PUBLISHED IN WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS BAJA COLUMN Week of Aug. 1, 2006

Photo: If I had a hammer...

JUST ANOTHER CULTURAL DIFFERENCE

For any of you that have ever tried to do some construction or a re-model or even just hired a contractor or handy-man to do something around the adobe, you might have an inkling of what I’m talking about.

I have been working on a project now for over a year. Well, not me. I’m busy. Being the smart guy that I am, I hired some folks to do some work for me. Of course, at the outset, it’s all smiles and handshakes and a lot of , “No problema. No te preocupes! (No problems. Don’t worry!) Famous last words, right? Right up there with, “I swear I will NEVER drink again!”

Well, things went on swimmingly the first few weeks. Madre de Dios! These guys were good. And they were cheap. Compared even to the guys you might find to do some yard work at your local Home Depot parking lot, contruction zoomed and I couldn’t believe how little it cost! Guys in ladders. Gus schlepping paint. Guys grittily pushing wheelbarrels of cement in the hot Baja sun! Up-and-up-and-up it went and I felt like saying, “No wonder the danged Aztecs built those pyramids so well and so fast!”

Then, one fateful day came the word…”Uh, Jonathan, we forgot permits for electricity. Oh, and we also forgot a few other things too. But…(here come those famous last words) “Don’t you worry! We’ll have to done “manana.” (tomorrow)

That was over a year ago and I am no closer to completing my project now as I was then. The red tape and cost overruns rivals the U.S. budget in the Iraq. How did this happen?

I have come to learn there is a cultural difference in how we use the word “manana.” It was explained to me by my foreman one hot sweltering day as I sat on a pile of stones that was supposed to have been moved, “manana.”

As he explained to me, when we gringos use it, it means exactly what it means…”tomorrow.” However, I was advised that, although Mexico has often been accused of being the laid-back “land of manana,” it is also because culturally, it’s the polite way of saying, “maybe!” What?

Here’s the rule, according to my foreman. Culturally, many Mexicans hate to disappoint and say something cannot be done. They are being polite. So, being ambigious is the next best thing. Saying “manana” handily dismisses the issue. According to my foreman, he said, “By the time a Mexican says ‘manana’ to you the third time, go find someone else to do the job.”

On the other hand, if someone emphatically says, “Seguro!” (sure thing), you can take it to the bank. He got up and dusted himself off leaving me sitting on the hot pile of stones to contemplate his advice and the construction mess around me.

“So when will you finish the electrical?” I called after him.

“Sure thing, manana!” He laughed.

I just paid him too…


That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com

Published Western Outdoor News week of July 23, 2006

CHEAP FISHING AIN'T ALWAYS GOOD...GOOD FISHING NOT ALWAYS CHEAP!

“I am going to be in Cabo San Lucas next month. Please send me information about your cheapest fishing deal ASAP. “

That’s an e-mail I got the other day. Not too different from hundreds I might get in any given week during the Baja fishing season. I started to reply telling the writer, “Sorry, I’m not in Cabo San Lucas, I’m in La Paz. Good luck. Thanks for asking. Blah blah blah…”

I was going to refer him to some amigos in Cabo, but then noticed that the same blanket e-mail had been sent to about 2 zillion other operators in Baja. Essentially, he had sent the same e-mail from Tijuana to Rosarito and Mulege to Loreto and the East Cape plus La Paz and, of course, Cabo San Lucas. I recognized quite a few of the other e-mail addresses and just shook my head. Many were friends and associates.

I wished the guy good luck and told him that I was in La Paz, not Cabo. I went on to say that although it’s the information “super highway” he was going to get a boatload of responses from all kinds of operators. Some good. Some bad. But everyone of them was going to claim to be the “biggest, best, fish catchers on the wild wooly Baja!” He had let himself in for a super highway traffic jam and a bigger headache of confusion than when he started.

I wished him luck in his endeavors but also warned him of his criterion for making a selection, ergo, “your cheapest fishing deal.” Hmmmm…

I told him of a saying I once heard. “Good fishing isn’t always cheap and cheap fishing isn’t always good.” Think about that.

Even in these pages at WON, we see page after page of “deals” and “offers.” Most are darned great operations that I’ll bet my last dorado on and have been for years. But, you have to compare apples to apples and oranges to oranges. Make sure of what you’re getting.

Here’s Jonathan’s Baja Rules borne of way too many years down here looking for a “deal. Follow me on this…
1. There’s no such thing as free (Those “free beers” on that airflight are not free.)
2. Everyone knows the value of their services. (Each of us knows exactly what our day of work is worth and although there might be a bit of fudging, whether you build houses or are a rocket scientist or drive fishing boats, there’s a point where you will not discount your services.
3. Everyone needs to make a living
4. You get exactly what you pay for.

Using “Jonathan’s Baja Rules” above, apply that to the scenario where you pick a fishing operation based strictly on price. They got a nice website. They promise you fish at a “cut rate” deal. Just because you’re paying 100 bucks less than the next operation, do you think the price of gas to run that boat got cheaper? NOT! But the captain or owner might be less inclined to take you “way out there” where the fish are really biting. Do you think the captain is going to get paid less? He still puts in a full day. Or, if he gets paid less, will he be as motivated to go charging out there with the rest of the fleet or stay out as long for that special “afternoon bite?” If you were in his shoes, what would you do? Human nature 101.

Of course, I’m speaking in generalities. There’s great deals to be had and no one should pay too much. But know what you’re getting and keep my rules in mind!

I used to have guys spend several grand on a trip and several grand on fishing tackle then ask for a pack of “100 hooks for 3 dollars” because they “save money.” None of us (even me) ever gets to fish as much as we want. This whole fishing sport is fraught with variables we cannot control (weather, fickle fish, etc.) so control the things you can control and don’t make your decisions simply based on price scrimping on the important stuff.

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com

Published in Western Outdoor News week of July 17, 2006

Photo: Aero California in the glory days at La Paz Airport

IS HELP REALLY ON THE WAY?

Can’t I just have MY Aero California back, the way it used to be?

It’s been almost 4 months since Aero California’s fleet was grounded from flying from it’s U.S./ Mexico routes for “safety and maintenance inspections.” Thousands of travelers have been stranded and the economic damage all the way around hasn’t even begun to be tallied.

Although a handful of it’s planes have been cleared to get going, the airline itself is still being coy about when and where it will fly. Talk about a “manana attitude.” Aero Cal has been saying, “Next week we’ll fly for sure” since the beginning of April only to disappoint. As of this week, their current timetable is given as July 17th. Oh sure…

Aero Cal was the airline we all loved to hate and make fun of. It was the red-headed step kid that always got the brown end of the stick. It was habitually late. It lost luggage. It served “mystery” meals where travelers often unwrapped their food then looked around at each other wondering what it was. The toilets leaked. Window shades sometimes didn’t work. Water from the air-conditioning sytems sometimes dripped on you. It was called “Aero Scare-O”; “Scare-O California”; and even “Aero Tal Vez”(Aero Maybe) by many of my Mexican friends for it’s its tendancy for arriving late all the time.

But, you know what? It got us there as the most popular and economic way to connect through Los Angeles to destinations such as Loreto, La Paz, Cabo, Puerta Vallarta and others. Something like 200 flights a day. Since it’s grounding, travelers have suffered either no airflights or had to travel on inflated ticket prices on other alternative carriers who charged double and triple what Aero California once offered. That in-service beer and boxed lunch is NOT free when you’re now paying $600 bucks or more from Los Angeles to Cabo!

The biggest problem is that thousands of folks are already holding Aero Cal tickets and wondering what to do with them! Aero Cal is not offering refunds until they get back in the air. No matter what they say, that seems like a big “IF.”

From what I understand, even though a handful of planes have been cleared to fly, how will that handful of 5-7 planes replace what a fleet of several dozen Aero Cal planes used to do? Will there be daily flights? Where will it fly? Only Los Angeles has been slated as it’s sole international destination. The rest of it’s schedule is supposed to be only within Mexico.

Further, my fears are doubled by the fact that I’m told Aero California still owes a palapa full of pesos for back pay; airport fees and fuel. I can only hope they pull it together, but even so, how much confidence will the public have in the planes? Want to be on that very first flight from LAX to Cabo?

However, according to a recent story in the Los Angeles Times business section by Martin Zimmerman (July 10, 2006) http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-airmex10jul10,1,4126442.story?page=1&track=crosspromo&coll=la-headlines-business, if we can get through this season, it seems the skies of Mexico will look like a food fight in the junior high cafeteria. Duck! Here comes another Twinkie!

U.S. airlines such as Alaska, Delta, Jet Blue and Frontier are all making strong bids to jump into the void in the lucrative U.S/ Mexico travel market, especially from west coast points-of-departure such as Southern California and the Pacific Northwest. Mexican carriers such as Mexicana and Aero Mexico are still on stage, but make room for new econo air carriers such as Avolar and Interjet. Avolar, which recently started flying from Tijuana to other Mexican cities in brand new jets, plans to add several dozen more planes and expand into the U.S. Interjet is flying from mainland Mexico and has a similar agenda. Both airlines have been drawing rave reviews from travelers.

Competition is good. I think it will be great for prices (Sure, just like having a bunch of gas stations help keep down the price of gas!) We certainly need economic reliable air travel into Baja and other Mexican destinations. Lord know that places like where I am in La Paz have been strangled by the lack of alternative inexpensive air carries.

But a part of me also laments what all this easy travel will bring to the Baja. “If you build it, they will come” was the line from a “Field of Dreams.” They are already building. They are already coming. And THEY is you and me and we’re bringing with it everything we supposedly ran away from back in the states...urban sprawl, traffic, noise, crime, trash, graffiti and fast food as we import more and more of the gringo lifestyle. Now it will be even easier. I can’t wait to buy my ticket. Help is on the way, but who’s going to save us from ourselves? “Green Grow the Hills” indeed.


That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Published week of July 7, 2006 - Western Outdoor News Regular Baja Column

VACATION 911

Some clients of mine had the type of rough week down here that I would wish on no one. It’s rare, but it can happen as easily I guess as in Mexico as it can in Egypt, Italy or Japan if you’re vacationing this summer.

You’re traveling and you or someone else gets hurt. It’s an accident, but you’re far from home. You don’t speak the language. You have no idea how the phones work. You have no idea what to do or who to talk to.

My buddy’s wife got brushed over a small cliff when a speeding drunken driver veered over onto the sidewalk. It was nighttime and dark. The other members in the group scattered and dove one way. She dove the other, right over a concrete embankment and down a cliff hitting nothing but air until her head and shoulder hit directly on the concrete and rocks below with a snap and a crack. Pandemonium set in with panic. (The diot driver, by the way, stumbles out of his vehicle screaming at everyone else about “running his evening” even though he was on the wrong side of the road. No remorse.)

Fortunately, we were able to get medical help and the right people to do the right things. She was flown home for emergency surgery after some intense emergency room treatment at the local hospital. In the middle of all this, her own husband had a near heart attack which brought in another whole set of doctors and additions to the crisis.

Short of finding yourself standing in your nightie in the dark on a ship named “Titanic” , the above is a nightmare of the worst kind for vacationers. It’s one thing to lose your luggage or have your flight delayed. If you think about it, there’s a big difference between an “inconvenience” and “life and death.” Most things that piss us off in life are usually nothing more than inconveniences of one type or another. It’s really different when all the red lights are going off in your brain.

So, what d’ya do?

Prevention is best. Short of just using common sense and not doing stoooopid things that would get you hurt even at home like drinking and driving; jumping off hotel roofs into swimming pools; or playing with spearguns, sometimes stuff just happens. Just keep your eyes open and be aware of your surroundings even if you’re on your 5th pina colada.

Bring your medical insurance papers when you travel and, like your passport and i.d., make a photocopy of it and keep it someplace different than your originals. Oh…it also helps to tell your traveling companions where you stealthily hid it too! Don’t be such a clever ninja.

If you need prescripton medications, bring extra, just in case you’re delayed. Bringing a copy of your prescription is also a good idea to show to a doctor or to get additional refills if needed. If you’re traveling with a child, this is doubly important. If only one parent is with the child, carry a notarized letter from the non-traveling parent giving the traveling parent power to make any medical decisions if necessary.

By the way, carry your prescriptions WITH you! Several weeks ago I had a client who arrived, but one of his duffle bags went to Zimbabwe or somewhere. It arrived two days later. OK, the bag had some reels in it. That could be remedied. However, he also stuck his asthma and heart medications in there too! His negligence suddenly became everyone else’s emergency.

Additionally, I usually frown on using my credit cards because of the high transaction fees, but credit cards are ideal to have in an emergency. Don’t use it to buy your kid a t-shirt or for that bottle opener shaped like a lizard. Use it to get medical care or to buy a quick airline ticket home…stuff like that. Understandably, a medical provider is much more inclined to treat you if they know you can pay for it either with a credit card or medical insurance . When you or someone is hurting, you can argue about the 5 dollar aspirin later.

Speaking of insurance, if you’re driving, the few bucks for auto insurance is worth every penny in an accident. In Mexico, they go by the old Napoleanic Code from their days when France ran things here. That means, you’re “guilty until you prove your innocence.” It also means, no treatment until you “show us the money.” It’s not personal. It applies to Mexicans as well as to you. So, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of pain. Your travel agent can also recommend travel insurance whereby in a serious accident, you can be covered for an emergency team from the U.S. to retrieve you and fly you out.

Many folks don’t realize. Most of the better hotels in Baja have a doctor and even dentists on staff or on call. As well, they can be your support to get an ambulance out to you if it’s something major. (Also, they also have first aid boxes usually at the reception desk for the more minor “emergencies” like cuts or Montezuma’s Revenge.) Last year, one of my good friends and clients had a bad diabetic attack and the doctor came right over; did an exam; popped an injection; gave him a pat on the head and charged 40 bucks.

Finally, the cell phone is the lifeline. Many of the U.S. carriers now work in Baja. Check to see if yours has coverage in the area you’re headed to and, if so, pay a few extra dollars and get the international plan for about 5 bucks so you can make and receive calls cheaply. Where I am in La Paz, T-Mobile, ATT, and Cingular work pretty well. Sometimes Verizon and Nextel do also, but coverage is expanding. In the larger cities, coverage is even better. Take a moment and learn to make and receive an international call. It’s easy. Also, Mexico has it’s own version of 911. Call 066 to get an emergency response.

At that moment where you need to have your wits about you, you’ll be better prepared. Safe travels to you all.
That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com

SUPERSIZE ME - published July 2006 - Western Outdoor News

SUPERSIZE ME

Over the last two weeks, I conducted an unofficial and totally un-clinical experiment just for the fun of it.

I charted the fishing results of each of our fishing pangas and/or cruisers. I added up the fish that were caught as well as those that were released. I talked to the anglers and skippers. I checked out perhaps 40 different fishing trips.

I had always wanted to see if there’s any truth to the maxim that, “big bait gets big fish.” When I used to deckhand more regularly and even now that I guide, it always seemed to me that there was some validity to the statement. But, I just wanted to see what happened if I did an informal study.

What I found was interesting. Eight out’ve ten times, the anglers who used the larger baits (mackerel, ladyfish, mullet, caballitos) got the larger fish. Interestingly, the guys who used chunk bait (method of tossing chunks of baitfish into the water and one with a hook into it to entice the fish to eat) also generally got the larger fish.

That’s not to say the guys using say, sardines, had a bad time. On the contrary. Guys using the sardines got more fish and had more action on the whole. Using the smaller live baits, these anglers got bit 2 or even 3 times more often than the guy soaking, trolling or chunking a big bait. But the guy with the larger bait seemed to have the best shot at the larger fish, albeit he might not have as much action as his compadre.

Years ago, a marine biologists buddy of mine told me that fish are a lot like people. Despite their reputations of charging after whatever comes within biting distance of the teeth, fish are lazy just like people. They love to “supersize” and the larger the fish the greater the tendency to be lazy and prefer the larger food pieces. This is because the larger the fish, the more energy it takes to move and hunt for food. Hunting burns energy and requires more food to stoke the fish’s furnace. Eating one big bait is simply easier and more “efficient” for the predator than chasing a bunch of little baitfish around just to get a mouthful. It’s why we order a Big Mac instead of two or three smaller cheeseburgers. It’s wasted energy.

So, next time you’re mucking around in the bait tank and the fish are boiling around the boat, remember that size matters. Pin on a big one and let it fly. Let your amigo have fun with the punk fish. You’re going after the beast!

HEADS UP – Aero Cal might just be up and running by the time you’re reading this. At least, that’s what they say. Or not.

In the meantime…Alaska Airlines has applied to fly the Los Angeles/ La Paz route beginning in late October. Interjet is now flying in various parts of Mexico with plans to expand to Baja at a fraction the cost of Aero Mexico and Mexicana. Avolar Air is flying non-stop from Tijuana to La Paz and other destinations at reduced rates. Avolar started just a few weeks ago and reports are that most planes are full.


That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.
Jonathan

BY ANY OTHER NAME - published June 2006 - Western Outdoor News

BY ANY OTHER NAME

(Origins of the Gringo)

As I’ve often written about in this column, some pretty interesting things come out when a bunch of guys get together after fishing.

Probably more brain power and profound thinking emerges over beer, nachos and salsa than during all those hours spent behind a desk back home when you’re getting paid to think! (Maybe if bosses just supplied every cubicle with beer and happy hour we might be onto something!) You have to be careful what you say in front of me because I have to come up with 52 of these columns a year and I’ve always got my ears open!

Anyway, during one recent sit-down where we were also joined by some of our captains and local friends, we were enlightened about the genesis of the word “gringo” oft applied to tourists, fishermen and basically any non-local.

Story one is the best one. Just prior to World War I when the U.S. sent cavalry troops into Mexico under General Black Jack Pershing to chase down Pancho Villa who had made his own incursions across the U.S. border. But he had a problem. Pancho was the Mexican Robin Hood down here so most of the locals were understandably not real sympathetic to helping General Jack locate Pancho and the boys. “No Senor. We haven’t seen him for many many days, but if you ride over those hills you will surely find him! ” (wink-wink and fingers crossed behind backs).

In those days, men-at-arms often sang marching tunes like “Battle Hymn of the Republic” (Glory Glory Hallelujah); “Johnny Comes Marching Home Again” and other popular war tunes. One of the most popular tunes among the cavalry of that era was, “Green Grow the Hills.” Across the deserts and hills of Mexico, that singing could be heard from a long way off. Nothing like surprising your enemy by singing out loud! That will get them everytime. (Imagine our own troops in the Middle East singing “Highway to Hell” from AC/DC as they patrol Baghdad.)

Well, “Green Grows” became “Gringos” as a way for Mexican partisans to alert their compadres, “Los Gringos vienen!” (The Gringos are coming!) And a new bit of slang entered the lexicon.

Story two…American service men wore “green coats.” Hence “gringos.”

Story three…It’s a bastardization from the Greek word, “griego” which means “stranger.” I have no idea how the Greeks got into this mix, but someone threw that into the discussion about 4 beers into the debate. It was toasted and approved for consideration.

Personally, the one I hear the most lately is “huero.” (“Huera” if you’re a woman.”) It means “blondie.” Don’t be offended if you’re called that. It’s not derogatory. It’s merely a statement of observation that many Americans are light haired. Believe me…it beats what they call me…”chaparito.” (Shorty). In fact, it means “very short.” I’d rather be a taller blonde. Or Greek!

HEADS UP – The Mexican Presidential election comes up July 2nd here in Mexico. President Fox only gets one term of 6 years then has to step down. Certainly that’s important on many levels. Howver, moreso than who’s going to be the next Mexican President, most travelers will be concerned that ‘THE SALE AND PURCHASE OF LIQUOR IS PROHIBITED ON ELECTION DAY!” That’s right. No margartitas or pina coladas at the bar. You cannot buy a case of cerveza at the store or market nor can anyone sell it to you and armed guards will often be seen at many of the more popular places. The prohibition of alcohol on election day seems about as practical as a one-legged-man at a butt kicking contest, but be warned anyway. Stock up AHEAD of time!



That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

ROADSIDE STORIES - published June 2006- Western Outdoor News


ROADSIDE STORIES

The chill of the desert morning gripped us as we drove down the lonely Baja Transpeninsular Highway. Even the emaciated road vacas (cows) so prevailant in the Baja frontier looked even thinner in the cold. My roadweary buddy and I had been driving most of the night. We were bleary-eyed from the lack of sleep and concentration it takes to drive this very special road. Not to mention, we were alternately squinting into a rising sun that was quickly going to start toasting the desert, making it harder to see as we alternately seemed to be in shadows or blinded by light in that early dawn.

Shivering from lack of a heater and somewhere east of here and west of over there and a zillion miles from anywhere, we pulled over to a lonely loncheria (lunch house) so typical of the Baja roadway. Our tires crunched over the gravel dirt and halted in the dust of a building that was not much more than a turquoise cinder block and wooden structure not much bigger than a small mobile home. Chickens scurried and a Mexican hound came out happily to greet us. Scraps of stuff littered the yard. A meek attempt at a corral stood next to the house made of bits of this and that. A skinny horse couldn’t be bothered and a sign above the door advertised in crude letters “Comida Buena” (good food). Well…good enough for us.

A stretch of cramped legs and we poked our heads inside the shadowed doorway. I’m not sure if there was even a door. Eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness but a smiling dark-haired man came to greet us in what was essentially a converted living room. An old sofa seemed to brace a wall and 2 large family tables had been set mid-room.

“Bienvienios amigos! Bienvenidos”came the sound of welcome from our host as he came from the shadows of the rear kitchen. Short, weathered and mustached, he smilingly ushered us to the tables. There were no lights other than through musty glass frosted with dust and scratched by sand and through cracks and holes in the walls where sunshine slid in through lasers of light and dust filtered through everything. I could hear the wind whistle and hum. But it was warm and friendly and we were hungry.

I nudged my partner. The “wallpaper” was made of jigsaw puzzles that had been glued together then pasted to the walls obviously with much pride and care. In 10,000 pieces upon 10,000 pieces… In fact, the room was wall-to-wall jigsaw puzzles. There was England’s Big Ben and another of that famous castle in Germany that was the model for Disney’s castle. A tropical island graced the spot above the old tube TV that probably didn’t work served as a candle altar to the Virgin de Guadalupe. A tumbleweed rolled past the open doorway. Clint Eastwood’s Josey Wales or High Planes Drifter woulda loved this place. If the floor was dirt, it was the best swept dirt floor I had ever seen.

We were given menus, but that was pointless since we found out that they only had tortillas, huevos rancheros, potatoes, onions, beans and fruit. Well, then…that sounded fine and he clapped happily as mama in the back began banging pots and pans and soon the smell of roasting onions wafted out. Our host genially sat with us and poured steaming cups of coffee we held in hands grateful for the heat. Like an old stagecoach waystop, he wanted to know what we had seen and heard “up the road” and where were were going and where we were from. Mama produced heaping stacks of homemade flour tortillas and a slab of butter he said he made himself which melted instantly when slathered in the steaming tortilla.

Dabbing away dripping butter from fingers and mouth, we exchanged names and he shook our hands warmly and explained they didn’t get many visitors. The nearest town was 60 miles away and once a week he went to town to get groceries, gas and water. He made a living by selling goat cheese and of course, the restaurant.

At this point, mama brought out the food…fried eggs with green salsa. Grilled potatoes and onions and torilla chips covered in a delicious melted cheese that we wolfed down hungrily.

Asking how he had come to be so far away from things, he explained that he was actually part Italian and his father had come over from Italy at the turn of the century to fish the Baja waters in search of a better life. Standing up and taking something from the family albums, he showed two indredulous road travelers worn dog-eared-sepia-toned photos of his father and mother, looking every bit like so many other intrepid immigrants who left Europe so many decades ago. Like so many others in similar photos who landed on American shores, the eyes hold you and draw you into the photo. What were they thinking? Some came to New York. Our host’s father chose the harsh environs of the Mexican Baja.

Is this still your father? The photo showed a sandle clad young man holding a rifle with bandoleers hung over his shoulder. “My father rode with Pancho Villa, ” said our host proudly. He showed other photos and explained that his father had been conscripted into the army of the revolution and fought proudly with the great general. “He was an Italian in the Mexican revolutionary army!” He claimed to have fought both the French and the Americans under General Blackjack Pershing as well as the Mexican federal soldiers. “Me? I have a little restaurant in the desert.” He said with self-effacing modesty and a friendly shrug…as if existing in the middle of nowhere was no big deal.

We mopped up every bit of sauce with our tortillas and we stayed to chat for the better part of an hour as he told us more about his father. He told us about caves in the hills with unexplored pre-historic drawings; of areas where fossilized shark teeth were in abundance; and where a steam geyser turns the desert yellow. So much more, but for another time. The road called.

As we climbed back into our dusty truck, he thanked us for our visit and made us promise to visit him again and he would tell us stories of a “barco” from outer space which had landed many years ago. It left strange markings and burns on the rocks that still glowed colors at certain times of the night.

Breakfast cost us 30 pesos each…three bucks. But the stories he told kept us chatting for many miles down the road. We tried to find our friendly host again when we drove through 3 weeks later, but never found this little roadside place. They may all look alike, but each must hold a thousand stories.

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

THE LAND HOLDS THE KEYS - published June 2006 - Western Outdoor News

LAND HOLDS THE KEYS


A long time ago and in a different life, I spent my first two years in college thinking I was going to be a geologist. Looking back, I think in reality, I just hated being indoors and being a geology major meant we got to go on cool field trips to look at rock formations; scrounge fossilized shells and there was always something neat about outdoor girls in jeans and hiking boots who were in those classes.

When I decided to change my academic endeavors, I never really looked back I never thought Id utilize topographic maps ; geosynclines; techtonic plate movement and reading sedimentary layers, at least, not until I started fishing and eventually trying to make a living in the Baja.

A lot of guys really pride themselves knowing how to read their fishing waters. Look for birds and floating debris. Look for current and temperature breaks. Check out the wind line. “Nervous water” could mean something big is pushing up a bait school. Look for a fin. Scan the horizon for moving dolphin. You get my “drift” no pun intended.

But have you ever thought of “reading the land” as a tool to your fishing?

The land can reveal an awful lot about what might be happening underwater. I’ve seen a lot of bass fishermen who use stuff like this. You see, the Sea of Cortez and indeed the entire Baja Peninsula is a huge geologic book that’s as full of clues as a Dan Brown novel. In Baja, the lack of vegetation means it’s even easier to read and decipher.

The entire land mass of Baja was created when huge techtonic plates shifted (the source of our earthquakes and stuff like the San Andreas fault) and caused a big chunk of land to drift north and one to drift south creating the Baja Peninsula and the massive water-filled chasm we call the Sea of Cortez. The land mass is the result of eons of volcanic, techtonic, and weather activity. Looking at a cliff, you can see layer after layer of sediment. See where that arroyo (gully) looks like a wash down to the water? See how the sand is built up along that point? See those boulders that tumbled down? Hmmmmm…

In the absence of trees that might otherwise block your viewing, stop don’t let your gaze stop at the waterline. Look up! Despite what many of us would like to believe, the Sea of Cortez is not filled with fish everywhere. So, it helps to have some help finding them. Many times what you see on the land is duplicated below the surface.

A huge canyon or a rain gully that has been there for many years washing down rock and sediment from the hills goes right into the water creating a huge alluvial fan of debris below the surface. A great holding spot for bait and fish like roosters, and pargo.

Vertical canyon walls coming straight down often continue to go straight down. Deep waters can be found relatively close to shore. Might not be a bad idea to drag a Rapala or Rebel through there for lurking homeguard yellowtail or amberjack.

See a cliff pockmarked with caves dropping, sloping or terracing down to the water? Imagine those same caves submerged holding grouper, pargo, snapper, cabrilla and other rockfish.

Wind and current whipping around a point of sand will often create a hooke-shaped sand bar extending out from the beach underwater. Look for the differences in water color or current breaks and then try working the area for roosters or if there’s a drop to deep water larger pelagics such as billfish, dorado and tuna could be lurking.

Big boulders and other debris from a landslide is also a tell-tale sign that there could be submerged structure holding fish. See a spine of high spots or ridges descending to the waterline? Imagine those same ridges or plateaus creating underwater seamounts and pinnacles. Even as simple as looking at rock formations that are covered with white bird poop can be a great way to find fish. Foraging birds such as pelicans and gulls will take up residence or stay in areas where bait fish congregate. They eat. They poop. Where bait fish go…you’ll often find predator fish waiting to eat them as well. And that’s where you should be looking too!

La tierra tiene muchas secretos! “The land has many secrets” and they could help you find more fish on your next Baja fishing soiree.


That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

I AM AN ILLEGAL ALIEN! - Published May 2004 - Western Outdoor News

I'M AN ILLEGAL ALIEN!

I am a fugitive from the law here in Mexico. About 4 days ago, I was informed that I was an “undocumented worker” and technically I had to leave the country.

Over a year ago, I had to revise my working papers here in Baja. I’ve been here 10 years now, but due to changes in the business, we started a revision of my work visa. Let me tell you, even to hear locals tell you, Mexico has more “agencies” for every little thing and each has it’s own rules, regulations and idiosyncrasies. For instance, one agency draws up the paperwork. You have to take those papers to another agency to verify it’s correct. Someone else checks the signature. You have to turn in your supporting affidavits and things like work records, associations, degrees, etc, to someone else. Another agency tells you all the things that were wrong with the paper from the beginning. And then you start over if anything is wrong. Along the way, of course, there’s fees! Often you are told there’s a fee, but you cannot pay that fee to the agency. You have to go to the bank. You pay the money. They give you a receipt. You then wait in line again at the agency to show you paid the fee. You get a stamp.

Well, I got stamped the other day, “DENIED”! In big bright red ink. My work papers had been canceled on the grounds that “I take jobs that a Mexican could perform.” Legally, a foreigner cannot get work papers to do a job that a local would do. Hence, I could not apply to be a waiter, taxi driver, cook, panga skipper, etc. But…you see, I BRING jobs here. We EMPLOY a lot of people. We fill hotel rooms and taxi vans and keep a lot of people working.

I appealed and fortunately, it turned out to have been a clerical error. WHEW! But, technically, until the new paperwork arrived, I was an “undocumented worker.” I was an “illegal alien,” if you will, and was laughingly told I could technically be arrested. Hmmmmm….No thanks!

It made me think about all the stuff going on in the U.S. right now about immigration and work rights. Being down here in Mexico, I think I’m in a unique position. Honestly, I hardly understand all the issues and ramifications. I certainly know how many Americans feel from watching the news as well as how many legal and illegal folks living in the U.S. feel, but I figured I’d talk to some folks on the street who actually live in Mexico and know friends and family that have gone to the U.S. for work. This is by no means comprehensive but wanted to share some of the comments:

Emily Torres (22 year old hotel receptionist) – “People need to work to support themselves. I do not understand all the protests in the U.S., but I know that many of us do not like that we have to move to another country to find jobs. There was going to be a big boycott in Mexico against U.S. companies like MacDonalds and Burger King but we realized that it would only hurt Mexicans who work and own those places.”


Jorge Cota (34 year old taxi driver) – “The United States has a right to use fences. It is like my home. I do not let just anyone come and use my yard or my kitchen without permission. I have a fence so I can only let in who I want. When I have a barbecue I only let me friends come in, not the whole barrio (neighborhood)”

Luz Rojas (33 year old kitchen worker) – “I do not like that people leave our country. It means our country is not taking care of it’s own people if we cannot find work. I know I could make more money if I were like my cousins who went to Tijuana to get to the United States. Their money supports their families in Mexico who do not have enough food. They are all good people. They do not like breaking laws. I know Americans are angry. I do not like that they will say they will arrest everyone. People are only trying to eat. It is a difficult situation.”

Alfredo Gerardo (68 year old businessman) – “I understand people crossing the border. I used to live in the States and it is easier there than here (in Mexico), but our own government is stupid. Americans should be angry. I do not blame Americans. Our own government should create better jobs and lives so Mexicans do not have to be illegally working in the States. It is the fault of the Mexican government.”


AERO CALIFORNIA ALERT – I actually saw a fully dressed flight crew a few days ago and apparently test flights have been conducted between Los Angeles and La Paz, but the airline now says no flights until June 6.

BANDANA ALERT – I don’t often get to see the column because I’m down here in Baja, but was FAX’d copies of the letter from the gent who said I looked like a “gangbanger” because of the do-rag bandana I wear. No offense taken. Not the first person who didn’t like the way I looked. I have no delusions that I’m short, brown and look goofy. Even mom said so. I spend 10 hours a day in the Baja sun. Unfortunately, I grew through my haircut a few years ago and to me, the bandana is light. It’s cool. I can wear it under my straw hat. I can wet it to keep me cooler and frankly, I’ve had a run with skin cancer already. You should try it…the do-rag, not the skin cancer! It’s a necessity, not a fashion statement.


That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

FLEX TIME IN BAJA - Published May 2006 - Western Outdoor News

FLEX TIME

Late spring and early summer is probably my favorite time to fish the Baja. It’s a great time to be on the water. We’re usually past the winter chill and ahead of the summer heat, not to mention the summer crowds. Beyond that, we don’t measure the change of seasons by the blooming of flowers, we measure it by how the fishing suddenly starts to go off.

This time of year may not provide the biggest fish; or the glamour fish; we often associate with Baja fishing, but from the northern to the southern tip and from Pacific to Sea of Cortez, this is just a fun time to fish, mainly because the variety of fish and conditions keep it lively, interesting and a real challenge. Anyone can pop a dorado during July when there’s 20 of them swarming the boat eating bait, jigs or pieces of your lunch burrito. When the tuna are foaming and licking the paint off the boat, so that you can jackpole them, there’s not much to that either. Don’t get me wrong. I get as amped as the next guy for a dorado or tuna chew, but there’s something special about May and early June.

For one, the waters are changing. Fingers of warm waters are moving in. But, cooler waters are still hanging out. It’s “transition” time for everything. Winds can still happen, but are diminishing. Cooler air temps are being nudged by longer balmier days.

All of this adds up to some great variety on the fishing grounds. Cooler water fish are still hanging out. Cabrilla (seabass); sierra ; various rock and reef fish are still in the fish zones, but with increasing frequency, more amberjack, yellowtail, jack crevalle, pompano, various species of snappers (pargo) including the big mullet snapper, red snapper and dog tooths are up in the shallows, while the exotic roosterfish start terrorizing the bait schools in the shallows.

But, by the same token, with warmer waters moving in you start seeing increased numbers of marlin, sailfish, tuna, dorado and wahoo…the bluewater badboys that put Baja on the map. As the waters get warmer, these species become more pre-dominant. The thing is, you literally never know what you’re going to catch from one moment to the next if you’re soaking a hook. While out on the water just last week, I keyed on the radio chatter and heard boats on hook-ups with everything from sailfish to wahoo and from roosters to pargo. On our own boats, I checked the beach and counted 17 different species had been hooked on that single day alone.

I’m usually not a big advocate of dragging down a lot of gear on a Baja trip, but if you’re coming down in the next few weeks, prepare for some different looks. Just because the tuna or roosters don’t bite on a given day, listen to your skipper and be ready to change tactics. Don’t be myopic about your fishing or get your underwear all bunched.. This stuff is changing daily. Roll with it and have some fun. One day the baits might work. The next your pink ugly lure might be the ticket. The next day the fish will only eat a stinky sock!

Also in certain areas of the water temperatures might spike real fast and warm quickly, the fish will sometimes get lockjaw as they adjust (like goldfish in an aquarium) to the new environment. If the inshore isn’t working head outside and vise versa. If the fish won’t chew the live bait; try plastics or jigs. Work structure. Hunt the porpoise schools. Look for temperature and current breaks. Take the fight to the fish and enjoy a great time to be in the Baja.

AERO CALIFORNIA UPDATES – No flights for the rest of May. However, according to my sources, pilots and flight attendants are on standby and according to the local La Paz newspaper, several test flights have been taken between Los Angeles, La Paz and Mexico City. My neighbors near the La Paz airport hear the jets revving every morning.


That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

HOW CINCO DE MAYO SAVED THE U.S. - Published May 2006 - Western Outdoor News

HOW CINCO DE MAYO SAVED THE U.S.

I always enjoy seeing how other countries, cultures and nationalities celebrate their holidays. You learn an awful lots by seeing how days like Easter and Christmas are observed.

The one that always got me was Cinco de Mayo. How many of you reading this actually know why Americans seem to go bonkers at their local watering hole yelling “Viva Mexico.” Even to my Mexican friends, it seemed like a fairly minor Mexican holiday. I always felt it was just another excuse to fire up the barbecue and drink beer popularized mostly by a certain beer company that begins with the letter “C” and makes some great commercials.

Even Mexico barely celebrates it from what I can see. It’s kind of a funny circle. Americans THINK it’s a major holiday so they party royal in the U.S. and certainly when they come to Mexico. However, Mexico only seems to wear the party hats because that’s what the Americans expect! In reality, I always figured it was like Mexican tourists coming to the U.S. to celebrate Arbor Day or Flag Day (remember those?). No big whup unless I was a bar owner and it meant increased liquor sales then by all means, let’s par-TAY!

Out of curiosity, I did a bit of research. In reality, while Cinco de Mayo isn’t a top-shelf holiday like Sept. 15th (Independence Day) when it declared it’s freedom from Mother Spain, the battle that took place in Puebla in May 5th, 1862, actually had some important ramifications for the U.S.

It’s the day that 4,000 raggedy and often barefooted Mexican troops faced an army of 8,000 French (yes THOSE French) who at the time, were among Europe’s finest; most veteran; and well-equipped troops. The cocky French were pretty sure that when they attacked, the Mexicans would run in the face of the fancy lancers and dragoons. (Peasant and rebel armies often did that in those days when faced with the spit-and-polish ramrod troops of that age).

The French even came with their newly formed “French Foreign Legion” the equivalent of sending in the U.S. Rangers and Delta guys. Well, the French were pretty cocky and committed all kinds of tactical errors and the Mexican army, some armed with just machetes, didn’t just stand up to one of Europe’s finest…they basically kicked the French in their collective foi gras. For many days later, the Mexican army chased what was left of the screaming French army through the Mexican hills.

You see, after befriending the U.S. just several decades earlier in our Revolutionary War, French sentiment had changed. Emperor Napolean III detested the U.S. and had planned to supply the Confederate troops embroiled in our own Civil War north of the border with guns and other arms which could have turned the war against Abe Lincoln and the north. Just fourteen months after the battle of Puebla, General Lee was defeated by the Union Army at Gettysberg, Pennsylvania essentially ending the confederate threat to the north and preserving the union.

With the confederate forces in retreat, union guns and arms were rushed to the Mexican border to help Mexico expel the French once-and-for-all liberating Mexico from all European rule as an independent nation. At the end of the Civil War, Union soldiers were even encouraged to join the Mexican army to fight the French.

It seems many Mexicans did not forget and it’s a hidden story about how many Mexican Nationals joined the the U.S. Armed forces after Pearl Harbor and as recently as the Vietnam and Persian Gulf War and the current conflicts, how many Mexicans went to consulates in an attempt to fight another war for the U.S and did end up enlisting.

So bottom line and a bit of logic stretching, Cinco de Mayo and 4,000 chippy barefooted Mexicans with machetes saved the Union and your right to drink beer in May…among other things. Viva Mexico indeed! (I found this info on a great website: www.vivacincodemayo.org/history.htm).

