn, see it
reincarnated into another body.

This is a fish
that shouldn't be eaten,

but beyond that,
it's actually a sin to kill it.

I'm a fisherman, and I'm here
to try and catch a sareng.

The holy man warns me
that trying to catch this fish

will bring nothing but bad luck.

This fish is actually
the gods' gift to people.

And not only is it a big fish
with big teeth,

it also has some kind
of divine protection.

This is a fish that you
mess with at your peril.

A killer instinct,
formidable weaponry,

supernatural powers,
and divine protection.

I'm starting to wonder
if I'm out of my depth.

But if I just catch, examine,
and release this fish,

perhaps I won't incur
the wrath of the gods.

Even so, I'm nervous as
I prepare to go fishing again.

Then I hear there's bad news.

I was planning to go out on
the lake with Mr. Biswas today,

but there's been a little bit
of bother.

Somebody was fishing the lake
unofficially,

and the people
who've got the contract there

actually gave him
a bit of a beating.

So, this guy came 'round
to the lake with his family,

starting to kick off.

He was saying,
"Do you know who I am?

My family's important."

The police
are going around today.

And so the people who are
doing the fishing there,

they say, "Don't come today.

There's gonna be some trouble."

But maybe I can get a look
at a sareng at the fish market.

This is not
what I'm looking for,

but something else
has caught my eye.

Okay.

I've just asked
if I can grab one of these.

This bucket of catfish
hides a nasty surprise.

I've got to be careful,
'cause they got spiky fins.

That's what I'm trying
to avoid there.

Don't want that on my finger.

Bleh.

But they're not the apex
predator I'm looking for.

That's heavy.
That's a 20-pound fish, easily.

So, you know, cause of death,
I think, is a spear.

It's a snakehead.

I'm used to fishing waters where
this thing is the top predator,

the top dog.

Here it's just bait.

I've caught snakeheads before.

Some have a violent reputation.

But they don't grow as large
as the sareng

and they have
very different jaws.

It seems these traders
are also wary of the sareng.

And they, too, have a story
to warn me off.

Hmm?

They tell me of a fisherman

who was bringing in his lines
at dusk.

On one of his hooks
was a sareng.

The fish spooked, snagging
the line tight around his legs.

The next day, the man's
lifeless body washed ashore.

Fear of the sareng runs deep.

It's immensely frustrating
to be denied access

to where I want to fish.

I need a plan "B."

I head to a place that's
quieter with fewer people.

It's a forested valley

bordering a wilderness reserve
called Corbett National Park.

But getting in means
trekking miles with full kit

through hostile terrain.

And it's out of the frying pan
and into the fire,

because here, the man-eaters
aren't just in the water.

I need to keep my wits about me.

We've got sort of a palm print
and then 1, 2, 3, 4.

Here again.

Palm, 1, 2, 3, 4.

So, going that way, tiger.

There is actually an active
man-eater around at the moment.

I think it's five people
in the last couple of months.

But this is
where I have to fish.

This water's actually
very different

from the water
I was expecting to fish.

Down the lake,
it's muddy, still.

Here, shallow, moving fast,
and clear.

Now, fly fishing is one method
I was gonna use down there,

but here, I don't know.

It's possibly
the most appropriate,

so that's what I'm trying.

There's a record
of a 70-pound sareng

that was caught from this river,

and there might just be
another giant lurking here.

But I need to outsmart them
by presenting a lifelike lure

in all the likely hiding places.

Ohh.

That was a fish.

But while I'm intent
on the river,

other dangers
are patrolling the shores...

wild elephants.

There's a couple elephants that
have just gone past behind here

very quietly, very quickly.

In India, elephants kill
more than 400 people each year.

I'll need to keep my distance.

Don't really want
to see them too close,

and when I'm fishing, I tend
to be very much normally focused

on what's in front of me.

But here, it's definitely a case

that you need eyes
in the back of your head.

If this pair charged,

they would be on top of me
in seconds.

I push deeper downstream.

I'm 20 miles
from the nearest town.

If anything goes wrong
out here, I'm on my own.

But my luck
may be about to change.

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Still there?

Get down below it.

Yes, it's still there.
I can feel it. Ohh! Shh.

Ahh.

It's off. It's off. It's off.

I think tactically,

I should have just let that fish
clear the rapid.

It's not gonna... you know,
there's no danger in the rapid.

Just clear to the quiet water
down below,

then I can make my way
calmly down and land it.

But...

Mixed feelings.
Mixed feelings.

I'd normally say
that was just poor judgment.

But could it be more
of the bad luck

the sareng is supposed to bring?

I try to apply some clarity
of thought.

