Fishermen's Fleet Reports

Night time double-clutches into today

like a truck downshifting its' load

Way down

down along

Lazy River Road 

                 -RH

                     

Have a kid take you fishing! Chris and I decided that enough painting, CFEing, frettin', and getting up early to work had done happened, and that we should go fishing. The yellowtail have become quite consistent in the last few weeks, and even though I wouldn't necessarily recommend the dark of the moon to fish for these guys, it's when we had, and so we did. I really do enjoy getting up at 3:15 in the morning to make preparations for our customers, watching them wander in like victims of the rooster, and slowly wake up as the combination of coffee and what Kyle calls, "The David Jones Show" cuts through the fog, synapses stretch and reconnect and they begin to focus on the fact that they are going fishing. Most seem to shed 15 years, and the eyes begin to shine to a greater degree than for which you could blame  the coffee. I do enjoy this, damnit, but there is that moment when Andres closes the van doors, and as the animated speculation as to what the day will bring fades away up the street and I turn to go back inside to settle down to the mighty Wurlitzer that for just a flash I am jealous, and slightly irked at my clients as they get to go fishing. I don't brood about it, and within a few minutes all returns to normal, but I'd be lyin' if I said that there wasn't a twinge. Well today we got up early, again, with different purpose. A couple of client/friends were on their last day, and we were bound to join them on the water. They are the very comely father and son team pictured above with a fine catch of pargo lisa which they caught by going to the island for sardines and returning to Punta Perico for our first really good catch of mullet snapper for the year. Their names have not been mentioned on the slight chance that they number among the innocent, but we know who they are, and like it! Although I normally fall asleep in the van on the way home,but in the morning I'm as alert as D Rex. The drive, which I've done probably more times than anyone short of Andres (no pun intended?) is full of anticipation. Our hole carved into the early morning darkness by the headlights, ever vigilant for cow attack, talking with clients about this and that, checking out the tree appendages stretching into our tunnel of awareness for signs of wind, I love it. We arrive at the beach and hit the sand, the Captains scurrying about in the half light, shouting and laughing at each other, moving the pangas into ready position. Lalo was our chosen victim this day, and he was dressed as a Ninja warrior, with his head and most of his face covered with a dark cloth shroud, against the cool morning air. All I could see were his teeth, smiling when he figured out who his customers were, at least he'd have something to laugh at today. We barely had any more time to get any more excited before he throttled down, 5 minutes south of Muertos along the cliffs, and we dropped our Sabiki rigs down for bait. I made it look easy with three greenies right off the bat, but it slowed. During the day we caught sufficient bait to always have fresh lively ones, a combination of big green mackerel, some smaller ones, and Pacific Sardines. When we had enough to start, we joined the 8 or so pangas drifting live bait near the bottom, using 4 ounce sinkers, fluorocarbon leaders, and circle hooks bridled to the mackerel like you would bridle a big bonito for marlin fishing. I hadn't seen this done on smaller baits before, and Lalo mentioned that it was a little like "Senor Gallo". Memories of Bill Mathias, and his infectious attention to detail and rigging occupied my mind for a few moments, but then Chris was fast to his first of two yellowtail for the day. He was standing in the front of the panga, yankin' and crankin' on his Hada special, and within 7-8 minutes he had a 40 pound yellow next to the boat. Lalo and I looked at each other with looks that indicated that we each took some small responsibility for the training that Chris has absorbed so thoroughly over the years. "En la cabesa, por favor, y saca la sangre" Chris requested of Lalo. He wanted the gaff in the head, and for Lalo to bleed the fish, as he was planning on smoking it (which end do you suck on?) for his growing efforts at providing smoked fish around La Paz. Hole in head, blood in water, fish in the box. Most of an hour later I hooked up, and did my best not to embarrass Chris in front of fleet of pangas and cruisers that had grown to some 20 odd boats. I lurched to my feet, thank god for flat calm weather, and tried to let on as little as possible about how hard I was working to match his efficiency in fish retrieval. I thought that I did pretty well, and mere minutes later there was a 35 pound, bloodless, hole headed fish laying next to Chris' in the box. It was another hour and a half until Chris' second fish. Boats around us were hooking up, and it was clear that a large amount of large yellowtail were patrolling the area. Some boats had only one for the day, Javier had 9, that's fishing. But we ended up with 3, a couple of large jack crevalle, and a few bonito that Chris wanted to smoke also, they are good. A great day, weather perfect, Captain talented and affable, ice chest full, and I got to go fishing with someone who I have grudgingly realized is "probably" a better fisherman than I on several, but not all, yet,levels. I don't wish to seem snotty or to be a fishing elitist, but after watching a couple of hotdogs all dolled up in their fishing boutique bondage harnesses complete with fingerless "leverage" gloves, manipulating reels with gear boxes that would put most semi-trucks to shame, straining and hooting for 45 minutes to get these fish in, one even managing to involve everyones'line within half a mile in a knot no sailor ever knew, to watch someone who knows what he's doing was a real pleasure. It isn't the speed with which the fish is retrieved, it is understanding the fishes movements and utilizing his own efforts against him (fish Judo), and using the natural advantages of leverage and intelligence afforded us by our hardware and software. Efficiency of movement, application of pressure and direction at the perfect moments, like watching someone who really understands hitting a baseball, or who has spent countless hours making dancing look effortless and easy. Brief mental meanderings into "A River Runs Through It", some fatherly pride, just mostly the best taste leftover in your brain after a really fine day.

David