LATEST ON AERO CAL – Pilots and flight attendants have been called and told to get ready to return to work. Mechanics have been seen working on planes in La Paz and inspections are taking place in several destinations. Callers to Aero California have been told the airline “will be back in service around May 22nd.”

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

LIFE ON THE FRONTIER - Published May 2006 - Western Outdoor News

LIFE ON THE FRONTIER

I was invited to a barbecue a few weeks ago in the casita (little house) of one of our captains. It was Sunday in the late afternoon. A real flojo (lazy) day with nothing in particular to do. Chickens and stray dogs pecked around the hard packed dirt yard bordered by a seemingly impenetrable fence of brilliant bougainvillea and shrub cactus. The ladies bustled around and the kids did what all kids do…giggle underfoot in the haze of dust you just get used to anywhere in the Baja.

The fish and carne asada sizzled off the asadero built on a lopsided brick chiminea and, of course, large ballenas of Pacifico beer insulated in newspaper dangled from every hand. Manly-man time for cousins and brothers and uncles and dads to sit around the fire as guys do every Sunday no matter what side of the border you call home. I had known most of these guys for years, but it’s always an honor to be invited to a home and a special treat to see the amigos outside of our usual work environment on the beaches and boats.

Some of the guys, I hadn’t seen since the end of last season which was about October or November. I’m usually in the states once the season is over repairing gear; doing trade shows; doing promotions and getting ready for the next season. So I happened to ask, “What do most of the captains do during the off-season?”

“Some of us don’t do anything!” laughed one captain. “If the season has been good, we can take some time off and only work when we want to.”

“Some of us do anything we can to stay out of the casa!” roared another to the laughter of all. As if echoing the sentiments of many a married hombre, “ Otherwise my wife gives me too many projectos (projects!) Even if I don’t have to work I find something else to do so I stay out of the house! I clean the boat a lot!”

“Jonathan, most of us do some kind of work during the winter months. Some of the younger captains go to work in the chili ranches.”

“But that is very hard work,” explained a younger cousin in between bites of carne asado taco and licking his juicy fingers. “We work 6 days a week and 10 hours a day. We make 20 pesos (two dollars) a day and we don’t get paid until they sell the chilis, but at least it’s something.”

“Many of the captains fish commercially so they head south or north to work from fish camps and come home every few days,” said another staring into the crackling mesquite fire. “And then some of the guys also carry drugs too!” he added looking up with a smile and wink.

“Andale! Es verdad. (It’s true) they seemed to laugh in unison with about half the guys suddenly cracking up with a story or two about “knowing-someone-who-knew-someone-who-knew-someone-who made pretty good money carrying paquetes (packages).

I just HAD to know more about this…

As it was explained to me, no one asks questions. You get instructions. You make a pick up somewhere in your boat or panga and you bring the “package” from point A to point B. You touch nothing. You know nothing. You see nothing. You are merely a water taxi service. Not something you want to do on a regular basis, but when the kids need food and the car breaks down and mama needs new shoes…

“Es la vida en la frontera, Jonathan. (That’s life on the frontier) People do what they have to do to survive, “ he said and all hoisted their Pacificos for a long wet pull and knowing smiles. “Salud!” (to your heath!)

Bet you always wondered what your favorite captain did when you weren’t down here!

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

BOOKING YOUR BAJA TRIP - Published April 2005 - FEATURE ARTICLE WESTERN OUTDOORS MAGAZINE

BOOKING THAT BAJA TRIP

(Making It Happen!)

So, you’ve decided to finally step over the line! After hearing all the stories and reading all the literature, you’ve finally convinced yourself to come over to the “other side”…the other side of the border, that is. You’re finally going to plan that Baja trip you’ve promised yourself for ages.

It’s not that hard, but maybe wading through all the information has you confused. You see all the ads in WON. Maybe you’ve been to the fishing shows. Bob from work always books with a certain fleet. Your brother-in-law, Ed, always takes a group of guys each year and uses his favorite operation. You read on an internet board about some operation you want to stay away from. Should you bring your family? (Or not!) You want to catch tuna, but not marlin. You want to fish for those wiley pargo and yellowtail and a roosterfish certainly looks nice. Do you need a cruiser? What’s up with a panga? You heard those were fun. You want a nice place to stay, but you sure don’t want a place that will set you back a month’s mortgage either. And what about when you’re not fishing? Can you SCUBA dive or ride an ATV? Is there shopping? Nightlife? Peace and quiet? Questions…questions…questions…

One of the nice things about booking these days is the amount of information that’s available. Bookstores, magazines, the internet and scores of other sources have just about anything you could want. Baja is one of those places that never lacks for some scribe willing to put pen to paper and write about it. But the other side of the coin is that there’s simply too much information. There must be a way to simplify things.

For the first timer, or even someone who wants to try a new place in Baja, I’d ask yourself several questions

What dates or time of year am I looking at and how flexible am I on dates?
What do you want to catch?
What type of fishing am I interested in doing (Stand up? Trolling? Flyfishing? Kayak? Light tackle? Etc.)
What is my group like? (Solo? Fishing buddy? Significant other? Family?)
What are the interests of my group (Only fishing? Vacation with some fishing? Hardcore? Shopping? Other watersports? Willing to rough it a bit?)
How important is it to be near town?

If you start with at least this “core” of answers you can approach your prospective
agent or fleet or hotel with some concrete requirement so they can best help you with some solutions. As someone who does this for a living, there’s nothing like getting a 5 page e-mail from someone who wants to do everything and has no other ideas beyond that. It takes awhile to narrow it all down.

Once you have a pretty good idea about that jumping-off point, you need to look at getting someone to set it up for you. Of course, you can do it yourself. That is always an option. But then, you might be back at square one? Are you going to call up all 50 different fleets and hotels? Are you going to surf the web well into the dawn reading and comparing websites or checking online for the best plane flights? Factor that into your decision.

You can always call someone who can take care of all or at least the majority of the bookings. Time is money. This is where you need to do a little talking or checking. Who have your buddies used? Which ads do you constantly see in your favorite publications? Who is always at the trade shows or who’s names constantly keep coming up? Who keeps posting the fishing reports? Frankly, word-of-mouth is the best referral in my book. See who others recommend and why. If someone has been around for awhile, that’s usually a good sign. The travel biz is competitive and quirky. Folks come and go, but the good operations have staying power

Get that information then contact those folks. Ask questions. Get a feel for the operation. Do they respond quickly? Are they helpful? What does the price include so that you’re not surprised at the end by finding out you that lunches or bait or transfers are not included. Some operations charge tax and gratuity and include it in your price so make sure that the price they quote is the price you’re going to pay. Additionally, if you answered the questions that I told you about at the beginning of this article, then you’ll have a good basis of questions to ask the operator. Make sure they are the right person for what you want. . You might want to ask if the person you talk to really knows his or her stuff. There are a lot of “agents” out there who do a good job. There are others out there who are merely wholesalers and sit in their offices all day and couldn’t tell you whether tuna bite in June or December. They are reading off a brochure and don’t know if the lobster in one hotel is better than another or if there are kid-friendly facilities available. I know quite a few who have never even visited the cities they supposedly represent or the fishing operations they book for. Try to talk to someone who knows their gig. See if they offer options (choices of hotels, choices of fishing styles, other activities, etc. ) This will help avoid an operator who is only in the pocket of one vendor/fleet, etc. and will give you, the consumer more options on your vacation.


Here’s a few things I would never do when booking a trip:

· Do not wait until the last minute to book your trips. Good rooms and skippers get booked early. The guy or room you get may be great, but could also be the last guy on the beach or the room no one else wants. Airline tickets could also be higher for the last-minute booking

· Do not book your trip from guys on the beach or marina. I run into so many folks who just say, “I’ll find someone down on the beach to fish with.” There are certainly some good independents working the beaches and wharfs, but there are also some bad ones too. How do you know which are which? Who is going to take you for a ride? I’ve run into some good guys and I’ve gotten other guys who never showed up the next day or the boat they showed me the day before was not the boat that showed up on the beach.

· Do not fish for fish that are not there. Don’t get mad if you tell a skipper or crew you want to fish for marlin and marlin are just not there. Anything can happen in the Sea of Cortez and probably will, but your chances of finding a marlin in San Felipe; a dorado in December in San Quintin; a roosterfish in Cabo San Lucas in January or tuna off the rocks in Loreto are slim. Fish for what’s there.

· Do not ever give cash to someone you meet on the docks or beaches for a fishing trip the next day and certainly not anyone you meet in a bar. If they say they need money for gas, then maybe you can give him some money, but if they need gas, then it might be best to find someone who already has gas in their boat. This does not apply to reputable operators who have things all set up, but is geared towards guys you might meet in a bar or on the beach called “coyotes” by those of us who have established operations. Some are good, but others will take your money and never show up the next day.

This is your vacation and you don’t want any surprises especially in a place where you don’t understand the language. Price is important, but it is not the only criterion for booking or not booking with a certain operation. Remember, there are bargains out there, but you really do get what you pay for and nothing is really free. A good trip is not cheap and a cheap trip is not good. As with any major purchase you make, don’t break the bank, but get the best you can afford.

Just remember that the operator can’t make fish jump in the boat or affect the weather, but by the same token, they should be giving you the best opportunity to catch fish and/or give you the accommodations or amenities that you want for your trip.

FISHING THE SOUTHERN BAJA - Published Jan. 2005 - Feature Article Western Outdoor Magazine

FISHING THE SOUTHERN BAJA

For many anglers, mention fishing the Baja, and chances are, it conjures images of blue water and big colorful fish; palm trees and white sand; balmy boisterous party nights; and miles of serene beaches. All of these are inherent in just about any fishing trip or visit involving fishing the southern waters of the Sea of Cortez. It’s a place where contrasts abound, but sun and fun are generally the name of the game whether you’re looking to mix it up with the party crowd and chase your fish on a gleaming cruiser or scaling back to go mano-a-mano on a panga then retire for the evening to a quiet dinner on the beach and counting shooting stars with only the noise of the ocean as nature’s mariachis. Whatever your choice, the one underlying truth is that there are few places on the planet where world-class and world-record gamefish abound and yet are only a few short airline hours away.

Indeed, these are the waters of legend where just two-hours south of Los Angeles, anglers can bust their tackle and test their backs on probably more types of game-fish than any other place on the planet. Jacques Cousteau called the Sea of Cortez “the aquarium of the world” with more than 700 identified species of fish and some days, it seems like just about that many fish are available to catch. Certainly, year-round action on dozens of species can be had and, although, there are seasons for various fish, you really just never know what’s going to hammer your line whether it’s January or July. The area is a mecca for both inshore and offshore species and for all different styles of fishing whether from cruisers, multi-day boats; pangas, kayaks, flyfishing or surf.

From thousand-pound blue and black marlin to giant tuna; grey-hounding sailfish to the acrobatic dorado; exotic roosterfish to menacing-looking dog tooth snapper; torpedo-shaped wahoo to grumpy amberjack and yellowtail; the waters from picturesque La Paz to the north down to the the East Cape city of Los Barriles and over to San Jose and the electric city of Cabo San Lucas, sun, fun and fish are inherently entwined. The result is that these waters have become one of the premier fishing destinations in the world.

Generally speaking, like most of Baja, the land consists of rugged volcanic and pyroclastic formations reaching from the mountains and descending to the waters edge. This land mass was formed eons ago when the peninsula separated from the mainland of Mexico. It left the deep nutrient-rich rift now known as the Sea of Cortez. The semi-arid desert landscape is a stark contrast to the teal, turquoise and cobalt waters which kiss it’s beaches. Baja is a harsh land where water is scarce and daytime temperatures range from the 60’s into the low 100’s. The key to success is often recognizing that what’s “above the water” often mirrors what’s “below the water.” Steep cliffs dropping into the ocean probably continue below the surface. Arroyos (washes) where alluvial materials like sand, gravel and rock come cascading down to the ocean during seasonal rains probably create a similar “fan” below the surface and can extend for miles out to sea. A series of mountain or volcanic peaks near the coastline often extend out into the ocean and, over time, have become “seamounts” and “banks.” Tips of islands often have submerged reefs and ridges. Saddles between hills and mountains are often indicative of an underwater canyon extending out from the shore to the open water. All of these are excellent areas to chase your fish. If anything characterizes fishing the Southern Baja, it’s knowing where and when to fish the numerous banks, canyons, steep submarine escarpments and other structures that may be beyond your vision, but hold the kind of gamefish that make for a lifetime catch.

CABO SAN LUCAS and SAN JOSE del CABO

These two cities have been like brothers each with a mind and style of their own. Situated at the very tip of the Baja Peninsula, they were often as different as night and day. Cabo developed from a sleepy pueblito into a jet-setting-party-town where pricey real-estate joined hands with a year-round “spring-break” attitude of fun that attracts an international crowd of fun-seekers. In contrast, San Jose del Cabo (as well as nearby La Playita) retained it’s colonial character of small shops, boutique hotels and sidewalk cafes. (It will be interesting to see what the future holds with the new construction of the San Jose marina which brings many of Cabo’s characteristics with it to the excitement of some and the disdain of others).

Both cities are accessed by generally flying into the international airport at Los Cabos. The two cities are connected by the 10 mile umbilical stretch of beach highway seen on maps as Highway 1, but more commonly called “the corridor.” This is because of the seemingly endless expanse of condos and time-shares, hotels, developments and golf-courses that are becoming the hallmark of this toney stretch of beach. It’s the fishing, however, that really ties it all together.

As mentioned, it will be interesting to see the effect of the advent of the new San Jose Marina, but generally panga fishing from La Playita or from one of the nearby coves was the preferred method of fishing the local waters near San Jose. By comparison, although pangas are certainly available, there are few fleets as impressive as the “navy” of cruisers sitting in the Cabo San Lucas Marina. There’s a reason Cabo San Lucas is called the “Marlin Capital of the World” and if you’re going hunting in these waters, most anglers seem to prefer heading out in the cruisers. That’s not to say that pangas are ineffective. On the contrary, pangas get their share of fish and some of the largest fish every year from this area are taken on these amazing skiffs in the hands of some of the best skippers around. It’s a lot of fun and the panga skippers around San Jose will take a back-seat to no one. However, to reach some of the offshore banks, cruisers are the fishing machine of choice for offshore hunting the bad boys. Not only are the fish big and the waters sometimes distant, but facing the open Pacific ocean, even these relatively tranquil waters can become rough.

The banks off the southern cape are prolific. Facing straight south from Cabo, boats will head west then north into the Pacific Ocean towards the Jaime Bank and Golden Gate Bank where winter marlin and summer tuna, wahoo and dorado can hold court. Directly south, the submarine topography is marked by the steep sides of the San Lucas Canyon and an underwater escarpment that drops from 10 to more than 7500 feet deep in matter of a few miles. Heading east from Cabo but directly out from San Jose are the famous Inner Gordo and Outer Gordo Banks as well as the Gorda Trough that separates the Cabrilla Seamount approximately 10 miles from shore. These are the banks where the San Jose pangas hold homecourt serve as they are easily accessible from the nearby beaches yet are incredible fisheries for all Baja species. Inshore, numerous ridges, canyons and reefs mark the shoreline and the many arroyos visable from the ocean lead to underwater fans and banks that are perfect habitat for numerous inshore species such as pargo, roosterfish, cabrilla and grouper.

THE EAST CAPE

Like everything else, the little pueblos of the East Cape (the rounded hump of southern Baja jutting like an abbreviated “heel” into the Sea of Cortez) with their sugar-sand beaches; palm trees; palapa-roofed homes and “manana” life-style are giving way to multi-home developments and the sounds of “progress.” However, there’s a certain attitude on the East Cape. It contrasts sharply with anything else found in the Baja especially with their nearby city neighbors of La Paz, San Jose and certainly Cabo San Lucas. The little towns, especially Los Barriles, are connected to their civic brethren by Highway 1, but seem to exist in somewhat of a secluded state of self-existence where the folks who live there and visit there crave the perceived isolation of being away from the cities. Call it a bit of a pirate attitude mixed with a dash of Jimmy Buffet soundtrack and you get the East Cape. Ditch the highway. Hit the dirt road. Take off the loafers and Docker shorts and grab an old straw lifeguard hat and flip-flops. An unbloodied t-shirt is formal attire for dinner. Sushi bar? Only if you’re making it yourself. Cabana boy for your pool towel? Better ask your fishing buddy if he’s headed back to the room.

That’s not to say that a visit to the East Cape is san-luxury. On the contrary, some of Baja’s most famous fishing hotels are on this wild-stretch of land and most all amenities can be found from high-tech swimming pools to relaxing massages and air-conditioning to gourmet restaurants. If there’s something missing you probably didn’t need it. Just don’t expect a lot of nightlife. That’s in Cabo or, to a lesser degree, La Paz. Fishing, relaxing, good times with other anglers, and a fat cigar and a beer at night are a typical daily agenda. And, if you’re going to fish, you’d better lock and load.

The boats of the East Cape seem to work the whole ocean at times. As far south as the Gordo Banks and as far north as even Cerralvo Island and sometimes even further, the East Cape fleets seem to go as far as a tank of fuel and a tank full of bait will get them with both super pangas and cruisers available to visiting anglers. East Cape crews may acquiesce and let Cabo be the “marlin capital” but you’ll get a mouthful of argument if you challenge the East Cape’s claim to being “marlin alley.” Also marked by deep underwater canyons, and steep submarine topography, miles of deserted beaches and the only living coral reef in the entire Eastern Pacific (Cabo Pulmo); there’s no shortage of fish. Huge trophies are as easily caught inshore as cruising offshore where waters are generally calmer than those found off Cabo San Lucas since the East Cape marks the entrance to the more placid waters of the Sea of Cortez.

LA PAZ

For many anglers, La Paz is only a recent discovery. Approach any group of Baja veterans and there’s a good chance most if not all of them have been to the East Cape or Cabo San Lucas or other spots. Yet, few, if any will tell you they have fished La Paz. It’s often the last destination Baja anglers attempt to fish.

Surprisingly, La Paz is the largest city in Southern Baja, yet retains much of it’s “Old World” charm. It’s the capital of the state of Southern Baja and the location of the seat of government; the university; and much of the business economy, yet it’s an interesting mix of both the old and the new. It’s modern like Cabo San Lucas, without the glitz and glamour. (Half the city still takes a siesta at mid-day). On the other hand, it’s not quite as tranquil as the East Cape to the south or Loreto to the north, but strolling along the waterfront and eating tacos under a waving palm tree in the evenings are local pastimes. You don’t go to La Paz to do your souvenir shopping nor will you find time-shares on every corner or a Big Mac on every street. Tourism does not turn the wheels of this city-by-the-bay.. However, fishing certainly drives the wheels of tourism. It just doesn’t get all the publicity.

Reached by direct flights into it’s own Marquez de Leon International Airport, La Paz is a fishing anamoly. Anglers to the area actually get two choices to mix and match. They can either fish straight out from La Paz heading directly north out of the Bay of La Paz towards Espiritu Santo Island; the famous El Bajo Seamount; Punta Coyote, the Charro Bank and north Cerralvo Island. These waters can be prolific, especially during the warmer months for dorado, big marlin, sailfish and world-class tuna.

The other choice is a 1 hour van ride towards the southeast. Fleet operators pick up their anglers from hotel lobbies and shuttle them to Punta Arenas and Muertos Bay, which lays it’s own claim to being the “Roosterfish Capital of the World.” (Hard to argue with a 114 pound world record). Boarding pangas, anglers work Ventana Bay; Punta Perrico; the shark buoys; the famous “88 Spot”; South Cerralvo and many others. This area has been described in some publications as one of the finest “light tackle fisheries in the world.” But don’t let the extensive use of pangas fool you. These waters are ripe with billfish, tuna, dorado, wahoo and many much-sought-after inshore species such as dog-tooth snapper (pargo); pompano; jacks; sierra; cabrilla, amberjack; and of course, roosterfish which can all be caught literally just off the beach. In fact, the common denominator with all fishing in the La Paz area is that most all the fishing is close. Anglers are never out of sight of land and much of the fishing, for even the largest species, is extremely close. Being almost 100 miles up into the Sea of Cortez, waters are generally calm and, in some cases, flatter than many inshore lakes. There are some cruisers available, but the majority of anglers opt to use the experienced panga and super panga fleets because of the proximity of the fishing. In fact, even the fishing is fairly uncomplicated and is done primarily with dead or live bait with very little trolling so don’t bring a lot of gear.

As with San Jose del Cabo to the south, it will be interesting to see the affect of construction of the new Costa Baja Marina north of the city and new construction currently taking place at Muertos Bay (recently renamed Bahia de Los Suenos).

Whatever the choice, it makes for good variety; different species of fish; different styles of fishing; and a great location to return to after a fun day of fishing.

SIDE BAR

You don’t need a whole garage full of stuff to fish the Baja, but gear your equipment towards the time of year you will be traveling and the type of species and fishing you will be doing. Talk and get details from your fleet operator or booking agent. Talk to other anglers. Just remember, you don’t need EVERYTHING, but what you don’t bring you may not be able to purchase in Baja. Rental gear ranges from the very good to basically serviceable and pedestrian gear that takes a beating day-in-and-day-out. Personally, whenever I can I bring my own gear unless I know the rental gear very well. There’s an old rule: “Don’t go to war with someone else’s rifle.” If you have ever been on a trophy fish for a long long time, you’ll know what I’m talking about. That being said, here’s a very basic list for a first-timer that can be expanded to your needs.

Outfits

Short rods with a lot of backbone preferred over long rods. A thirty and forty pound outfit for live and dead bait are a good start

A 50-60 pound trolling outfit with roller guides that can also double as a “meat stick” for bigger or deeper fish using bait is a good 3rd stick.

Terminal Tackle

Assortment of live bait hooks to match sardines, caballitos, mackerel or other dead or live bait
Leader material plus several large hooks already rigged on heavy leader
Swivels (dark preferred over silver)
Lead (don’t go crazy. Unless you specifically know you’re going to be working deep waters. If not, a few torpedo and rubbercore sinkers is enough)
Iron – 2 heavy and 2 medium for yo-you and jigging. Make sure one of each has some chrome. Other colors would be blue/white; scrambled egg; dorado; all white
Feathers – one dark and one light small feather and one dark and one light larger jig (if you’re hunting billfish). Make sure the leader is appropriate to the fish


DON’T LEAVE HOME

Rod belt
Hat
Sunscreen
Dikes and Pliers
Camera
Zip lock bags (for fish as well as temporary splash guard for gear like cameras)
Windbreaker or Sweatshirt (just-in-case)
Small bills for tips

NEEDLEFISH - published Feb. 2005 - Western Outdoors Magazine Baja Backbeat Column

NEEDLEFISH

In all my years of reading about Baja fishing, I don’t think I’ve seen anything written about one of the great scourges of Baja sportfishers. I’m not talking about sharks or sealions. I’m not even talking about bonito or even (yak!) mackerel. Instead, let’s focus on a fish that no one even thinks about unless these fish are already well on their way to getting the goat, not to mention the bait and tempers of most Baja anglers.

Called “marciel” or “agujon” by locals, the needlefish…yes needlefish… has to rank right up there with some of the most reviled fish in the Sea of Cortez. Technically, there’s a small needlefish (about 18 inches to 3 feet long) and there’s a large needlefish species (up to 5 or 6 feet long), but since I’m not a technical guy, mostly they are a muy grande pain in the nalgas no matter what their size.

Ranging through most of the Cortez, but especially in the lower sections, these fish are long powerful critters that are almost tubular in shape marked by a long gator-like head full of needle like teeth. Normally silver or blue in color, they can arrive in packs out of nowhere. I have found them in the shallows up near the beach and rocks but it’s not uncommon to find them in blue water as well. However, when they arrive, their aggressive attacks on your lure, bait and tackle can only be described as something a tackle-manufacturer could love. With their rows of needle teeth they will grab and grab and grab s’more until there’s not much left of a slow trolled dead or live bait. If you have a feather, lure or lipped-lure, they will continually shred and rip at the jig until you reel back at best a tooth-marked lure or at worst, merely a head and a hook. Even moreso, the continual attacks can and will shred line so that when a true gamefish hits, you stand the chance of breaking off.

When you hit a “needle zone” , it will appear as though everything thrown into the water gets hammered. Often, you can see long silver “packs” of these predators following the lures or harassing a fly-lined bait. At this point you might as well move somewhere else. Needlefish have a very high nuisance quotient. Inexperienced anglers will think that they are getting bit by gamefish as the needlefish will grab a bait; run; then drop it as the angler tries to set the hook. Larger needles are strong enough to yank a trolled line right out of the outrigger resulting in a false bite and the need to re-set the lures or at least tighten the tension on the rigger clips.

When hooked, they can be incredible fighters on light tackle (but so are mackerel) and will launch themselves out of the water with surprising speed and agility almost like torpedoes leaping and skimming the water for10, 20, 30 or more yards. In fact, they have been known to come zooming at pangas, sportfishers and anglers with blazing rapidity and a mouth full of teeth causing more than a few nervous moments as anglers duck. Countless times, I have seen them move with such speed that they hit the boat and broke their necks or slightly embedded the point of their snouts into the fiberglass side of a panga. If one is coming at you, like a wahoo, it’s best not to be in the way! However, despite the initial fun, after awhile levity inevitably turns to frustration and choice words as anglers realize that the needles are depleting bait supplies; breaking lines; tearing up valuable tackle or preventing baits and lures from getting into the mouths of more glamorous quarry. Terrible is the price I have seen anglers and Mexican skippers alike exact on a captured needlefish treating them like the proverbial red-headed stepchild or worse.

If the needles are hitting, I know it’s going to be “one-of-those-days” when I’ll probably hear about it from my clients (as if I could control the needle onslaught). I don’t like them anymore than the next guy, but perhaps we need to adjust how we look at them.

As mentioned previously, needles are exceptional fighters. On light tackle or a flyrod, the battle can be fast, furious and sometimes one-sided as the needles will slash and tear off huge runs. Get tied onto one of the larger models with a girth comparable to some angler’s thighs and you could be in for one heck of a battle. They are certainly easy to catch. I have seen them take bites out of sardines, squid, mackerel, lures, feathers…even a piece of tortilla I once dangled behind the boat. If you throw a shiny spoon at them, they’ll jump all over that as well. Out of boredom on a slow day, I’ve had hours of fun with needlefish using my fly rod or spinner with one perk being that there are often other species around too such as jacks, bonito and tuna.

As for edibility, most anglers cringe when needlefish are mentioned as food. I think long cylindrical fish make many anglers think of snakes and they disdain needlefish even worse than some anglers turn up their noses at barracuda. As one angler told me, “Needlefish are meant to be disposed of , not eaten!” For many years, I felt the same. However, it was a group of my Chinese clients who enlightened my palate. I discovered that cut into chunks the meat has a slight blue tint to it much like some of the rockfish found in the states. When cooked up, the meat turns flakey white color with the only drawback being the copious number of bones. Nevertheless, it was some of my panga skippers that told me that the chunks can be put into a soup and the meat simply boils off the bones. Add some cilantro, chile peppers, carrots and onions and one angler’s trash fish becomes another angler’s delicious cioppino. Top with fresh tortillas and serve with good friends and tall fishing tales.

That's my story...
Jonathan

GREEN ANGELS OF THE BAJA - published Sept. 2005 - Western Outdoors Magazine Baja Backbeat

THE GREEN ANGELS OF THE BAJA

Where we live down here we have a unique fishery. Despite having a big ocean right in front of us here in La Paz Bay, we also shuttle anglers daily about 45 miles SE of the city to the beaches of Las Arenas. If you’re not used to it, the drive can be long, dusty and hot, but every fleet in town does it and most anglers really don’t mind it too much considering how good the fishing can be.

Well, the trip requires that we go over a set of fairly sizeable mini-mountains from the city and descend down onto the Arenas peninsula. It’s a pretty sight coming down the grade and seeing Cerralvo Island in the distance nestled into Ventana Bay that’s still 20 miles away when first seen. We coast down into the flatlands and down to the beach.

Well, “coast” implies there’s a downhill which conversely implies that at some point to come back to town there’s an “uphill” that must be dealt with. What is a nice morning “glide” down the cactus and mesquite covered grade becomes the “Nine Mile Hill” coming back…it’s the Mt. Suribachi of hills for all the vans laden with tired fishermen, full ice chests, and tons of gear trying to get back to La Paz in the mid-afternoon heat. And for the nice morning descent, it’s the afternoon climb where the mountain exacts is toll. Evidence is scattered along it’s shoulders…burned out chassis’…the rusted carcasses of vans and cars that never made that last climb up the mountain the local fleet drivers have called “the van killer.” The “Nine Mile Hill” devours vans and spits them out so often that the hill is approached with reverence. Air conditioners are turned off; windows opened; low gears are engaged; clients nodding off for the long ride home are warned that ,”We just need to make it to the top then it’s downhill all the way back home.” Climbing it is like the agonizing chug and click of the rollercoaster as it pulls it way to the top of that first big dip. Amaciated Mexican cattle on the side of the road, walk faster than the vans that have to climb back up that hill.

I have personally broken down so many times over the years on this hill that I don’t even panic anymore. It can be pretty desolate on those slopes with nary a vehicle passing by to flag down and the nearest town at least 10 miles away. In the last 2 weeks alone, I’ve seen 6 vans go down, “sacrifices” to the appetite of the mountain monster.

I’ve seen some folks get pretty freaked out getting stuck in the Mexican desert. But that’s where the Green Angels come in. Driving up and down the Mexican highways, these solo drivers can be lifesavers. Provided free of service by the government, the Green Angeles jockey small utility trucks similar to what you’d see the paramedics use in your town. There’s a special relief you get when one of these green trucks pulls up next to your disabled sled.

On several occasions, I’ve been fortunate to get “visited” by one of these guys. I’m not sure they necessarily have a lot of mechanical ability…at least not that I’ve seen, but they know enough. Moreso, they carry stuff you need and wish you had brought: basic tools, duct tape, rope, water, gas, jumper cables, some engine belts, a phone, a shovel…even toilet paper which can sometimes be the most needed emergency necessity of all. They may not always get your vehicle underway, but it’s comforting to see the man in the uniform step out with a smile asking, “Puedo ayudarte?” (Can I help you?)

For the second time in as many weeks, the van I was driving busted a belt on the long climb up the monster hill. Two passing motorists stopped to assist and couldn’t do much. But they stuck around. Then, the Green Angel showed up. He wasn’t able to do much, but it was good to have him there and he radioed for a tow vehicle. We now had 4 vehicles and about 10 people hanging out and things were taking on a festive mood. We had beers in one of fisherman’s ice chests. Someone else had some bags of chips and one of the original vehicles had some barbecued goatmeat. The makings of a party were brewing. Might was well. No one was going anywhere.

The tow vehicle showed up. They couldn’t do much either so they attempted to tow my van up the hill. They overheated within 200 yards of where I had gone down. Another vehicle came up and tried to tow the tow vehicle. It too went down. The mountain was having a vehicular bacchanalian feast! So, now, there were 6 vehicles stopped roadside of which 3 weren’t going anywhere soon. We eventually got off the mountain, but spent a good 2 hours with our mini-fiesta as the beer, chips and goat meat fueled the levity. At this point, the Green Angel came over to me and smilingly joked, “I know everytime you break down on this hill, I can never fix your vans, but you always have great parties on the side of the road. Next time I will bring the tortillas!”

Andale! Like the Lone Ranger of the highway, the Green Angels ride to the rescue where a little humor always goes a long way, even in the middle of the Mexican desert.

That's my story...
Jonathan

PEZ FUERTE THE AMBERJACK - published March 2006 - Western Outdoors Magazine Baja Backbeat Column

PEZ FUERTE THE AMBERJACK

We had dropped jigs on a high spot in perhaps 80 feet of water. The early morning sphere if heat called “el sol” still wasn’t at it’s apex, but already we had shed the light windbreakers hours ago. Actually, looking over at my client, Phil, the last thing he needed was something to cover up unless it was to protect against sunburn. Beads of sweat tinged with melted sunscreen were already stinging his eyes behind his sunglasses. and the strain of the moment was evident from the darkening circles of moisture on his grey t-shirt and straining arms.

His eyes were pretty wide too and I suppressed a grin and giggle. I told him to bring a shorter beefier rod! Instead, being a Southern California “iron man” who loves throwing iron jigs and is proud of his ability to fire ‘em half a football field, Phil was paying the price. His 9-foot jig stick was triple bent and I could tell he was silently praying to the fish gods. I half-expected him to take a knee! OK…don’t listen to me. Have fun!

Actually, we were about ¼ mile of the beach fishing the panga just south of Los Frailes on the lower East Cape. Being a divemaster, I knew this high spot and what could be on it during the early spring months. Our first drop of yo-yo of the jigs were promising.

On the first drop and fast retrieve…WHAM! I didn’t get bit, but Phil was stopped, bent and… (exhale) …UNBOTTONED! He wasn’t expecting that and I laughingly reminded him that when that happens you MUST keep winding to set the hook. Many anglers make the mistake of stopping the grind and trying to set the hook by swinging on the stick. That’s what Phil had done.

Second drop. Settle. Hit bottom. Stop. Wind like hell. Three cranks and WHOAAAAAAA! This time, Phil kept winding until the fish was stuck. Maybe he wished he hadn’t. He high-sticked the fish and fortunately his pressure stopped that first run. I knew there were rocks down there and the first charge was blunted, but his long rod was now helping the fish beat him up on a prolonged fight that had already lasted 20 minutes.

“Yellowtail or grouper?” He asked? “It doesn’t really fight like one!”
“You’ll see,” I grinned back as I rummaged through his ice chest for a beer. (Might as well…not much I could do at this point except verbally coach him!)

When the big bronze fish hit the deck with a thud and two gaffs in it’s flanks, he gasped, “What the hell is THAT?” His forearms were still shaking and he collapsed on the seat.
“Amberjack. About 80 pounds, I’d say.” Was my reply.

Yellowtail gets most of the headlines in Baja but it surprises me that you rarely hear about amberjack. Until someone gets one or a run of these feisty members of the jack family (like yellowtail, pompano, jack crevalle) shows up. Maybe “feisty” is too soft a word. The Mexicans call them “Pez Fuerte.” (The strong fish) If you’ve ever fought the other members of the family or say…a 30 pound yellowtail…imagine a big cousin that can go over 100 pounds. That gives you some idea. The world record is 114 pounds, but I’ve seen larger fish that we just never got to a scale or got eaten before anyone realized.

Technically, seriola rivoliana, the amberjack is not only a great fighter but many folks consider it an even better eating fish than the popular and delicious yellowtail. I’ve had anglers describe it’s flavor as having a tinge of crab or shellfish in it, perhaps because of it’s own varied diet. The bad boy is found in tropical and subtropical waters, often around deep drop offs, high spots and ridges, but in my own experience, it seems that they are more prevailant in Southern Baja waters where waters are a few degrees warmer than say, Loreto and Mulege, famous for it’s yellowtail fisheries. Spring, especially, the late spring then again in the fall seem to be prime time for getting amberjack to go.

When they are running, they will school up. They will eat a bait or chase a jig all the way to the surface. Sometimes they will school up in masses.

I ran a panga for some of my freedivers once. They were in the water and came up empty. I was puzzled because I knew there were amberjack down there for the spearing. However, as one of the divers explained to me with a smile, “The amberjack are in huge schools down there only about 40 feet down. However, they are so thick and curious that they are virtually coming up to the point of the spear and looking right at it. Shooting a fish right between the eyes isn’t sport!”

That may be true for freediving spearfishermen, but I grabbed my handy rod and fired a jig and quickly hooked up. Far be it from me to pass up a quick dinner!

That's my story...
Jonathan

BAJA LOST AND FOUND - published Feb. 2005 - Western Outdoor News Baja Backbeat Column

BAJA LOST AND FOUND

Who of us at some point haven’t had the urge to tell the boss just where to put the stapler; exactly what we think of our significant other; or wanted to be able to flip the national digital one-finger bird to every driver as we sat in gridlock with total impunity? Usually good common sense; morals; the need for the paycheck or our own sense of self-preservation restrain us from doing anything quite so drastic.

However, the other day, we were sitting on a waterfront adobe wall here in La Paz eating some street tacos with a few friends. In one way or another, all of us are retirees, ex-patriates or pirates from another life…a former attorney…softwear developer…fireman…truck driver…car salesman. You get the idea. Flip flops; fishing shorts; and raggedy t-shirts…basically “Baja Formal.”

Taco in one hand. Beer in the other. The warmth of the late afternoon rolled up on us as easily as the afternoon corumel breeze flitted and began it’s customary dance along the waterfront’s coconut trees like a little kid just released from the confines of the school desk. As we stuffed our faces with the succulent marinated pork and tortillas, the smell of the meat and onions roasting on the grill wafted around us and in the distance the boom box on a waiting taxi cab provided a nice soundtrack.

Sitting there dangling our legs, a dusty car briefly pulled over. A young man jumped out and stapled a yellow printed sheet on the nearby wooden phone pole before jumping back into the car which sped down the block and performed the same ritual at another telephone pole.

A concert? A social meeting? Half-eaten tacos in hand, several of us stepped up to read the construction paper notice.

Beneath the black and white grainy photocopy of a smiling gent in shorts with receding hairline and sandy beard and mustache were the words from a worried family. It looked like the photo was taken on some beach. He was shirtless and smiling as if on a family picnic. He looked happy, like some exec on a welcome 3-day-weekend. Apparently, the guy was missing. The 58-year-old was “last seen north of Ensenada about 2 months ago riding his motorcycle on a trip from San Diego CA.” It went on to describe the man in more detail but what hit me were the words at the bottom of the page: “Foul play suspected. Please call worried wife.”

The group looked at each other. I guess in the U.S. such a notice would have drawn some concerned looks like when you see those photos in the post office. Maybe it was the effects of beer and full tummies, but we all looked at each other and smiled thinking the same mischievous thought.

This guy wasn’t “missing.” He was GONE! He didn’t want to be found!

“Probably found a house in Loreto,” grinned Dave.
He’s working on his hook tying, “said Rod.
“He’s probably doing what we’re doing right now,” added Billy
“Got himself a dog named ‘Pancho,’” smirked Joe
“And a girlfriend named Veronica,” laughed Terry. We all laughed.

Hopefully, nothing bad had actually happened to this guy, but all of us know that Baja has that seductive power over people and if he “lit out” for the cactus mountains and sugar-sand beaches, he wouldn’t be the first. Like shedding an old skin, Baja is populated by folks who just took that one step across the San Ysidro border and decide, they weren’t coming back.

On the Baja license plate it says, “La Frontera” (the frontier) where normally you would see the state name. Despite many changes, Baja is still the wild frontier in our little brains that tell is there’s a simpler easier life if we just keep walking south towards where the land ends. Some call it a disease. Others call it magic. Some run away from things. Others run after something.

Yes, it’s possible to only have one set of clothes again and none of them have buttons or extend beyond your elbows or knees. It’s possible to actually know your neighbors. It’s possible to have everything you need within walking or biking distance. That’s real sunshine you see every morning and the ocean water isn’t blue because the pool guy has the chlorine set correctly. You don’t really need a store with 20 types of toilet paper to survive or 10 brands of mayonnaise. One will do thank you.

