I Was Just Sittin' There Nodding Off, When.....

"Dave had said that the fishing was a little slow, so I wasn't prepared."

"The reports have only been so-so, and so....."

"Why didn't they warn me?"

"Suddenly we were surrounded, they came from nowhere!"

"They just kept biting and biting, we didn't stand a chance."


TUNA, TUNA, TUNA

They head out today, like any other day, except with customers. Despite reports on other websites vastly inflating the current state of fishing here, those of you who read here regularly know that it's been ok, no better. But today our boats were attacked by a roving band of yellowfin tuna. Fishing at the south point of Cerralvo, trolling Rapala's and using cocinero a school of yellowfin to 60 KILOS attacked our unsuspecting customers viciously, and repeatedly. Boats had enough time for 2-3 fish each, and then were spent. When will the Mexican government do something about the Tuna Cartel? Hopefully with the rapid reflexes and timing that they have historically displayed.

David

Yeah, But Don't You Ever Get Tired of it?

After 16 years of fishing down here, yes, there are times when it's just a job, but not this time of year. The closest analogy that occurs to me is back when music was the biggest thing in my life. Sure, every performance is a new and exciting event, filled with opportunity and obstacle. Even though it's something that you do most every day, every day has its; own challenges, its' own rewards. There is a routine, both comforting and stifling, but within that big circle there are lots of eddies and currents, side trips and things that are about to happen for the first time. But there are concerts, events, which stick out, either by location or by size, or by some other unique criterion. These events are anticipated, looked forward to, even beyond todays' routine. It is like that down here now. Bait is starting to mass both outside on the buoys, and inshore. Advanced scouts with bills, and teeth, and fins, have been encountered, waiting for the water to warm up just a little more. Commercial fishermen return from beyond our range with reports of growing forces about to over run us. The corumel winds are blowing, gently and consistently from the south, pushing tropical temperature waters to us, triggering the summer season. The crowds have purchased their tickets, stand in line talking to each other about past events, things that they've witnessed, and speculating as to what may happen next. The middle men, like my Captains and me, have prepared, getting equipment and attitudes ready to do our jobs, and to enjoy something unique and beyond what most people get to witness. The venue begins to fill, and participants are nervous with anticipation. The house lights wink off, and the White Album fades from the P.A. system. Activity on the stage swells with last minute checks and adjustments. The water here is almost shimmering with the energy summing beneath the surface. 16 years of this? It has merely served to prepare me, to whet my appetite for the excitement, the stories, the smiles. I know from talking to people who fish the world over that this is a special place, perhaps not unique, but very rare. I talk to folks scheduled to come down in the next few months, and they are excited, like kids before Christmas, and that just adds to my anticipation. The standby switches are off, the sounds of final tuning and drum positioning, musicians with as much or more anticipation than the crowd, in the timeless words of Artie Shaw, it's time to begin the beguine.  I love this shit, and it's about to remind me why.
 Have a nice day, I know that I will,
David