GETS TO BE THIS TIME OF YEAR, ALMOST EVERY YEAR, AND AN OLD MANS' MIND TURNS TO THOUGHTS OF FISHING. IT'S A LITTLE EARLY TO EXPERIENCE THE WIDE OPEN STUFF OF WHICH WE ALL HAVE MEMORIES, AND FANTASIES, BUT THERE ARE ENOUGH NICE FISH AROUND TO PUT THE SHIP OF STATE ON AUTO PILOT AND HEAD OFF IN PURSUIT OF ONE OF THOSE MOMENTS THAT TRULY SATISFY. WHILE PUTTING A BUNCH OF FISH IN THE BOX IS STILL A WORTHWHILE QUEST, WITH AGE I'VE COME TO SAVOR MORE THAT ONE FISH, THE PERFECT BLOSSOM (SEE "THE LAST SAMURAI"). TWO OR THREE OF THESE A YEAR FEEDS THE COALS WHICH STILL BURN HOT, EVEN THOUGH THE FLAMES NO LONGER LICK THE SKY.
HEADED OUT OF LA PAZ IN SEARCH OF THE SEVERAL SCHOOLS OF SMALLISH DORADO THAT HAVE BEEN IN THE AREA, THINKING TO PUT SOME MEAT IN THE BOX, GET BACK EARLY, GOTTA HAVE A PLAN.
SO MUCH FOR THAT PLAN. THE DORADO THAT BOBO AND BOTETTE HAD SAID HAD BEEN THERE WEREN'T, AND TIME FOR PLAN B. THAT DIDN'T WORK EITHER, AND ON TO PLAN C. ENDED UP AT PUNTA COYOTE, A ROCKY BLUFF ON THE EAST END OF THE ESPIRITU ISLAND CHANNEL. BOULDERS PILED UP LIKE A KIDS SET OF BLOCKS, SPILLING INTO THE SEA OF CORTEZ, PROMISING A PLETHORA OF NOOKS AND CRANNIES, HIDEY HOLES, AND CAVERNS BELOW. IT'S SORT OF THE LA PAZ EQUIVALENT OF PUNTA PERICO OVER AT MUERTOS, A FISHY PLACE, A GO TO PLACE, NOT GUARANTEED SUCCESSFUL, BUT OFTEN ENOUGH, AND A PLACE WHERE IF I WERE A FISH, I WOULD FREQUENT. OVER THE YEARS I'VE HOOKED DOG SNAPPER, CABRILLA, DORADO, SAILFISH, ROOSTER FISH, AND AMBER JACK THERE. THESE FISH HAVE ALWAYS DONE THEIR BEST, OFTEN SUCCESSFULLY, TO RETURN TO THE AFOREMENTIONED ROCKY SANCTUARIES WHICH ATTRACT THEM, AND ME, TO THIS PLACE. CRUISIN' BACK AND FORTH, LAUNCHING CHUM IN OUR WAKE, WE AWAITED THE ATTENTION THAT WE SOUGHT. THE BITE BEGAN SLOWLY, FIRST A PARGO MULATTO, THEN A CABRILLA, NOT GREAT BIG FISH, BUT WE HAD CAUGHT THEIR ATTENTION. AFTER A FEW MORE PASSES CAPTAIN JUAN RECOMMENDED THAT I EXCHANGE MY 40LB. RIG FOR A LIGHTER ONE THAT I HAD BROUGHT WITH THE THOUGHT THAT IT WAS PERFECT FOR OUR ORIGINAL PREY, THE SMALLISH DORADO RUMOURED BUT NOT PRESENT SOME TWENTY MILES AGO. THIS WAS ONE OF THOSE RIGS THAT I'VE ALWAYS LIKED, BUT NOT USED MUCH. A CAPE FEAR STICK, A CARBON GRAPHITE HEXAGONAL RIFF ON THE OLD TRULINE THEME, COUPLED TO AN AGED PENN POWER MAG 970. THIS IS A BEAUTIFUL LITTLE CONVENTIONAL REEL THAT PENN MADE FOR A FEW YEARS, MORE THAN A FEW YEARS AGO. A HANDSOME LITTLE PACKAGE, BARELY BIGGER THAN A BLACK BASS REEL, BUT BRED WITH A HEART D'ORO. THIS WAS LOADED WITH 20LB. MONO OVER 50LB. SPECTRA, AND IS A BLAST ON THE SURFACE FIGHTING AND ACROBATIC DORADO, BUT AGAINST THE TOOTHSOME ROCK DWELLERS OF PUNTA COYOTE, I HAD MY DOUBTS. WITH A #1 HOOK TIED ON THE END IT LOOKED PRETTY PUNY IN COMPARISON TO THE DENIZENS THAT I KNOW HANG HERE. A BIT LIKE BUFFALO HUNTING WITH A BB GUN, BUT AMID THE MILDLY LOCO THOUGHTS THAT POUR EVER FRESH FROM THE BOCA DE JUAN THERE ARE OFTEN GOOD IDEAS, FOUNDED IN HIS YEARS OF FISHING THESE WATERS. WHAT THE HELL.