About a week later, I was again sitting on that same adobe wall indulging in one of my favorite and cheapest pastimes… eating an afternoon taco. A dust-caked Sukuki motorcycle pulled to the curb and the long-legged rider with the shorts walked into the little mercadito (convenience store) and came out with a bottle of water pausing briefly to read the now torn yellow notice which was now dog-eared and slightly ripped from a week in the Baja sun. He studied it intently lifting his sunglasses so he could read it. He then laughed. Looked at me; dropped his sunglasses back on his nose; grinned and got back on his motorcycle. I could see from his shoulders he was still laughing as he rode away.

And I laughed too. Bienvenidos, amigo. Welcome to the ranks, Mr. “Last Seen North or Ensenada.” You’d obviously made it as far as La Paz! Call home to let ‘em know you’re not coming home for dinner.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

THOSE PEOPLE - published May 2005 - Western Outdoor Magazines Baja Backbeat Column

THOSE PEOPLE

Recently, I was seated on a flight back from Baja to S. California doing my usual commute between my two offices. As luck would have it, I was thankful that for once, I wasn’t seated next to a crying infant. There are times when I think the gods of aviation must have singled me out to be seated next to the screamer or, just as annoying, the tyke who kicks my seat from behind or plays with his/her tray the entire flight.

No, this time it seemed as though I was in the middle of two or three families all returning from their Baja vacation. They weren’t fishermen…or at least maybe they had fished a few days, but at least the 3 or 4 guys and older boys didn’t look like fishermen. You know how us fishermen look after a few days in the Baja! Our usual traveling “ensemble” consists of shorts; sandals, 3 day old souvenir tank top with fish picture complete with weird looking suntan; lifeguard hat and bleery-eyes from lack of sleep and too much beer. Either we’re real loud and still on a roll or can’t keep our eyes open.

On the contrary, the folks sitting around me were “dressed” the way folks used to dress if they were going traveling. The men had on khaki slacks and docksider shoes. They had the kind of perfect hair I used to aspire to before my scalp grew through my haircut. The ladies were all “designer” as were the kids. Even their grungy beach clothes had designer labels. Every kid had an iPod. I imagined the moms spent a lot of time fund raising and doing lunches at the country club. It was kind of nice to be in the middle of this for once. I’m admittedly a natural evesdropper and I’m normally used to traveling companions telling “pull-my-finger” jokes or trying to remember how many tequilas they had the night before. I learn a lot from what I hear.

This is one time, I wished I had had the screaming baby next to me.

The talk flew buzzed around me consisting of them talking about the…

…the properties they had bought
…the new houses that were almost finished
…imported furnishings for the ones that were already finished
…the yachts that were going to be brought down
…which restaurants served the best wine
…complaining that they would have to decide between Aspen or Baja in the winter
…finding a nanny and housekeepers
…which beach would make the best investment for the future

OK…it was clear that I wasn’t in this particular social strata. But, this is what I also heard snippets of…

“….that lazy…….THOSE lazy…that ridiculous service… slow…THOSE people…taking advantage of us…corrupt system…not service oriented…THOSE unsanitary conditions…THOSE people…speak no English…no cell phone…THOSE people take their time…but we’re Americans…robbing us blind…our money…THOSE uneducated…”

You getting the picture? It was all I could do to grit my teeth and shudder. One part of me wanted to yell and another wanted to hang my head in shame. As the peppered conversation was loud enough as they spoke from seat to seat and across the aisles over the roar of the engines as if they were sitting at a big family dinner table.

Being an international flight, I know that the Mexican travelers sitting around the families could clearly hear the conversation and whether they spoke English or not, there was no way to mistake the condescending tone. But the group chatted on in self-centered oblivion. I prayed that I don’t sound like that, but admitted that there were certainly times when I might have been unthinkingly inconsiderate.

The sad part is that these are the types of conversations I’m hearing with increased frequency as the real estate boom in Mexico brings new people and new money to the land. It’s growing exponentially especially as we snap up more and more of the land and resources owned by THOSE people. (yes...we took their water when we sucked up the Colorado River a few decades ago!) Just who are THOSE people?

They’re not much different than us. There’s good and bad and most are trying to scratch out an honest living like the rest of us. They build the roads so we can come visit. They build the hotels and marinas so our boats can be as comfortable as our families. They cook the food; run the boats; clean our condos; wash the sheets; serve our beer with a smile. Mostly those were MY friends they were talking about and it pained me to hear them painted with such a broad brush as much as it pains me to hear some Mexicans call us all war mongers because of the Middle East.

I know we have our own problems in the U.S. with “visitors” from Mexico as well, but conversely, it’s so easy to forget that when we’re in Mexico we are also guests and welcome ones at that! The country belongs to THOSE people, but it seems as though because we have the deeper pockets, ownership breeds entitlement.

I was once asked by a client, “How come everyone in Mexico speaks Spanish?”

I could only shake my head. Yes, it’s all about us. Wish I had the screaming baby next to me instead.

That's my story

Jonathan

DECKHAND KNOWS ALL - published Oct. 2005 - Western Outdoor Magazine Baja Backbeat Column

DECKHAND KNOWS ALL

We all know what a “tell-all” book is, right? Basically, some “insider” writes a book about what “really happened” to such-and-such. Elvis must have had a zillion insiders judging from all the books his life spawned. Princess Di comes to mind. So does Marilyn Monroe. I think someone somewhere even dug up dirt on Adam and Eve if you checked back on it. Something about an apple and a snake or somesuch.

I’ve been writing for a number of years and sometimes having a journalist aboard a fishing boat isn’t always looked on with great favor. Think about it. What if someone followed you and the boys to Vegas on your next bender and jotted down all the highlights? Think about your fishing trips. Think of all the goofy things you did and said and heard that really weren’t meant for publication or anyone else who wasn’t on the trip. Even here in Baja, I hear folks say (men and women both), “What happens in Baja stays in Baja!”

Well, picture this. Think about all the things a deckhand on a long range trip might see and hear. Imagine what might come of that. Well, that’s exactly what happened on one memorable trip.

John Steinbeck is one of the pre-eminent American authors, a virtual icon of the American literary scene with award winning books such as “Tortilla Flat,” “Of Mice and Men,” and “Grapes of Wrath” which won the Pulitzer Prize in 1939. (Remember those high school book reports?) As a novelist, adventurer and social commentator, his name is right up there with contemporaries such as Hemingway and Zane Grey. The guy had some clout and literary brass. However, he also contributed to the literary lore of Baja in the manner of Fred Hoctor and Ray Cannon.

In the pre-war year of 1939, Steinbeck pushed off the docks of Monterey in the Western Flyer, one of those wooden fishing boats you can still see tied to the fishing docks along cannery row. At the helm was Captain Tony Berry and crew. Accompanying him was biologist Ed “Doc” Ricketts. The 6 week trip would cruise down the Baja peninsula and up into the Sea of Cortez collecting marine specimens and enjoying “comeraderie and conversation.” The trip would result in one of the most dispositive Baja books of the era, “Sea of Cortez – A Leisurely Journal of Travel and Research” published in 1941. (New York Viking Press)

It’s a marvelous read and a MUST in any Baja book collection. It speaks of a different time and place when it was actually hard to find Cabo San Lucas; when a harbor master had to guide boats into La Paz; about dust; dirt; mule carts; warm beer; and spearing “devil fish” manta rays because they were dangerous.” Like I said, it’s a good read that you should pick up and add to your collection. Steinbeck had an obvious gift for memory and writing. However, it wasn’t a “perfect” memory.

He forgot about the deckhand!

In 1991, a book was published called “With Steinbeck in the Sea of Cortez” (1991 Sand River Press, Los Osos CA). It was published 50 years AFTER Steinbeck’s book and 23 years after his Steinbeck’s death in 1968. It was written by Sparky Enea, a local Montery fisherman who was the deckhand on the Western Flyer with Mssrs. Steinbeck and Ricketts. It’s a paperback that reads quickly but it has some incredible insight into the trip that was interestingly “missed” when Steinbeck wrote his book. You have to be careful about those deckhands.

For instance, the most glaring thing mentioned by Enea is that Steinbeck’s wife Carol was on the trip! She was supposed to be the galley cook but only cooked one meal in six weeks. In those close quarters 24 hours/day, it’s interesting that the award-winning author never mentions his wife was aboard. However, in the deckhand’s book, it is notable that Carol might have been doing a bit of wenching with good old Capt. Berry in the wheelhouse and on at least one occasion came onto deckhand Enea and flashed him and she had a tendency towards wearing wet shirts on deck with nothing underneath or playing “feely hands” under the galley table. The plot thickens. Ahhhh…a true pirate trip!

That’s exactly what it was. Research be damned. Mostly, Enea writes about a great “guy” trip worthy of an MTV reality show. He talks a lot of getting drunk and basically, “we signed on for a six week party!” They would sit on the deck drinking and telling stories about hookers and “weirdos” and how Steinbeck could tell a good yarn over beer and were disappointed he left out so many details in his books.

They got in bar fights and crew fights. They would pull into little “pueblitos” like Mulege and Loreto and and Guyamas and immediately find “Carta Blanca” beer and cheap whorehouses and party all night. They discovered the medicinal purposes of the alcoholic Damiana drink as well as it’s supposed aphrodisiac properties. The ate pots of spaghetti on deck and dug for clams. They had a tempermental outboard motor. They bought bottles of tequila for 30 cents and learned that you had to pay extra for girls on Good Friday.

But they also talked about beautiful sunsets; enchanging warm blue waters and going to Mass in La Paz and enjoying the all the singing. And they talked about dropping everything and never going back to California and moving permanently to Mexico. Like all guys, they talked about having “gas.” You can almost hear Steinbeck telling someone to “pull my finger.” Sound familiar? The more things change, the more they stay the same. Road trip! Just watch out for the deckhand!

How could John Steinbeck miss all this in his book?

That’s my story!
Jonathan

BLOOD ON THE BEACH - published March 2005 - Western Outdoors Magazine Baja Backbeat Column

BLOOD ON THE BEACH

I came up on the beach a few weeks ago with some clients while out fishing in our pangas. What a great glorious Mexican day. It was the kind of day that makes my job easy and clients think that they caught a lot of fish because of my (perceived) “talent and experience” ! Ha! The nice thing about working in the Sea of Cortez is that the ocean usually takes care of everything and I’m just a grateful bystander. I was guiding the client and his wife and we were returning from a good day on the water…good sun…good company…good fish. All the combinations were there. Lots of smiles… at least, until we got back to the beach and saw all the bodies on the beach.

“Oh my Gawd! What’s that on the beach? What’s all that blood?” shrieked my client’s wife squinting in the bright early afternoon sunshine as we gunned the panga, Mexican style, right through the surf and up onto the sand to a sudden halt.

I tried to tell her those were manta rays (actually mobulae…smaller cousins to the giant mantas) but she immediately hopped out’ve the panga and was walking quickly to where the commercial pangeros (skiff captains) were cutting up and selling their catch to the truck from the market down the beach from where we had beached out boat.

Although I was still in the panga, I could easily see the carcasses of rays, sharks, and rockfish being cut and stacked. The wind was running out’ve my sail as I could already tell from her comments where this was all heading. I looked at my client who cocked an eyebrow and shrugged.

The clients’ wife came back in a rage of tears. “Those men should be shot!” She screamed. “They are butchering those fish! Can’t we stop them? Can’t we call the police or something?” She was almost shaking with anger.

“What they’re doing is perfectly legal,” I tried to explain as calmly as possible to diffuse the situation. This was not the first time I had heard this. I told her I didn’t like seeing animals like manta rays and sharks cut up like that either. Heck, people pay me money to take them scuba diving so they can see these great creatures in the water. However, there wasn’t much I could do about it. At least not here on the beach. I also tried to tell her that these pangeros out here are just guys trying to make a living and feed their families.

“Well, then YOU are partially to blame too!” she screamed. I could feel this one coming. Here we go… zero sixty in one sentence. “People like you with YOUR attitude are the very reason the world’s creatures are being destroyed! You should be out there forming up a group of captains or something or forming an eco group to be saving those animals!”

She had now turned on me…the fishing guy. I looked at her husband who smartly had moved out’ve the line-of-fire and had turned his attention to busying himself gathering up his gear in the boat. However, I knew he could hear.

I tried to tell her that these are just simple captains. Most of them don’t even own their own boats. They scrape to buy gas for the boats. They are at the whim of weather and currents. They hold their trucks together with duct tape and spit (well, I didn’t exactly say “spit!”) They make pennies while fishing. When not fishing, they are working in the chili farms for 2 dollars/day. They live in homes that might have a dirt floor and a blue tarp for a roof with chickens having as much a right-of-way as a visiting neighbor. They were about SURVIVAL, not forming eco groups! (I tried to say this in a calm matter-of-fact way to try to keep a lid on this).

I told her, that I’m no tree-hugger, but I didn’t like seeing all those carcasses on the beach and in the surf either. But, I tried to tell her these guys aren’t part of a big ocean-raping corporation. Their names are “Jose” and “Ramon” and “Victor” and they were just “guys” trying to live day-to-day from whatever the ocean gives them. No malice intended towards the environment. They weren’t “sportfishing” for fun like us (I pointed to the rather full fish box in the panga that had a nice limit of dorado and cabrilla). I told her I couldn’t fault a guy for doing what I would do in the same circumstance…trying to eat!

That did it. Maybe I put too much emphasis on that last part.

At that she stormed off up the beach in a huff. There’s a disturbance in the force, Luke. It’s like when your girlfriend thinks she caught you in something you didn’t do. The silence is deafening. I was left being the bad guy. Her husband looked at me and just said, “I didn’t want to get in the middle of that, but why exactly are they killing all those sharks and mantas?”

I looked at his quiver of gold reels. I looked at his expensive designer shorts and L.L. Bean shirt. I remembered his wife’s diamond ring (the size of a 1 oz. egg sinker) and designer sunglasses that alone must’ve cost more than some captains make in a month.

What I wanted to say is, “With all due respect, have you ever been hungry? I mean really hungry? Have you ever looked at your kids and not had enough milk to go around or dinner was the same beans you had 3 nights in a row? No catsup. No salsa. No cheese. It’s beans and tortillas and if you’re lucky…maybe some rice or a piece of fishy bonito that one of your “generous” clients gave you instead of a tip.

Have you ever been in a situation where you really didn’t know where tomorrow’s meal is coming from? In my worst college days of eating hard boiled eggs and Top Ramen until it was coming out’ve my ears, I didn’t miss a lot of meals. That’s what I wanted to say. Instead, I said, “They’re just trying to make a living.” He was good with that and walked somberly to the waiting shuttle van with his gear. So much for a bright-cheery day. His wife didn’t speak to me again the rest of their vacation.

That's my story...
Jonathan

THE GIANT SQUID OF BAJA - published Nov. 2005 - Western Outdoors Magazine -Baja Backbeat Column

THE GIANT SQUID OF BAJA

My client was in freespool dropping down the heavily weighted jig into the early morning waters lightly feathering the line as it spun deeper and deeper.

“Deeper?” he asked.
“Yea, you got a bit to go, ” I responded.
“How deep do I need to get down? I have about half my spool down already,” he said looking up at me just watching him with a bit of a bemused smirk.
“Oh, you’re just about there. I”ll tell you when,” I said knowingly.
“How about now?” was his anxious reply by now his 4/0 two-speed well into the spectra.
“OK…that ought do it. Now. Stop and slowly jig and wind up.” I think he caught my wink but he smiled and dutifully did what I suggested anxious to get into something.
Two cranks. Lift. Three cranks. Lift. Four cranks…”WHOA! Dangit, I’m hung up on the bottom!” he complained as the thick meat stick almost went parabolic and his hand froze in mid-crank.
“The bottom is 800 feet below the hull of this boat and when was the last time, the bottom pulled drag?” I laughed.
It suddenly dawned on him that his rod was abruptly pinned to the rail and he was straining mightily to fight whatever it was that had the end of that line. Arm and neck muscles bulged and he looked at me with a mixture of confusion and resignation.
“You said you wanted to catch some giant squid, amigo! I told you that even with your two-speed these critters are beasts!”

If you ever get around a fat-chewing session with some Baja fishermen, nothing with maybe the exception of man-eating sharks, seems to grab everyone’s attention like the topic of giant squid. Like sharks, there seems to be something inherent in our collective psyche that draws us to them. One man’s myth is another man’s monster; is another man’s bait; is another man’s dinner.

Whether your first encounter with them is playing with them in the bait tank; seeing them under the lights; finding them washed up on the beach or eating them with garlic bread and wine, there’s simply something intriguing about them. This is especially true of the giant squid that has mesmerized those of us on dry land for eons or any little boy who read Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

Architeuthis (ark-ee-TOOTH-us) is the scientific name for the big critters and perhaps part of the fascination is that we really know so little about them. Most of our knowledge basically comes from the smaller ones that are caught and the larger ones where we can only speculate by examining tentacles or carcasses washed up somewhere or recovered in the ocean. None has ever been raised or kept in captivity. Where do the live? What do they eat? How do they feed? How big do they grow?

In fact only recently in September 2004, Japanese scientists were the first to photograph an animal estimated at 25 feet long 3000 feet below the surface as it attacked a baited jig in the northern Pacific Ocean. Reported in National Geographic http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2005/09/0927_050927_giant_squid.html, the photos are downright amazingly spooky if you consider the power of a giant parrot-like beak and tentacles that have grasping (not suction) cups long them. Using basically, the same methods used by squid fishermen around the world, the Japanese researchers were amazed at the animal’s predatory abilities as well as how tenaciously it fought when hooked. (Obviously, these guys weren’t fishermen.)

Previously, they had thought squid just “hung out down there” but now conjecture that these bad boys can HUNT. During the struggle with the hooked squid, one of the longer 18 foot tentacles was broken off and brought on board. (A squid has both long and shorter tentacles.) Based on that measurement, they speculate the owner of the arm was about 25 feet long, but “caution” this assumes the tentacle was broken off at the base near the body! For the records, the longest recovered squid was measured at about 59 feet long.

In my professional career in Baja I’ve caught a lot of squid from 12 inchers to 80 pounders. They’re a lot of fun. I’m also a professional diver and although I will fish for the squirters, I can’t think of too many other professional divers that will take clients diving with squid. I have no problem diving with sharks, but if squid are around I’d rather we all get out’ve the water. There’s a saying that there has never been a recorded shark attack in the Sea of Cortez, but there have been a number of deaths related to squid attacks especially among the squid fishermen in the middle areas of the Sea of Cortez and the Baja.

I look over at my client who is now 20 minutes into his squid. Beads of sweat are running down his face and his t-shirt is already sweat-stained in the early Baja sun. He’s learned that an easy grind beats the “lift-and-wind-down” method used to fight fish. But this squid is kicking his butt.

“This is incredible. I had no idea these things were such fighters. I’ve caught 5 pounders off California, but this is like dangling a small refrigerator over the side of a building with a piece of string!”

“These things are usually further down…waaay down,” I tell him. However, the last few weeks, they’ve been at 200-400 feet so we’ve been fishing them because it’s fun and most guys have never seen anything like this. Plus they make great bait when chunked up or trolled.”

He’s still going to be a few more minutes judging by the bend in the rod, so I tell him I’ve been hooked on small tuna or bonito that swam through a school of squid and had the squid just rip the fish off the hooks. I mention to him that I’ve read stories of divers that have been attacked and nearly drowned and hacked by squid. I heard a story from one diver who saw a blue shark swim through a school of squid and come out with some orange-sized chunks missing from it’s body and about some underwater divers who went down in a cage to do some photography of the squid and had to wrap that yellow plastic police mesh around the cage to protect themselves from attacking squid. I tell him that just last month, some spearfishing free divers near Cabo San Lucas had to leave the water when giant squid came after them near the surface.

“How big do these things get?” he says between grins and huffs.

I tell him mostly we see 20-40 pounders, but that squid up to 80 pounds have been caught recently. Most are about 3-5 feet long. I tell him that unlike an octopus that has a small head and long arms, the squid has tentacles that are about a third the length of it’s body, i.e, a three-foot squid has arms about a foot long.

“About a month ago, I came across a 6 foot tentacle floating on the surface with birds diving on it,” I recount. If my ratio of 1:3 is correct then that arm was connected to some 18 foot creature, right? Even more intriguing, I’d sure hate to run into the beast that tore that 6-foot-arm off!” I said with emphasis like a camp counselor telling a fireside ghost story. I’m not lying, but I sure love this stuff and watching the reaction.

I can see his eyes widen with each story. Somewhere in his head, he’s thinking, “We need a bigger boat!” like that scene from the movie Jaws. He’s breathing heavily now… a combination of the squid’s power and too many beers last night in the cantina. He’s whupped but so is the squid as it comes darkly to the surface and we stick a gaff in it. We leave it on the side momentarily to protect ourselves from jets of water and ink that can hit you like a firehose when shot from the body of a 50-pound mollusk. It’s then lifted into the boat and into the fish box.

“Oh my gawd!” says the client sitting himself down in resignation. “That was incredible. Holy…I’m beat!” he adds exhaustively as I toss him a cold one from the ice chest.
“Well, we need 4 of those big things for bait to go chase the tuna today so drop down again!” I tell him with a laugh.

“You’re kidding, right?” he says as he reaches for his rod again and starts the process over.
“Nope. No bait no fish.”

Well, we do need a few more for bait, but these things make great calamari salad and fried squid rings too and whatever isn’t used for bait is coming home to my casa for a bath in some garlic, beer batter and hot oil! One man’s bait is another man’s dinner. Mine. I love my job. Ole!

That’s my story!

Jonathan

CAPTURE THE GRINGO - published Dec. 2005 - Western Outdoors Magazine Baja Backbeat

CAPTURE THE GRINGO

(Our Best Diplomacy)

I got a call late one night at my place from some of my fishing clients that were staying at one of the hotels in town. They told me a story that got my red warning flags up as it was being recounted, but I heard them through.

Jim and his grown sons had been downtown along the waterfront having a nice seafood dinner. Jim is a retired school teacher from Alaska and an avid outdoorsman with a beard that would make any of the guys from ZZ Top envious. Apparently while walking back to the hotel along a dark street, a car stopped in front of them and some young men jumped out. Jim and his sons were understandably startled. Nothing like having a strange car in a strange country accost you in a dark street.

Jim and his boys spoke little Spanish and understood even less, but the young men who jumped out’ve the car, spoke some English. As Jim told me, the men wanted to pick them up the next evening and come with them to meet with some “other friends.” They seemed nice enough, but Jim was now calling me. What did I think?

Well, heck…I didn’t fall off the cabbage wagon yesterday and I live and love Mexico, but an occurrence like that sure gets my radar up no matter what city whether it be La Paz, Los Angeles or Muleville. Our city is a really safe place, but being these were my clients and my responsibility to get them home safely, I could only shake my head and recommend against it. I’d never heard of such a thing and Jim didn’t exactly know what was being said to him in the street.

“I don’t know, Jim. I’m nervous. You don’t just jump in someone’s car in a strange city and let them drive you off,” I said over the phone.

“But they really just seemed like nice kids,” he replied.

“I’d still recommend against it,” I reminded him. “Better to be safe than sorry,”

Jim wished me a good night and hung up and I went to bed myself figuring I’d cut something off at the pass and put it out’ve my mind. Besides the morning was coming soon and we had a lot of boats to put out. As Jim was fishing in a different area, I didn’t see him all day, but the next night, my phone rang again.

“Jonathan, we went with those kids tonite,” said the voice in the phone.

My hackles went up as I prepared to hear the worst. Someone was robbed. Someone got hurt. Someone was in jail or I now had an international incident on my hands. My mind raced!

“But we had a great time!” he suddenly chimed in after he had let his initial statements settle in.
Turns out the “kids” were part of an evening English class at one of the high schools. Most were 17-19 years old and had been “trolling” for a “show-and-tell” subject for their evening class. Kinda of like “Capture the Gringo.” Jim and his boys had been “captured” and taken to the classroom where they were met by about 2 dozen other student. His captors were the only ones able to procure a real live gringo!

Jim, being a retired high school teacher was a hit. As he told me, he used his best “Spanglish” and the students in-turn did their best to speak English. He said they had a big Question and Answer session. The guys wanted to know about American girls and cars. The girls wanted to know about movie stars and fashion and shopping. (“How many movie stars do you see each day in America?” “What’s the best pick-up line for American girls?”) They got along famously and after the class, were taken out to one of the kid’s homes where mom had big plates of steaming tortillas, rice and “some kind of delicious barbecued meat” and salsa for Jim, his sons, and a number of the youngsters who came along.

It was much like American kids heading out for pizza or their favorite burger joint at night. Having never really been outside of a tourist hotel dining room or a tourist taco stand, it was quite an event to be welcomed into the home of new friends. There was music and a lot of the universal language of laughter. They were gone for 5 hours and dropped off back at their hotel close to midnight with handshakes and hugs all around. To this day, via e-mail, they still keep in touch.

I sure let out a big sigh of relief. As Jim would point out to me later, “This was my first time in Mexico. Before I came down, I was nervous about getting off the main tourist areas. Heck, other than panga skippers and drivers and people in the hotels, I don’t think I’ve ever actually spoken to a local per se.

I don’t know what compelled me to tell those kids we’d go with them, but everything else aside, it was the best experience we could have had. So many people think that you’re going to get robbed or mugged if you stray off and that may be true in some places, but this was the most pleasant mugging that could’ve happened. A little communication and a little understanding are a wonderful thing between people who have a lot more in common than we think. ”

Amen, Brother, Jim.



That’s my story!
Jonathan

PARGO SHELL GAME - published April 2006 - Western Outdoor News

PARGO SHELL GAME

I guess I’m feeling a bit cocky right now. Have you ever played or seen that shell game where the guy hides the ball under three shells or cups and goes whoop-whoop-whoop and switches them all around? Then, you have to pick the one hiding the ball? And sure enough, you’re always wrong!

That’s how I used to feel about pargo fishing. I use the term loosely because it applies to several different species of snapper-type fish that inhabit the rocks and reefs of Baja. Mostly they are red-copper-orange in color. They have big heads; big teeth; and well…they can get big! It’s not unusual to find fish from 5 pounders to fish over 100 pounds. You probably know them by any number of names: dog tooth snapper, cubera snapper, pargo lisa, barred pargo, pargo rojo, mullet snapper, red snapper, etc.

This time of year, they come up into the shallow areas inshore and when they’re running inside, they can look like moving carpets of red as they maraud through the bait schools. This makes them doubly hard to catch since all of these areas are honeycombed with rocks and caves. I tell folks it looks like Japanese koi on steroids, except pargo can be downright vicious.

The shell game begins because pargo will tease you. They’ll swim by en masse right by your boat. They’ll blow up on your baits. They’ll bust you off in the rocks or cut your line with their teeth or gillplates or they’ll refuse to bite completely. A fish to make a grown man cry. I’ve seen pros start to cuss and on two occasions seen guys snap rods like a guy bashes his golf club against a tree. At the old Hotel Las Arenas, I used to teach the pargo fishing schools there and would tell my students, “If you get one fish to the boat for every 10 you hook, you’re doing pretty good!”

Truth be told…even the teacher fibbed! In ten years of living and working in Baja, my own ratio was more like 20 or 30: 1. The “shell game” always took my money!

Well, I think I’m finally onto something. The last half-dozen times I’ve gone for pargo, a few changes in technique have increased my hookup-to-catch ratio to about 5:1 and huzzah…two trips ago I went 9 for 10!

First thing, green line. Seems to hook up better inshore than other colors. People will argue this, but I’m only telling you my own experiences. Secondly, I’m using a fluorocarbon leader. Now, I’m not a fluro-freak. I believe there’s a time and place for everything and this is one time the fluro seems to be making a difference.

I recently passed out leader-length strands of fluro to several clients in pangas and their hook-up ratio was magnified at least double. That day, I only had 50 pound fluro which I thought would be too stiff and make for a bad bait presentation, but I was amazed. The fish still hit the baits way better than straight mono. The thing with pargo is that using lighter line means better bait presentation and more hits. The backside is that the lighter the line the more breakoffs you’ll get. With heavier line, you won’t get as many hits because the bait doesn’t swim as freely. It’s a juggling act. However, I found the heavier fluro worked just fine.

Lastly, when I found out I was getting short bit a lot (they’d nail the tail of the bait and miss the hook), I tied on a short trap hook set up. You halibut anglers know what I’m talking about. We use a lot of sardines where I’m at so the front hook goes cross-wise through the nose of the bait. I leave the other dangling or just barely in it’s anal opening. No more short bites!

The technique was actually shown to me by an amigo, Al Schneider, of Orange Co. CA who wins a bunch of halibut tournaments in S. Cal. I’ve shown it to a number of our Mexican skippers who are at first skeptical, but are now converts.

Whoop-whoop-whoop…the pargo is under THAT one! Gotcha!

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com

Jonathan

DELICATE SUBJECT - published March 2006 - Western Outdoor News

DELICACY ON THE FRONTIER

If you have delicate ears (or eyes) don’t read any further because this is probably a subject that has never been in this column before. However over the last few weeks, for some reason, I got a zillion questions at all the trade shows about using the restroom on a panga and the lack of “facilities” on Baja fishing craft. I think at the Fred Hall Show in Long Beach, I must’ve had that posed to me about a dozen times. Hmmmm.

This is how you can really tell that Baja is changing. In the “old days” us manly-men being true burly men, relieving ourselves wasn’t an issue, was it? Like the little 8 year-old inner child still in all of us, if we had to go, we just let it fly, right? That was always one of the cool things about going fishing in Baja. Yo-ho-ho. This is the Baja frontier! Beer in. Beer out. Cactus, rocks, car tires, over the side of the boat…marking our territories like little boys gone wild.

But these days, I’m getting more and more questions from guys now leaving life-long chums at home and bringing wives, girlfriends and daughters to Baja. They want to know about potti’s or the ladies themselves want to know about potti’s. Don’t laugh. This is serious stuff. I’m getting questions from “first timers” who have never been to Baja and want to know things like, “What’s the quality of the toilet tissue in Baja?” Yes. I have been asked that! It’s a different type of person coming to Baja these days, Lads.

I figure if a dozen people actually can bring themselves to ask me in person or e-mail about this subject, there’s probably a lot more of you with inquiring minds that want to know. Look. Life is all about choices…and consequences. Get up now or sleep 30 more minutes? Turn right or left? Big Mac or Dominos? One more shot of tequila or…? Everything has consequences.

I actually got asked, “If I have to go #1 or #2 in a panga and can’t hold it, what happens?”

(Pause and deep exhale on my part) Like I say, life is full of choices and ergo consequences. The answer seems pretty clear to me. You have a choice to make.

There’s that bucket on deck. There’s that cut off plastic bleach bottle there too. There’s that big ocean out there. You could have taken care of it before you ever climbed on the boat. The number one rule to remember, “NO ONE WANTS TO WATCH YOU!”

I’ve been told how uncivilized that is. I hear it’s gross and unthinkable and how they could NEVER do something like that (emphasis on the “NEVER” part). Look, if you gotta go, you gotta go. What do you think folks did before Englishman John Crapper (yes, this is true) invented the first “water closet?” This is still the Baja. You gotta go with the flow (no pun intended). If you want climate controls, fluffy bath towels, a mint on your pillow and concierge services, go to Vegas. Choices.

I was working on a panga one time and one of the anglers suddenly set up the bailing coffee can on the deck near his feet open side up. He laid down on his back in the panga. He started to unzip. He saw our incredulous stares and explained that he didn’t want anyone to see him so he was planning to spray into the air hoping it would land in the can!

We gave him a few choices too. The word “swim” and “death” were mentioned if he attempted to complete his task.

Look, I’m not insensitive to times when there really is a need for facilities or for you ladies. Mostly, it’s just a matter of planning. However, chin up. The way things are changing in Baja, I have no doubt it’s coming around. I see more and more boats with fancy-schmancy plumbing. I have even seen pangas with heads on them (that no one uses anyway because they are under a hatch in the open where everyone can see you!) and I’ve seen some beaches that are among the most pristine in the world suddenly sprout porta-potties on them. Miles of white sand and then around the corner…a lovely plastic “totem pole” of civilization plopped right there. Just what we need to see. I can’t wait.

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

TO SWIM ANOTHER DAY - published March 2006 - Western Outdoor News

TO SWIM ANOTHER DAY

Well, finished another madcapped Fred Hall Fishing and Boating Show in Long Beach. It was about a week ago and most of my compadres who did the show are still recovering. For days after the show you feel like a truck hit you.

Believe me, it’s a lot of fun behind the booth talking to everyone, but still a lot of work. I’m finding out a lot of you couldn’t find me and I apologize. My booth was buried in folks and was next to Izorline and Whopper Stopper Rods in it’s usual location but many thanks to those of you who braved through the masses to introduce yourselves. Many of my friends head to the Fred Hall Show in Del Mar near San Diego this week. I’m doing a few presentations this week (Turner’s Fishing Club Pasadena and the Santa Barbara Yacht Club Fishing Fleet…thanks guys!) then headed to the ISE Show in Salt Lake City then back to Baja for the season.

During these shows you get approached by a lot of guys pimping one product or another. Some are better than others. They leave a flier or a card and you shake their hands and smile. We get pretty busy in the shows so we politely take the materials and it gets tossed onto the file with all the other materials with a genuine promise to myself that “I”ll get to it after the show.”

But one group approached me and actually took the time to follow-up with an e-mail after the show. They told me they had a “Catch and Release Marlin Tournament” that had a website and everything. Ho-hum…yea…great. OK. Another one of those. But they were courteous enough to write so I checked out the site: http://cabosbest.com/wcbrt-site/

Yeow! I gotta say, I was impressed and all I could think was,” It’s about time.” Expecting just another hair-brained attempt at a tournament (like my own pity-poor efforts) , the guys at Cabo Best have their ducks in a row and the guns to carry it out. Slated for May 14-18th in Cabo San Lucas, the World Championship Release Tournament is being backed by the Billfish Foundation, Okuma, Budweiser, Eagle Claw, Williamson Lures, Alaska Airlines, Horizon Air, G. Loomis,, Braid, Berkley and Ford Motors, among others. They have big money on the line; a helluva party agenda; and expect more than 100 international teams.

But, here’s the tweak…this is a circle hook tournament! In order to promote the safer catch and release of all fish and insuring their survival, all live and dead bait can only be rigged with a circle hook. No “J” style hooks are permitted. With lures, no double hook rigs are allowed or must utilize a circle hook. If you know anything about circles, the rub is that almost all the time, the hook slides right into the corner of the mouth instead of down the gullet making for less injury to the fish and a quick release.

I gotta applaud these guys for pushing the envelope and deciding to connect the dots differently and color outside the lines. Frankly, it’s been a long time coming. I’m pretty elated to back anything that increases awareness about preserving the fishing resources in Mexico and the Sea of Cortez.

I’m not saying that because it would be good for business either. In fact, in the fishing business, success is traditionally marked by how many you kill, not how many you let go. I don’t plan to do this fishing thing forever, but it would be great if this place that Jacques Cousteau called the “aquarium of the world” were around long after you and I are gone. That being said, I’m happy to say that an increasing number of anglers ask about releasing fish or are voluntarily releasing smaller or female fish that has nothing to do with limits or other imposed restrictions. With increasing regularity, I see smaller ice chests coming off the plane or guys simply catching enough, “to cook up at the restaurant tonite.” As one guy said, “I don’t need to have 100 pounds of fillets in my freezer!”

Even more significantly, I see more captains aware of the diminishing resource and how what happens on a daily basis in their backyards affects the big picture. This is especially true of the younger skippers and is incredibly momentous in a country where food is not taken for granted (no matter how bad we think that mackerel tastes!) and where culturally and economically, their livelihoods often depended on the amount of blood on the deck and carcasses in the fish box.

As one of my own captains told me as we watched his young sons play on the beach, “Like any father, I have to feed my family, but I hope my sons can always play in these waters and their sons as well. They do not have to be fishermen like me. But, I worry like any father that maybe we will lose this someday.”

We may not always understand each other in daily conversation, but it seems this is one issue that anglers and skippers can embrace with the realization that it’s no longer our Father’s Sea of Cortez. I admit I’m as guilty as the next person for all the times in the past when I simply lost count of my own fish in the melee and frenzy of a WFO bite. I try to be more conscious of that these days. But frankly, I know I’ll never see the days I’ve read about in John Steinbecks’, Ray Cannon’s or even Gene Kira’s books…when the totuava filled acres of water. . .when the yellowtail broke and birds dove as far as the eye could see or when yellowfin tuna and roosterfish could be caught in front of the La Paz hotels. What happened to the days when marlin were thick right off land’s end in Cabo? I can only stare at old sepia-colored photos and wonder what happened. Sadly, you and I both know what happened.

There has to be a way to save our sport without ruining our sport. I think these guys have the right idea with their Catch and Release Billfish Tournament. It’s a step in the right direction.



That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

SIZE MATTERS - Published March 2006 - Western Outdoor News

SIZE MATTERS

I’m actually writing this from inside my booth at the Fred Hall Fishing Show in the Long Beach Convention Center. Day 2 (Thursday) is just about done and wow…it’s been a crazy fun show so far and it has been great hearing from so many of you. I’m losing my voice. Once again, I look behind me in my booth and I don’t know where all the food came from. There’s several bags of Spam musubi (Hawaiian style rolled sushi); shrimp cocktail; beef jerky; birthday cake; teriyaki chicken; rice; Maui onion potato chips; Subway sandwiches; Chinese pork and peanut butter cookies. There’s STACKS of it in here. The food fairy visited me again!

Anyway, one of the fun things about these shows is listening to the Baja stories that all of you bring by and tell us! Leonard Philips, from my friends and competitors at the Pirate Fleet was by and telling me about a guy who came by their booth and told them about the one-hundred-ninety-two-pound-dorado he caught. Let me say that again…ONE-HUNDRED-NINETY-TWO-POUND-DORADO!

Folks, that’s one helluva lot of mahi mahi. That’s the mother of ALL dorado. If a 5 foot dorado is about 40 pounds, well…do the math! It either had to be the longest dorado ever or the fattest. The world record isn’t even half that size as I recall.

Of course, Leonard, Pancho Aguilar, his partner and the others in the booth rolled their eyes but this guy swore with a straight face on a stack of tortillas. He said he could prove it and had a photo of the great fish. He whipped out his cell phone and said he had a photo of it in his camera…uh somewhere. They waited. It was there somewhere.

They waited. Uh-huh. Sure. Thank you, sir. I’m sure you’re right. Here’s your lovely parting gift. Next contestant. The guy walked away still insisting he had caught the biggest mightiest robo-dorado on the planet…that had ever existed. That was HIS story and he was sticking to it.

Now, I’d never say that anglers are prone to exaggeration, and I’m sure the amigo certainly believed he caught a 192 pound dorado, but even if he was stretching it a bit, that’s pushing it. You gotta have standards!

Listen, I’d be a rich knucklehead for every time I’ve heard that someone got a 50 pound dorado. In fact, I’ve heard that one so many times, you’d think that the whole Sea of Cortez was filled with nothing but 50 pound dorado. In reality, if you pull one that’s over 30 pounds, that’s a pretty nice chunk of fish.