I've spooked my fish in the run,

so I turn my attention
to the pool below.

Planning to put a bait on the
bottom, I rig with heavy line.

But I'm tired and starting
to lose my focus.

Even with gear
I'm familiar with,

I'm starting to make mistakes.

This is what happens when
you use line that's too thick.

Bird's nest on the cast,
that line in the current,

and just pulls it all
out of position.

It seems that everything
is starting to unravel.

It might even be snagged.
No, it's not, thank god.

A bad cast,
bird's nest on the reel.

Getting that off,
the current takes it down,

pulls it out of position.

It's snagged on a rock.

You go to all that trouble
making up a leader,

you get it snagged, it breaks,

you got to start all over again.

You know,
it's just ridiculous...

Just bloody ridiculous.

It's not just the gear...
My temper is fraying, too.

I have to get this situation
back under control.

That means getting into
the water to recover my gear.

I'm putting my feet
potentially very close

to whatever is in there.

This fish has got me
pushing my luck,

making bad calls,
and taking unnecessary risks.

What's more, no fish
is going to be hanging around

after all that disturbance.

The fishing
is starting to feel futile.

I don't know what the answer is.

Man-eating tigers,
wild elephants,

lost fish, snags, and now this.

Last year,
my crew narrowly survived

a direct lightning strike
on a river.

I can't risk
that happening again.

The annual monsoon storms have
arrived unseasonably early.

These rivers will soon be
in full spate and unfishable.

But this might just be
the break I need,

an excuse to escape these waters

swirling with superstition.

There are other places
to catch this fish.

Sareng attacks are known
across Southeast Asia.

In Malaysia and Thailand,

they are believed
to devour small children.

So, while the monsoon rages
in India,

I continue my quest
in Thailand's far south.

I've fished in Thailand before

for enormous
freshwater stingrays...

I think we've got it.
I think we've got it.

And vicious giant snakeheads.

And I've heard of a lake here
that's legendary among anglers

for being home to the strangest
cocktail of monster fish

in the world.

It's a freshwater freak show

where rare giants from across
the globe have been released

to swim with native species,
including the sareng.

There must be more
river monsters here

than in any other lake
in the world.

It's a long way
from my normal fishing.

But after my struggles in India,

this could be the change I need.

I know they're in here,
and here in Thailand,

the fish doesn't have
the supernatural power

that it's supposed to have
in India.

So, I'm back to what I'm used
to... just me against the fish.

But even here,
I'm not taking any chances.

I'm fishing like
I've never fished before...

With four heavy rods...

bomb-proof line, professional
fishing guide Scott,

and electronic bite alarms.

It's like
an angling mid-life crisis.

The bait
had hardly hit the bottom.

But it's working.

That could be an Asian redtail.

I must be doing something right.

I'd almost forgotten what
it felt like to catch a fish.

It is a redtail catfish.

Not what I came here to get,
but an interesting fish to see.

This is a native
of these waters,

native to Southeast Asia.

A large native catfish

swimming in the same waters
as the sareng.

It's tantalizingly close
to what I've come to catch.

Ooh.

That looked like a catfish
of some description.

That's an Amazon redtail,
I think.

The fish are getting bigger,
and this one is proof

that I'm fishing
a unique aquatic sanctuary.

The Amazon redtail catfish
are actually quite different.

The Asian redtail
has a smoother skin

and a slightly different shaped,
more deeply forked tail.

I'm used to seeing this in the
Amazon halfway around the world,

and here it is
thriving in Thailand.

This lake really is
a place of surprises.

Time to go.

After all the frustrations
in India,

part of me feels like I've died
and gone to angling heaven.

But another part of me wonders

whether hooking a sareng
like this is cheating.

Has my goal
of catching this fish

turned to
an unhealthy obsession?

But as the next day dawns,
the promise of a sareng

and all the other
remarkable fish in this lake

is too much to resist.

What is that?

Lovely.

That is a very, very rare fish.

Scott tells me there are
over 100 sareng in this lake

but only eight of these.

This is a Chinese seerfish.

This fish is so unusual, I know
next to nothing about it.

I don't know.

I'm gonna have to
look this one up,

find out exactly
what it's related to.

You know, it's almost like
this place is mocking me.

"Here's a rare fish.
Here's another rare fish."

The one I want
is just eluding me,

and there are more
of those in here

than there are things like that.

Those Indian warnings
are still playing on my mind.

Could sareng bring bad luck
even here,

thousands of miles
from the haunted Himalayas?

This is even starting
to feel like India.

But as the rain clears,
I'm into a fish.

Good-size fish.

And this one feels different.

It's just going, going, going.

I've just gained
a bit of line...

The first bit of line
I've gained.

