Senor con Dos Nombres

I went fishing yesterday. Schedules lined up so that I could spend the day with one of my favorite people. Once again, on the rare possibility that he has one shred of innocence left somewhere, his name must be protected. We'll call him Dos Nombres as he is one of those rare guys that has two first names (actually three when you consider the "Wayne"). I met this fellow some 19 years ago when I moved here. He was tangled up with the previous owner and another possible ner'do well or two in bringing folks down here to fish. He had retired from a career in law enforcement at a relatively early age and was doing sports travel for hunters and fishermen. He seemed a nice guy, as opposed to perhaps his compadres at the time, and as time wandered on he proved himself to be just that. "Nice guy" might seem a little like damning with faint praise to some of you, but think about it, how many truly Nice Guys do you know, or have you run across in an average decade? See, that's my point. I've kinda always had an affinity for the law enforcement types, or at least I have spent a lot of time around them, being in the same places, usually on opposite sides of whatever issue of personal behavior was on the table at the time, but after 1/2 a century or so it seems that I've gotten it right, finally. DN was an old school cop, tough enough when he had to be (SWAT stuff) but also willing to cut the non hardened kinda schmuck, who just messed up, a break if he could. Perhaps as a former NHKS myself this is what drew me to him. At any rate, we went fishing. Fishing slowed a little on this last full moon, with the fish that came in still being of impressive quality, but a few less of them. Dorado, marlin, sails, and wahoo were comin' in every day, but a little less tonnage over the last couple of days. We decided, on the advice of an unnamed Bobo to go after rooster fish. With reverent thoughts of Sr. Mathias we chose Efrain as our Captain. Efrain is Isisdros' kid, and a nice one, so that kinda closed the Bill connection. Seemed like a plan. Over the last week some clients have taken some monstrous roosters, near 90 pounds, and we felt as though with our experience and piscatorial acumen that this plan would be easily accomplished. Not so gentle reader, not so. We couldn't find any lady fish so we settled for concineros and trolled the usual hot spots, without a bite, for hours. Now in the defense of fishermen and plans that need defending, when you are working a full moon it is likely that there will be some times of intense feeding, around the changes, but also some times of intense ennui as when that big current starts to hit its' stride most fish stop feeding. So full moon times tend to be peaky, and if you are in the right spot, at the right time, full moons are great fishing, but 80% of the hours in that full moon day are liable to resemble, particularly from an olfactory perspective, a black and white vermin. Well, a little before noon DN said, "this kinda sucks, and yesterday I caught a wahoo around this time, why don't we try that?" Well, Efrain and I communicated with each other in ocular fashion that at least this plan belonged to neither of us, and if it failed, at least it wasn't our idea, and nodded eagerly. To the wahoo grounds off the east side of Roca Montana we went. After trying a mullet colored Rapala for a few minutes Efrain changed DN over to a purple CD-18 and that was when the mash started to bubble. Almost immediately DN was on a wahoo, and that 45 pound fish went in the box shortly after Efrain gaffed it in one swift shot. 3 minutes later another wahoo hit the same Rapala and DN handed me his pole. I didn't think about the manners and generosity of this act at the time, things was a boiling, but in retrospect this is what Nice Guys do. Unfortunately that fish came unbuttoned underneath the panga. It was down 12-15 feet but the flash said that it had been another nice fish. I changed my lure over to a BomBoy plug that Chris and I have found quite productive over the years, and soon I was fast to a good wahoo which Efrain secured with another single blindingly quick gaff shot, and lifted it over the rail. This one went 60lbs. or so, and I was a happy guy. DN hooked another nice fish on the Rapala and lost it much as I had lost mine earlier, under the boat, big flash. Folks wonder how it is that anything can escape the plethora of barbed tentacles on the Rapalas, but I think that the number of hooks is also part of the reason for the wahoos' ability to escape a seemingly inescapable situation. You know from black bass fishing that particularly when using lures the fish are often hooked outside the mouth around the face. I believe that this happens when the fish violently attacks the lure. Because of the fishes side facing eyes that lure is not in direct sight for the final attack, and if anything moves, like the lure darting a few inches sideways, the hooks will be stuck on the outside of the fishes mouth, usually around the face. Aside from resembling John Lyndon at this point, the hooks are through skin and face meat, not around the jaws and bone of the mouth. This is a much more tenuous connection and is bound to pull out eventually, often before the hooks are replaced with the gaff. Wahoo strike so ferociously and with such velocity that this situation is made more common. At least, that's my excuse for losing mine. The bite then slowed, again short periods of activity on the big tide, and after another 1/2 hour we headed for the beach. A couple of things lingered in the RAM about this experience. One was how automatically DN had handed me the second fish, on his rod. No hesitation, no second thought. I hope that I would have been as nice. Maybe. Second was how well Efrain had handled the boat. With both of us being elderly, and with fairly high centers of gravity, and somewhat worn knee joints, scrambling around the panga after fish is not what we do best. Efrain had continuously and meticulously positioned the boat so that the fish, the boat, and we the fishermen were always in the right relative positions. It might seem like a small thing, but it's not, and I've never seen it done better. We didn't have to ask him to do it, or recommend any movement as he kept a steady eye on the rod tip, the line, and the direction the fish was heading. A real artist that one. We got back to the beach, and there were a few dorado there, and some stories of billfish lost, but we had the best day of the bunch, at least from a fish count metric. I doubt that anyone had a better day in terms of fellowship and company either. I hope that they had as good a day in that respect as I did, because that is what matters.I would like to cast a vote for the Nice Guys, like DN. They are undervalued and all too rare. And those wahoo steaks ain't no chump change neither. Thanks, David