Ah, but who am I to bust people’s bubbles? Especially when it comes to fish, if a guy just had one of the best fishing days he’s ever had in Baja and is high-fiving and hand-jiving his buddies up and down the beach, then good for him!

I try to be on the beach daily when our boats pull up. If I couldn’t be on the boats that day, then I want to see first hand what got caught; who caught it; and how my skippers did. In addition to my clipboard and camera, I ALWAYS have a small digital pocket scale with me.

“Hey Jonathan, bring your scale, I got a huge fifty-pound bull dorado!” I’ll hear from way down the beach among a cluster of guys happily hoisting beers and back-slapping. I start to pull out my scale as I walk towards them and then I see the fish in the distance. Uh-oh. It’s awful long and impressive, but I’ve been around long enough to know it’s not a fifty pounder. The scale slips discreetly back into my pocket.

“What d’ya think, Jonathan?” asks the angler expectantly as the group parts and I look at the fish. A bit of reverent silence descends as they wait for me to pronounce judgment. I study. I look. I rub my chin and cock my eyebrow. Pause…

“ Wow.That’s a dandy! But for some reason, my scale isn’t working dangit, but let’s call this a 50 pound class fish! (I emphasize the word “class”when I make my pronouncement).

“Huzzah! Huzzah!” Goes the crowd. Jonathan says it’s a 50 pound class fish! Fists pump in the air. Cameras snap. The anglers and his buddies mug and smile. The captain smiles with the fish and a fat tip in his pocket. Everyone gets their picture with the fish. The angler has never won the jackpot, but today by-golly he wins the pool money from his buddies. Later back at the hotel that night, they will gleefully and secretly all put their bar bill on his tab. Indeed a great day.

I smilingly fade back from the crowd. OK, so maybe I fudged a bit by 10 or so pounds. Sue me. It was still a big fish and a trophy to be sure. He should be proud of it. It took him 45 minutes on light tackle. It smoked his drags and kicked his butt. Chignon, ‘Mano! Eres el campion! (Dude, you da man!)

I’ll weigh it later back at the hotel and tell the guy that the fish “dehydrate real fast” after they die and that’s why it shrunk so much. I”ll tell the truth in the fishing reports. He’ll be happy and he’ll believe he caught a 50 pound class fish that dehydrated. At least I didn’t tell him it was a freakin’ 192 pounds! Sheesh…I got standards!

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

HOME COURT ADVANTAGE - published Feb. 2006 - Western Outdoor News

HOME COURT ADVANTAGE

I got a call a few weeks back from a gent and it went something like this right out’ve the gate:

Him: Just wanna tell you that you’re nothing but a liar in your fishing reports
Me: Whoa…what did I do and why is that?
Him: I hauled my cruiser all the way down to your place in Baja and we didn’t catch none of the fish you said were hitting. I’m really pissed.
Me: I remember that call, Sir. I recall you said it was your first time fishing the Baja and I remember you were going to be fishing about a week in our area.
Him: That’s right and we got absolutely NOTHING worth shaking a stick at!
Me: I’m really sorry to hear that, but I also offered to either have one of my captains go with you. Or asked if you’d like to fish with us for a day or two to get the lay-of-the land. You declined.
Him: I remember but why would I do that when I have my own boat? I don’t even want to talk to you anymore nor will I read any fishing reports you ever put out!

At that he hung up. Sigh.. Collect self and exhale…

I’m sorry he did that. I had tried to explain to him several weeks earlier that I wasn’t trying to make a buck off him, although that would be nice. Rather, from the gist of my earlier conversation, I gleened that this amigo really hadn’t spent a lot of time in the water let alone fishing in Baja, but by golly, he had a new boat and he was going to use it.

What I didn’t get a chance to tell him before he hung up was that I actually saw his good-looking cuddy cabin out there among the panga fleets. Our boats were catching. The other fleets were catching. I saw his boat just motoring around lost or at times sitting in the drift with some bored-looking fishermen aboard. Not knowing who he was or what he looked like, I never hailed the boat, but the mood on his deck resembled the attitude when someone let’s one fly in an enclosed elevator. A lot of pinched faces.

Score: Pangas 40 100-thousand dollar boat: 0

In fact, I heard a couple of local skippers chattering over the radio about the “gringo rico” (rich gringo) that couldn’t get bit. It didn’t make me want to gloat. I felt sorry for this guy and his buddies. Nothing like being the only boat around with no bent rods and wondering what you were doing wrong

As I tried to explain to him, there’s nothing in the world like local knowledge. Whether you’re fishing in Mulege, Ensenada, Cabo or La Paz, the skippers who bust their chops day-in-and-day-out, have generations of knowledge behind ‘em. Unlike us, they’re not “weekend warriors” fishing for sport. When you’re fishing for your livelihood or because you have to feed your kids you get pretty good. Some years, I’ve been on the water some seasons over 200 days a year which is more than most guys will fish in a lifetime and I will NEVER be as good as many of the captains I have come across in my Baja travels or my daily work. I learn something everyday. I’ll know I’m good when every bait I throw and every cast I make produces a hook up and that day ain’t coming real soon!

Truth be told, I still consider myself only an above-average angler IN MY OWN WATERS. Drop me somewhere else and I’d be as lost as the next guy. There’s a lot to be said for “home court advantage.” Just because I know La Paz waters doesn’t mean I know Loreto, San Quintin, Bay of Los Angeles or the Madison River in Montana.

Conversely, just because you know how to fish the Channel Islands or the banks off San Diego or have your own boat, doesn’t mean it necessarily translates to fishing Baja. Fish are different. Areas are different. Buying $200 Michael Jordan shoes will not improve my jump shot and I never will be able to slam dunk in my wildest dreams. Just because you have a tricked-out boat doesn’t mean you’re gonna catch fish either. It’s an art. It’s a sport. It’s a learned skill. It changes from place to place and season to season. Give yourself an edge. It’s called research. Learn from a local. Fish with a local a few days. Get the feel for things…the bait…the style…It’s well worth the investment of time and money. Your boat, your rod and reel, your tackle…even the reports you read here in WON are tools of the trade, but you still have to know how to use them.

If you’re reading this between March 1 and 5, I’m going to be in my Tailhunter Booth at the Fred Hall Show at the Long Beach Convention Center. Come say hi. It’s been great meeting so many of you at all the recent fishing trade shows. I don’t know how it started but thanks also to all of you who keep bringing me food too! Last week at the Pomona Fairgrounds, at one time, I had a huge breakfast burrito the size of my leg (thanks to my amigos at the Pirate Fleet), pizza, sushi, cookies, soda, two In-N-Out cheese burgers (animal style), chili fries; 2 ham sandwiches and a pastrami sandwich. It was like my refrigerator back in college!

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

Pangas No Mas - published Feb. 2006 - Western Outdoor News

PANGAS NO MAS

No matter what you may want or remember, Baja will never be your dad’s Baja for much longer. Maybe we’ve already lost it. It’s all a matter or perspective. If you’re a real estate guy with deep pockets, Baja must seem like a vast landscape of opportunity just waiting for the hand of creativity to sweep over it. From the other side of the wall, if you’ve been pushing pangas off the beach for 20 years, there’s a whole different perspective.

Eric Brictson of Gordo Banks Pangas is the iconic beachmaster of beachmasters. Everyone knows Eric and if you haven’t fished with him off San Jose del Cabo then you probably know someone who has. Sleepy little San Jose del Cabo used to be a hidden enclave at polar opposites to it’s bustling sister city of Cabo San Lucas half an hour away but it’s about to step…no accelerate. . . into the new age with the construction of the massive Puerto Los Cabos Marina Project . According to Eric, the project is progressing rapidly and they predict that they will be opening the entrance to the ocean sometime this summer insofar as they’ve nearly completed the southern jetty and have started on the larger northern jetty.

If you thought the Cabo San Lucas Marina was big, the San Jose operation boasts plans for a ferry terminal, offices, private beach club, an island boutique hotel, 500 slips for boats up to 150’, restaurants and retail shops, a seafood marketplace not to mention the Greg Norman golf courses, home sites and condos. There’s even a 20 acre sports parque plus sports center and two soccer fields. Hard to believe we’re only a few years removed from the days when Cabo didn’t even have a working dock!

Eric has told me that real estate is going through the roof and so many things are changing. Some for the good, but he’s also worried it doesn’t bode well for his fleet as well as others, but he’s trying to remain hopeful.

“Our fleet has to relocate from the northern end of the beach, which is where the northern jetty had been planned, so now we are on the furthest southern end of the same beach in about half the area. Also, the new palapa and fillet table that Puerto Los Cabos agreed to build for us is of smaller scale so we are adjusting as best we can.”

He added, “A major problem now facing everyone is there are no longer many beaches where locals can go. Due to construction, there is barely room for all of the 50 or so pangas and still have room for the public and their cars.” He expects that with all the resorts along the Cabo corridor as well as the marina construction, it’s only going to get worse.

The days of the panga might be numbered. According to Brictson, there is a small area just inside the marina “away from the fancy yachts” that is slated “to have some 80 or so slots for pangas. This is being built just to keep peace with the locals. This area will create even more competition and price wars than we already have.” He added, “ I personally feel the panga charters will rapidly become obsolete as wealthier clientele prefer larger and more comfortable boats, besides the fact that we will need boats capable of holding more fuel and traveling further distances in order to find fishing action.”

He intimated to me that fishing is not what it used to be either, but that’s the subject of another column. I”ll keep you posted as things progress. However, further news that Armageddon can’t be too far around the corner:

Mark Rayor of Vista Sea Sports in Los Barriles says that the town got it’s first traffic light recently. Add that to the new golf course where the old landing strip used to be in front of Hotel Palmas de Cortez and can Starbucks be far behind?

Maybe it’s already happening in La Paz which now has a (close your eyes and cringe)…an Applebees Restaurant right on the malecon (waterfront). There are already several very popular coffee bars in town, a new bowling alley, driving range and COSTCO type wholesale and a genuine Irish pub that opened last season. As one of my Mexican friends told me, “Me gusta mucho American pancakes.” (I like American pancakes.) Oh no. Chucky Cheese must already be looking for a space.

I’ll be in my Tailhunter Booth at the International Sportsman’s Expo at the Pomona Fairgrounds Fairplex (L.A. Co. Fairgrounds) Feb. 17-19th. Come by and say hi.

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

THE EASTER PARADE - published February 2006 - Western Outdoor News

THE EASTER PARADE

My first introduction to the spectacle was rather unique. I was in my old Dodge van coming into La Paz with a load of kayaks on a trailer. It had been a long haul down the Baja peninsula and I was dirty, grumpy, tired and really just wanting to get where I needed to be. I was growlng. Me entiendes, Pancho? I had made that crazy drive in 22 hours and reached town when it was dark. Strangely not much happening in the streets but I really wasn’t paying much attention.

Then I hit a roadblock just inside near downtown. A pinche detour? What the…? Must be doing some roadwork or there’s some potholes. Typical. Just my luck. Sigh…OK…alright. I followed the other cars through the dark back streets. I saw a break in the line and made a left by ducking out of one obscure alley onto the main drag that’s the La Paz waterfront. I made a quick right and…BOOM! What the…????

Suddenly, there’s a bunch of freakin’ clowns all over my van and climbing all over my trailers and kayaks and music and banging and people cheering and son-of-a-gun…I was in the middle of a big old posada (parade)! There was booming disco music; strobe lights; those crazy Mexican cars with the big blaring bullhorns on the roof; and pretty girls waving from the back of pick-up trucks.

There was a guy jogging in place next to me in tights and a super hero cape. Another guy was on a tricycle. One guy riding a horse looked like the drunken Kid Shaleen (Lee Marvin) from that old movie “Cat Ballou” except he was dressed in a vaquero outfit. There was a matador in pants that were way too tight and a guy playing the violin followed by a guy with a tuba. It was wild. Like a being in a bizarre frat party! One clown even climbed into the van’s passenger seat and was banging some kind of noise maker and yelling something I couldn’t understand. DUDE, THERE’S A CLOWN IN MY CAR! Scared the poo outta my dog, Jimmy, who was barking from the back like a…well, a dog!

What the heck…I had Led Zeppelin in the cassette player so I boomed up the volume (blew that clown’s make-up right off his face…that’ll teach him…or her! You can’t ever tell about clowns) and joined in the revelry.

It was great fun. I was waving and yelling too and singing at the top of my lungs to Robert Plant wailing “Dazed and Confused” with with his bandmates on my stereo. I was part of the parade and I guess everyone thought I was one of the floats! Somewhere along the way my clown-passenger bailed out and my dog re-captured the front seat, but along we went for the ride with his head stuck out the window and barking along.

I think there was still some clown on my roof…literally. But after about 15 minutes, I ducked a right turn out’ve the crowd and found myself in another back alley behind the partiers laughing my head off.

And I exhaled. Somewhere along the route, someone had tied a small Mexican flag to my antenna and put a bottle of beer in my hand and Jimmy the dog was eating part of a tortilla that came from…?

Turns out, I had accidentally turned into the annual Carnival / Mardi Gras Parade! What a hoot. I parked the car a few blocks away and made my way with Jimmy the dog back into the revelers. Hola, Senorita! Tienes ojos bonitas. (pretty eyes) Uno mas cerveza por favor and a carne asada taco for my four-legged amigo here!

There’s not many fishermen in the Baja right now, but if you ever get the chance, get to a Mardi Gras parade. You don’t have to go to Rio or even to New Orleans. In fact, Ensenada has one of the loudest and rowdiest soirees in the Baja and close to 700 thousand people attend. It’s February 23-28th this year culminating on Ash Wednesday to start the Easter Season. Nothing like a good parade to make you forget the long dusty road and an icy cerveza to chase away the taste. Viva Mexico! Man, clowns can be scary…

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

NEW TRICKS - published January 2006 - Western Outoor News

NEW TRICKS

You run into a lot of different wonderful folks when you have a fishing business and that’s the best part of this gig. But there’s one type that brings a big sigh and exhalation of breath from me when the conversation starts with, “I’m a hardcore fisherman” and usually continues on for several minutes listening to the person reciting a resume of all his fishing exploits as if applying for a job. Can’t get a word in edgewise. No doubt there’s some incredible fishing talent out there, but so often, I also find that Mr. Hardcore gets the most frustrated and surly when the fish don’t bite or others are outfishing him simply because he’s trying too hard to have fun or now has built himself up larger than life.

For the past few weeks a lot of us have been on the fishing show circuit and all of these shows feature some truly incredible talent in the seminars. You’ve seen their names; probably watched their videos; maybe been on a charter or two or read their articles. I’m still a bit in awe when I talk to them myself. I mean, these guys aren’t hardcore. They are “fishing-to-the-core” and every chance I have, I sure enjoy listening to them. They remind you of steely-eyed Clint Eastwood walking into town. Nothing to prove. They know they’re good. However, down to the man, each of them is more than willing to impart their knowledge and a lot of them are actually delighted you asked them.

I’m talking about guys like Pete Haynes of Shimano who does his long range and knot tying seminars. Abe and Angelo Cuanang have forgotten more fishing than I’ll ever know. Steve Carson from Penn Reels doing his Baja thing. Gary Graham from Baja On The Fly making you believe you can actually cast to boiling Cortez yellowfin tuna. There’s the bearded one…Dennis Spike getting all lit up about working the rocks around Rancho Leonero in a plastic kayak and having a dorado leap over him. Yea!

I can never get enough of these guys and although I’m on the water day-after-day, there’s rarely a time that something they say doesn’t spark something in my own brain where I say…”Wow, that makes sense!” There isn’t a day that I don’t learn something on the water and these guys have it in spades.

Remember when you were a kid and just couldn’t sit still while fishing? Your r dad or uncle were ready to tie you up “Cuz you’re making too much noise and scaring the fish!” Well, just before one of his seminars, Pete Haynes was telling me about one way to get lethargic fish to get interested. He told me about tossing out some chum or chunk then taking your deck hose and spraying the water. “It gets fish thinking about what’s making all the commotion on the surface.” (paraphrase) Makes sense.

Use noise to get bit! Boat motors and prop wash have been shown to attract fish. I will often chum for my client with live bait by first poking out one of the eyes of a baitfish so that it spins around and splashes on the surface instead of diving straight down. More bang for each piece of bait. One of my skippers will get a bunch of dead bait and squish it in a corner of the deck mixed with blood and water. He’ll then use his cut-off Clorox bottle to jai-lai it into the air so it falls and splashes. He does rather well, come to think of it. Steve Carson of Penn reminds us about skip jigging for tuna…throwing iron then rapidly skipping it across the surface…as a way to drive tuna, dorado and other pelagic species bonzo. I’ve seen fish literally bang heads trying to get the jig. Try taking the hooks off the jig and really have some fun! I once guided for a guy in Loreto on his own boat. On a slow day, he’d get chunks of bait and other goosh. He’d smush it into the deck and then pour in some fish scent and let it sit in the hot sun in a pile for a bit until it wasn’t “stink.” It was “STANKY.” Then, he’d flush it out the scuppers and proceed to make all kinds of noise; jumping around and banging things on the deck and kick the motors in and out’ve gear. We’d all be laughing and dancing around like those River Dance guys. But… never failed to raise fish. Noise and commotion! New chingaderas for a perro viejo (old dog)!

That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

Jonathan

LINEAR THOUGHT - Published January 2006 - Western Outdoor News

LINEAR THOUGHT

Thanks to all of you readers who’ve come by my booths the last few weeks in San Francisco and San Mateo. Really great to meet so many of you and shake a hand or two! I’m writing this from the International Sportsman’s Show in Sacramento where this warm weather boy is simply freezing his Ugg sheepskin boots off! Can’t believe it’s so cold. They have something up here called “frozen fog” where the moisture particles in the fog actually freeze so when the damp hits you, it actually puts a frost inside your clothes like the frost you find on the inside of your ice cream container when you sneak a spoonful at midnight.

Anyway, I just bought a couple of armfuls of bulk fishing line at a great discount. See, I’m like a lot of you. Can’t pass up a good deal on fishing gear so I hauled it back to my booth where a couple of guys saw me unloading and of course the subject turned to the type of lines I use in Baja and when.

I have 3 main rules when I do seminars on line:

1. Price aside, not all lines are created equally.
2. Like golf clubs or your wife’s shoe collection, there’s no one line does not fit all situations.
3. Buy the best you can afford. Like a motorcycle helmet. If you have a 10 dollar head buy a 10 dollar helmet. If you’re going after 2 dollar fish, 2 dollar line will do. If you’re spending a chunk of your kid’s inheritance or the riding lawn mower you were going to buy your wife, then splurge a little on line.

EQUALITY – I know most of you don’t carry a micrometer around, but if you did, you’d be surprised how two lines rated at say, 20 pound test can vary! The better lines often give a diameter rating on the side of the spool. Without naming names, you can sometimes even see the difference with the naked eye. I know some brands you can buy in Mexico are so irregular that you can run your fingers along it and actually feel the line get narrower and thicker caused by a faulty extrusion process and bad quality control. Additionally, if you’re careful about your lines or are hunting records, just because a line says “30 pound test” doesn’t mean it breaks at 30 pounds. It might actually break at 40 while another brand might break at 36. Line that says “tournament grade” or “IGFA rated” or somesuch is usually truer to it’s rating but costs a bit more.

ONE LINE FITS ALL- Not exactly. However, some lines seem to be more versatile than others. For instance, I have a personal preference for dark green mono when fishing inshore Baja waters in the winter and spring. I like blue, grey or clear for offshore fishing; for pelagic species; or in bright conditions. I like softer limper lines with smaller diameters when fishing baits so that the bait swims more naturally. But, I like stiffer lines when fishing iron or where structure is involved because of the abrasion resistance. I will use fluorocarbon when fishing bait; when the sun is bright or if the fish are twitchy. However, I don’t use fluro when fishing artificials or trolling because, to me, most strikes are “reaction strikes” where the fish isn’t interested in scouting my offering to see if the line is visible. ! It’s gonna attack and go! I like braided line as a backing, especially on smaller reels so I have extra capacity in case Big Mo decides to come to party. I don’t fish straight braid because of it’s high visibility so I always top shot with mono. Also, my baits don’t swim right dragging braid through the water. The better the bait presentation, the better the chances of getting bit. I use wire sparingly and only as much as much as necessary. I’m a growing fan of the new tie-able wire for smaller applications and gamefish.

PRICE IS NICE BUT - You generally get what you pay for. The general rule is that for every-day fishing, you can’t go wrong with brand names that have been around since Cro-Magnon man tied sinew to a stick and used a bone for a hook. But, I avoid lines that are “on sale” if it looks like the line has sat on the shelf for awhile or has been exposed to the sun or dust which causes discoloration and deterioration of it’s integrity. If the line has also been sitting for a long time, it may have taken a “set” and “memory” so that instead of being limp, it comes off in coils that won’t relax. If you don’t recognize an off-brand, ask about it. I have found some incredibly high quality lines made my companies you’ll never hear of. I found out later that the same company actually makes the line for an American company which then slaps on a label so it can be marketed in the U.S. Same for some European companies as well. It’s a bit like finding out the Ford you bought was really made in a Honda plant and that many plastic components came from Taiwan. It’s all in the packaging! Whatever you do, don’t “cheap” on your line. Just like hooks, they’re your connection to your fish. Don’t spend a week’s pay on your fishing trip then buy lines and hooks for a few pennies to “save some bucks for beer.”

Keep ‘em tight. That’s my story. If you ever want to reach me, my e-mail is riplipboy@aol.com.

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA - Published January 2006 - Western Outoor News

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA

If you think you hated that photo on your driver’s license or COSTCO card, get ready to take a few more shots or your goofy smile. Travel is taking another dramatic change that will affect not just those of us schoosing back and forth to Baja but all American travelers in general.

Pursuant to the Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Act of 2004, the Bureau of Consular Affairs has announced that by January 1, 2008,” ALL TRAVELERS to-and-from the Caribbean, Bermuda, Panama, Mexico and Canada have a passport or other secure, accepted document to enter or re-enter the United States. “ Yes, that means, you and me and Pepe too. Basically, if you’ve been putting off getting a passport, you might as well start looking into it. It means that you’ll no longer be able to use your certified birth certificate or other documents when you go back and forth in and out of U.S. home turf after December 31, 2007.

“This is a change from prior travel requirements and will affect all United States citizens entering the United States from countries within the Western Hemisphere who do not currently possess valid passports. This new requirement will also affect certain foreign nationals who currently are not required to present a passport to travel to the United States. Most Canadian citizens, citizens of the British Overseas Territory of Bermuda, and to a lesser degree, Mexican citizens will be affected by the implementation of this requirement, “ according to the official press release.

“The goal is to strengthen border security and facilitate entry into the United States for U.S. citizens and legitimate foreign visitors.”

In order to implement the plan, the government kicks it off in several stages. The most vital for tourists to Mexico in general and Baja travelers in particular (aka us fishing guys) is the first stage making this the last year we’ll be able to fly without a passport:

December 31, 2006 – Requirement applied to all air and sea travel to or from Canada, Mexico, Central and South America, the Caribbean, and Bermuda.
December 31, 2007 – Requirement extended to all land border crossings as well as air and sea travel.
The second phase, set to commence New Year’s Eve of 2007, is especially notable insofar as the dispositive words are land border crossings. It will be interesting to see how this is implemented. If you’ve ever seen the mass of humanity that crosses the border legitimately by both American and Mexicans for work, shopping, visits to family or even a quick weekend bender in Tijuana or Ensenada, it’s eye-brow raising.

What happens to the Tijuana residents who simply walk across the border for a day of hitting the outlet mall on the northern side of the fence? Ever seen how many folks walk across the border at Christmas time? And economically, what’s the impact upon the thousands of U.S. merchants who’s livelihoods depend on Mexico’s point-of-sale spending? Mexico is one of the U.S.’s largest trade partners and a lot of that goes back and forth across the border daily.

Finally, from a more pragmatic perspective, how many border agents will be needed to check every single person going back and forth across the lines? If you’ve ever been stuck in your car at Otay Mesa or the San Ysidro crossing on a Sunday afternoon for 3 hours and just one more Mexican vendor with a giant plaster Tweety Bird or painted matador on velvet tries to hit you up for a sale…

I guess in the big cost / benefit analysis, just how many actual terrorists will this apprehend who drive or walk across the border to buy some jeans at the Gap outlet compared to how many tax dollars this’ll all cost? I dunno. Bigger brains than mine have this all tuned in. Seems simple enough to get a legit passport but the bottom line is that it will never reveal what darkness might truly lie in the human heart.

But, I’m sure Homeland Security has this all figured out. Right? “I’ll give you 2 bucks for the Big Tweety Bird and that’s my final offer! The kid’s love it!”

For more info, check out: http://www.travel.state.gov/

That’s my story...
Jonathan

FELICES FIESTAS - HAPPY HOLIDAYS- published Dec. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

FELICES FIESTAS

(HAPPY HOLIDAYS)

It’s a little different being in a foreign tourist town for the holidays, if you’ve never been. I mean, it’s kinda funny watching folks spray fake aerosol snow on their windows when they live in the desert and you can’t help but grin watching a dust-covered truck with all-terrain tires with a fresh Oregon Christmas tree tied to the back turn down a gravel cactus lane destined for someone’s living room.

But some things remain the same, no matter where you go. I don’t know how it is in your town, but you can “feel” Christmas coming no matter where you live even if you never had a calendar to look at. It’s almost like there’s something in the air much more so than just noticing that the sunlight isn’t so strong and the shadows come up a little earlier.

It’s interesting how “Buenos dias” seems to be said with a little more sincerity, a bigger smile and a stronger handshake. People invite you to their homes as if they really would enjoy your company. Little kids, seem a little more watchful and attentive to their ways and it seems that food is everywhere on display or being discussed or prepared as certain delicious aromos you won’t find at other times of the year seem to catch you just when you’re hungriest.

But you know what I especially like about being in Baja? As much as it seems to be trying to run stride for stride into 1st world capitalistic hedonism, it actually slows down for Christmas instead of speeding up like the rest of the world. Where Christmas comes too fast for most of us, it seems that Christmas can’t come fast enough in Baja. Christmas cards? For what? There’s no mail service! Fight the weekend crowd at the mall? What mall? Camp in line for X-Box? Are you kidding? Travel and flight plans to Grandmas? Abuelita lives next door or in the next bedroom. Caterers need to be confirmed? Mama has all the kids together in the kitchen making with pots of masa making tamales. Family scattering in too many directions? Not until after church and everyone lives in the same town anyway so we might as well just have one big fiesta for everyone!

Chances are, you’ll still hear the same carols but in Spanish and it’s not unusual for the town Santa to show up although under that hot beard you’ll probably notice a dark black mustache. And later on, don’t be surprised to see Santa sitting up with the amigos in the yard behind the house tilted back on plastic chair in front of a fire… sans whiskers and toasting the chickens and la luna and a prosper ano nuevo with a shot of tequila. Tomorrow, it’s back to working the fishing boats or off to pick chiles on the ranch, but tonite, the children laugh inside; the wives are sitting in the living room sharing holiday gossip and like many daddy’s everywhere in the world, Santa lets out a big sigh, crosses his arms, squints into the fire and grins contentedly and lifts his glass once more. “Que Dios te bendigas, amigos!” (May God bless you, my friends).

That’s my story...
Jonathan

A PESO A DAY - published Dec. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

A PESO A DAY

If you happen to be cruising down the Baja during the holidays, you will probably encounter Baja’s version of the Salvation Army bellringer in one form or another. Instead of a uniformed person with the red pot standing in front of your favorite Wal-Mart, you’ll probably encounter a uniform of another type.

The first time it happened to me was a few years ago coming down from between Ensenada and Guerrero Negro. I don’t re-call the bustling little pueblo, but it was a dusty little place. There was the tire store and the dilapidated Pemex station and some plywood taco stands on wheels. The school had no grass and the Church had a busted window or two. Bony dogs skittered in and out of traffic with tails between their legs and one followed the guy peddling the ice cream tricycle with it’s dented tinkling bells. As I entered the town, there was a uniformed police officer standing on an island obviously soliciting donations of some type insofar as he was holding a covered coffee can with little slit cut out.

Now, having driven the Baja many times, I’ve always found that if I keep a big stash of cheap candy in a big sack next to me, it usually gets me through most places. It sure brings smiles to whomever is checking out my vehicle at a checkpoint and at least it seems like they don’t probe quite so hard. Well, this being the holidays, I had a whole bunch of candy canes on my dashboard and a big box of them on the seat next to me.

As I came up to the officer, he flagged me down and came up to my window.
“Buenos dias, Senor. We are asking for Christmas donations for the orphanage. Puedes ayuda nos?” (Can you help us?)

Well sure. I can. Orphanage? I got just the thing! I grabbed several boxes of candy canes and gave them to him. He looked a bit disappointed. Gave me a quick “gracias” and waved me through. I was a bit perplexed until I looked through my back window and saw him dump my candy canes into the bushes. Hmmmmm…That seemed a bit ungrateful.

Two blocks down same thing. Only this officer was soliciting for some kind of hospital. OK…Instead of candy canes, here’s two bucks. “Gracias, Senor” and he waved me happily through. As I left he gave me a blue strip of paper and told me it was my “receipt” for a donation. Alrighty then…off we go!

Three blocks down and I get hailed again by another officer! Hey wait a minute, I just gave some to your amigo up the street.
“Sorry, Senor. That was for the hospital. That is why you have the blue paper. This is for the Cruz Rojo (Red Cross). For your donation, you will get a red paper.” OK, here ya go. Here’s another buck. Sheesh.

It was like that all through the city, although all I had to do was wave either my red or my blue piece of paper to show I had already donated. In return, I got a wave and a smile. Have a nice day, amigo! Well, at the next sizeable pueblo, the same thing happened only the red and blue papers didn’t work in the new pueblo. “Senor, those are from the other pueblo. Can you help us out too?” (Eyes roll and I’m now scrounging in the ashtray for pesos).

I guess by the time the day was over, I’d popped about 8 bucks for various causes. I have no idea if they were legit or not, but real uniformed Mexican officers were doing the collecting. For all I know it could have been going to the Police Christmas fund. Consider it a “toll” of sorts as a visitor to the country. I just decided to have fun with it and made sure to have lots of loose change whenever I drive the Baja. You definitely don’t get a receipt for the donation, but for a few pesos you still get a broad smile that certainly seemed sincere and grateful in places where it didn’t look like they had much.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

BAD MEDICINE - Published Dec. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

BAD MEDICINE

I came up to the states for a couple of weeks to start getting ready for the 2006 trade shows and, after a long season in Baja, it’s also a good time to get those usual things outta the way that I put off…Cheap eye exams at Costco because it’s getting harder to tie hooks…Chiropractor for that shoulder kink from trying to hand gaff a marlin 4 months ago…see my dentist friend to look at that chipped tooth from a uh…”soda” bottle…and of course the yearly check up at Kaiser for those little “sun spots” on the shoulders and other assorted dings I insist are from working outdoors, but are probably more attributable to getting older, nutritional negligence and my own stupidity and hard headedness.

For example, I have tendonitis (“tennis elbow”) on my right arm. By the end of the season, it’s hard to even lift a six pack or tackle box without a littlewince and twang of dolor. It’s from hours of awkwardly holding a rod and reel on my right side under my arm while soaking a bait…basically a fishing related malady. Doctor told me, “Easily cured. Stop fishing.” Sure. Right. And just how long did you go to medical skewl?

Anyway, I’m sure you’ve been there…stuck in the waiting room of your HMO or doctor’s office. . Unless you’re head falls off your shoulders, you know you’re stuck in the twilight zone. You’re not going anywhere for awhile until they “call your number.” I bitch about it all the time. I’m not so inclined to do that anymore.

A couple of months ago, one of my captains needed a pretty intensive intestinal medical procedure that required he’d be flown to Guadalajara. He’s been one of my best skippers and an all-around good guy. I knew his stomach problem had been getting worse and doctores in La Paz had finally given up non-invasive treatment. He was going to have to go under the knife and understandably he was worried about it.

One day on the water a few weeks before he was supposed to leave, I asked him about medical treatment in Mexico and how that was all handled. It was eye-opening. I was always under the impression that Mexico had a pretty socialized medical set-up so everyone was cared for.
“That’s not true,” he said. “In some of the cities, some people work for some companies that have insurance, but the care is not that good. Most people really have no care.”
I told him that I thought the government covered everyone in Mexico.

“If you can get to treatment, someone will probably see you, but you still have to pay for the medicine and other care. For example, they might tell you that your baby has an infection, but you still have to go out to buy the medicine. You have to even buy the needle and syringe. That is not free. So what is the point? If you live like we do out here in the country, the families of us fishermen live over an hour away from the city. Most cannot get transportation to get care.”
“So, how do people pay for care?” I asked.

“For my own operation, it is hard. I sold our family truck to get some money. I went to sell our family’s bull that is kept on a ranch in the mountains, but bad luck…it was stolen that week. I have had to borrow money from family members all over Baja and it will take 15 years to pay it back…assuming I can still work after the operation,” he said a bit glumly. “I am told in the United States you have insurance that pays you when you cannot work or if you get hurt at work. It is not like that here. We are simple fishermen. ”

“And what happens to people who can’t afford the care?” I asked thinking there must be some avenue of relief for these folks.

“We just die,” he responded softly; turned his eyes and gunned the panga towards the island.

Yea…it’s hard to whine about sitting in an HMO waiting room these days and bitch that there’s no TV or my favorite magazines are missing. I’ve got all the time in the world. We forget that some folks don’t. Hoping you and yours are blessed this holiday season. Felices fiestas, amigos.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

CHIVATO GIANT - published Dec. 2005 - WesternOutdoor News

GIANT OF CHIVATO

I’m kind of a history buff and love that “History Channel” stuff and can lose myself for hours in the history section of any book store. Combine it with some history of Baja and you might as well just leave a light on for me because I’ll be home late. Stuff like Gene Kira’s “Unforgettable Sea of Cortez” about Ray Cannon or John Steinbeck’s “Log of the Sea of Cortez” are among so many gems in my library.

I came across just such a book recently that was mailed to me and thought I’d share some of it with you. With the holidays coming up, it makes good fast light-reading not to mention a pretty cool stocking stuffer for you Baja buffs. I actually let the book sit for a few weeks on my desk before picking it up out of boredom. I basically didn’t put it down until I finished it two days later.

I mean, how could I not check out a book that starts out, “Can you imagine a novel with General Douglas McArthur, John Wayne, Miss San Francisco, Jayne Mansfield, corrupt Mexican officials, and a fast food mogul who rules over parties from Mexico to Hawaii with a toilet plunger?” Not quite John Grisham but they say truth is better than fiction.

In the annals of Baja, you find all the giants who carved the place out’ve sand, dirt and rock. You get the Van Wormer Family who started the East Cape Hotels with a few outboards motors; the Don Johnson Family of Mulege and the Bud Parrs of Baja who shaped the Cabo San Lucas corridor and you’re talking empire builders. Even the Fred Hoctors and Ray Cannons of the Baja were as instrumental in their writings and as powerful as the jackhammer and bulldozer in those early “golden years” of Baja of the 40’s to 60’s.

Well, one guy I had never even heard about is Lou Federico and he tells a fascinating tale in his own book, “One Hell of a Ride” (2004 Adventure Publishing, Folsom CA). These days, we run businesses in Baja and watch venture after venture pop up…internet cafes…pizza operations…parasailing…hair styling salons…Starbucks…and complain about slow phone service or that the Costco is too far away! Turn back the time machine 40 years ago and it was a far different wilder unforgiving Baja. No apologies. No refunds and (gasp!) no air-conditioning (Yes, some of you current Baja travelers might gasp to know there was a time “P.A.C.”…Pre-Air-Conditioning.).

In case the name escapes you, Lou Federico is the feisty Italian guy and WWII vet who built the Club Aero Mulege then went on to hand build the famous Punta Chivato Resort. There were no skycranes to lift girders. No roads. No Aero California to complain about. No ready-made concrete or cinder blocks waiting on pallets. Heck, I complain when the ice machine doesn’t have enough ice! Ever done even a simple backyard job like putting in a brick walkway for your wife and taking 3 weeks just to visit Home Depot? This guy tied boats together with cables to haul in gear. He moved a mountain and dug into bare rock for his foundation basically with hand picks. They looked for water by using a divining rod and digging 30 foot deep pits with buckets and finally hauling in water from 6 miles away using some ingenious engineering under the hot Baja sun

“We used tons of rock…from a mountain behind the pueblo of Mulege. It had a crew there…fulltime hauling the artistic rock 12 miles round trip to the mouth of the Mulege River. It was then loaded by hand onto two LCVP’s. One would tow the other…The rock was then taken 10 miles up to the Chivato beachhead and loaded by hand onto a flatbed and driven to the jobsite. This went on for months,” he writes.

But the best part of the book are his humorous anecdotes for this was the Baja we can only imagine. The best part of any story are the people. He talks about plane crashes and banditos and ugly hookers; fishing with Ray Cannon and seeing feeding frenzies in the Sea of Cortez in all directions and how Ray loved to catch needlefish. There’s funny stories about bribes and corrupt Mexican officials and his own rather scalliwag business partners; decadently fun parties; days when there were actually fish in the Mulege River; battles with the local ejidos over land; secret beaches loaded with clams, mussels and scallops as well as snippets and memories of celebrities and luminaries away from the limelight (“Fred Astaire was also a guest, and he would dance down the hallway every morning on his way to the dining room.”) And you can hear John Wayne’s gravelly voice when he admonishes Federico after a successful fishing trip, “My friends call me Duke, so drop the mister.”

Senor Federico is still alive and doing well in Folsom, California these days and even answers his e-mails. He’s had one helluva ride that few of us will ever see again in the Baja.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

POINTY THINGS - Published Nov. 05 - Western Outdoor News

POINTY THINGS

I’m wrapping up after a long season and doing something every one of us just loves doing right now. Maybe it’s on a larger scale than you do at the end of your season, but it’s a chore nevertheless. I have to inventory all the gear… Figure out what went where and what got busted and who didn’t tell me about it.Who never brought back something that got borrowed. Find out what happened to the loaners and how did so many darned rod guides get busted off without anyone saying anything and for Pete’s sake…how did we go through so much line?

And then, I open up the tackle boxes, bags, clear plastic utility containers and just shake my head at the colossal mess. Man, where did the rust come from? How did all the bait rigs get so tangled no matter how carefully we wrapped them? And those treble hooks…it’s a Murphy’s law. If you have Rapalas or throwing iron, one treble hook will find another treble hook and mate with other treble hooks in the most-gawd-awful-SNAFU you can imagine. Am I right?

And then there’s all the “loose” hooks. Remember that at the beginning of the season you meticulously labeled and compartmentalized each and every one of those bronze, nickel, ringed, circle and long shanks into neat little containers/sections? You know what I’m talking about! They are now a total cluster. . Also, being the good little hook-hoarder that you are, you put all your used hooks into a neat little compartmens too…even if they were only used once. Only problem is that some of them were wet when you put them back and now that moisture rusted all your pretty designer label hooks too. You curse the fish Gods, but you know it also gives you a legitimate excuse to go visit your favorite tackle store ASAP.