Gently. Gently. Gently.
Oh.

Ooh. Oh!

Silvery fish
jumping out of the water.

For a second,
that looked like a sareng,

but it sliced straight through
my super-tough leader.

So, I was hoping that here

I wouldn't get these sort of
random things happening.

Something's bitten that through.

But I might just have
a second chance.

I've hooked another fish
straightaway.

Oh, massive bubbles over there.

I think that was... don't know
if that was it or another fish.

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
Yes. Yes. Yes.

Could this be the one?

I'm gonna come over there.
I need to come there.
I need to come there.

At this angle,
the fish will snag my line.

With no room to maneuver,
I have to get into the lake.

This is a hell of a fish
if this is hooked in the mouth.

I'm not sure if I'm playing
the fish or it's playing me.

After a full half-hour,
finally it begins to tire.

Gosh.

Incredible fish.

This monster is a catfish
but the wrong one.

Mekong giant catfish.

It's still fighting me.

It's still fighting me,
this fish.

Mekong giant catfish.

This fish is known
to grow over 600 pounds.

650 pounds is the biggest one
authenticated.

But this one actually rose

and took a piece of maize
dangling under a float...

Took something about the size
of my fingernail.

Can you imagine?

Turned into a fish like this.

Incredible, strong fish.

After all this intense fishing,

catching everything
but the sareng,

it's dawning on me
that by coming to Thailand,

all I've done is run away
from my problem...

which is with those gods
back in India.

If I'm ever going to
catch this fish,

I need to face my demons
and make my peace with them.

I've got a new plan, and I'm
taking it back to India.

If I can somehow make it clear
that I mean the sareng no harm,

that I just want to catch it,
examine it, and let it go,

perhaps the gods
will let their guard down.

First stop is a temple
dedicated to the river gods.

This temple is on the confluence
of two rivers.

Now, in Hinduism,
rivers are sacred

and confluences
are doubly sacred.

Now, I'm not sure

if I totally sort of
buy in to all the belief,

but, certainly,
with all these people here,

you don't get
this amount of smoke

without some kind of fire.

It's time for me
to make a leap of faith.

Pilgrims flock here seeking
blessings and good fortune.

I'm here to lift the sareng's
curse of bad luck.

The priest gives me a blessing
and a bag of sacred rice,

an offering to the gods
and the fish in the river.

And where before these
Indian rivers seemed empty...

suddenly, they spring to life.

If I'm here to make friends
with the local fish,

it seems I'm doing
something right.

This is what fish do
if you leave them alone

and if you feed them
occasionally.

You know, the water
just teems with them.

Compare that to what rivers
are normally like.

You know, you're normally
struggling to see fish.

But here we are,
very popular spot of India,

and they leave these fish alone,

and the water's
just full of them.

But can this charm offensive

translate into a sareng
on the end of my line?

I head back to the river,
now swollen by monsoon rains.

The weather's
actually brightened up,

which is nice to see,
but the effect of all that rain

has been to make the river
rise a bit,

but more to the point,

it's very, very colored,
very murky now.

So, I'm gonna have to change
tactics again, improvise,

dig into my equipment box

and fish something static
on the bottom

where something at least
has half a chance of finding it.

A predator won't see my bait,

but I'm using rotten fish,
so it will smell it.

I take my place in the middle

of this playground
of gods and spirits.

I can't shake the feeling
that I'm being watched.

Yeah, that could have been
a knock.

Something actually
knocked the line there,

and it could have been a fish.

It might have just been shifting
in the current.

It's a very turbulent
sort of whirlpool down there.

Was my leap of faith
at the temple enough

to let me finally
catch the sareng?

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
I think that is something.

Yeah.

That's a fish.

Ohh!

That's gone, whatever it was.

135-pound line sliced
clean through on a rock.

I've never seen
anything like it.

That was a fish,

and that took moments
after the bait was in the water.

I think the bait was actually
in a shallowish bit of rock.

It bumped down into the depths,

and then there was a real
knock, knock, knock, knock.

And then the line tightened,

and there was a real weight
on the end.

That was a sizeable fish.

I was really leaning into that,
and that's just...

that's a fish gone.

After all my traveling,
planning, and weeks of fishing,

maybe I've finally met my match.

That could be...

the net result of my return
to India... a broken line.

Perhaps I'm just not worthy

of catching an instrument
of the gods.

Or maybe it's something else.

Either way,
my battle with this enigma

that swims between this world
and the next

and through holiness
to violence is far from over.

It took me 25 years
to catch my monster goonch...

and the same time to land
that goliath tiger fish.

Ah, those teeth!

Whoa.

Some river monsters
are worth the wait.