I CRADLED MY TREMBLING WEBLEY, LETTING THE SARDINE DART INTO THE DEPTHS, MY SPIDERWEB LIKE LINE UNCOILING IN THE WAKE. JUST A FEW MINUTES OF TROLLING LATER A VOID OPENED UP UNDER MY BAIT, AND WE WERE IN GEAR. I SET THE HOOK AS HARD AS I DARED, AND JUAN SAID, "BIG BOIL!" "I KNOW", SAYS I, AND IT BEGAN. HE FOUGHT UP HIGH, MOVING AWAY FROM THE BOAT, BUT NOT DOWN. "WHATTAYA THINK?" I ASKED THE SKY, AND RECOVERED SOME LINE. THAT'S WHEN WE CAUGHT ANOTHER GEAR AND WERE OFF TO THE RACES. LONG HARD DIVES DOWN, FOLLOWED BY THE SULLEN SHAKING OF MY UNWILLING PARTNERS' HEAD ANNOUNCED THAT THIS WAS A YELLOW TAIL. EVERY TIME HE TRIED TO CATCH HIS BREATH I WAS ON HIM LIKE A BOY SCOUT ON A BROWNIE, CRANKING THAT TINY HANDLE FOR ALL IT, AND I, WAS WORTH. WE SETTLED INTO A RHYTHM OF COLLECTING TWENTY FEET, AND GIVING UP THIRTY. TIME AFTER TIME THIS FISH FOR WHOM I WAS DEVELOPING A HEALTHY RESPECT, WOULD GIVE UP LINE AND THEN RECLAIM IT, A SEESAW BATTLE THAT WAS AT BEST A DRAW. THE BOAT WAS DRIFTING OFFSHORE WITH THE CURRENT, AND SOON WE WERE PROBABLY A HALF MILE OFF OF PUNTA COYOTE. "HOW DEEP DO YOU THINK IT IS HERE?" I ASKED JUAN. MY HOPE WAS THAT WE WERE GETTING DEEP ENOUGH THAT BEING ROCKED WAS A FADING CONCERN. THAT LITTLE BITTY LINE WASN'T GOING TO TAKE ANY TERRESTRIAL CONTACT AT ALL BEFORE GIVING UP WITH THAT DISGUSTING "BOINK" THAT SIGNALS THE END OF THE GAME. "MAYBE 70 FEET", SAYS JUAN, "FUCK", SAYS I, HAVING HOPED THAT THE ANSWER WOULD HAVE BEEN "VERY". WHILE ALL THIS CRANKING AND SURRENDERING OF LINE WAS GOING ON JUAN WAS QUIETLY (JUAN, QUIETLY?) DOING HIS JOB, JOCKEYING THE BOAT IN FORWARD AND REVERSE, KEEPING US DIRECTLY ABOVE THE FISH, TRYING TO KEEP THE LINE STRETCHED VERTICALLY IN ORDER AVOID ANY ROCK WRAPPING INTENTIONS THAT MY HERETOFORE UNSEEN OPPONENT MIGHT HARBOR. UP AND DOWN WE WENT, 8 OR 10 STRONG DIVES BACK INTO THE DEPTHS. THERE SEEMED TO BE AN INVISIBLE CEILING ABOVE WHICH THIS FISH WAS NOT WILLING TO GO, NO MATTER THE EFFORT AT COERCION ON MY PART.