Well, in my case, multiply it tenfold. Living in a place where sand and dust are a way of life…where salt permeates the air…where the gear gets used and abused, my hooks used to frustrate me as well. However, a few seasons ago, it dawned on me how much I was spending on hooks and realized that most Mexican captains I know don’t have any qualms about using old hooks as long as they are sharp. Heck…the guys have to make a living using these hooks and it’s not like there’s a handy Walmart nearby to get another bubble pack of 3/0 circles! They LOVE the hooks clients often leave for them. I’m not proud. If it saves me 5 bucks on a new pack of hooks, I’m all over it. If it’s good enough for a Mexican captain who relies on these hooks to put food on the table, then it’s good enough for me.

So, at the end of every season, I gather up all the stray hooks I can find. I search every little nook, cranny and corner of every single tray and utlity box. I love all those Gamakatsu, Owner, Eagle Claws, Sumos and other designer hooks that the guys think are no good once they have been used. They leave them all over the boat as if they are no more useful than all the empty Pacifico bottles and cans we also collect up at the end of the fishing day. They’ve outlived their usefulness! It makes quite a pile. I don’t care if they are rusty or not. I get some corrosion solution like Corrosion X or Salt X and dilute it some in a glass jar and dump all the hooks into it. And I let it sit. And sit. And it’s amazing how much junk just comes right off. Depending no how much gunk is on the hooks, it may take several days. The solution takes off the finishes and turns the hooks black. However, some of the best manufacturers sell their hooks “blackened” so this is totally muy bueno… no problema! After all the corrosion comes off, I let the hooks air dry then I give them a nice run in a handheld hook sharpener.

Afterwards, I’ll put them into as close a grouping as I can. Sometimes, I put them in those handy film canisters or even into little zip-lock style snack bags. Some kernels of rice are added to absorb any moisture (just like adding rice to a salt shaker to keep the salt from clotting) and I’m good to go. Bring on that dorado school or I”ll take on all those pesky bonito that are boiling because I’m not burning through packs of expensive hooks. When the bite’s wild, I’m not interrupting anyone’s fishing time by trying to dig out every hook from every fish in the box or getting paranoid because clients just ripped through (cha-ching!) 20 hooks in a single day. I just wish I didn’t wait until the end of the season to scrounge them all up. And, I’ll still find any excuse to go visit the nearest tackle store as soon as I’m north of the border!

That’s my story...
Jonathan

SUNDAY SCHOOL LESSON - published Nov. 2004 - Western Outdoor News

SUNDAY SCHOOL LESSON

I just got off the water about 20 minutes before writing this column. I still have dried salt spray on my arms and sand under my nails as I sit in the office looking out through the palm trees and onto the bay in the Sea of Cortez. I guess I should be bummed. Our boats didn’t catch many fish today which is normally a pretty good start for putting me in a less than amiable mood. I mean…I know I shouldn’t, but I can take it personally when nature does what nature does and sometimes lifts it’s leg on my parade. But I’m sitting here grinning and wanted to to tell you about some incredible guys sitting down there by the pool right now.

No doubt, Baja sure gets it share of desert rats, pirates, scallywags, rogues and banditos. I probably fall into a few categories myself of those of us running to or running from (take your pick or fill in your own) nightmares, dreams, girlfriends, wives, lovers, IRS, work, tight shoes, fortunes, therapy, etc., etc. But, I’m looking down from my upstairs office down towards the beach and pool at a group of guys who sure don’t seem to fit that mold. They’re circled around one of the hotel lounge tables and are in far too good a humor considering we sure didn’t catch many fish today. I hear a lot of laughing and see a lot of smiles.

You see, these guys aren’t my “clientes tipicos.” (typical clients). They’re all ministers. That’s right…full turbo padres. Card-carrying collar men. Pulpit preachers. I’m not given to doing a lot of philosophical meanderings, but in the biblical sense, these guys are the real deal…the real “fishermen” and every year they come here…fish or no fish…and seem to have the time of their lives.

I’ve always enjoyed their visits down here, but it wasn’t until I fished with one of them once on a day when I had no other bookings that it was all explained to me and why they never really tried too hard when it came to fishing . . . or really cared.

“Jonathan, in our work, there is no real “day off.” There are always phones and responsibilities. We are always on-call. We all enjoy our work and take it very seriously like anyone else does with their jobs. But ours is also a physical as well as spiritual job. Even more so, we’re under intense scrutiny all the time. People forget that before we were “men of the cloth” we were just ordinary guys who like football, tell jokes, go barefooted, drink an occasional beer, and yes…even pull a finger and laugh about it. You’d be surprised how many members of our respective congregations would be shocked to see us in shorts and tanktops right now.”

For that he said, no amount of fish or lack of fish could change a great vacation that allowed them to be “just guys” again. “We get to be more than that. We get to be boys! We can dangle our toes in the water and do belly flops into the pool. We can be google-eyed at dolphins and laugh when a seagull drops a present on a buddy. We can laughingly point blame at the other guy when we hear a (funny body noises). We can decide not to come in for dinner when it’s time to eat and sing aloud whatever song comes into our heads. For just a few days we can be Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer again and, best of all, we get to do it with our best friends. What could be better?”

Scallywags indeed! Pirates of the first order. Becky Thatcher beware! I always try to remember that on days when the fish don’t bite or the weather doesn’t cooperate. This is supposed to be play! Amen, Padres. Amen.

That’s my story
Jonathan

SOME FOR THE ROAD - Published Nov. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

SOME FOR THE ROAD

I know over the upcoming holidays between November and December, a lot of you hit the road coming down to Baja. I thought I’d drop a few things your way about the drive.

GASSING UP

And I don’t mean frijoles and beer. If you haven’t driven the Transpeninsular lately, I think you’ll be amazed at it’s constant improvements. Sure, it’s not the 405 (at least in terms of amenities and quality), but it’s not your daddy’s beat-up arroyo-laden burro road either. As recently as a few years ago, gas was sometimes a hit-or-miss proposition and you got it when you could and topped-off at every chance. Now, modern Pemex stations dot the highway with the full-choice of fuels and mini-marts. You’ll also find something that you’ve not seen in the U.S. in a long time. Surprise! The attendant will be happy to look under your hood; check your tires for air; and even washes your windshield. Pop him a few centavos from your ashtray as a tip and you’ll get a bit smile. I still have the old habit from years ago when you could never tell about getting ripped off. I ALWAYS make sure they zero-out the pump before pumping gas. Just a habit of mine.

I never thought it would happen because Mexican gas was always more expensive than the U.S., but not so anymore. At an exchange rate of about 10.5 pesos to the dollar, expect to pay about 2 bucks/gallon for diesel and $2.20 to 2.80 for regular depending on the octane. Prices vary quite a bit but these are ballpark numbers.

INSURANCE

You’re crazy if you don’t pick up insurance even for a short trip. In fact, if you’ve seen the traffic in the Tijuana/Ensenada metro and corridor, it’s even more important to have insurance. Remember, you’re a visitor and if you think U.S. law is sticky, Mexico still adheres to the Napoleanic Code from it’s days under France. Basically, it says, “You are GUILTY until you prove yourself innocent!” They can and will hold you and the other party until fault and/or financial responsibility is established. No one is out to get your or take advantage of you. This applies equally to all parties, but the law is the law. Nothing is going to ruin your vacation faster than being in a country where you don’t know what anyone is saying and you just want out as quick as possible. There’s no excuse for not having insurance. It’s cheap. Very cheap. Do not rely on your U.S. insurance to cover you. No matter what your U.S. agent might tell you, Mexico does not recognize your U.S. policy. Get some coverage at the border or take a look at some of these websites. There are quite a few and will give you better explanations.

www.Mexicanautoinsurance.com

http://www.bajabound.com/before/legal/index.php

http://www.vagabundosdelmar.com/

http://www.discoverbajaonline.com/

THE COCONUT TELGRAPH

The closer you are to the border or to a large metropolitan area, the better your coverage with your U.S. cell phone. Cell phone coverage is expanding all the time. Check with your carrier and to make sure you get the best rates, ask about international coverage plans. They are relatively cheap even if you add the service for say…a month and will cut down on the roaming charges. It also feels good to have a phone just-in-case. The last thing you may want on your vacation is a phone call, but when you need it you have it.

As for computers…ahhhhh…can’t live with ‘em can’t live without them. There are so many internet cafes all over the place that are so inexpensive to use and many of the larger hotels also have computer stations now. Often you can just plug in your laptop and have a cappuccino while downloading pictures of you hoisting a beer to the guys back at the office. If you’re out in the sticks, strong wireless or satellite might work, but don’t count on it.

Speaking of satellite, one of the brightest spots of my year was finding out my satellite radio works like a gem here in S. Baja. I have Sirius and I can get CNN, The Rolling Stones, and Broadway Tunes wherever I go. I have one portable unit for the car/boat and another for the casa and there’s nothing like dialing in NFL football or kicking in some Garth Brooks (“Friends in Low Places” gets ‘em going at the bar all the time!) for a fiesta whenever I want or cranking on AC/DC (“Shook Me All Night Long” when the dorado foam!) when the fishing is going nuts. Your tastes may vary, but I have talked to friends up and down the peninsula and with few exceptions, their XM or Sirius tuners work like champs. By the way, there’s a station on Sirius called “Margaritaville” that’s just a perfect soundtrack for any Baja vacation. Tune it in then duct tape the knob so none of your goofy drunken buddies switches it to ABBA or something and starts sobbing about his girlfriend who left him in 8th grade. You KNOW it’ll happen if you don’t guard the knob!

Travel safe. Don’t drink and drive. Don’t drive at night and have a great road trip!

That’s my story...
Jonathan

BILLFISH OF THE FALL - published Nov. 2004 - Western Outdoor News

BILLFISH OF THE FALL

I guess I’ve caught more than a few marlin in my day. I once worked at a place where part of my job description required two marlin a week for the kitchen. Some weeks you hit and some weeks you scratched, but on the average, we did a lot of billfish. This was years and years ago.

The East Cape and Cabo region are famous for billfish and for good reason, Cabo has dubbed itself the “Marlin Capital of the World” for good reason. I once read that more than 30,000 billfish are hooked there annually. But let me tell you about a spot that I think is even better and the best marlin trip I ever had where I wasn’t even supposed to be fishing.

A couple of years ago, I was hired by a camera crew from Tennessee who had a fishing show. They wanted marlin and they wanted underwater shots. Apparently, they were getting away from bass fishing and had now decided to go saltwater so what better place than Baja! Anyway, I wasn’t hired to guide or deckhand or even work the galley. They wanted my perceived SCUBA diving skills. I was officially the “shark protector.” Younger and dumber and indestructible, that sounded fine to me. I had been diving with sharks quite often, but I’ve never had to protect myself from them let alone anyone else, but it sounded like a great adventure.

What I found out this entailed was getting a marlin hooked; slipping the cameraman off the swimstep into the water so he could film; then me getting in the water somewhere under the boat and below the cameraman to watch for sharks. Obviously, the cameraman would have his eyeball in the eyepiece so his view of the blue would be limited so I was the hired “protector.” Now, let me tell you, I’ve had a lot of diving experience, but there’s something different about bluewater diving in open ocean. There’s no structure or bottom to orient yourself. There’s no cute reef fish. There is only blue…shimmering eerie blue in all directions. Blue vertigo. If I saw a shark, I was somehow supposed to notify the cameraman so he could get out QUICK with the expensive gear! That left me still in the water with bait and chum all around and a hooked (and maybe bloody marlin) swimming through it all. I learned to swivel my head in all directions like Regan in the “Exorcist” real well because the place we were headed were the banks off Bahia Magdalena, notorious for “grinners” and the “men in the grey suits.” They always say you’ll never see the one that gets you and you can feel ridiculously exposed in all that blue with only a wet suite and a little 4-inch dive knife that doubles as a screw driver!

“Mag Bay” on the Pacific side of lower Baja might well be one of the most incredible marlin spots on the planet. During the fall and early winter, schools of marlin ball up on places like the Thetis Bank and feed. Then, as the season progresses, they begin moving south towards Cabo and around and up the East Cape and into the Sea of Cortez.

Imagine pulling up and seeing not one, but several different bird schools working. Pick a spot and drag the lures and bait and 1, 2, 3, 4 rods would go off with screaming reels and pure deck pandemonium. Getting into the water while hooked-up anglers stepped over and under you while trying to get divers and camera gear safely over the side was a proverbial clown fire drill. Once in the water, I kept my eyes and head swiveling, but in 4 days never saw a single shark. On the contrary, the biggest hazard were the hooked marlin as well as free-swimmers under the boat. With lines attached and those big long pointy things on their faces, I sometimes felt like a matador doing an “Ole!” as one then another marlin would stream or twist by sometimes close enough for me to touch the fish. At one point in the prop wash while coming to the surface, I was momentarily blinded by all the bubbles only to have it clear and finding I was staring straight into the spike of one striper. With a flick of it’s tail, I’d have been missing an eyeball! I should have asked for combat pay. One cool trick was releasing the fish underwater and swimming them down until they were well under their own power.

Over the course of several days, we hooked and released dozens of marlin a day taking them on bait, lures, flyrod, spinning rod and light tackle. Mag Bay is not an easy place to get to or be at. At best, it’s a 3-4 hour drive from where we are in La Paz. There’s no fancy hotels. No gift shopping. No sparkling fleet, although several small charter ops are popping up. Those anglers who hit it the most are coming down the coast or charter boats from Cabo as we did or sometimes the San Diego long rangers will bump it. I never saw a single shark but did encounter some incredible fishing and underwater footage. It’s where I’d go again to fish the incredible billfish of the fall.



That’s my story...
Jonathan

SHOW ME THE MONEY - published Oct. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

SHOW ME THE MONEY

I know a lot of you are headed down this way for the tournaments as well as the holidays so I wanted to pass on some thoughts about traveling with money. There’s some things I’ve noticed about carrying those almighty green “fun tickets” that seem to be recognized all over the world no matter where you go. I’ve often told people that no matter what folks think about Americans, there’s a universal language spoken around the world and it’s a piece of green paper with a deceased president’s picture on it. Whether folks understand English or not…whether George Bush is revered or reviled…heck, even Osama deals in greenbacks and Sadam Hussein squirreled away Benjamins! It’s both a curse and a blessing that the U.S. dollar opens so many doors.

Our good neighbors in Mexico are no different. But, I’ve noticed quite a growing“suspicion” about American money lately. Some of it is self-induced and some of it is just plain confusion.

For example, as you travel the Baja, you’ll notice more and more places holding our dollars up to the light. More store clerks are using those highlight pens on the currency. In many of the larger cities such as Ensenada, Loreto, Cabo and La Paz, there are even some vendors that are leery of accepting denominations larger than $20 or flat-out-refusing to accept them.

We Americans are partially to blame. Just about anyone these days with a good computer, scanner and printer can turn out money. Think about it. It’s not that hard. Now, you and I probably wouldn’t be fooled, but enough idiotic Americans have tried this over the last few years trying to pass off homemade money as “coin of the realm” in Baja to raise more than a few eyebrows among Mexican vendors. Leave it to a few to screw it up for so many other good folk. If some Mexican vendor accepts a $20 bill and it turns out to be phony, that may well be the only sale he/she makes all day and it’s not like the aggrieved vendor can turn it in or report it.

Secondly, it seems our genuine money keeps changing all the time…again to foil counterfeiters or because metal is just getting rare. Just the other day, one of my clients showed me some of the new paper money as well as the new nickels. It looked nothing like the “old” denominations. The new nickel did not even look like a nickel. The paper money looked just weird enough to be a bad counterfeit job to the uninitiated eye. Ergo, more and more, you’ll find Mexicans being more suspicious of money.

On a more practical note, more stores, restaurants and gas stations are leery of accepting torn or defaced U.S. dollars. The reason for this is that they cannot take money with say, your girlfriend’s phone number scribbled on it, to the bank to exchange it. I have seen signs at some checkout counters outright refusing to take “dolares feos” (ugly dollars). Nothing against you personally, but if they can’t take it to the bank, then the money is basically worthless no matter how many cases of beer you may want to buy.

Lastly, keep the coins at home. I’ve become a regular slot machine to many of my friends who are bellboys and waiters who get either torn dollars or nickels, dimes and quarters as tips. Amigos, just like torn or defaced dollar bills, coins are useless in Mexico. I never realized it before. Coke machines don’t accept them. The banks don’t accept them. Stores don’t accept them. Therefore, when you tip your bellboy a whole quarter for carrying all your fishing tackle up 3 flights of stairs, believe me, you’re not doing him any favor that’s going to get him to give you extra towels. You might as well be giving him that Canadian quarter you found in the newspaper vending machine at the airport before you flew down.

Bottom line, bring newer money if possible or at least money that isn’t torn, scribbled on or marked up. Bring lower denominations, if possible, for daily use. Save the larger bills for something major or an emergency. If you’re going to buy tacos; or buy bait from the baitman; or give a tip, small bills will get you a big smile. I can’t help but roll my eyes when we pull our panga up to the baitman and the client pulls out a $100 bill for $10 worth of bait and asks the pangero, “Do you have change?” Finally, save your loose change for the parking meter at the airport.

You don’t need to convert to pesos. Mexico loves dollars they’re just a little more careful about accepting it these days.



That’s my story...
Jonathan

TOURNAMENT TIME - published Oct. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

TOURNAMENT TIME

This is tournament time in Baja and a certain discernable frenzy descends on places like Cabo, and the East Cape as some of the largest and richest tournaments on the planet bring the big boys, big boats, but money and big guns down for a spin at the roulette wheel of the fishing circuit.

If you ever get a chance to participate in any of these events, whether it’s the Bisbees or Western Outdoor News’ own great soiree or any of the others, you should treat yourself. Even if you can’t participate, to be in town to just watch and observe the circus is almost as much fun. Nothing quite lights up a town than when the big parades roll in.

I’ve worked and participated in several. Now, I”ll be frank. When there’s a couple of hundred boats out there all hell- bent on raising the biggest fish over a given number of days, there’s a certain element of luck involved. Being on the right boat; at the right time; with the right lure; at the right speed; and running over the right fish that just happens to want to chew what’s on the end of your line has a lot to do with luck.

It doesn’t matter how your stars are aligned; what your astrologer said; or how much money you spent or didn’t spend on that fiberglass fishing machine you’re riding. Winning is as capricious an act as getting hit by lightning or as “scientific” as those guys who have a “system” for wining the lottery or have the ability to “count cards” at the Vegas blackjack tables.

No doubt there are “pros” out there who have the ability and wherewithal to ply the tournament circuit. Those are the guys who combine skill with luck and more often than not, are usually somewhere in the money. I drool whenever one of their boats goes by and I see the deadly seriousness with which they approach and work their boat and equipment. I’ve decked on tournament boats where half the clients were asleep in the salon or passed out on the fighting chair 10 minutes after the hoopla of the “shotgun” start has faded and I’m the only sober guy on deck. Watching the pros is a thing of beauty. It’s like comparing crack Navy Seals to a college ROTC program. You and I may not ever be able to have that dream job of just following all the big tournaments around the world, but you can sure increase your chances with just a few common sense moves.

At one tournament, I passed one team of anglers who were “deep into the cups” as evidenced by the pyramid of beer cans stacked on their table. One of the guys recognized me and somewhat stumbled over. “Hey, Jonathan, I just made side bet of $1000 with some of the other boats. Give me a tip on how I can win!”
“Well, the first thing you can do is put down the beer can.” I answered. He stared at me and it took a few brain clicks for that to register. Then he started laughing and said, “You joker! You’re always so full of it!” He stumbled back to his table no doubt to regale his amigos with my pearls of wisdom.

Seriously, and by all means, have fun, but it’s hard to spot fish or do your job on a tournament boat if your eyes or closed, squinting or blood shot from the night before; bright sunshine hurts your eyes or you’re barking at the seals hunched over the rail yakking out your guts into the chum line.

And yes…everyone should have a job and an assignment on the boat. I have seen so many fish lost or tournaments screwed-up by the smallest things. And the smallest things are what can put you in or out of the money.

Everyone should have a part of the boat that is their responsibility. Everyone should have a portion of the horizon to scan for fins or surface activity. Someone should be in the cockpit at all times. Rotate duties so everyone stays alert. And, for criminy’s sake, someone should know what to do when the rods go off. So often, if the deck doesn’t look like it just got raked by a cannonball broadside leaving bodies and debris scattered about, it’s just the opposite. Namely, it’s a bad version of musical chairs with all participants having their hair on fire when the rods go off or a fish gets baited. It’s literally a bunch of screaming people bumping into each other! Have you ever seen all the clowns pile out of the tiny circus car?

“Fish on! Fish on! Someone grab that rod and set the hook!”

“Who is clearing lines? That’s not MY job!”

“Smitty is in the head! Who’s driving the boat?”

Where’s the bait? I thought YOU had it? There’s the fin! Let’s cast on it!”

Oh hell, I spilled my beer on the new carpet!”

“The deckhand is passed out in the salon. I told you guys not to do those shooters last night!”

“Who’s turn is it on the rod?” “Will someone grab the rod!”

“Where’s my rod belt? Where’s my rod belt? I can’t fish without my rod belt!”

You get the idea…

A little pre-tournament rehearsal wouldn’t help. Timing and details are everything. You could get one and only one shot. It’s the difference between a pyramid of beer cans or you and your team holding the big check in the winner’s circle with the bikini girl. Or not.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

I KNOW YOU! - published Oct. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

I KNOW YOU!!!

So much for being a celebrity in town. I was told that after I got the award from the Mayor, “your life will change.” OK…hehehehe…I can live with that. A free taco now and then? The guy at the Pemex station will wash my windows when I pull up for gas? Well, so far nothing, but whatever. I wasn’t expecting anything. The award was nice.

Then, I got a traffic ticket the other night. I had clients in the car and we were laughing and telling fish stories. I wasn’t paying attention and wrongfully turned into a dark-deserted one-way street, literally into the headlights of a police officer riding on an ATV. AroooooooRowrrrr! Goes the siren. I pull over.

Now, this is hardly the first time I’ve ever had a ticket in Mexico. But I always deserved it for some knuckleheaded thing I did and the officers were always courteous and professional. Now, I had just pulled another “pendejada” (stooopid move…if you know the word “pendejo” you get my drift) and figured this would be short and sweet.

Not!

Instead, this short squat guy in full battle dress (with all the dangly stuff and special riding gloves and shiny whistles no doubt), goes Barney Fife on me! It was like getting arrested by “Mini Ponch” from the old CHP TV series. This guy had razor-creases in his pants. No one irons in Mexico! As I rolled down my window, he was livid and screaming in perfect English, “I know who you are! You live here in La Paz and I know you speak Spanish too. You better not make any F-ing jokes to me!”

What? I hadn’t even said “Buenas noches” to the guy! Where was this hostility coming from? Could this be retribution from the awards day when the entire police force in full-uniform had to stand at parade rest while the mayor and city council were giving long political speeches? These poor guys had to stand on the hot parade grounds in 100 degree sun. Was Barney Poncherello blaming me for the fact his brain got cooked under that black beret they were wearing?

He kept mumbling in English, “I know who you are! I know who you are!” The veins on his neck were bulging as if he was trying to restrain himself or his shorts were riding up on him. He wanted to know if I had drugs and alcohol and told him I don’t drink and that he was welcome to search the car and all of us in it. That seemed to make him madder and he looked at me and said again, “I know who you are! Give me your license.” The wise guy in me wanted to say, “If you know who I am, then why do you need to see the license?” Self –control got the better of me and I handed him the license.

“I knew it was you!” he said with some degree of smugness. He told me that he was going to give me an “infracion” (ticket) and that there wasn’t a thing I could do to reduce the $21 dollar fine. ( I would NEVER try to reduce a whopping $21 dollar ticket!). But he kept on about “This is a serious thing you did and the crime fits the punishment and it’s a big fine to teach me a lesson and by the way, I know who you are! ” OK, already, Barney.

Here’s where the lesson kicked in for “Living in Mexico 101.” He lobbed it my way before he rode off tight shorts and all. Apparently, if I paid within 40 hours, I get a “30 percent discount.” Can I get more if I paid sooner? “Don’t make jokes with me, Mister. I know who you are!” He revved his ATC and rode off. That was way too intense and I was sure I’d be staying up all night thinking about my whopping $21 dollar fine. But here’s where I learned another lesson. In Mexico if you’re a senior citizen, you get 50 percent discounts on traffic tickets. I sent my 68-year-old buddy to pay the fine for me. That cop might know who I was, but at the courthouse, they sure didn’t know my buddy! And no one asked for I.D!

I think I will keep a lower profile. Just what I need is Mexican police officers thinking they know me. So much for minor celebrityhood in La Paz. Autograph anyone?

That’s my story….

Jonathan

VAMPIRE FISH OF FALL - Published Sept. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

PARGO - VAMPIRE FISH OF THE FALL

Mostly when someone tells me they want to fish for pargo (snapper) , I tell them to come in the spring to Baja. Those are the days when these big rockfish come up into the shallows to spawn in the rocky areas along the islands and dropoffs of the Baja coast. Often, they can be seen in schools so large it looks like a dark red school of Japanese koi (carp) except the Mexican pargo would probably eat your tea-garden-zen-master koi for lunch since these bad boys can be anywhere from 10-60 pound fish. Yup..come in the spring for your best shot at taking one of the most prized sportfish and eating fish in the Baja.

However, I don’t know why I forget about the pargo of fall. I guess I get so wrapped up in the “glamour” species during this time of year…tuna, wahoo, dorado and billfish…the surface warriors, that I forget about the down-and-dirty sluggers in the rocks. Until we start catching them that is. Then it’s slap-myself-in-the-head-how-did-I-forget-about-pargo-time because the fall is also an excellent time to roll with one of these toothy creatures. I call them “vampire” fish and if you’ve ever seen the teeth on one of these things, you’d know why. The literally have fangs that protrude from their mouths making them look pretty fearsome.

Fishing for pargo in the fall is a little different than fishing them in the spring. For one thing, they generally do not school up like they do in the earlier parts of the year. The fish on the fall are more solitary, sullen and sedentary fish. You won’t see them marauding in the shallows in huge groups where you can often site-fish them. Instead, anglers are often surprised when they catch these fall snapper while fishing down in the water column looking for cabrilla, amberjack, grouper or seasonal yellowtail.

The one thing they do have in common with their springtime habits is that they LOVE cover. You may see the occasional fish swimming around sandy areas, but by-and-large, you hunt for pargo in the worst areas possible…in the sharp rocks, ledges, reefs and dropoffs that made Baja famous. If you’re going to hunt the bad boys, you’re going to have to go into their neighborhood in just about the worst environment to wet a fishing line. This is what makes them so hard to catch. Not only do they have teeth. Not only do they have sharp gillplates and spines. Not only do they have armored plated scales, but their habitat will shred your line like razors and these fish know how to use that structure to the fullest.

Gifted with not only brutish and relentless strength and bad attitudes, but they also have keen eyesight. Using heavy line to protect against breakoffs will limit your bites either because the fish see the line or the stiffness of the heavy string makes for poorer bait presentation. Use light line and you may get bit more, but once it touches any rock or sharp object, it’s toast. I can’t tell you how often we’ve busted off on pargo and seen scrapes on the line 3, 5, 10 or 20 feet up the line which means that line was laying over a number of abrasive rocks and ridges and could have broken at any of those stress points.

The pargo have a tendency to grab and head right into the nearest crack or crevice so unless you can stop that first run and turn it’s head, you’re only feeding the fish. Therefore, no matter what line you use, a set of good drags and a short stiff rod with some backbone are the ticket because that’s the other thing about fall pargo…they tend to be bigger. Whereas the springtime spawners might average 10 or 20 pounds, the fish-of-fall START at 20 and go up. Fish into the 50 and 60 pound class are not uncommon.

Although they’ll readily take live bait like sardines, mackerel, small barracuda and needlefish (yes…there’s actually a use for needlefish!). I’ve found one of the most effective ways to get them is via “chunking.” That is…chumming with chunks of dead squid, bonito, or other fragrant or oily fish. I ladle whole handfuls of the stuff into the water; bury a hook into another chunk and strip off alot of slack line so that my hooked bait settles down to the bottom with the other chunks. Although we’re not in shallow water, it’s not deep either. I find pargo holding in waters 20-40 feet deep are the best candidates to chunk. Just remember that “dead bait does not swim.” So, if line starts to peel off, time to set the machine in gear and pull like heck to get that fish turned and headed away from the rocks.

When you get one aboard, handle with care. They bring a lot of sharp edges into the boat including those vampire teeth.

That’s my story….
Jonathan

BAJA IN THE FALL - Published September 2005 - Western Outdoor News

BAJA IN THE FALL

I was out on the water the today…alone. It’s rare that I get out on the water these days by myself. Just me and a skipper. I love what I do, but every now and then you have to step back. People often ask me what I do on my time off. Well, I guess I go fishing! But being by myself is a unique treat. No knots to tie for anyone else. No coaching. If I want to just look at the horizon that’s fine and not catching fish is OK too. I’m not going to ask myself for a refund if all I get is needlefish.

But, there’s something even more special about this. To me, it’s prime time in Baja. Fall fishing in the Baja is unlike any other time of the season. There’s something in the air. It’s like the “Friday” of the year. Fridays feel different… a little slacker…anticipation of a good weekend. Heck…there’s a reason they have Casual Friday” at the office and not “Kick-Back Monday” or “Laid-Back Wednesday.” People have a different attitude on Friday than on Monday. Everyone plays sick, on Monday. No one plays sick on Fridays! Friday is the day half the office never comes back from lunch. Am I right?

Well, fall in the Baja is like that. It might not be burning leaves…in fact, there’s precious few leaves in the desert let alone leaves turning color. There’s no frost on the windshield in the morning and I don’t see anyone wearing long pants and sweatshirts yet, but surely, for Baja all the accoutrements indicative of a changing season are here and that’s why this is one of my favorite times of the year.

Relatively speaking there’s a “nip” in the air. I can feel the sun coming at a different angle. The shadows running up the golden brown island cliffs are longer and there’s a little more breeze cooling down the mornings and evenings. There’s even a bit of dew in the desert and moisture on the few grass lawns that exist. However, although the air has dropped a few degrees off that stove top heater that can be the Baja summer, the waters are warm and flat. I think the late storms of summer and hurricanes to the south have done their thing and now the waters are so flat that it’s hard to tell some days where the sky ends and the waters begin. I can see the tell-tale ripple of a school of dorado half-a-football field away and much of the water can go the color of a good bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin...like teal-colored air and looking down I can see the reef and pargo hovering close to the rocks even though I know for a fact it’s 40 feet down. Man…a marlin fin out there on the surface sticks out like the Eiffel Tower on a glass dance floor.

After Labor Day, airfares generally go down. All the kids and families have largely gone back to school and the towns and pueblos have slowed their pace a notch or two.

The best part is that there’s less boat traffic on the fishing honey holes! It always puzzled me why so many folks seem to think that fishing stops after the last embers of the Labor Day barbecues flicker out. Ask the S. California sport boat operators. Fish can be foaming 20 yards off the beach yet like some internal clock, anglers put their gear in the garage. Baja is no different. Airplanes that literally burst with anglers during the summer are now half-full at best.

Today I worked one of my favorite spots in front of the old Hotel Las Arenas pulling on tuna. I kept expecting that any moment the whole fleet would come dogging my bite. In fact, not a single other panga. During the summer several dozen boats would’ve been jostling for position. Today, there was no one. Just me and my fishing in the September sun and life was good. And the fish bit. And it really didn’t matter if they did or not. It was just good to be there thinking to myself that there were people on the freeway at that very moment and I was grateful to be where I was. I stopped what I was doing at one point and you know what I heard? Absolutely nothing, but the sound of my big old Baja grin.

That's my story...
Jonathan

BEE DANCE - November 2004

BEE DANCE

I know this column is supposed to be about fishing and the story I’m about to relate is definitely about fishing. It’s definitely about the Baja experience and while this account is not about catching, it is certainly about “biting.”

At the behest of the fishermen who were there that day and my captain who all promised NOT to tell anyone, I figure I might as well tell you since about half the city of La Paz came up to me the next day offering either (a) condolences (b) remedies (c) ideas on how NOT to let it happen again…as if this were a regular occurrence or (d) all of the above PLUS laughingly assaulting my manhood by calling me names like “wussie” and “little girl”. Believe me, as you’ll see, my manhood had already been abused.

This story is about the dorado and the African killer bees. . .

Last week I was working a super panga off Espiritu Santo Island with two of my amigos/clients, Don Meluci and Mitch Chavira of San Diego. As stories go, we were into a pretty nice dorado bite and had a couple aboard. For November, this was pretty incredible fishing. Don and Mitch had brought a nice group of guys down to fish with us and instead of the usual blustery November days with scratchy fishing, waters were flat and warm. The sun was out the and dorado had come to play. There were lots of easy smiles. We were into the early afternoon and already had a nice box of dorado and had released a handful of others.

But, as I said, this story is not about catching. It’s about biting…

My memory is a bit foggy at this point, but I recall that I was leaning over the rail about to gaff a fish for Mitch when an incredible pain radiated from between my legs. Imagine someone holding a lit cigar to your nether regions where the sun rarely shines. Use your imagination on exactly WHERE this was coming from, but I’ll tell you it was on the LEFT twin! I yelled and immediately started tearing off my shorts doing the craziest panga dance ever seen in the Baja.

I knew what it was. A bee had flown up my shorts and decided to put it’s stinger to MY stinger! I could still feel “it” buzzing in there because as someone told me later, these are African killer bees with little claws that hold on and they DO NOT DIE, but repeatedly sting and sting. On one leg…then the other leg…grabbing at my crotch and tearing at my shorts…oh the pain. Now up and twirling from stern to bow. Yelling and whooping like a man with well…a bee in his shorts! My friends got to see that I was not born this tanned and why some call me “Casper Butt” as my shorts end up around my knees.

Needless to say, my amigos had no sympathy (you are paying double price next year, my friends, for the extra entertainment) and could not stop laughing. I do not know what happened to the dorado I was supposed to gaff. It probably knocked itself off the hook laughing as well.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m settled down, at least enough to sit down and breathe again. I’m still in pain. It feels like a burn that travels down my left thigh radiates up my mid-section and throbs like heck “down there.” Don’t you bet that I can still hear the snickers from my friends who are expressing sympathy, but deep down cannot wait to spread the story. Good thing the dorado kept biting so I wouldn’t have to listen to more laughs.

But, as I said, this is not about catching. This is about biting…

An hour later, we’re hooked up to another feisty dorado. This one should put us at about limits and we’re hooting and hollering again when WHAM!!!! I’m still feeling the pain in one spot when another excruciating pain shoots up the inside of my right nalga cheek about 4 inches below the waistband and just west of the longitude line. Yeow… Another bee has flown into my shorts and I’m off on the panga two-step again clawing and yelling and using moves like Jerry Lewis as the nutty professor. OUCH that hurts and again, I’m tearing at my shorts, but butt, my crotch trying to get that guy outta there as I do a pirouette at the stern bait tank all the while screaming and see a bee fall outta my shorts, onto the deck and fly away. Rat bastard bug.

I can already feel the painful swelling on my butt joining the painful swelling on my left twin. Yes, I yelled like a little girl. No, I cannot dance. No, I have never ever been afraid of bees and in thousands of hours on the water year after year this has never happened to me. I’ve cut fingers, busted bones, twisted ankles and knees, had gaffs and hooks go through my hand, but never ever had not one…but TWO bees fly up my shorts. And yes…it hurt worse than any of those other mishaps. In fact, it hurt for about 2 days.

By the way, about an hour later, another bee flew into my t-shirt and stung me under the right arm pit. That’s me the human pin-cushion. My amigos did not get a single bite. However, by evening dinner word had spread through La Paz about why Jonathan wasn’t able to dance at the beach barbecue I threw that night. I was as useless as a one-legged man at a butt-kicking contest. Dang bee stings hurt…A LOT, especially in a very tender area.

As I was to find out over the next few days, for some reason there had been an infestation of African killer bees around La Paz that week. Interestingly, they have only been over the water and there were reports of swarms of them following dive and fishing boats for a few days. Then, they were gone. A few people got ONE sting. I got THREE. Only in Baja. Just when I thought I had seen everything.

That’s my story.
Jonathan

WHO ARE YOU ANYWAY? - published Sept. 2005 - Western Outdoor News

WHO ARE YOU ANYWAY?

Well, I survived the award ceremony last week. If you remember my column, I went all out and paid 35 pesos for a haircut and surprise…I got exactly what I paid for…a 35 peso haircut that I am still trying to hide.

I know this isn’t about fishing, but what I experienced at the event was certainly a great honor and getting awarded something special is certainly something that most of us Baja rats never get to see or experience. It’s something I’d like to share with you if you’ll indulge me for a bit. I really didn’t know what to expect. It was quite a rush that morning as I still had about 20 boats to get out in the early dark off the beach plus load up about a dozen clients into vans off to the airport. Then, with 15 minutes to spare, run off and shower and climb into something presentable.

Something “presentable” for me meant spending about a whole day running around town trying to find something other than the shorts, flip flops and fishing t-shirts everyone sees me in. What I thought would be easy turned into a 200 dollar mission to find stuff that fit and that wasn’t going to be too hot. Wow…Dockers slacks in Mexico cost about 60 bucks! A silk tie was over 30. There goes the budget. And because I’m short and would not have time for alternations, a pair of decent boots were topped off by the aforementioned bad-haircut. That’s what happens when you wait until the last minute.

Anyway, I was shuttled off to the civic center in La Paz. About 400 people were there as well as about 200 uniformed police officers and military standing at parade rest in the hot sun. I felt sorry for these guys having to listen to all the speeches (of which I barely understood anything so I nodded and smiled a lot) while standing at attention as it was over 100 degrees that day. Looking around, after all my shopping the previous day, I was the ONLY guy wearing a tie. I was the ONLY guy in long sleeves. Even the mayor, Sr. Victor Castro, El Presidente de La Paz, was in his “casual Friday best.” I guess it’s good to be king.

The band played. The bugles bugled and the drums beat. I loved watching the soldiers and police march. It’s a bit like a goose-step but rather funny and I couldn’t help grinning. Right leg up and out. And hold. Just like someone striding over a water puddle or navigating a yard full of dog poo and wondering when to put their foot down. They would hold it for a split second, then put it down in a very erratic march step. They played the Mexican National Anthem which by the number of people singing it is sure a lot easier to sing than our own difficult Star Spangled Banner. It also has a nice beat to it when all the tubas in the band are playing much like a good oompa tune you’d hear at October fest. I liked it. I can only imagine what Mexicans think when they hear, “Jose can you see?” from own national anthem.

I was seated at the main table with all the dignitaries. I was the only gringo and feeling pretty important because I heard them mention my name in one of the speeches and say something about me being from the United States. However, at one point the guy on my right, who reminded me of the Robert De Niro’s ex CIA character father-in-law in “Meet the Fokkers” leaned over and in Spanish whispered quizzically , “What are you doing here?” I said I was receiving an award for bringing business to the city. (pause) After several minutes, he leaned over again and said, “And just who are you, anyway?” (sigh) So much for being a big celebrity! As I found out later he was the former mayor and now acting head of central security. Just doing his job, no doubt.

