Whether it's Ketchup or Catsup, it's still waitin' for that damn stuff to come out that's the worst part. A bit like that down here right now. The fishing is OK, were catching dorado, with some big ones, some wahoo, some marlin, even a few sporadic tuna (better than Spastic Tuna which was the name of Jon Cannfields' band), but it's not yet that which it should be for almost July 1. We've had bait parked on the buoys for almost a month, the water is that blue color that has no name sufficiently descriptive, and all is at the ready. Like the way water quivers before coming to a rolling boil we're on that edge, but it's coming late this year. The fishing from La Paz has been good, but not what we've grown accustomed to for July out of Punta Arenas. End of the World?, Global Warming? Lack of MacAllister? I'm not sure, but I suspect that the fish gods are feeling a bit taken for granted and have decided to remind us of the true nature of things. Patience is a hard one attribute. It'll come, and I think in the next 10 days, but then optimism is one of my most charming features. Stay tuned,
David