FINALLY A GLIMPSE OF COLOR, THE PALE WASHED OUT YELLOWISH GLOW THAT CONFIRMED OUR SUSPICIONS THAT THIS WAS A YELLOW TAIL. HAVING GROWN UP IN NORTHERN CALIFORNIA I HAD NOT CAUGHT MANY OF THESE UNTIL I MOVED TO THE BAJA. EVEN THOUGHT THE SOCALERS SPOKE OF THEM WITH GREAT REVERENCE IT WAS NOT UNTIL MY FIRST COUPLE OF SPRING SEASONS HERE THAT I DEVELOPED THE RESPECT FOR THESE TOUGH BASTARDS THAT THEY SO RICHLY DESERVE. ONE OF THE JACK FAMILY, AND HENCE HAVING NO TEETH, IT SEEMS TO ME THAT THIS ABSENCE OF DENTAL WEAPONS MUST HAVE GENETICALLY PISSED THEM OFF, AND THIS GUM TO GUM ANGER IS SOMEHOW CONVERTED INTO THE TENACITY AND STAMINA THAT MAKES THEM SO SOUGHT AFTER. SO NOW, WITH THE FISH WITHIN SIGHT, IT SEEMED AS THOUGH THE STAKES HAD BEEN RAISED, FOR BOTH OF US. FOR ME, I WOULD RATHER HAVE NEVER HOOKED THE FISH AT ALL THAN TO LOSE HIM THIS LATE IN THE GAME, THE PINGING 20LB. WORKING AS HARD AS I WAS, AND FOR HIM THE APPROACHING DESTINY OF SEA LEVEL SPURRED HIS EFFORTS EVEN FURTHER. THREE MORE LONG RUNS TOWARDS LIBERATION, BUT EACH ONE WAS SHORTER THAN THE LAST, AND THE CRUX WAS UPON US. A BIT OF SHORT STROKING AND HE WAS WITHIN A COUPLE OF GAFF LENGTHS OF THE BOAT. A FEW MORE TURNS ON THE REEL AND JUAN WAS ON HIM LIKE A HOVERING FRIGATE BIRD, PLUCKING HIM NEATLY FROM THE WATER. THIS WAS A NICE FISH, NOT THE BIGGEST YELLOW TAIL I'VE SEEN, OR CAUGHT, BUT THE STRUGGLE, WHAT WITH THE TOOLS BEING USED, WAS MEMORABLE, AND VERY SATISFYING. HOURS LATER HE WEIGHED OUT AT 41LBS., MEANING AT FIGHTING WEIGHT HE PROBABLY APPROACHED 45 POUNDS.
THOSE FEW MINUTES, MAS OF MENOS HALF AN HOUR I WOULD GUESS, WERE ANOTHER WONDERFUL FISHING EXPERIENCE, ABSOLUTE FOCUS ON THE STRUGGLE ONGOING, ME AND THE FISH. JUAN PLAYED HIS INTEGRAL PART PERFECTLY, AND FOR THAT BRIEF INTERLUDE WE WERE A SYSTEM, A MECHANISM FUNCTIONING AS MORE THAN THE SUM OF OUR PARTS. "OK, OK", YOU SAY, IT WAS JUST A FISH. PERHAPS, BUT FOR ME ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE RARE, PRICELESS, "PERFECT BLOSSOMS" AS WELL.
THANKS FOR LISTENING,
DAVID