Anyway after a lot of speeches, I got a nifty plaque and gratefully shook a lot of hands. Police officers came by to also shake my hand as well. All my friends in La Paz say my life will change now that I have been recognized by the mayor of the city. I just hope the cops remember me next time I get pulled over for running a stop sign. But I’m sure I’ll just get, “And who are you anyway?”

That's my story...
Jonathan

SNIP-IT OF MEXICAN LIFE - Published September 2005 - Western Outdoor News

SNIP IT OF MEXICAN LIFE

You will never find this little bit of advice in a Baja Travel Book. “Never ever ever get a haircut in a place where you do not understand what the barber is saying.”

There comes a point where even someone as hair-challenged as myself (losing hair fast!) has to go get a trim and I’ve had some decent trims here in Mexico, but I was in a rush yesterday and ran into the first barbershop I could find down a little alley.

It was the only shop open I could find during the blazing hot mid-day siesta. Old Mexican comics lay on the tattered vinyl seats. A framed picture of Che Guevarra hung cockeyed on the wall next to another framed photo of John Wayne. The never-ending-Mexican-soccer game blared from a TV in a dimly lit corner while a dog that was missing half his fur lolled lazily by the door and I had to step over him to enter the shop.

The barber looked up and I pointed to the advertisement on his window that announced a “special cut $35 pesos.” Well for 35 pesos (about $3.50) it was such a deal. How bad could it be? As a comparative lesson in culture and economics, there’s two ways of looking at that price.

To me, it was a cheap haircut. To me, that amount means 2 minutes and I’m outta there with a little off the ears and neck. To the little barber with one scissors and comb missing a lot of teeth, three-and-a-half-bucks mighta been big money. To him…well…that means he’s gonna give me every single snip I’m entitled to for that money. He was going to give me the equivalent of a $150 Beverly Hills Jose Eber designer cut. Bottom line…”cheap” is a relative term!

Here’s another bit of advice. Besides never using a barber you can’t understand, if there’s no mirrors turn around and walk out. My second mistake. I didn’t notice until I was seated and prepped.

When the first run through with the scissors took a lot longer than 2 minutes and I could feel chunks of hair tumbling down my shoulders, I got nervous. After 5 minutes, I could already tell that he was doing stuff to my noggin I didn’t want. I said something. He said something in reply and laughed. In fact he laughed a lot. I couldn’t understand the Spanish. I don’t know the word for “mirror.” It’s not a word that I use a lot. I could sure feel a lot of cool breeze “up there.”

Two kids and another patron waiting in the seats kept smiling and giggling and looking at me. The barber made one comment that I was sure was about me and one of the kids could not stop laughing. The other kids looked at me, grinned and winked. Oh-oh…a wink.

I really wanted to make the barber stop. So, in my working Spanish, I explained that the reason I needed a good haircut was because I had just found out that I’m going to be given some kind of award or plaque next week. It’s going to be at a public ceremony and the mayor of La Paz and possibly the governor of Southern Baja will be there. I’m also supposed to make some kind of speech. (A whole ‘nother can ‘o’ worms!).

“Ahhhhhh…Bueno!” said my barber with enthusiasm. I guess he understood me that time, but with another flourish, he attacked my head again with shears and comb in another round of snip and cut ala Edward Scissorhands working a hedge. I don’t have enough hair on my head to take 20 minutes. To make matters worse, I suddenly felt him matting my hair with…butch wax pomade! He might as well have been slicking me down with axle grease. I hadn’t used butch wax since my 2nd grade first communion. Someone just shoot me. What next? A pencil-thin mustache?

With that he spun me around, pulled out a little 8 inch cracked hand mirror and whipped off my barber cape with a grin and flourish as if he had just completed a masterpiece. Voila and Arriba! Yup…I got my 35 pesos worth. Whoop-dee-freakin’-doo.

I hear the newspapers and the local TV station will be at the awards ceremony next week to record my every goof and gaffe and butchering of the Spanish language. Friends and family want lots of pictures of a rare occasion when I am in slacks, shirt and tie that only get used for funerals and weddings these days.

What I now fear is that they will also record my shiny bolo head that looks like a combination of prickly cactus dotting the Baja desert and what my dad’s lawn looks like with splotches in places the dog pee killed the grass and only dirt shows through. If Universal Studios needs someone to play the guy who survived through nuclear fallout, I’m your guy. If you don’t see me take off my bandana for the next few months, even at dinner, you’ll know why. Life in the Baja. Andale!

That’s my story…

Jonathan

PIRATES I HAVE KNOWN - Published August 2004 - Western Outdoor News

PIRATES I HAVE KNOWN

As I write this, it’s one of those screwed up days when the weatherman predicted “partially cloudy” and we got a decent Baja cloudburst instead that’s great if you have a hot cocoa and a good book, but not when you’re out trying to fish.

Once after a fairly sizeable storm, we were walking along the beach checking to see what might have washed up and came across some plastic kitchen stuff, a battered cutting board and part of a boat’s broken wooden name plate that only said, “The Re…” and nothing else. It got me to thinking what poor bastard might have been out there as is so often the case just sailing around the Sea of Cortez. No registry. No real plan, just living the sailing life of so many ocean-bopping folks from port to port as wind, tide current and whim might allow. You know. You’ve seen these guys all over. There’s usually a faded tarp covering part of the boat; laundry hanging helter skelter; a rusty barbecue on the transom; maybe a rusty bike on deck; an old kicker motor and a dinged-up trolling rod with a Penn 6/0 lashed to the starboard rail. Man…this guy goes down and there really is no one looking for him and nothing ever remains except part of a nameplate and some things that floated out of the kitchen before the boat takes the big dive with all hands.

It reminded me of one motor sailor that dropped anchor in front of a little hotel I worked for on the East Cape. Often folks would do that and come into the little restaurant for a land-based meal and some terra firma. They all had stories, but I never forgot this one gent. Tall, lean, tanned and actually for a guy who looked to be in his late 50’s he’s one of those guys who actually looked OK in his speedos like a swimmer and not like a European transplant trolling the playas with a mis-placed self-confidence for chicas.

Turned out this amigo was almost 70 and I never forgot his story. He started in New Jersey. He had been a retired insurance exec.who went out on his weekend sail. Monday came along and he decided to keep sailing south. Called his wife and said he was going to stay out a few more days. A few days later, he kept going. Just felt there wasn’t much reason to turn back…just yet. Virginia and the Carolina coasts went by and every few days he’d call into his wife who never objected.

By Florida, he deciced to stay out another two weeks as the reggae music and trade winds pulled him along. “I never sailed out of sight of land,” he said. “I hugged the coast because I’m not that good a sailor and besides, there’s nothing to see ‘out there.’ After 3 weeks, I called my wife. We really had lived separate lives for many years. Kids were grown and gone. I told her to prepare divorce papers and she didn’t object. Except for a quick run back to sign some papers, it was all amicable and I kept sailing south.”

He kept going keeping the land to his starboard side then went through the Panama Canal and then north up Central America then Mexico and finally into the Sea of Cortez where I now found him having a big fat steak; some red wine; and a good chat as we watched the sun go down next to the big blazing fire we always had on the patio.

“What now?” I asked.

He planned to just keep sailing…maybe up the California coast and north to Canada and finally Alaska.

“Then what?” I asked.

“Then I’ll sell the boat ; buy another one and sail the other way, of course!” he replied with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.

Fairwinds, amigo, wherever you ended up.

That’s my story…

Jonathan

BETTER HOO'ING - Publshed August 2004 - Western Outdoor News

BETTER HOO-ING

You hopefully heard about it or saw it here in WON. A few weeks ago a 184-pound wahoo was taken off Cabo that is a pending world record. If you saw the photo, it’s pretty hard to call that a “skinny.” That would be like calling a Sequoia redwood a sapling.

Here in La Paz, we’re having a banner wahoo season ourselves so let me throw in my own two-cents about how I fin- tune my own wahoo fishing since I get asked about it quite often. In fact, several of us were sitting around the other day, including my amigo, Sheldon Bergman of Ojai, who’s been wahooing all over the world. Put a couple of wahoo people together and you get all kinds of opinions.

Wahoo, not normally being schoolie-type fish, are gotten on the troll so that means rigging up to drag stuff through the water. I get away with 40 pound outfits quite well on short sticks, since most wahoo are going to be in the 20-50 pound class. I guess I could even go lighter but a smarter angler would say I’m crazy because around Baja you never know what will bite and I could easily be outclassed with a 40 pound rig. But let’s assume we’re only chasing Mr. Hoo.

Lure? I have a battle scarred Marauder-type lure that is missing an eye. It is criss-crossed with teeth marks and half the paint is missing as are various chunks of the body. From the left-over paint, you could tell it was once an orange/yellow “Tony-the-Tiger” pattern. I love this rig. I will never ever let you borrow it! I also have two extremely heavy chrome jet-heads. I bought one in Hawaii where they have turned lure heads into an art form, especially heavy chrome heads. The other deep runner was made for me by Jorge, the old-battlehorse chef on the “Red Rooster” out of San Diego who is a wahoo magician. Both of these have dark purple skirts with flashes of orange and hot pink (Goblin colors). I won’t let you borrow these either (sorry) and they catch fish. Someday, I will lose these and it will be like losing a best friend. I guard these like I’d guard my little sister on her first date. My captains, who catch lots of wahoo themselves hate them.

They prefer Rapala-type crank baits. Crank baits being “lipped” baits made by a number of great manufacturers that dive when trolled. They work too. Very well. A lot of cruiser guys won’t run them as they can be dangerous and a nuisance when you’re trolling a number of lines, especially if they don’t track correctly, but they work great on pangas. There are two problems with these types of lures. First, you want to change out those treble hooks. From experience, we’ve found that your hook-up-to-catch ratio is diminished with treble hooks. They sometimes don’t bury themselves very deep into that hard wahoo mouth. Second, wahoo are like snakes. They twist and turn when they are fighting and can torque that lure right off and it’s “seeeee-yaaaaa!” Instead I prefer putting on a single Siwash style hook. Don’t make it too big because if it’s too big it will affect the swimming ability of the lure as the hooks will act like mal-adjusted rudders. The single hooks bury deeper plus often the second or third hook will swing around and plant itself in the fish’s noggin or jaw for an almost inescapable hookset. (Don’t lie. You weren’t going to release that wahoo anyway, were you?)

Ever heard the term, “once bitten twice shy?” The problem with the metal-lipped lures, like the Rapala, is that while they work like gems, once hit, they often never run true again no matter what they say on the box about adjusting them. That’s what makes them difficult to troll from a cruiser. It’s like having the proverbial “loose cannon” on a ship. If you have your spread of lures behind the boat and one wayward Rapala decides to run to starboard instead of straight….holy mackerel what a mess it can create! It’s almost as if you need a degree from MIT to make them go straight so I almost always have to toss them away or give them away to someone who has the time to figure it out. I”d love a Rapala rep to come out with me one day and show me what I’m doing wrong. Hence, just as a matter of economics, much as I love my Rapalas, I often find myself using the plastic-lipped Yo-Zuri style instead.

Lastly, a word on how to troll these things. I know there’s a world of controversy here too. Working boats out’ve San Diego, I had always been taught to literally “run ‘em in the wash” up close to the boat. Down here in Mexico, every one of the captains and crews tends to want to run them back the the length of a football field. Me? Old Brooks from Doorknob lures taught me something years ago that has served me well. I run my darker colors up close and in the wash where they make a silhouette in all that white water. I run my brighter colors and patterns out around the 4th or 5th wave just beyond the last of the foam, especially in the brighter Baja sunlight where the sunshine bounces off those chrome heads, chrome lips, shiny paint patterns and lights up those bright colors.

Then, I just wait for that sweet sound of a smoking clicker…hopefully followed by the sweet smell later that evening of ‘hoo sizzling on the barbecue with lots of lime, garlic, tortillas and long-necks on ice.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

BAJA BIG DEALS - Published August 2005 - Western Outdoor News

BAJA BIG DEALS

We were on our way to Todos Santos for a birthday party a few days ago. Unlike taking the picturesqu road towards the East Cape that snakes through the mountains, the way to Todos Santos is pretty much one continuing monotonous carpet of cactus and brush. Not having a whole lot to look at we got into a discussion about the things that made the biggest changes or impact in Baja. You get like that passing cactus after cactus and watching cara cara buzzards eating road kill. These are in no particular order, but I present these for your submission as my top 4 list.

THE TRANSPENINSULAR HIGHWAY – Any civilization rolls on it’s ability to move people and the famous highway that ribbons some 1200 miles from Tijuana through the Baja frontier down to Land’s End at Cabo San Lucas has to be right up there. It’s to Baja what the Appian Way was to the old Roman empire. If you ever get a chance, talk to one of the old Baja veterans. They’ll tell you stories of washed out arroyos; goats; busted axels; burros and gasoline These days, you can ponder whether the next pueblo will have a MacDonald’s so your kids can have a happy meal, but back in the days of Ray Cannon, Fred Hoctor and (sorry Gene) even Gene Kira, there really was an issue about whether you and your vehicle would make it back across the border. You can still see the rotted corpses of Detroit’s finest scattered along the roadway and at the bottom of sharp turns they failed to navigate.
Today, it’s still not your favorite U.S. freeway, but a double-lane-paved road now gets you just about anywhere. The Mexican Government has the “green angel” emergency vehicles zipping up and down providing assistance to any travelers in trouble and multi-level hotels now dot the adjacent landscape. I guess the latest news is that they are now going to make it a 4 lane highway from Cabo to La Paz which will certainly open things up and usher in even more development along those areas as well as the once “sleepy” East Cape. As they said in Kevin Costner’s flick “Field of Dreams”…”If you build it they will come.” Well, the floodgates opened and haven’t stopped since.

THE PANGA – What Henry Ford’s Model T did for the United States, the fiberglass skiff or “panga” must take the credit for it’s impact in Baja and the rest of Mexico. The question is where did the panga come from? Previously, skiffs were not uncommon in Mexican waters, but they tended to be hand-made wooden watercraft slender in the stem and stern. The story I’ve always heard is that the Mexican government realized it had a valuable resource with all this ocea front along the Baja coast. To that end, they requested bids from boat makers to come up with a simple design; easily moved; economically priced that just about anyone could afford. Sounds just like a your grandpa’s old Ford, doesn’t it? Well, story has it that the bid was actually won by an American named Max Shroyer who had a fiberglass company in La Paz. That’s right, the famous Mexican panga is actually an American design. However, the advent of this craft allowed just about anyone to scratch out a living. It allowed a guy to feed his family or go into business as a commercial fisherman, not to mention what it did to sportfishing in the pristine waters of the Baja and the economic impact of the sportfishing industry. Think about how many pangas you see now, not just in Baja, but all over Latin America. I have spoken with some of the older skippers and they have told me that 25 years ago, you could buy a fully outfitted panga for about $3000. That same panga now, absent a motor, would run between $7,000 and $11,000 dollars which still isn’t a bad deal given how most things have increased in 25 years.

FAST FOOD - I have seen stat sheets showing that 70 percent of Baja’s population still eats at streetside taco stands the majority of the time. However, it is amazing what happens to a community once the Golden Arches pop up or the Colonel starts smiling from his twirling red bucket. Look at Cabo San Lucas and just about every known fast-food chain on the planet is there, complete with kids meals and various versions of playland. The arrival of the fast food operation basically heralds that a place is ready to take it’s place on the map. It says it’s population is no longer rural. It’s people now are so busy, sometimes with both parents now working, it’s a whole new ballgame. Ergo, consider the pro and con issues that raises for culture, society, economics and certainly the family nucleus that has been such a bastion of Latin American culture for ages. Jose and the family aren’t sitting around the table each evening with los abuelos (grandparents) for the family supper any longer.

COSTCO and WAL-MART - Yes, those fortresses of Americana have landed or at least some form of them is here. In fact, I have heard the largest Wal-Mart on the planet is in Mexico City. A little over a year ago Costo arrived in Cabo and talk about impact! It continually pops up in conversation even here 100 miles to the north in La Paz. La Paz itself has the Mexican version of Costco called City Club and it is such a fixture now that people plan their whole weekends around visits to these stories. It has become a social event to visit Costco. People living on the fringes get laundry lists from their friends and neighbors and make Costco runs. You can now buy EVERYTHING and you can buy it in bulk! You can even buy that “hot dog combo” so popular in your own home town. While many people whine about all the growth, including me, no one seems to complain about the convenience of now being able to buy #10 cans of olives or cheese by the brick. The impact was immediate. Surrounding businesses had to drop their prices to stay competitive. Some businesses could not keep up. It’s the way of the world. However, here’s a footnote. For the same reasons Wal-Mart is having problem in the U.S., Cabo San Lucas recently denied the retail giant’s attempt to build another center in the city. I guess progress does have it’s limits.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

WHAT WOULD YOU DO? - Published July 2005 - Western Outdoor News

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

I’m a guy of the millennium. I believe in ecology. I believe in saving the planet. I believe in catch and release. But, I also believe in our sport. I believe there’s a way to do things. I believe I like to eat too. So, like so many people, I do the “shuffle” of wanting it all yet wanting to save it too. I’m not a tree hugger, but I like my trees. I want my grandkids to be able to catch a dorado, but love the frenzy of the Baja bite when the bloodlust and beer run with equal vigor. I hate that the netters are out there wrapping OUR tuna, but I sure love a good tuna melt. But, I’m in the unique position of owning a fishing operation in Baja.

I want everyone to have a great fishing day. But I’m also gratified to see more anglers and even the old-school skippers releasing more and more fish. I can be down with that! So, about a week ago, I get an e-mail from an angler I’ll call “Mr. M.” As with many folks he fished with a competitor which is fine. There’s plenty of biz and I consider most of my competition to be great folks who do a good job so this is no slam on them. It’s more of a dilemma. But, here’s what Mr. M wrote to me about when he went out panga fishing. I’ve deleted names of the captain and fleet:

“We had a very unpleasant experience with (Captain A.H.) who was more into himself and meat-hunting than listening to what we were there for. Aside from insulting us both verbally and bordering on physically, (Captain A.H. ) on day #1 of our trip clubbed my first sailfish before he asked me about a "billfish release", which he claimed he would do on the next billfish. Well, 30 minutes later my brother-in-law caught a very large sailfish which (Captain A.H.) said he really wanted to keep to bring back to the dock, so we did. We told (Captain A.H.) that we would not partake in any more billfish takes and if one was caught, we wanted it released.”

“Now it's day #2 . About 35 minutes later and we hook the largest fish of our lives and when it breaks water, it turns out to be a BLACK MARLIN! Although the battle almost killed my brother-in-law (3 hrs 45 min), the part that was crazy was that (Captain A.H.) started telling B.S. lies about wanting to feed a school of starving Catholic children, and then the story changed to something else, and so on etc... “

“This argument about releasing the fish went on for the entire battle, and at the end ( Captain A.H. ) said that he would only release the fish if it were "lip hooked". When we got the 450 lb marlin next to the boat we saw that it was a perfect lip hook that was an easy (release). That's when the B.S. crying started up again. (Captain A.H.) proceeded to keep the fish’s mouth out of the water in an attempt to kill the fish while we pleaded with him to revive it! He finally dropped the bill back in the water and claimed that the it was dead. He did not make any revival attempt and he just yelled at us to sit down and shut up. It was so bad that I spoke to (the manager of the fleet) and told him about what (Captain A.H.) had done. It was amazing that (Captain A.H.) managed to absolutely destroy such a wonderful moment, and if you would like any pictures or video of the event, just ask. By the way, you could always talk to (the manager of the fleet) about this story and it might be interesting to talk to (Captain A.H.) about how many lies he told in an effort to kill that fish. He even told us that because the fish died, he would have to pay some penalty to the government on Monday!”

Some story, eh? Again, this was not one of our skippers, but it is a skipper that I know to be a pretty good guy and we have used from time to time. The fleet is also stellar. But this really got to me. I think a lot of us take pride in our fishing and this has been one of the best marlin seasons here in La Paz any of us have ever seen. Clients are welcome to their fish, but gratefully, most of the fish are getting released. When fish are killed, often the client gives the whole fish or a good chunk of it to the captain. But this event just went so against my grain. I did some research.

I found out that a captain can sell the marlin to the market for about 90 pesos a kila (4 bucks a pound)! If he gets a 100 pound marlin as a gift from you, what does he care that you’re angry and withhold your 30 dollar tip? Do the math. I know that many of you will read the story and get your hackles up just like I did. So, what do we do? What would YOU do if you were Captain A.H. Be a little more discreet? Have a little more “boatside courtesy” as he sticks the gaff? I’ve seen some of you go nuts over losing the 10 dollar football office pool. Ever had hungry kids to feed and limited income? Easy to say this skipper is an idiot and should be strung up with spectra, but he just watched a wining lotto ticket swim away. What would you do? I’m very sad for everyone involved for too many different reasons and on too many different levels…the angler, the captain, the fish, the industry…our hearts.

That's my story...
Jonathan

BUYING YOUR BAJA SPOT Pt. 1 - Published July 2005 - Western Outdoor News

BUYING YOUR BAJA SPOT

(Part 1)

I’m probably going to hate myself for telling you how to do this, but I think I get asked several times a day about buying land in Mexico. You might as well jump in too…everyone else is!

So, I bet you heard that foreigners can’t own Mexican land. Well, if that were the case then thousands of Americans buying up the Baja must be investing in the wrong place and all these subdivisions springing up from Rosarito and San Felipe to Land’s End, must be getting bulldozed for the French. Here’s the bottom line. You absolutely can own Mexican property. Ask all those former San Diegans who now own beach front property lining the cliffs between Ensenada and Tijuana and commute back and forth to their jobs in Chula Vista and Del Mar!

I’m no real estate Einstein, but because I get asked this all the time, I did a little research and found a pretty succinct explanation in the land brochures offered by the folks developing the massive El Dorado Ranch in San Felipe.

I’m going to do this in 2 parts with a little background this week and then follow it up with some practical information next week.

Technically speaking, Joe American cannot own Mexican property. Previously, Mexico had welcomed foreign settlement which is basically how places like Texas, Arizona, California, et. al. got settled. The problem with Americans however is that once we move in, we don’t like moving out. (See “The Alamo”, “Davy Crockett”, “Jim Bowie”). So we had this little war with our neighbors to the south. To end the war, in 1848, we made Mexico give us what basically became the southeastern United States.

You can see why in 1917, when Mexico formed their current federal constitution, they were still smarting a bit and enacted legislation restricting foreign ownership of their most precious commodity…land! It allowed Mexican Nationals and Mexican companies to own property, but prohibited foreign ownership or businesses within the “restricted zone” (62 miles from the borders and 31 miles from any coast).

However, there’s something magical about the words “American investment dollars” that makes all things possible. Mexico, however, like many countries on the planet realized that there’s nothing like American cash and that it had to find a way to encourage American investment without making it’s constitution rollover like 3 day old bait.

Therefore, in 1992 it enacted an amendment to the Mexican Constitution in conjunction with the Foreign Investment Act of 1993. Accordingly, these measures created a system that allows foreigners to suddenly own property in the restricted zone that was still in harmony with it’s Constitution. Called a “Fideicomiso,” (Real Estate Bank Trust) this symantic play-on-legislation also allowed foreigners to form Mexican corporations as well as run businesses in Mexico without a Mexican partner.

Next week, I’ll tell how how the Fideicomiso works. However, here’s what the El Dorado folks say about investing and buying in Mexico:

Mexico is the #1 free-trade country in the world having free-trade agreements with 32 countries. It’s the #2 free trade partner with the U.S. and the #1 trade partner with California and has the 9th largest economy in the world. It’s also the #1 vacation destination for Americans and by far the #1 retirement destination for Americans.

That’s my story…
Jonathan

I BELIEVE - Published July 2004 - Western Outdoor News

I BELIEVE...

I’ve been doing this Baja gig now for quite a few years. I’m not Ray Cannon, Fred Hoctor or Gene Kira when it comes to the amount of knowledge those guys accumulated marching all over this peninsula. However, I do know what I know. And, to that end, I’ve posted Jonathan’s Baja Creed about what I believe:

I believe:

That Aero California will be late 9 out of 10 times

That if you lose your luggage it will always be on the flight AFTER the one they tell you

That no one will ever have a definitive answer about whether you can or cannot bring reels on a plane with the line spooled

That you will never understand what the flight attendant says in English over the plane’s p.a. system.

That when it comes to impressing your friends about your ability to eat chili or salsa, “Fire in…fire out!”

That there is a reason even the locals call mescal and tequila shots, “Salsa de Payaso” (Clown sauce)

That the more tackle you bring, the less you lose and whatever you left at home, you will need

That it takes 2 hours to pack your clothes, but 2 weeks to pack fishing tackle…and another 2 weeks to adjust it over and over and over and over…

That you will never think about how well you tied your fishing knot until you’re into the second hour of a long battle

That ice cold water never tasted so good

That duct tape ever had so many uses

That the sun could stay up longer than 24 hours or that a hangover could last even longer…even with the time change
In the “Rule of 6” which says that if your 10 best friends say are DEFINITELY going on this year’s Baja trip, only 6 will actually end up going

In the” Rule of 5” which says that of that 6, one will remember at the last minute that his daughter is getting married and he has a dental appointment leaving you with an odd 5th man and the charter package is for “double occupancy.”

That the least experienced guy catches the biggest fish

That bringing bananas is a good way to play or joke or start a fight

That anyone who falls asleep dead drunk in front of his buddies deserves to be a Kodak moment for the creative ingenuity of his friends

That those little walkie talkie phones everyone carries “guaranteed for 2 miles” only work if your boat is next to your buddy’s boat

That the prouder you are of that great fishing t-shirt the great the chance you will get enchilada sauce on it

That any 4 door rental car is fully capable of transporting 8 fully grown fishermen and their fishing gear

That if there is one mosquito in the hotel, it will find your room and your ear in the middle of the night

That if you’re crossing the border, your car will always pick the wrong lane behind the slowest cars and next to the vendor who will insist that you buy the giant ceramic Tweety Bird or the Elvis on velvet painting

That the metric system will never make sense

That speaking Spanish is easy if you just add the letter “O” to the end of any English word and “El” to the front of it. (el luggage-o, el street-o, el store-o) And you have every right to expect that any local will understand EXACTLY what you are saying

The “Ice Rule” which says that he who has the most ice makes the rules

That salsa and chips are a legitimate food group

That the guy who orders the most food and drinks is the one most likely to say “let’s divide the bill among us” and “Can you cover me, I only have big bills?”

That Mexico is the only place where a sunburn received while wearing a tank top is a fashion statement


That's my story...
Jonathan

WHERE AND WHEN TO FISH - Published Sept. 2005 - Western Outdoor Magazine - Baja Backbeat

PICKING YOUR SPOTS

“I have 4 guys and we need to book a boat for 3 days,” is how it usually starts on the phone.

“OK, that’s great!” I’ll reply. “Tell me when you want to come down and what you want to catch so that I can figure out what’s best for you and the guys.”

“Well, this is our first time in Mexico so we want to catch tuna, marlin, wahoo, roosterfish and yellowtail. And we’re coming Christmas week and we want to fish in Cabo San Lucas and Loreto.”

That’s just about the time there’s silence on my side of the phone. At that point, I know it’s going to take a bit of explaining.

Half the project of having a successful fishing trip in the Baja is doing a bit of research. It’s as important or even more important than the type of rods, reels and lures you plan to bring down. Baja and it’s surrounding waters were called the “aquarium of the world” by Jacques Cousteau and it remains one of the premier fishing destinations in the world. But it helps to know where you’re going and what’s going to be biting when you arrive. As good as it can be, it’s still “fishing” and you can be setting yourself up for disappointment if your catch does not match your expectations.

“I’ve been working for various fleets for years,” said one fleet manager. “I do fishing trade shows all over the United States. I cannot begin to tell you how many people come up to me and tell me that they came to Baja and it was terrible fishing and so overrated. Then, I find out they came down in January expecting to catch dorado or marlin. Or they complained because it was so windy and rough. That would be like me going to the Rocky Mountains and complaining because I couldn’t snow ski in July!”

A LITTLE RESEARCH GOES A LONG WAY

There are more than 700 species of known fish in Baja waters of which several dozen could be classified as gamefish of one type or another. These range from inshore structure fish like cabrilla, snapper and pargo to beach fish such as roosterfish and other jacks up into the “glamour” blue water species such as marlin, sailfish, tuna, wahoo, marlin and dorado, among others.

No matter what you see in all the fishing magazines and glossy brochures touting the fishing, read the fine print or the fish charts that may or may not be attached. Just because the Sea of Cortez is loaded with fish, that doesn’t mean that all the occupants are around all the time. Some species only come into shallow waters at certain types of the year. Others are only found in certain places, for example, beaches. vs. rocky areas. Some are migratory and follow certain patterns through certain areas. Marlin would be a good example. Others follow the bait and water temperatures, like dorado.

For instance, all the folks who come to Cabo San Lucas during the Christmas holidays looking for the marlin they saw on their hotel brochures might catch one of the migratory stripers coming through the area moving around the Cape from Bahia Magdalena up into the Sea of Cortez, but their chances of catching one or certainly diminished compared so say, fishing in the summer or fall months. By the same token, big waters from the Pacific, can make fishing hard and rough. It didn’t say that in the travel brochures and the travel agent back in Portland sure didn’t know anything about the fishing either. Talk to a knowledgeable person.

KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO CATCH

Along those same lines, there are so many other species that are seasonal and no matter how good your boat captain is, he can’t wave a magic wand over the waters to make tuna appear off San Quintin in March; dorado in Loreto in February; or sailfish during the windy winter months of the East Cape. That’s not to say it CAN’T happen or it will NEVER happen, but the odds are against you and with fishing, you always want to max your chances.

In the first example of the conversation at the beginning of this article, yellowtail are normally a cooler water fish with winter and spring being better with the best results being areas like Loreto, Mulege, Santa Rosalia or Bahia de Los Angeles in and around the rocky areas. The other species, like tuna and billfish are best chased in more open water and in the warmer waters of the late spring, summer and fall. Roosterfish are a spring and summer catch and done snug up against the beaches. Wahoo are also a bluewater fish, but prime times seem to be in the spring and fall.

KNOW WHERE YOU’RE GOING

It can be as simple as looking at a map. For instance, if you know that Cabo San Lucas and Loreto are 7 hours drive away, it’s going to be a logistically difficult to fish those places in the same day. Baja is a thousand-mile-long-peninsula with more than two thousand miles of coastline bordering the Sea of Cortez and the Pacific Ocean. There as many weather, current, and species differences as well as manners of fishing as there are between say, San Diego CA and Seattle WA. Also, fishing in the Pacific will be different from fishing in the Sea of Cortez.

Along those same lines, your chances of catching a marlin are pretty slim way up the Sea of Cortez in some place like Puertocitos or San Felipe. The fish just don’t go up that far and no matter what you do or who you book with, the likelihood of a marlin appearing on the end of your line are about as good as the tooth fairy bringing you that bike you always wanted. Similarly, “summer” fishing in a location such as Castro’s Camp or Ensenada on the northern Pacific side of Baja is not the same as “summer” fishing out of Los Barriles on the East Cape. These two areas are separated by two oceans and 800 miles of Baja Peninsula.

A QUICK THUMBNAIL

There’s no way to do a complete and exact schedule for fishing in Baja. In addition to the variables of weather, wind, climate and tides, frankly fish just don’t keep regular hours or times or punch a clock. However, in brief, here’s some generalities about fishing times in the waters of Baja:

WINTER – On both the Pacific and Sea of Cortez, winds can howl. You can get two days of calm and 4 days of wind and vice versa. Chop and swell can be a problem in areas that are not protected. Big waters can be found around the tip at Cabo and San Jose del Cabo which face the open ocean. Waters are cooler for obvious reasons.

Because of the cooler waters and sometimes uncomfortable conditions, inshore fishing is best during these months. On the Pacific side, rockfishing for reds, ling cod, and other bottom fish can be outstanding in northern Baja. On the Sea of Cortez side, cabrilla and other bass-type rock fish are the main quarry. As you move further south along both flanks of the Baja, expect to see a bit more variety. Some pargo might show. Some early roosters as well as sierra mackerel especially as you move further south. Loreto, Mulege, San Rosalia, the Midriffs and Bay of L.A. could start getting their first runs of yellowtail At the Cape, early season striped marlin have begun moving from Mag Bay around and into the Sea of Cortez.

SPRING – As waters warm, winds start to diminish making for more pleasant days on the water. The warmer the waters, the more pelagic species start showing up. In northern Baja, bonito, barracuda and maybe early yellowtail begin popping up on the Pacific. The yellowtail bite gets better from the around the central Baja coast on the Sea of Cortez side. More species begin showing up as you go further south and water temps rise. Roosterfish beging showing along the beaches.Other members of the jack family including pompano, amberjack, jack crevalle, and yellowtail are more predominant in the counts. Bigger schools of snapper and pargo including dog tooth snapper, mullet snapper and others are along the shores. Sometimes tuna make their appearance in the fall if water and bait conditions are right for the southern parts of Baja. Striped marlin and possibly sailfish begin showing up in the counts. Look for some wahoo around La Paz, East Cape and Cabo.

SUMMER – Baja comes alive. In the northern Pacific side of Baja, kelp paddies bring yellowtail as well as schools of albacore, yellowfin and bluefin tuna to the high spots. Occasionally dorado also make a show following warm currents into lower California waters. Dorado and sailfish are prime time for Santa Rosalia to Cabo San Lucas. More marlin including the big blue and black marlin are in the southern areas. Schooling tuna can be found along the entire southern part of Baja if conditions are right.

THE FALL – Sometimes this is the best fishing in the Baja. Waters stay warm although air temperatures might cool down a bit and many of the summer crowds are gone. In the southern Baja, there’s a reason so many of the largest marlin and tuna tournaments in the world are held around Cabo San Lucas, including WON’s own tuna tournament. It’s where the fish are. All the glamour species can be caught in the fall, especially before the winter winds come up. This includes, marlin, sailfish, tuna, dorado, and wahoo. This pattern continues all the way up the Sea of Cortez in varying degrees, but some truly outstanding fishing can be had. On the Pacific side from Cabo up to San Diego, the high spots, ridges and banks can be some of the most prolific tuna and wahoo waters on the planet. Areas outside Bahia Magdalena such as the Thetis Bank and the ridges that run up towards Benitos and Cedros Island can hold some of the best fishing in the world during the fall.

BAHIA DE LOS MUERTOS - Published March 2005- Western Outdoors Magazine Baja Backbeat

BAHIA DE LOS MUERTOS

(Bay of the Dead)

Where I work and fish, there’s a beautiful little cove. Filled with the kind of turquoise waters; sienna mountains and that warm sand you see on travel brochures. It’s a spot that Jimmy Buffet would sing about.

Sitting on the beach, it’s always “Five O’Clock Somewhere.” Even the earlier inhabitants thought so as remains of old native Pre-Columbian villages and artifacts have been found there in just about the same spot I’d love to put up a palapa with a hammock. Over the many years that I’ve worked there, it’s always been known as Ensenada de Los Muertos (“Cove of the Dead”). It has kind of a cool ring to it…very pirate-like, don’t you think?

As legend has it there had been a mutiny on a pirate ship plying the Cortez waters and the mutineers lost. They were rewarded with a permanent beach party here marooned with no water, no food and no VISA cards. Some say their bones, or someone’s bones dating back to about that time were found a few decades ago and hence the name. Another legend has it that on the old dirt road skirting the cove, a rusted chest of Cortez pearls were once found by a road crew. I just love this old stuff. It’s Baja.

Well, a few years ago, they changed the name to Bahia de Los Suenos (Dreamer’s Bay). Whoa! Doesn’t sound very Johnny Depp, or Errol Flynn to me or even like something that metal-clad captain Hernando Cortes’ would have used to name something. But they had nothing to do with it. Real estate is the new currency of the realm, not chests of pearls; spices; silks; or cargos of gold although, like most things, gold is very much involved…the fabled “El Dorado” and the “Seven Cities of Gold” to be exact. You see, “Dreamer’s Bay” sure sounds a lot more enticing to prospective home buyers and developers than “Cove of the Dead.” (“Honey, let’s buy a condo at “Cove of the Dead”).

I’ve been in Mexico for awhile now and for at least the past decade it has provided me with a wonderful livelihood, friends, memories and a newly adopted 2nd country that I call home. But I wasn’t there during the days of my predecessors who wrote on these pages and who became icons of the Baja. I wasn’t around with John Steinbeck and Doc Ricketts when he wrote the “Log of the Sea of Cortez” about having to wait for a harbor pilot to help navigate into the Bay of La Paz and watching folks in white suites sip drinks on their fine yachts. I wasn’t there to fish with Ray Cannon and see all those huge totuava in San Felipe or belly up to the bars on the East Cape when beer was often served warm. I wasn’t there to ramble down the old Transpeninsular Highway with crusty Fred Hoctor or catch yellowtail at the Bufadora near Ensenada. I wasn’t even there with my good friend, Gene Kira, during the many times he pulled his tin boat down whatever arroyo-pocked dirt road that looked like it might have had access to the beach and a place to set up camp. I’d have loved to have helped him fix a tire sometime and listen to him tell me stories. I’m a late comer. I’m a “tweener”…in between the “Golden Age” and watching the Baja rocket into the future in fast forward.

But I do remember what I remember. There was a time when Cabo San Lucas actually didn’t have a Burger King and I could see real water from any hotel room. I remember the East Cape and driving down 10 miles of dirt roads from Las Cuevas and having to take the air out of my tires a bit to soften them from the washboard that would rattle the nuts right out’ve…well…everything…people included!

The cows in Cabo Pulmo would routinely eat the single phone wire in town rending it isolated from all phone calls. And no one cared. I remember, Loreto with the smell of tacos mingled with grilled onions from the hot dog carts and walking around the old church and stopping to play a little kick ball with the barefoot kids. San Quintin was still the Old Mill Hotel and Ensenada still had great hotel rooms for $20 bucks and lobster for a whole lot less and there was that smell of old leather coming from alleys that sold everything from saddles to bullwhips (who used those things anyway?) and huarache sandals to holsters.

And now…

Even being a “tweener” I am already missing these things as I watch marinas, condos, malls and complexes rise from the beaches. Real estate offices and “for sale” signs are popping up faster than you can blink and smiling guys with perfect hair and tans driving shiny Jeep Cherokees will be happy to show you’re your piece of paradise. Half my fishing and diving clients now seem to be asking if I can “hook them up” with real estate deals. I’ve seen some of them put down payments on places by simply writing a check or putting it on American Express over a quick weekend of fishing.

Real estate is the new boom and it’s a window that everyone seems to be exploiting. One of the agents for a gigantic project in San Felipe tells me they bring in prospective clients by the busloads on fully-paid weekend junkets to see their “next tropical homesite” complete with community swimming pools; beach access and grid-like lots set out like any suburb in Americana.

In the span of a year, I saw beachfront property near me, quadruple in price. Some other property I found had already been sold 3 times in the span of 3 years, surely at a profit . These aren’t little lots either. These are rancho-sized chunks of the planet. At the new marina in La Paz, condos well-over the half-million dollar mark were sold about as fast as an artist could put a rendering on a real estate brochure. Marinas with more than 300 slips are only months from being completed and many of these slips aren’t for pangas. It seems more than 1/3 of the marina slips are for boats “in excess of 100 feet or longer.” Chew on that one for a moment.

Latte coffee shops; fast food; multi-plex theaters and shopping malls with “food courts” are being built as you read this. I mean, the new market in La Paz has a bakery, juice bar, gourmet olive bar and cheese bar! I remember the day when I would trade some of my caught fish for goat cheese from a ranchero. That same ranchero’s kids now regularly stay indoors playing with their Nintendos.

I’m actually writing this sitting at a small restaurant at Ensenada de Los Muertos. (The pirate in me still prevents me from calling it “Bahia de Los Suenos”). I’m watching a local captain named Old Manuel paddle an old chipped fiberglass boat that can’t be more than 6 feet long. A single wave would swamp him. He looks like a caricature…a cartoon drawing. His boat is the size of a kid’s plastic pool. Manuel looks right out of central casting from Hemingway’s “Old Man and the Sea.” He has one paddle that he uses like a canoe paddle.

Even from here, I can see the stubbled beard that never seems to get longer and never gets cut. His face is lined and textured like a basketball from decades in the sun. Like the tattered straw hat on his head and the gnarled calloused hands I’ve seen close-up on occasion, it all just exists. Manuel fishes for a living and with his single rod and corroded reel the guy catches fish. He paddles out to a spot and catches fish. I have even seen panga skippers key on where Manuel fishes.

As I watch him now paddle in near the beach, with his soiled pants rolled up to his knees and untucked long sleeve shirt common to so many of these beach-farers, I think to myself, “Manuel knew Steinbeck. He knew Cannon and Hoctor and maybe even Kira. If not personally, he knew the times.” And as I watch him pull in with a few nice yellowtail and pargo, I see him go from panga to panga asking for fish scraps for bait or unused sardines no doubt to fry up. Subsistence existence at it’s best.

I wonder what all this development means to him.

Does he know that the beach he is now walking on is worth over a million dollars? Does he know that the smiling perfectly-suntanned guy in the AFTCO fishing shirt (these guys NEVER fish) leading the couple around the beach asking to take a photo of Manuel is a real estate agent? Does he know that if he told them he lives just up the beach on about 300 feet of beachfront in an old shanty under a palm tree, they’d probably give him more money than he would see in his lifetime? I don’t think he really cares. But I wish he did.

I wish a lot of these viejos and vagabundos cared. And that they’d just keep quiet about it. It won’t happen, but I can hope as I sit here typing from a bar that didn’t exist 3 years ago on a spot that pirates, banditos, conquistadores and natives used to walk. And their ghosts still call it “Ensenada de Los Muertos.”

CHECKPOINT ADVENTURE - Published January 2005 - Western Outdoors Magazine Baja Backbeat

CHECKPOINT ADVENTURE

We had just come up off the beach and I was driving the shuttle back to town with a van load of happy-tired anglers who had just spent a day on pangas being humbled by too many big dorado. The single-lane road was bumpy and the van rattled and shook as is often the case with any vehicles in Mexico traveling on shocks never meant for the Baja outback. I was dusty and blood-covered myself from guiding and cleaning fish but smiling broadly as the raucous boisterous, and often “blue-tinted” conversation behind me reflected a good day on the water. Lots of laughs.

One of my clients had come down with his wife, which is not uncommon and usually I’m a little un-easy when the fishing conversation gets a little loud and salty around the ladies, but Marcie was right in on it and could hold her own with the boys. In fact, she could more than hang.

She was a successful marine biologist, but (what a resume!) had spent her early summers and a deckhand and working galley on S. Cal sportboats and then worked her way through college as a waitress at Hooters. So, believe me, she could walk the walk and talk the talk from football to fishing. On top of it, this tall girl-next-door blonde insisted on wearing a bright eye-popping orange thong bikini while fishing that had other boats trolling near she and her husband all day long. The captains really got a kick of posing with her on the beach holding fish and she was more than accommodating striking model-like poses with each of them.

But, nothing quite puts the brakes on travel in Mexico like running into the surprise military road blocks that can happen anywhere. You know how you feel when a black-and-white zooms up behind you with its lights flashing on a U.S. highway. Well, imagine being pulled to a stop by a military officer in fatigues waving a pistol and half-a-dozen young soldiers sporting the latest in M-16’s. I pulled around a curve and there they were.

These guys are just doing their jobs looking for guns and weapons, but it’s never comfortable being stopped. I’m pretty used to it and my Spanish gets me by, but for most Americans, normall secure in their privacy, it’s the equivalent of being taken in for an IRS audit or worse!

“De donde vienen?” (Where are you coming from?) asked the officer as I stepped out of the van. I explained that I had a group of fishermen and was taking them back to town.

“Perdon, Senor, pero estamos checando por drogas y armas, por favor.” (Excuse me but I’m sorry we’re just checking for drugs and guns.) I said of course and told everyone to just step out’ve the van for the routine check. Nervously eyeing the “kids” with the automatic rifles, everyone got out. Most were trying to smile. Everyone piled out…one grimy, sweaty fisherman after the other.

So did Marcie as one long leg then another unfolded out of the back along with that orange thong bathing suit and her blonde hair. “Hola amigos!” She smiled and waved at the officer and soldiers who literally stepped back as I watched eyes-go-wide and guns suddenly dissolve into mouth agape stares.

Then, just like the young boys/men they were, imagine a whole squad of soldier trying not to giggle, almost embarrassingly. It was like the prom queen suddenly smiling to you in the hallway and noticing that you existed. Understand that many of the soldiers are just country boys conscripted into the army and then sent out on duty like these young kids. I could almost hear a collective Mexican “aw shucks, ma’am” coming from the fatigue-dressed “combat team.”

The officer cleared his throat and awkwardly said it was his duty now to search the vehicle. But he flashed the biggest smile at Marcie and seemed to keep one eye constantly on her even as he cursively looked around the back of the van trying so very hard to act “official.” Our group, with Marcie in the lead, followed him around still a bit nervous as anyone would when they are being “inspected.”

Then, we heard a giggle which made the officer look up. Where was his squad? They were nowhere to be found. He stood up straight and heard another giggle making us all look up and around. A movement to the right caught our eye and we could see several heads poking from behind a huge saguaro cactus each attached to a big grin. Lined up rigidly behind the cactus in single file so as not to be seen, these young soldiers were obviously looking at Marcie…each head at a different level, but trying hard to appear as one line behind the giant cactus like young high-schoolers who suddenly found out that they could see into the girl’s locker room!

Embarrassed, the officer yelled “Attencion!” and marched his squad out from behind the cactus shaking his head and apologizing to me, the clients and the “senorita bonita” for the actions of his soldiers. Apparently, they were newly recruited and this was their first check-point assignment. They almost bumped into each other trying to form rank, but never taking their eyes off the smling blonde gringa. He made a point of apologizing to Marcie who took it all in stride and said she would like to take a photo with “all the boys!”

That got ‘em! In fact, we lined them all up. Dusted them all off and watched them all push and shove as to who would get to be closest to Marcie for the photo. Of course, it was the officer who had the largest grin of all. A full 6 inches shorter than her, he, of course, got the official “spot” next to the senorita.

Piled back into the vans, we were wished well and shoved off down the road with just another great adventure story to add to the happy hour that evening. As Fred Hoctor used to say, “Baja-ha-ha.” Just another day in paradise.

TRASH FISH FEASTS - Published July 2005 - Western Outdoor News

TRASH FISH FEASTS


There was a time when I first moved to Baja when I lived in an old adobe shack about 10 miles down a dirt road. I drank well water. I grew my own veggies. I somehow figured out how to connect up about 6 car batteries and a small solar panel to give me enough light for 3 hours from a single light bulb. I ate what I could catch, hunt, grow or trade for. And it was indeed a pretty grand life. Like that title of country singer Kenny Chesney…”No Shoes No Shirt No Problems.”

Visitors who would come to see me would sometimes tell me that I was living like a beach rat in squalor, but having been in a suit for a good many years, it was heaven. Sure there were bugs and snakes and I got bit by scorpions now and then, but can you imagine what it would be like to have not worn shoes for two months or to realize you had not touched money for a dozen weeks? Quite a change.

Anyway, there were times when I’d look in my fish box at the end of the day and realize that the fish gods had not been good and what I was bringing back to shore was not exactly going to be very good for barter. So, here’s a few Jonathan recipes from the bush and beach to turn junk fish into treats…Don’t get squeamish on me. Many of these are Baja delicacies!

Trigger fish or any fish with white meat – Trim out the bones from the fillet. Make a batter out of Bisquick (pancake and cake batter); some beer (somehow there’s always some of that around) and an egg (the neighboring ranch never missed it!). It’s not rocket science. Just mix it up until it’s thick. The egg helps bind it together. The beer helps aerate it and makes it fluffy. Colder beer makes for fluffier batter. If you have salt or pepper or any other spices throw some of that in there too. Cut the pieces of fillet into thin slices and batter. Drop into hot oil and fry. Even a small trigger fish or parrot fish fillet makes quite a few fish tacos.

Sardinias - Yes, you can eat your bait and you’d be lying if you tell me there aren’t times when even the best of you comes back with more bait in the bait well than gamefish in the box. Sardines are extremely tasty. Cart ‘em back to your kitchen or camp. If you can, scale them. If not, no biggie. Drop them into hot oil or lightly dredge in flower, cornmeal, corn starch or breadcrumbs and sauté in shortening or butter. If you have some garlic salt, hit ‘em with that and splash a bunch of fresh squeezed Mexican lime juice on them. Cook until crunchy and eat them like chips. If you have some mayonnaise, put some soy into the mayo and you have instant dip. Add a sunset and some guacamole too if you have ‘em.

Fish Heads, Fish Collars and Bellies – OK, you promised not to squish up your face. Ever see how much meat is wasted after your pangeros or skippers clean fish? Everyone takes the fillets and leaves some of the sweetest and healthiest parts of the fish for the pelicans to fight over. Any of the above can be barbecued on the grill and eaten with a simple hit of garlic salt, pepper and lime in their most simplest form. The ,meat is often oily with flavor and will often fall away from any bones. Fish collars are especially tasty.
Fish heads can be browned in the oven or on the grill then dropped into a stock pot with water, spices, onions, chilis, garlic, and other vegetables. Season to taste. Serve with fresh tortillas or cook it down until thicker and make a fish stock to use for other cooking. No body says you have to look at the fish head while eating. Leave the head in the pot. By the way, this works really well if you can hunt down a mountain goat too. Fresh goat-head soup will bring all the neighbors down from the hills. Instant par-tay!

Needlefish – Many of my Asian clients love to make soup out’ve this treacherous sinister critter that can be the scourge of any fishing day. Almost like a barracuda, it can be cut into oval steaks and has white, pink or bluish meat that turns white when cooked. The problem for many are the numerous bones. If dropped into a soup, the meat flakes away from the bones. One of my amigos, Pineapple Joe from Oxnard, CA, tells me that he fillets his needlefish and then sautés the meat in soy sauce and sugar to make a great teriyaki dish.

Roosterfish or Jack Crevalle – Soak fillets in beer for two hours. Pat dry. Cover with salt, pepper and lime juice. Place on board. Brush with butter. Place in oven for one hour per 10 pounds at 350 degrees. Take out. Throw away fish. Eat board. Sorry. Thesr are two fish I could NEVER make taste good no matter how hungry I got.

That’s my story..
Jonathan

DIA DE LOS PADRES - Published June 2005 - Western Outdoor News

DIA DE LOS PADRES

(FATHERS DAY)

“I’m bit!”
“Hot rail!”
“Let him into the corner!”
“Throw bait, there’s another boiler!”

The cacophony of voices; the bustle on the deck; the adrenaline and sheer electricity of the moment shot through the boat and the air sizzled with tightlines; shuffling feet; and that special energy so many of us know when the bite is on and rods go bendo. This time, in fact, it was just last week, I was about 2 miles off Punta Coyote not too far from La Paz playing deckhand on a 33’ Blackfin appropriately name “Black Magic.” I had my hands full as we had spotted 3 finning striped marlin. I had already baited one while driving the boat with one hand and handed the rod to my anxious fisherman while Captain Manny had fired another bait into the stripers and had another ready to go.

As line zipped off the first rod and the marlin lit into his first blue neon jump, the kinetics of the moment were inescapable. However, all that shouting and running around wasn’t being done by a group of grizzly Baja-rat anglers. Indeed, my “pescadores” were 5 youngsters ranging from 9 – 13 years old and I couldn’t help by give a Cheshire grin as my “training and instruction” had them moving like vets not to mention the choice “phrases” I had taught them.

“Tight lines and give him the high stick!” Mike shouted to T.J. on the rod
“You gotta lift that stick and wind down easy!” added Alex.
“ I think he’s only lip hooked!” observed Marcus
“Let him into the corner!” encouraged Mike again as he pulled his pal down the rail into the corner and the fish surged to port. (I think there’s a future deckhand pinhead in the making).
“You rock, dude!” said T.J. as he gamely handed the rod to Morgan in a tag-team effort.

They say that if you can get a kid into fishing before he’s 10 you’ll have him hooked for the rest of his life before other distractions can pull him away. I’ve known these kids for a few years now and I think they’re pretty bent in more ways than one. If you ever want to put some juice into any activity, show it to a kid. It’s like going to Disneyland. You can get bored with Mickey after so many outings, but bring some kid who has never been there before and watch ‘em get lit and hopefully you will too. You see it from a whole different angle. They say “The children will teach the teacher.”

Same thing with fishing. Bringing kids fishing never fails to get me going again, especially in Baja. It’s not just the fishing. It’s the whole experience. Just before we hooked the marlin, a routine sighting of a pod of dolphins had the boys gleefully running around the deck and an every-day experience like that had both myself and Captain Manny grinning broadly. Smiling kids on a boat is a pretty infectious thing. Like a banjo playing. You can’t help but smile. We didn’t yet have a fish on the boards, but it felt like if we did nothing else that day, just the dolphin sightings would have been a topper.

Every year this group of kids comes down with their dads and uncles and on their last day, I get the 5 youngest as my “team” and we compete against all the old dudes. We beat them most of the time too and have a blast.

We ended up hooking 2 marlin that day and a dorado. One of the fish took the boys almost 2 hours to get to leader. As we throttled back to La Paz later in the afternoon, I saw 5 very exhausted little boys passed out on every deck cushion and stateroom bunk. I couldn’t help but wonder if these kids realized just how lucky they were. As one of the dad’s said to me later, “I’d have killed to go on a trip like this when I was their age and they get to do this every year. In about 20 years, I’m going to ask for payback because I’m going to make my kid bring me as an old man down here and make him take care of me!” Amen to that.

Baja is a very special place. You can be a pirate and an explorer; conquistador or a bandito, cave-dwelling native chieftain or bone-digging archeologist. Tom Sawyer wears a sombrero here. Huck Finn pilots a Bertram ’31 instead of a plank raft. It was made for little boys no matter what age they are and even moreso, for little boys and their dads.

I haven’t been lucky enough to have any of my own and am still trying to grow up myself, but I do very much enjoy having other little boys come down with their dads. I love having my own dad come down. Rites of passage are what it’s all about. Little boys get taken care of by their dads. Hopefully, in time, dads get taken care of in return.

My own dad is sure capable of tying his own hooks, but he feigns not being able to see the line or make sure I pack the ice chest “just so.” I don’t mind doing it and remember the days he bought the hot dogs and brought the Velveeta cheese to a little kid who wouldn’t stop throwing rocks into the water and scaring all the fish that turned into a Baja rat himself.

It’s Dia de Los Padres here in Mexico this weekend and by the time you’re reading this, hopefully, you’ll have had a great Father’s Day weekend wherever you are. I miss my dad and can’t spend the weekend with him as we’re deep into the season right now, but dad rides the boat with me everyday.

I hope your dad rides with you as well and if you are a dad, you know how special it is to have the time with your kids because these are the times they’ll remember you by. Many hot rails to all you little boys no matter what age and cheers to all of us who remain little boys at heart. Vaya bien!

That’s my story..
Jonathan

CABO PULMO - Published June '05 - Western Outdoor News

RETURN TO CABO PULMO

Y’know, as beautiful as Baja is, it’s still a land of busted dreams and half-baked ideas and projects gone south in more-ways-than-one a lot of the time. It’s a harsh and unforgiving land and so many well-intentioned ideas just never make it, either because of financing, culture, labor, politics or sometimes just plain dumb mala suerte (bad luck).

Drive down just about any highway in Baja you often see ornate gateways to land developments that never got past that expensive portal and now only weeds grow in the arid wind. Empty storefronts masked in road dust; abandoned buildings and casas along the paseo ; and rusted beach debris are all testament to an idea that just never made it.

A case-in-point has been Mexico’s attention to ecological issues and that whole can ‘o stinky worms worthy of a doctorate thesis I don’t have the time and space to write about. Let’s just say that arguably, Mexico’s record on the ecology has been less than stellar and sometimes, I can see why. When you’re busy trying to keep your population fed and working, sometimes all you can do is pay lip-service to taking care of the earth. It’s a bit like being too busy with work and kids to worry if that stack of laundry in the bathroom will ever visit the washing machine.
But, every now and then, it works.

Almost a decade ago, I lived and worked at the little Hotel Bahia Los Frailes on the southern part of Baja’s East Cape. As the working fishing guy and divemaster, I was either on or under the water daily in an area known as Cabo Pulmo. It’s just a smidgen of a place, with a sleepy cow-filled pueblo. At least it was back then. However, it’s got a rep as being the only living coral reef in the entire Eastern Pacific rim and what a great place it was to have that as my playground everyday.

However, like most things in the Baja, I could see deterioration. Coral was getting busted up by commercial anchors. Fishing line was strewn about coral heads. Fish were abundant, but sometimes absent and definitely skittish. Trash could sometimes be found at water’s edge or where irresponsible campers had left their mark. Although it was officially designated a “marine park” since about 1995, it was not uncommon to find commercial and sportfishing boats working and poaching the area. Divers with spear guns regularly found plentiful targets. I could see it was just a matter of time.

Well, recently I had the opportunity to re-visit the area and spend a day on the water diving with my amigo, Mark Rayor who owns Vista Sea Sports in Los Barriles the area’s only diving concession. (http://www.vistaseasport.com/) What an incredible difference 10 years of true “enforcement” has made. Although water conditions were not optimal, it was probably one of my best dives in years.

Huge schools of pargo swam by with absolutely no fear. Grouper in the 50 -100 pound class size would swim up within arm’s length. Multitudes of jack crevalle, angel fish, grunts, sergeant majors, trumpet fish and barracuda swam together impervious to my presence. I saw trophy-sized 20 pound cabrilla for Pete’s sake and not just one or two…I saw entire schools move languidly by. It was truly like being “in the aquarium.” In two dives, I probably saw more fish than I would see in an entire month of diving 10 years ago.

Mark and his wife, Jennifer (whom you may remember from Mike Fowlkes’ Inside Sportfishing video series) have been working the area since 1993.

“The park is about nine miles long. The northern boundary is Rancho Miramar just south of Rincon bay and the southern boundry is near the Los Frailes Hotel. It goes from the beach to almost 4 miles off shore,” explained as we sat on one of his pangas.”

“There is no doubt that the park is working. It is obvious by the amount of sea life we see every day compared to sights outside the park. Also because the fish do not spook. Huge grouper and snapper are not afraid and swim right up to divers with curiosity. (I) Have noticed more and more sea life. For the first several years we never sighted sharks and now they are common. I have photos of grouper that are 300-400 pounds. Yes, there are still poachers and a small minority of fishermen who do not respect the park. For the most part the community is behind it,” he went on.

That could be the secret. It’s not enforcement officers cruising to bust people. It’s the locals covering their own backyard and perhaps realizing they have a vested interest in preserving their home waters.

Mark added more. “There is no real enforcement. Just a bunch of us dive shops being vigilant and intimidating poachers to stay out. We have cameras in all of our dive boats and will take pictures of encroachers. Nobody likes their picture taken breaking the law. It works. As I said, most of the community is behind it. All of the resort owners have instructed their fishing captains to stay out.”

According to Mark, once locals started taking care of things, the changes were rapid and very evident as fish just seemed to sense that there was a sanctuary within the park. “I used to dive and see old fishing line and gear strewn all across the bottom. I’d take a pair of scissors with me and cut bits as much as I could. Others did the same and now you rarely see litter on the bottom.”

I’ve been a divemaster for many years and seen a lot of great things over that period, but coming back after almost 10 years was eye-opening. I also sensed an usual reaction to what I had seen. Generally, when I visit aquariums or even go diving to the north in my waters around La Paz, seeing fish just sets off the “hunter juices” in me. I want to hook up!

However, this time, seeing so many creatures this close and in such abundance, my reaction changed. I want this to stay this way. I want it to get better. I want YOU and your kids and someday MY kids to see what I had seen and I hope that at least in this little corner, the fish can always find a place where they are safe. I want this one Baja project to work.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

ROOSTER HUNT - Published May 2005 - Western Outdoor News

ROOSTER HUNT

“One…two…three…four…how much do I have to count?” said my anxious client?
“Count to 30 then start counting again until I tell you,” I replied firmly putting my hand on his shoulder as I could see he was getting ready to come out of his huarache sandals. . He looked at me incredulously out of the corner of his eye, but still keeping his other on the 40 pound test that was stripping rather quickly off his reel and out into the swimming-pool-clear-water that could not have been more than 10 feet deep. Somewhere, just beyond eye-sight…down where the sunrays shimmer the water like heat coming off a desert road, something big…really big was swimming off with his bait. There’s an old saying. “To catch a big fish, use a big bait.”

The sabalo (ladyfish) we had been slow trolling up and down the beach for an hour was itself about 18 inches long and about 3 pounds heavy. Anything that might even consider wrapping it’s maw around that piece of scaly salami had to either have attitude in spades or a big pie hole.

I knew that the fish slowly mouthing this big bait had both. “This is the big roosterfish you wanted, amigo. This is why you came down here,” I said from over his shoulder. “Just don’t pull the trigger until I tell you.” I could tell his anxiety level rose a notch or two or three.

“Twenty eight…twenty nine…thirty. Now?”

“Hold.”

More line…”Now?” I could hear the strain in his voice.

“Hold.” ( I was feeling a bit like the guy on guy in Bunker Hill telling the troops not to fire until they saw the whites-of-their-eyes.)

“Now? He’s taken so much line!

I didn’t say anything. I reached over and lightly touched the line and felt the strain. I leaned into him. “Now. Go. Pull the trigger!”

The brake was thrown and he expertly let the line go taught; pointed the stick; and leaned back into the hookset smoothly and in one motion. And the ocean 75 yards behind the boat exploded in a thrashing tail; huge head; and the signature dorsal of the 70 pound rooster. Even from this distance, as the reel screamed, I could see the black racing stripes down the silvery-black body as the fish tore left; then right; then charged the boat as the solid hookup put the rod in double bendo and my client locked into the biggest smile. He had come a long way to hook a big rooster and Baja is one of the premier places in the world to hammer down on one of the most exotic fish in the sportfishing world. Some argue that Southern Baja, especially from the areas south of Loreto to Cabo, are the most productive roosterfish area in the world.

Strange-looking to most, this member of the jack family shares genetics with other more popular and well-known species such as yellowtail, amberjack, jack crevalle, pompano and giant trevally, among others. Thick in body and shoulders, connected to a thick muscular body, these fish are built for power. They also share that same gut-busting attitude that makes all members such a popular fish on rod and reel.

Coming into the Baja shallows generally from about April to July, they sometimes show up as early as February and have been known to stay until December. I may be wrong, but from my experience being on the water, it seems like the smaller fish in the 5 to 20 pounds show up early in the season with the big bruiser bad-boys appearing in mid-summer and getting up to over 100 pounds. I know in our area of La Paz, we have had fish in the 50 to 90 pound class since April.

They can be caught in waters as shallow as literally a few inches as I have seen big roosters chasing bait schools right into the rocks or onto the sands, but normally, working the areas of white sand beaches with a mottling of rock and reef seem to hold the most fish. Being so close, surf fishing is a popular way to jump on these fish with one of the most popular ways being to either throw large chrome spoon-lures into the surf or casting large popper–style lures and reeling as fast-as-you-can and watching the big combs come out’ve the water charging the skipping lures. However, the optimal way is to use a small boat to work up and down large stretches of beach following the fish as they move in search of food source. You simply cover more water. Slow-trolling sardines is effective, but ideally lisa (mullet) are the prime candy bait for these fish. However, if you want to go hand-to-hand with the bigger bullies, slowly trolling a big ladyfish is the way to get bent.

The biggest problem with many anglers is patience. Like a big dog that runs away with a sock, the bigger roosters will often run with a bait and “mouth” it. It’s not eating it. It’s not swallowing it. It’s running away with it. Being too quick on the trigger will only yank the bait out of it’s mouth. Many times, I have seen anglers do the long wait; set the hook and come back with a big bait that is missing eyes, scales and chunks of it’s body, but still alive with an untouched hook. You may not get many chances so the secret is letting them eat. Mostly caught in shallower waters, you don’t have to worry about the fish running deep or pulling out miles of line. Mostly, their fights are characterized by long dashes up and down the beach and more than once we’ve jumped into shallow water to fight the fish knee deep in the surf or running up and down the beach to keep up with it.

Keep the gear simple. Straight-tie a hook to the line and pin a bait on it. Forty-pound string or larger works on the bigger boys, but the smaller fish are a hoot on light spinning, conventional or even fresh-water gear.

One last thing. If you do hook up with a big pez gallo, the meat is dark, tough and sinewy. I know some folks like to make fish soup out of it, but most folks don’t care for the taste so C.P.R…Catch…Photo…Release.


That’s my story...
Jonathan

THEY ALL SPEAK SPANISH! - Published May 2005 - Western Outdoor News

HOW COME THEY ALL SPEAK SPANISH?

“How come they all speak Spanish in Mexico?”

That’s how a conversation started one afternoon with one of my fishing clients. I’m sure I made a funny face or something. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. The question was posed in all seriousness. Part of me wanted to crack back some wiseguy remark and another part of me wanted to just shake my head and walk away. Or bust a gut laughing. Duh…seems pretty obvious to me. Last time I checked, we are in Mexico. They do speak a lot of Spanish here for some crazy reason.

But, I bit my tongue and took a breath. The angler was not un-intelligent. It was just such an off-the-wall question and I guess it deserved as much of an articulate answer as I could muster.

What I discerned from the fisherman was basically a bit of frustration with his panga skipper that day. He wanted to interact with his captain. He wanted to participate in the events of the day. Certainly most of us can readily understand that part of the whole fishing experience whether drifting for tuna on the Baja; mooching for salmon in Alaska or sitting in the Sierras with a buddy and casting Velveeta cheese and marshmallows. It’s cool to be able to communicate with your fellow traveler. A lot of the fun of fishing is the social aspect of the chase and hunt and the camaraderie so integral to this wacky sport.

I explained to him that a lot of these guys, certainly my skippers come from little pueblos and fishing families. City guys might be a bit more savvy, but out here in the country English usage might be few and far between. Then I told him a story.

Several seasons ago, I was out with clients fishing near Cerralvo Island. Every now and then, as is custom that time of year, storms will blow in and out. No big. A few drops and some wind and we keep fishing. The sun comes right out. However, every now and then, it really blows to the point where we call them “toritos” (little bulls) which are basically baby hurricanes that last 15 minutes or so, but best to get off the water quick and beach the boats.

Well, there we were and suddenly the skies got dark and wind started to whip out’ve nowhere. Then, the rain started. It wasn’t time to leave. It was time to GO. The clients quickly reeled in their lines and then I heard it. Amid the roll of thunder and crack of lighting, my skipper, who had worked for me for 5 years pulled the engine and screamed, “Let’s get the F outta here!” In totally perfect American street English. Now, in all these years I had barely had this captain speak more than a dozen English words to me at all. Now, all of a sudden as we race for the beach, I looked back at him and in the howling wind I said “What?

“Let’s get the F outta here!” he yelled back as he leaned into the wind and attempted to pilot the small boat back through the growing swells and rain. Then he caught me staring at him and smiled.

“Where did you learn that?” I said

“Learn what?” (in perfect English)

“How to say what you said,” I replied.

“Oh, watching TV, sports, MTV” (in perfect Enlish) he answered back.

Whoa. I was incredulous. I told him that in all the years he had worked for me, he never ever spoke English of any consequence. I told him it sounded like he spoke English very well. Slipping quietly back into Spanish as we gunned the boat closer to the beach, he sheepishly explained to me that indeed he understood English pretty well. In fact, he said, many of the captains at least understand English. Some even speak English fairly well.

However, he went on to explain that he was nervous speaking English in front of the clients for the same reason he thinks Americans are hesitant to try using any Spanish. He was worried that if he spoke English, the American fishermen would think he was fluent and then things would get said the he would not understand. It was better to just keep it simple. It always worked. They communicated well enough and they caught fish. No need to complicate things.

Made sense to me from that angle. I let that sit for a bit still not believing how well he spoke English. As we hit the beach, I looked back at him and said, “So how come in all these years you have worked for me and you didn’t tell me you spoke English and let me struggle so much?

He laughed, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Because all the captains think it’s great fun listening to you screw up your Spanish!”

That’s my story...
Jonathan

BETTER LIVING THROUGH CHEMISTRY - Published May 2005 - Western Outdoor News

BETTER LIVING THROUGH CHEMISTRY?

This past week, the subject of drugs came up. No, Cheech, not that type of drugs. I’m referring to actual prescriptive medications that cross the border. For years, gringos have gone across the border to obtain drugs in Mexico either because it was easier to obtain; cheaper to buy; or didn’t need a prescription. In the “old days” you could get just about anything in a Tijuana or Ensenda pharmacy for a fraction of what you’d pay at your local hometown drugstore. I remember friends who bought just about all they could carry and easily brought it back across the border. Those days have gotten more restrictive and many medications are no longer so easily obtainable. However, jumping across the border to get prescription medications is still very popular.

The discussion centered on the current status of how to get legitimate medications across the border. Enlisting the aid of my good friends, Dr. Nat Rose and his wife Pat, who have spent years in the Baja and run Pacific Beach Urgent Care in San Diego, they dove into the subject online as well as contacting the Mexican consulate. What we found out was typical of so much in Mexico. Basically, what’s written isn’t always what’s done. (For example think about Mexican fishing limits; flying with line on reels; etc.)

Here we go. See if you can follow this:
According to the Mexican Consulate in San Diego CA , to purchase a controlled substance in Mexico, the prescription must be written by Mexican doctor. That doctor must be registered with the Ministry of Health. If not, or if the medication doesn't require a prescription in Mexico, you still need a prescription from a U.S. doctor to get the meds across the border.

That’s the short story. Dr. Rose, found the more comprehensive details with http://www.mexonline.com/medications.htm. According to their website:
“There are regulations for bringing in pharmaceuticals from Mexico, however they are changing on a constant basis. Although many drugs in Mexico are available over the counter at a pharmacy, certain prescription drugs in Mexico do require a prescription from a Mexican pharmacist, and foreigners have been known to purchase them from people not authorized to issue them. You can be arrested in Mexico if caught buying drugs without the proper prescription and the penalties are stiff, up to 25 years in jail in Mexico.

A prescription is needed when purchasing a controlled substance. This includes painkillers, tranqulizers, and some diet pills. A prescription from a U.S. doctor is not enough. Mexican law requires a prescription from a Mexican physician, and that prescription must have the seal of the state health department.

The pharmacist in Mexico is required to keep the original prescription, but you should make sure you don't leave the store without a copy for yourself. Also, if you're in doubt about the classification of your medication, if it's a controlled substance, the pharmacist will have the official pharmaceutical book with that information.

Many drugs that require a prescription in the U.S. can be bought over the counter in Mexico, such as antibiotics, anti-depresants, birth control pills and heart medications. Techincally these drugs do require a prescription but the law is routinely ignored”.And here’s the important part. It’s what our own country has to say about the subject.

“ According to the U.S. Customs, to bring back prescription drugs into the U.S. you must have a prescription written by a physician licensed in the United States, have it in its original packaging and carry no more than a three-month supply AND you must declare them. If you are caught trying to bring in drugs without the above requirements you can be stopped, have your good confiscated and may be arrested.”

Having lived now in Mexico for quite awhile, from time to time a legit prescription is needed. In practice, this is what I’ve found. I go into a pharmacy and ask for the medication. They tell me I need a prescription but if I go around the hallway in back there’s a doctor there. I walk around and there’s a “doctor” at a desk with a big drug catalog. I pay him say…20 pesos. He looks up the medication and writes a prescription, I walk back around to the pharmacy counter and pick up what I need. Of course, I’ve never tried to bring back medications over the border or tried to order 300 valiums for “personal use” either. Nor will I try. One thing in Mexico, laws and rules might be routinely “ignored” but the laws are still there and if you get caught, it’s hard to argue “but we do it all time.”

That’s my story...
Jonathan

WORKING THE SHORE - Published April 2005 - Western Outdoor News

WORKING THE SHORE

I get asked all the time about surf fishing in my area. Being in La Paz, well, I have to couch my answer a bit. When I hear the question, I have to say “No, but….”

You see, mostly when I get asked that kind of question, I know that the person asking really envisions long stretches of pristine beaches with breakers and rocks and structure or sharp cliff drop offs. You know, they’re looking for the “picture book” Baja surf fishing. Can’t blame ‘em, because that’s usually what I envision too. But, where I am in La Paz, the bay isn’t exactly surf fishing heaven. It’s a big shallow sandy bay. It’s pretty to look at and makes for some great kayaking and many a Kodak moment, but it’s not exactly a prime surf fishing destination. However, there’s a lot of places in the Baja that really aren’t that great, at least not by traditional thought.

Take the guy who happens to just want to kill a little time with his spinning rod or baitcaster. He doesn’t want to travel way down the beach to the hot surf spot or maybe he’s stuck around a place where there’s nothing but man-made structure like a marina, docking area or there’s jet skis and tour boats blasting by. But, he’s jone-sing to squeeze in some water time before dinner; before the tour bus comes; before he has to go shopping with his wife for t-shirts for the grandkids. You know what I’m talking about.

The operative word here is “structure.” Look around you. If there’s water and structure, chances are there’s fish. My own epiphany took place a number of years ago, eating at a marina sea-side watering hole. Occasionally, I would hear a big “kersplash” and I was sure I could see dark shapes moving around under some of those mega-yachts. However, being in a big-city Mexico marina, often dark things floating in and around boats are best left alone! I was sure my polarized glasses and ears were being deceived by the hot sun and chilly doses of marguerites.
However, several days later, I was paddling into the marina on my kayak after an unsuccessful kayak fishing trip and happened to be dragging a silver spoon lazily behind the boat when “WHAM!” Fish on! Short fight and a 10 pound pargo later, I had dinner in the hatch.

That got me looking a little closer around some areas that I had previously ignored. I think it was Dick Gaumer, famous for working the bays and inlets of S. California who had told me once that a” marina is nothing more than thousands or pieces of structure.” There are pilings, ropes, debris, wrecks and other stuff in every body of water made by man. Each boat is nothing more than another piece of structure for fish to hide under. After Hurricane Marty hit La Paz several years ago, more than 100 boats were wrecked in one marina and many never really got fully salvaged. I have had diver friends of mine who do maintenance on boats tell me that some of those wrecks are turning into fish hotels with jacks, pargo, snapper and other species using them for cover.

I recently, had one fishing client of mine pull a 20 pound pargo out from under the docks and tell me he saw larger ones. It’s the same everywhere. There are countless days when I have not been able to go out when I’ve had a blast with a spinning rod and a spoon, crank bait, or popper and gone to town with roosterfish, jacks, barracuda and other species caught in and around the docks of Loreto, Cabo, La Paz, San Quintin and Santa Rosalie. It was a great way to kill a few hours although not your traditional “Baja surf fishing.”

Find the structure. Find the fish.

SIDENOTE: My amigo, mentor and fellow WON Baja editor, Gene Kira has recently acquired the rights to “The Unforgettable Sea of Cortez” his dynamite coffee table book about our predecessor Ray Cannon about the golden years in the Baja. This is a MUST book for any Baja nut and it’s filled with stories and those great old-time photos. The book went out of print and Gene has now acquired the rights to get it back on the shelves. I have bought several myself for gifts when it was last out. He’s looking for advance orders and can do it for $39.95. You really shouldn’t miss this. Gene can be reached at gene@mexfish.com or his website at http://www.bajadestinations.com/ .

That’s my story...
Jonathan

BAJA BLUES - Published April 2005 - Western Outdoor News

THE BAJA BLUES

Baja is a great place to fish. It’s one of the best, but sometimes there are those days when the fish gods do not smile; the wind blows; the bait doesn’t show up; the moon is in the wrong phase and you can’t make a cast or tie a knot if your life depended on it. Things are just out of synch for whatever reason. Happens to the best.

Michael Jordan made a lot of winning shots, but he always said the ones he remembered the most are the ones where the big orange ball clanged out or he tossed a brick that bounced off the backboard. You know, poop happens sometimes no matter how hard you want to change it or how prepared you are or how many fishing magazines you read. I sure hate to see frowns and take it from the guy who has to see all the long faces at the end of the day. I wish I could wave a magic wand or a magic graphite rod over the hurt and make the ouch go away.

Several of the skippers and I were talking one day along with some of my friendly competitors. Just a casual bull session after a long salty day working the islands and it hadn’t been all that great. Over cervezas we were all licking our collective wounds because there sure had been a lot of grumbling. We take a lot of pride in our work and somedays no matter how hard we try, we can’t make the fish jump in the boat.

Believe me, skippers, operators, agents…we take it as hard as the fishermen sometimes. Everything on a trip can be superlative. We can have great transportation, great rooms, awesome food, great friends, and great weather, but nothing can ruin it faster than not catching fish.
Most anglers take it pretty well in the long run, but every now and then, there’s that one guy in the group who just can’t let it go. Sometimes, even when the fishing is pretty good, that person will still make it a point to tell you what’s wrong with the situation. It will never be good enough.

That’s when I tell him about the “Baja Blues” or the “BB Syndrome” as I have named it. When the guy is calmed down enough, I ask him if I can call him in a few days or if he will call me once he gets home.

It usually goes something like this:
“Hey, Joe, it’s Jonathan calling you from Baja.”
“Hey, Jonathan, what’s up?”
“Just calling you like I said I would. What are you doing right now?”
“Oh nothing, I’m in my (pick one) (a) stuck in traffic (b) working in my cubicle (c) mowing the lawn”
“I told you I’d call. Let me ask you something. Where would you rather be?”
Three out of four times, I get just a moment of silence right about then as they ponder the off-the-wall-question. Sometimes, I can ever hear the “lightbulb” go off silently on the other end of the line.

At this point, I explain to them about the “Baja Blues” and how even someone like me who spends the better part of the year in Baja get its. It’s the feeling you get about 24 to 48 hours after you come home where you realize that only a short time before you were in a pretty special place.

You may have been on a sunny veranda soaking up some rays and holding a frosty cold one under a shady palapa like those folks in the Corona Beer ad. You may have been poolside laughing your head off with long-lost buddies while the sunset dipped below the horizon or enjoying a candlelit dinner seaside with your best gal or watched your kids having the time of their lives splashing in the waters and you thanked God you had the ability to bring them something special. You may have even been bobbing around on a boat not catching a fish and were so frustrated you forgot to enjoy the special moment of just being there. And all that was only a few hours before and now you’re stuck in traffic and you’d give anything to be back in the Baja again sporting those raggedy shorts; worn huarache sandals and faded fish print shirt…even if you weren’t catching a single thing. That’s the Baja Blues. For those few precious days, dangit, you were in the Baja, dude!

And hopefully, you didn’t waste your time griping about what didn’t happen and what you didn’t catch and what you didn’t do and took the time to savor what did happen and what you experienced. Because despite what looks like Baja being overrun with people, most people in this life do not get to come to this special sandbox. They will never see the dolphin schools outside Mag Bay or watch the sun come up blazing behind Carmen Island or smell the first whisps of fresh corn tortillas coming off the fish camp fires or see the commercial fishing boats push off the beach in the mornings or experience a day that seems like it lasts 36 hours long. Fishing is what it’s all about, but excuse the blasphemy if I say that if you only come for the fishing, you really missed something and it’s those things that you really will miss when the Baja Blues strike. It’s also why we can’t wait to come back.

And sometimes…the person I’m calling “gets it.” You can hear it in their voice. They’d rather be back. Even if the fish don’t bite. Baja does that to you if you take the time to listen.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

STEPPING OUTSIDE THE BOX - Published April 2005 - Western Outdoor News

STEPPING OUTSIDE THE (JACK IN THE) BOX

Well, our fishing season is in full-swing now and I have some clients down here now with me that are in Baja for the first time. Great good solid salt-of-the-earth folks from Kansas. You know, good corn-fed, beef and potatoes amigos from middle America. They are having a blast and enjoying the sun, fishing and, of course the “real ocean.”

They’ve been here for a few days and I had a little break one evening and asked them if they wanted to take one of my “taco tours” where we do the equivalent of a “pub crawl” and sample some of the local eateries that they would not normally encounter in any of the tourist pamphlets. You Baja rats know what I’m talking about…sizzling spits of marinated “al pastor” meat; the smell of that carne asada coming off the grill; roasted potatoes crammed with mushrooms, cheese and chilis and an array of a dozen salsas in front of you to choose from; breaded shrimp tacos that can be smelled up the beach; and burritos made from tortillas as large as a hubcap from sidewalk pushcarts piled high with grilled onions and chunks of steak.

The look I got from the group was as if I’d asked them to eat one of those dishes they serve on the reality show “Fear Factor.” You should have seen the faces. We’re not talking about eating moving grubs or putting live bees into a tortilla wrap.

“No way! We’re not eating that stuff from outdoor carts. People die from that stuff,” was the general consensus.

(Exhale and sigh) It’s strange how often I get that from folks down here. It’s the “Is it safe?” syndrome. I asked them to trust me and told them that believe it or not, most locals don’t eat lobster and steak picante at the local seaside hotel restaurant and that half the fun (and education) of visiting any new place is also sampling the food. What’s life without a little sushi or pasta or the occasional falafel or a plate of sweet and sour pork?

Well, I got them to go and they had a blast. They nearly wiped out one taco stand famous for it’s Tijuana style tacos stuffed with pineapple-marinated adobada meat, minced onions, cheese and cilantro plus I introduced them to horchata the chilled rice, sugar and cinnamon drink. Those Kansas folk can sure put it away. For the rest of the trip it was taco stands only and they even made quite a few friends at their favorite stand. By the second day they had the owner cooking special orders for them and showing them some special salsas he had behind the counter.

As I explained to them, eating in another country isn’t too different from eating in their own home towns. Every place has good and bad foods. You might see 3 burger stands lined up against each other back home. However, if you look at the parking lot, usually the one with the full lot is the best place to eat. It’s the same in Mexico. Step away from the main tourist street. Walk around a little bit. You may see several taco stands in a row. The line around the place will tell you the local favorite. If you see them lined up, that’s a pretty good sign. If you see a stand with no one there, then that might also be a bad sign too. That goes for the clam and tamale stands outside of Ensenada; the burrito carts in Guerrero Negro, the fish taco stands in downtown Loreto all the way down to the alleyway taco stands you’ll find in Cabo.

Step outside the (Jack-In-The-Box) mentality and place your order. It’s among the best way to experience a country and Baja is no exception.

I’m doing another “taco tour” tonite with clients. You should come along sometime. We’re going to top it off with a place that makes homemade ice cream in 60 flavors. But that’s another column.

That’s my story. . .
Jonathan

IN A PINCH - Published April 05 - Western Outdoor News

MAKING OLD TACKLE WORK

About this time of the year, I do my “fisherman’s spring cleaning” in getting ready for the season. We fish year round down here, but generally as the crowds taper down around October or November of last year, a lot of the rental gear gets stowed and most of my personal stuff gets bundled up too. Of course, perhaps like many of you, I make myself a resolution that “I’ll clean it up next weekend!” Oh sure…

We’ll here it is springtime and I have run out’ve excuses. It seems that with each airplane that lands the number of rod tubes and ice chests being unloaded grows in proportion to the warming weather. Right now there are “tourists”and “commuters” in the airplanes, but in a few weeks, each plane will be filled anglers and somehow time got away from me. Fish are biting already. So, I gotta bust into storage and pull gear. I see one of my competitors (and friend) doing the same thing and we both laugh because we both know what we are doing and how we are both guilty of the same negligence. There’s no tomorrows.

Before I did this for a living, this time of year was always the BEST excuse to go shopping and turn all those “wants” into “needs.” I don’t want that reel. I need that reel. I don’t just want that new blue hose-headed lure. I cannot live without that lure. Don’t laugh, ladies. I’ve heard the same thing when it comes to spring shopping for shoes too!

But when you’re doing this for a living, you can’t just bust out and buy new stuff. You can’t just discard some old hooks anymore or toss away a scratched up lure. Moreso, in Mexico, it’s not like we can just slip down to the nearest mega-tackle store and skip happily up and down the aisles binge shopping. So, we gotta make things last and last as long as we can. I used to be paranoid about always using shiny new gear, but that lasted about the first half of my first season when I saw local skippers using rusty hooks, eye-less lures, and spark plugs for lead.

I know a lot of my amigos in the tackle industry are gonna hate me, but here goes…

Hooks – Sure enough a drop of water got into them and it doesn’t take much to oxidize the whole lot. I soak the whole batch in any one of the many handy solvents you can buy in your tackle store. So what if the finish comes off? It’s more important to me that the hook is sharp so I soak them; rinse them ;dry them; and sharpen them. One thing I like to do is to put them all in a shoebox filled with rice (Not cooked rice, Einstein). The powder of the rice flour helps dry off any moisture. They’re ready to go. I also don’t feel as bad when a client goes through hook after hook through loss or when the hook gets swallowed. What the heck, it’s an old hook.

Feathers – I take permanent markers to the faded ones. I color ‘em all up again. Markers work great on the eyes. You can even buy paint pens now too. I add feathers or skirts made out of shredded foil and use duct tape to hold it to the head. Lots of my neighbors have chickens so it’s also easy to add feathers too.

Rods – I always keep clear nail polish in my box. Takes care of just about any minor dings or scratches. It’s also good for stopping a thread run around the guides. Spray some WD-40 on a soft cloth and wipe them down for a nice show-room sparkle.

Drags – Drags can get pretty hard to come by for many reels, but for quick emergencies, it’s amazing what you can do taking a little sandpaper to the discs and scuffing them up a bit. It’s not a permanent solution, but in a pinch when your favorite reel gets torn up by a fish on a mission and you still have 4 more days of fishing to do, it’ll get you by.

Rod clamps – You know what I’m talking about. There’s certain excellent reels on the market and no matter what you do, you know you will either lose the screw or the darn clamp it self. Everyone sinks their research dollars into the reel, but they let some kid in the mail room design the clamps. Keep zip ties handy.

Plastic lead heads – Super glue, Baby. Trim the body with scissors. Glue the body to the back of the leadhead.

Scratched up throwing iron or Marauders or Rapalas – Don’t touch them and don’t let anyone else use them. Put them in a special place. If they’re scratched that means fish bit ‘em. They’re battle tested. It’s not broken, it’s just scratched!

Side note: La Paz now has an Office Depot and a City Club (looks exactly like a Costco inside) and bowling is the town’s latest craze. Yes, there’s now a bowling alley and cappuccino shops are popping up next to internet cafes. Can Chuck E. Cheese be far behind? East Cape, can you hear me? The city is moving YOUR way.

That’s my story. . .
Jonathan

FISH ATTRACTING DEVICES - Published April 05 - WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS

F.A.D.s

(FISH ATTRACTING DEVICES)

I don’t think there’s any question that fishermen have to be the most inventive doodlers around. Considering that our quarries, more or less, have brains the size of a nut, it’s amazing the amount of human brain power we apply toward fooling them with every gadget imagineable. Just check out any good fishing magazine or better yet, turn to the section on “bass lures” in your latest Bass Pro catalog. Oh my…just how many wiggly types of worms can we come up with and each season? Just go to any tackle store or outdoor trade show and someone has the newest and latest “can’t miss” thing-a-ma-bob. The funny thing is that some of these things actually work.

Well, if you ever really want to see fishermen’s grey matter at it’s apex, just put some fishermen around a campfire or firepit after a good meal. Add beverages and a sunset and a few good pull-my-finger-jokes and we can’t help but think of new ways to catch fish. It can get even worse in Baja where we all know huge critters are just lurking right off the beach. We can’t help ourselves. We are genetically programmed to build better mouse (fish) traps.

It was at one of these “strategy session” when I was working on the East Cape that I mentioned FADs (Fish Attracting Devices) that are used back home in Hawaii and in many places around the world. These are artificial floating things that fish tend to congregate around, much like kelp paddies can be magnets for you southern California anglers. With so many fish in the Sea of Cortez, why hadn’t someone erected FADs “out there?”

The owner of the hotel I was working at, happened to in on the conversation and himself an avid fishermen, we hit upon brilliance. We found some scrap sheets of busted up plywood. We drilled numerous holes in it. Using a staple gun we attached numerous strands of old rope, hoses, cloth, sticks and even some strands of his wife’s silk ivy plant he always hated. Ta-da…when floating upside down, we had instant artificial kelp paddies. Boy, were we gonna get ‘em.

The next day, I set these out in various places around the bay, three in all. Over the next two days, sure enough, we found dorado, skippies and roosters hiding in them and we figured we had really hit on something. Unfortunately, someone else “hit” it too when a neighbor, coming in late, cranked into one of our FADs and bent his prop in the dark. He wasn’t too happy and I was sent by my boss to “get those stupid things outta the water!” Of course, it was my fault for having ever conceived of such a ridiculous thing.

I never thought much about it again until recently fishing with one of my skippers in an area where we had been getting dorado, but the fish had been scattered. They had been pounded for weeks by heavy fishing traffic and weren’t schooling up. We a started the day by catching a few bonito which I knew would be stripped and used to slow troll for the mahi. However, this time, I saw my skipper cut off whole side slabs of the bloody fish. He then produced several bleach bottles from below the deck. Each bleach bottle had a length of rope attached to it. To each rope, he tied a chunk of bonito and tossed it over the side. Ah-hah!

Over the course of the day, we slow trolled bonito strips and live sardines in and out of the area, but at least once an hour we’d cruise by the floating bleach bottles which could easily be seen! Almost invariably, there would be a dorado or two swimming around the bottles attracted by the oily fish and actually taking occasional bites out of the chunk. Once we even had a striped marlin come up and wack at the bait and the bottle, but he wouldn’t go. Nevertheless, tossing a few sardines or dragging a thin strip of hooked bonito through the area was all it took to get the dorado going. Instant biters! .

At the end of the day, we collected our bleach bottles and took the happy clients back to the beach. No doubt for a good dinner; a fire; and more ideas on how to make a better mouse trap!

That’s my story...

Jonathan

CATCH PHOTO RELEASE - Published March '05 - Western Outdoor News

C.P.R.

(CATCH - PHOTO - RELEASE)

It was one of those good days when you pull onto the beach after being on the boats all day and everyone is on the beach. Boats are lined up bow pointed up and motors still getting lapped by the small waves. Before we even run the panga up the berm, I could already tell it was a good day. I could see guys taking photos and I could hear the laughing and horseplay. I could hear ‘em all talking smack to each other and if I listened carefully, I could just about detect the sound of icy Pacificos being clinked together in celebration.

I could see fish being cleaned and the best tell-tale sign of all…birds diving for scraps and scores of pelicans looking for any handouts and ready to do battle with any gaviota willing to get in the way of some bit of carcass. Just like that kid’s movie “Nemo” I could hear the gulls milling thickly overhead yelling “Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!” in unison. I say “hear” because there’s no way I was gonna look up and perchance catch a “present” in my eye. Guys could see our panga pulling in and were happily waving us to charge up onto the beach. I could tell there were anglers who wanted their photos taken “by the guy from Western Outdoors” (Grinning)

When you’re in the business of putting people on fish, you can’t help but exhale a bit when you know at the end of the day that everyone is happy. You do your best to control the things you can control, but in the end, guys in our business really have no control over the very thing our customers are buying…fish! Nor can I control the weather or the wind or any of those things and it sometimes makes for a nervous day on my part in a sometimes perilous career. I’ve often said that when it’s a funky day on the water, I can literally feel the “bulls-eye” growing on my back.

Today was not one of those days and today my conscience and backside would remain un-marked. Hijole! There were a lot of fish today. Everyone had lots of dorado…and tuna…and some roosters over there…and skipjack…and this guy got into some amberjack and several of the boats were high-fiving themselves for finding the wahoo “honey-hole.”

“Your operation is the best, Jonathan!” or something like that was heard more than once, but hey…I really don’t have anything to do with that. The fish bit. I didn’t make ‘em jump in the boat nor did I have anything to do with the bait or currents. Baja was just good to us today. But I guess I’ll take the back-slaps now to make up for those days when it’s also my fault when the fishing is bad and I have the “worst operation in the Baja.”

As I watched all the beach activities and especially at all the ice chests that were getting filled, I was approached by one of my senior skippers who handed me a beer and nodded that guy-bonding thing we all know when a good day’s work has been done. We clinked long-necks and took a frosty pull. I asked him something I’ve always wanted to ask.

“You have been fishing these same waters for 30 years, Victor. Is the fishing still as good? Can we keep fishing like this?” I asked as we leaned against the gunwale of a panga and watched all the fish being loaded.

He paused before he answered in Spanish. His eyes narrowed and he spoke slowly.

“Jonathan, I think the tuna and dorado are OK. Some years they are better than others, but mostly they are fine. I am happy that I see more gringos and even captains, especially the younger ones, putting fish back in the water. However, I think many of the other fish are gone. Commercial fishing for garopa (grouper), cabrilla (seabass), huachinango (snapper and pargo) and other fish like sharks are all gone. We took too many. They are still taking them.”

I guess it wasn’t the right question to ask on a day when we should have been celebrating. Victor took a swig from his beer and somberly walked back to tend to the cleaning of his panga with a heavier gait in his stride. Something to think about amid the laughs. “We took too many,” he had said. Hmmmmmm…

I guess I notice how more anglers, captains and fleets are encouraging catch and release. I hear more of my own clients ask if it’s OK to release fish or is it OK if they just take some fish for dinner. I see more billfish released each year and guys actually get testy when someone drags a bill back to the beach. But, I’d by yanking your chain if I told you that I don’t get worried sometimes. I’m as guilty as others. I started fishing in an age when we thought there would always be fish. The ocean had an unlimited supply. But times have changed and there’s something about not throwing rocks in glass houses. I make a conscious effort to keep an eye on my own catch. I really try to not bust so many fish and release more and encourage it in my clients. But, in Baja, it’s not easy. Not when fishing can be incredibly WFO.

I was watching one of Mike Fowlkes excellent “Inside Sportfishing” videos once. It was one of his Baja features. Don’t ask me which ones, but Mike has always been an excellent writer. He said something to the effect that (with apologies to Mike), “We have to practice C.P.R….Catch Photo Release more often. The time to think about releasing a fish is NOT when you’re in the heat of battle and the bloodlust is strong. It’s BEFORE you ever get bit.” I gotta remember that.


That’s my story. . .
Jonathan

NOTHING TO DO? - Published March 05 - Western Outdoor News

NOTHING TO DO?

I’m not often at a loss for words, but I got a phone call just this week from a gent that wanted to bring his family of 10 down to Baja. It went something like this:

Him: I wanna bring my family down to Baja. We don’t want to go to Cabo, but we’re looking for something around the East Cape, La Paz, or Loreto.

Me: That’s great!

Him: A couple of us wanna do some fishing so can you help us out and hook us up?

Me: I’m sure we can or I can at least point you in the right direction!

Him: We’re looking at being there a week or 10 days and don’t want to fish every single day and some don’t want to fish at all so what’s there to do?

Me: Well, that’s no problem. There’s SCUBA and snorkeling and hiking and kayaking and…

Him: (cutting me off) But what if we don’t want to do anything around the water? What if the ladies want to go shopping and stuff?

Me: Well, the East Cape and La Paz and Loreto aren’t exactly great spots for shopping. Maybe you should go to Cabo instead or San Jose del…

Him: (cutting me off again) We’ve been there and want to try something new. There’s too many people at those places and it’s too touristy.

Me: (Now getting a little perplexed) Well, sir, other than say…hanging out at the pool or beach or participating in something around water, or heading out into the desert, there’s not much else.

Him: (getting a little testy) What do you mean there’s nothing else? Aren’t there some museums or aquariums or places like that?

Me: Not anything you can’t walk through in just a few minutes. It’s just not like that in…

Him: (really getting a bit demanding) So, what are my family going to do then?
And this is when I was finally at a loss for words. I had to pause because I didn’t see how this was going anywhere. No fishing. No SCUBA. No kayaking. No shopping.

Me: I guess there’s NOTHING for them to do.

Him: What do you mean, “Nothing?”

Me: Just that, Sir. Nothing except maybe hang on the beach with a good book. Watch the waves. Have some conversation with family. There is absolutely NOTHING for your family to do!

Him: I’ll get back to you. (hang up…dial tone….)

It was such an unusual phone conversation, I put the phone back on the receiver and pushed my chair back from my desk. I had never told a potential client there was “nothing” do to.

You know Jimmy Buffet has a song title that I’ve always loved, “If The Phone Doesn’t Ring It’s Me.” What’s so wrong about nothing? To me, that’s an incredible word. No phones except a shell you hold up to your ear? No freeway except the congestion at the bait receiver in the morning? No TV except the panaroma of the ocean passing in front of you as you stick your toes into warm sand? No boss except the little guy in your head that tells you it’s time for another frosty one? No agenda or schedule except knowing that the sun is either up or down? I thought folks came to Baja to get AWAY from “SOMETHING” to hopefully find a little “NOTHING.” It’s one little changing corner of the planet where there are still places where you can find absolutely nothing and revel in it. What’s so incredibly bad about a good book on the beach or some good and real conversation and laughs with family or friends? Nothing to do but watch waves crest and fall and swirl up to your ankles? Can I have a second scoop of nothing?

Baja is changing rapidly from a place of nothing to a place where everyone can find something to do. Baja is trying to be “something” on the map of tourism, economics and development. I can only sigh and remember when so much of it was a place where there was nothing to do. Not a condo in sight. Not a jet ski to be found. The dirt road led into a wash. There was always sand in your shorts and and a ride on the local bus might mean you shared the seat with a chicken and a guy who smelled like one and you both laughed all the way into town and he invited you for dinner in a house with a dirt floor…but it was the cleanest dirt floor you ever saw. And the days…yes, the days. They lasted 36 hours long and there was nothing to do. You know what? It was impossible to be bored. There are still so many places on the Baja that are still to be discovered. Places where there is nothing. Hopefully, at sometime before it’s too late, you’ll find one of those places and therein maybe find a little “something” inside yourself that you might have lost long ago. One E-ticket to nothing, por favor!

That’s my story...
Jonathan

YOUR NEW TOYS - Published March 05 - Western Outdoor News

YOU GOT NEW TOYS...NOW WHAT?

I’m writing this a week after that carnage that was the Fred Hall Long Beach Show. Wow. Mil gracias to all of you who made a point of coming by the booth to introduce yourselves and tell me you’re reading the column whether you agree or not. At least, you told me you’re having fun with it and that’s the point. It’s fishing, not rocket science or curing cancer, right?

So, you got home with all your bag of goodies…armfuls of goodies. You have brochures from every known destination and of course, all the Baja guys too. And, you can’t stop taking those new rods and reels out’ve the boxes. Admit it. More than once you attached the rod and reel together with the harness and got into your “fighting stance” after bribing your kid pull on the end to simulate a bad boy Baja tuna or grumpy yellowtail. Busted! Hey, I’m guilty too.

But isn’t that what makes it fun. Phone’s on hold. Take a message. I’m in the den, Honey. I promise I’ll walk the dog later. Fishing let’s us be kids again and the shows are like opening that Sears Christmas toy catalog for the first time and dream.

You’re probably not going to be going fishing just yet but here’s a few things I always do with my new gear to get it ready or keep it in good shape until you’re ready to go bust the chops of some toad.

For one, resist the temptation to have your kid or your best buddy to pull on the end of your new stick. Most folks I watch, don’t know how to grab the end. Grab only from the very tip, not from somewhere down the shaft. Even a few inches from the tip can bust the stick. Store it in a cool dry place. In a rack is perfect but try not to just lean that new jig stick in the corner where it might take a “set” and get a weird bow in it when you finally use it. If you’re anywhere damp or live near the ocean, a light spray of WD-40 wiped on it helps retard early corrosion.

For reels, I know it’s hard, but try to keep them in the box. OK, never mind. Take them out of the box but try to keep them covered. That new anodized finish sure looks purty and, like your new car, will inevitably get scratched, but try to postpone it. I like to take my new reels and sit in front of the TV. I hold it in my hand and whip it around to make the handle spin as fast as I can. To me, this helps wear in the gears a little bit and helps wear out any burrs left in the machining so it’s butter smooth when I’m ready to rock’n’ roll. Several hours of idle “spinning” helps break it in like a car. It runs better after a few thousand miles.

On your line, I know you bought some of that great bulk stuff that was at the shows. Store it in a cool dark place. Cover it if you can. I like to wrap the spool in tinfoil. Line begins to deteriorate when exposed to the elements like sun and heat so keep it at it’s peak until you’re ready to spool it on the reel. By all means, do NOT run out, grab your kid and make him hold a pencil or a chopstick while you wind line or put the spool in a trash can. Line needs to be wound tightly onto your reels. Wait until the last minute to do this. I know you can’t wait to see what your new reel looks like with shiny line on it, but winding it now could result in the line taking a set and coming off in coils instead of the nice limp stuff you need to keep that sardine or anchovie from swimming under the boat when it should be “out there” where the big boys are swimming.

Now that’s all done, dial in a fishing show on a sports’ channel and spread those brochures all over the bed while you sit in your boxers and droopy socks and figure out where you’re gonna go with all your new toys!

By the way…to the person who wrote in the editorial about not tipping. Your point is well-taken. Sounds like you had some bad experiences and I’m sorry. Don’t be a tightwad, but by no means should you tip laziness either. However, I’ve often lost clients who said I’m too expensive because I don’t hide costs. I show the WHOLE price and I try to inform folks about the extras, like tipping or bait they might still encounter. Most of my amigos in the biz are the same. Straight up. However, that’s why you need to make sure you ASK about ALL the charges associated with your charter. But that’s a subject for another column! Thanks again, Pescadores. It was great to shake so many hands.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

TIPPING CORROLARY - Published March '05 - Western Outdoor News

FINAL WORD ON TIPPING...

(I hope)

In all the years that I’ve been writing, I don’t think that I’ve ever gotten so many e-mails, phone calls or high-5’s over those two columns I wrote on tipping. As I mentioned, tipping is the most asked question I seem to receive on a daily basis besides, “When are they opening Hotel Las Arenas?” (But that’s another story for a MUCH longer column!) I had some Baja chartermasters tell me they were going to re-print the columns and make sure their buddies all had it the next time they went to Baja. I had others tell me that the subject put to rest a nag that always bugged ‘em everytime they headed south. Anyway, thanks for all the props, amigos. Good to know it touched a common thread among so many of you.

But…let me tell ya about one other aspect of tipping. It’s how to make your tip work for YOU. Let’s call it “Jonathan’s Corollary on Tips.

I got this from another Baja rat in a Loreto or San Quintin cantina many years ago during one of those marguertia summit talks where you solve all the world’s problems over slammers and limes. He offered a suggestion I’ve used many times over the years with pretty good success. In fact, I tried it the next day and it went like this…

As with many of you anglers who come down to the Baja, inevitably there’s a “jackpot” between all the yahoos. It was like that with the dozen or so of my friends as well. By the time bets were in, there was a good chunk of say..oh…$360 in the pot.

Following my amigo’s suggestion, I told my pangero that next morning to hold out his hand. I put $20 in it and told him that no matter how we did, “Es tu propina.” (This is your tip.) I went on to tell him, that for every fish over 10 pounds that day, I would add another $2. For every fish over 15 pounds, I would add another $3. For every fish over 20 pounds, it would be worth $5 more. I grinned. He grinned. He fired up the motor. All the other pangas went right. We went left. I won the $360. He got a $42 dollar tip.

“Jonathan’s Corollary” has worked 4 out of 5 times I’ve tried it. Aside from the obvious, the point is, tipping AFTER-the-fact is one thing, but tipping-ahead-of-time can sometimes reap benefits and gets your tips working FOR you. Again, put yourself in the place of your skipper, bellman, taxi driver or bartender and human nature kicks in. When I crewed on sportfishers, you can bet, that I kept a special eye out for the guy who slipped a ten spot into my hand as he came aboard. Ever tipped a maitre’d or mechanic BEFORE he did he even did anything? Same thing. We all love being paid-up-front.

With respect to Baja captains, I’ve noticed that tipping ahead of time takes off a lot of the pressure. Everyone knows where they stand. (Of course this could work both ways if you drop a crummy tip right off the bat). It takes off the “edge,” not to mention that you just scored major “cred points” with the captain. Want to release fish? The captain won’t be so concerned about killing fish now that he knows that dead fish won’t equate to more tips. A good captain will be even better. A great captain could just turn in a truly banner day. You’ll get more attention and service, believe me. See if it doesn’t make a difference in how your fish are cleaned or how the personality and demeanor of the captain and crew improve. One other thing. If you’re happy with your service and plan on fishing another day or even next year, put an extra ten dollars into the captain’s hands and tell him it’s “ un poco mas” (a little more) as you shake his hand and thank him. It will pay mega-dividends on your next trip and believe me, they will be talking about the cliente muy amable around the dinner table that night and you won’t be forgotten.

That’s my story.

TIPPING YOUR SKIPPER Pt. 2 - Published Jan. 05 - Western Outdoor News

TIPPING YOUR SKIPPER

Part 2

Previously, in this column I had written about the touchy and sometimes awkward subject of tipping in Mexico. I had covered bellmen, waiters, drivers and other service folk so let’s hit the big one…your fishing tip.

Having a fishing operation, this is probably the most asked question from anglers. You’ve had a great, good, so-so, or bad day on the water. You’re ready to get off the boat, beach or dock and you know it’s tip time. You’re expected to put something down and your skipper is kinda expecting something too. You may or may not have had good communications with him all day and you just have no idea what’s enough or what’s too much. You sure don’t want to look like a jerk, right? You have to fish with this captain again tomorrow…or not. By the same token, you sure don’t want to be excessive either. Hmmmmm…

As mentioned previously in this column, to me, tipping is completely discretionary. It’s all up to you. You can leave absolutely nothing if service was that bad. Still, I tell my own clients not to judge by how much fish you caught, but by how hard the guy tried. There’s never any guarantees. It’s fishing. He can’t control the weather or the fish or the water. So, if he put in a good day’s effort, then a tip is appropriate. Generally, if you do the “10-20 percent rule”, you’re in good shape and everyone smiles. So, if your panga is $250/day, a 25 dollar tip split between you and your fishing buddy is great. Drop more if you feel it’s warranted. Etiquette-wise, if there’s a deckhand, you can tip him a little something, but it’s best to give the money to the skipper and let the captain do the splitting.

Can you tip too much? Sure. I see it all the time. Overly generous and grateful client are very much appreciated, but here are two problems. The skippers can sometimes start expecting high tips and get sniffy when someone gives them a “normal” tip. If you get used to steak, burgers stop sounding good. Secondly, remember, who’s getting the money. Remember what it was like when YOU were young and you suddenly came into a nice windfall of cash. Right. You went out and had fun. I have seen young skippers (and sometimes experienced veterans) simply disappear for a few days on a bender enjoying an unexpected “fat wallet.” Money never gets to their families not to mention the problems it creates for the fleet operator who suddenly has an AWOL captain. These days if someone tells me they really want to drop a big tip on a skipper, I ask them to give it to me. I’ll either dole it out to the skipper in increments or give it directly to the family (aka “wife”) and make sure the skipper watches the transfer of money into my hands so he knows I’m not holding out on him. Most skippers are appreciative of that and know it’s for the better.

Conversely, what’s a bad tip or “bad tip etiquette?” This happens just as often. It’s rare when someone gets no tip. Sometimes, it’s justified, and the client, feeling awkward and often angry, will tell me exactly why he didn’t tip. What can I say? The customer is always right. However, I know there are two sides to every story so I will make sure I get the captain’s version as well. On those days when the tip is light or non-existent, I’ll explain to the captain what happened. Assuming there really was no problem (sometimes, hey…we all get jerky clients no matter what business you are in), most captains realize that it all evens out. The next day, someone could over-tip them.

The more awkward times are when there is no problem and the client undertips for various reasons. I have often heard, “I gave the captain 5 bucks and 10 bonito” or “I’ll tip him at the end of my trip.”

Let me share what that means from the captain’s perspective. Many captains depend on that tip to put gas in the boat the next day and tortillas and milk on the table for the kids. It’s a simple matter of cash-flow. When gas is 2-3 dollars per gallon and you just burned up 30 gallons of gas for the day, that 5 bucks won’t go far. The 10 bonito were junk to you and are probably junk to him. If he can, he will sell it to the market for a few dollars at best. He might just toss them into the vegetable garden. He probably cannot keep the fish anyway. When you fish for a living, chances are your refrigerator is already stocked with fish and anyway, knowing many of the captains, they have tiny freezers anyway that are probably smaller than your lunch ice chest. So, the 5 bucks and 10 bonito weren’t any big whup to him. Thanks for the smile, Senor.

Comparatively, let’s say you plan to give a big tip at the end of your 3 days of fishing. Again, cash flow is the issue, but it’s also an attitude issue. Unless the skipper is your regular captain and you’re best amigos, he probably won’t understand and he’ll come talk to me about it. First, there’s no money to re-fuel the boat for you tomorrow. Secondly, he may not understand what you’re doing and think you stiffed. He’ll come talk to me thinking something was wrong despite the fact that you had an excellent day on the water. Besides, what if your next few days are bad fishing? Also, put yourself in his place. If you get rewarded daily for a job well done, your attitude tends to be a little better the next day, right? We all like to know our efforts are being appreciated.

What about the money the captain earned from the booking you made? Well, that differs from fleet to fleet and skipper to skipper. Often, the skipper does not own the boat you just fished on. Maybe a dad or grandfather or father-in-law owns it. Sometimes, it’s a partnership of guys that own it. In that case, the skipper is either being paid by the owner of the boat and earning as little as $10/day and really depends on your tip. Sometimes, the skipper earns more, but it is his responsibility to also re-fill the boat with gas as well. If the captain owns the boat he stands to make more, but sometimes the fleet owners only pay at the end of the week or end of the month. Not that fleet owners are holding out, but sometimes it just takes awhile to process those credit cards or the clients only paid at the last minute or are walk-on clients. So, the tip is critical, and like even the waitress at your hometown Denny’s it’s counted on as part of the daily wage.

Bottom line, those are the realities of the business. Just put yourself in your captain’s shoes (or lack thereof) and treat him as you’d expect to be treated. Most fleet operators I know and work with take good care of their skippers and consequently, the skippers do well ergo resulting in happy clients who reward a nice day on the water. If you reward effort it’s a win-win all the way around.

That’s my story.

TIPPING Pt. 1 - Published January 2005 - Western Outdoor News

TIPPING IN MEXICO

Part 1

In the course of my job working here in Mexico, I do get my share of questions dropped on me daily. That’s natural. However, the number one question that flies by me via phone, e-mail or in person is not about the weather, bait, skippers, road conditions or bait. Most of that can be found on the internet or talking to someone else, I suppose. The one subject that I get asked about most is tipping. That’s right…the T-I-P (“To Insure Personal Service”)

Frankly, it’s a subject that gets a lot of discussion, but I feel awkward answering it and many people seem to feel awkward asking me about it. In fact, in the same way that you ask someone if you have a piece of pepper in your teeth, guys lean over and talk out of the corner of their mouth, “Hey, Jonathan, what do you think about the tip?”

Let me put it this way. As far as I’m concerned, tipping is a personal thing. It’s discretionary. You can drop a buck or some pesos on someone or not. I admit there have been times when I’ve been so disgusted with service that I left a penny or nothing at all simply to express my disgust. However, its like showing up to class in high school. If the person at least shows up and is half cheerful and does their job, they get a “tip.” Not leaving one is socially unacceptable, I know. But how much is too much or too little especially if you’re in another country…don’t understand the language…and sometimes it’s your first time in another culture?

No pun intended, but here’s my “two cents” having now lived and worked in Mexico for almost 10 years. Here’s the most important part of this column. You can either leave a tip or not. For folks like bellmen, taxi drivers, maids, I’ve found that most travelers, Americans included do NOT tip. For waiters, fishing captains, tour guides, it would really be a major faux pas to smile and walk away. In fact, I usually hear about it when one of my own waiters, guides, captains or dive masters does not get a tip. (Yes…they do talk about you!) and assume they must have done something wrong not to get a tip.

That being said, even a small tip is tremendously appreciated. It at least recognizes and is a token of “professional service.” I know you may have encountered exceptions, but someone like a captain, guide, divemaster or even waiter normally takes their job professionally. Believe me, your guy might look like he’s been cleaning fish all week or his taxi might look like a rattle trap, but that person worked very hard to have that boat or that car and most people do NOT have that kind of property or else worked and trained very hard to become a “guide” or divemaster. Therefore, recognition of the service is often more important than the actual amount of the tip. It would be akin to someone calling you “Sir” at your favorite hoity restaurant. There’s a certain pride that goes with it. It’s even more important in Mexico.

When I worked as a divemaster regularly, folks would spend thousands on their trip then press a 5 dollar tip into my hand at the end of the week like they had just given me a fifty. Believe me, I was thrilled. Bottom line, a little goes a long way.

However, here’s a little more insight. This is where “tipping” really does “insure personal service” in most cases. Because maids, bellmen, etc. are not used to getting tips, not only does a little go a long way, but even leaving a buck on your nightstand really pays dividends. Look at this this way, the person who cleans your room; works at the hotel reception; or carries your bags might make a whopping ten bucks a day and forty to sixty bucks a week. You’ve now dropped a a smiling George Washington into their hands.

Put it this way, how would you feel if someone put 10 percent of your daily bread into YOUR hands after you read this column? It kinda changes your attitude a bit, doesn’t it? Perks you up a bit doesn’t it? You bet those extra towels will be there. You bet they’ll remember next time they see you dragging across the lobby with all your fishing equipment and your ice chest in tow. Need a little extra salsa at dinner or topping off that frosty marguerita? I’d remember the someone very well if they put 10 percent of my wages in my hand right now. Yessiree, Bob!

Back home, that dollar would get you a” stink-eye” stare from your waiter-waiting-to-be-an-actor or 18-year-old Bill Gates moonlighting as a parking attendant with the 500 dollar iPod blasting in his ear. In Mexico, that simple dollar just marked you as a VIP, not just because you have money, but culturally, because you actually recognized good service by a person who takes pride in their work. I always carry a few one-dollar bills in my pocket just for that reason and why I often recommend to my clients to bring a wad of one-dollar bills. They may not actually use them, but they do come in handy for just such things. Mexico is still a place where an actual one-dollar bill goes a long way not only to “insure personal service”, but to “insure an even better vacation.”

Next week, I’ll tell you about your fishing tips and why too much is as bad as not enough!

That’s my story.

LA PAZ LIVING - Published Jan. '05 - MSNBC

LIVING LA PAZ

For the 3rd time in the last ten minutes, Bill Johnson buried and re-buried his feet in the warm white sand of Tecolote Beach and sighed again as he squinted out over the flat turquoise waters. Leaning back in the white plastic beach chair, he looked at his wife in her own beach chair and, even then, accepting another frosty umbrella-tipped marguerita from their mesero (waiter).

“I feel like I’m part of a Corona Beer commercial sitting here,” said Bill. “I have half-a-mind to send a digital photo back home to the guys at work where I hear it’s cold and raining,” he added with a grin.

“This was a great and easy get-away idea,” smiled Sherri Johnson from behind her sunglasses inhaling the fresh tartness of the icy lime-flavored concoction then laying down to let the sun warm her back. “Here the all the snow is in your glass instead of on your driveway,” she joked.

If you mention the “Mexican Riviera” to most people, images of Puerta Vallarta, Acapulco and maybe even Cabo San Lucas come to mind. Yet most would be hard-pressed to find La Paz on the map, let alone know were to find the Baja Peninsula in Mexico.

However, just a quick two-hour flight south of Los Angeles, this sleepy colonial city of 150,000 friendly folks sits serenely on the Sea of Cortez nestled next to the warm waters of the Bay of La Paz. At the southern tip of the 1000-mile long finger peninsula knows formally as Baja California, Mexico (Lower California) the city is slowly being discovered laughingly as “The anti-Riviera.”

“This is so different from other Pacific Coast Mexican destinations,” explained one first-time visitor. “It’s not so ‘touristy’ and more like Mexico 50 years ago without all the high-rises and tourist traps.”

Indeed a walk down the waterfront “malecon” reveals white sand beaches bordered by colorful side-walk cafes and restaurants. Palm trees and thatched umbrellas line the beach where there is a distinct lack of hustle and bustle characteristic of so many other popular Mexican populations. A guitarist strolls by. A local family picnics on the beach. A young Mexican couple peddles by on bicycles giggling and waving at a white-uniformed police officer also astride a bike who waves back and blows his whistle.

Marjorie Duncan of Oregon was out for an afternoon stroll. This was here 4th visit to La Paz and she makes a point of always getting some fresh made local Mexican ice-cream. “It’s the BEST mango ice cream on Earth!” she explained between big spoonfuls. “They make it by hand here and people come from all over to just get ice creams and sit and watch the world and all the sailboats go by. Everyone is friendly. There are hardly any tourists and unlike other places I have visited, no one keeps trying to sell me time-shares!” she added with a laugh.

It’s not that there aren’t things for tourists, it’s just that La Paz is a “real” city. The product of Spanish conquistadores, zealous missionaries and roving pirates, La Paz is the capital of the state of Southern Baja (Baja Sur). It is the home of the University and soon-to-be national aquarium plus the center for business, agriculture, shipping and light manufacturing as well as art and culture in the area. Major hospitals, shopping and other amenities are available. Life just moves a little slower along it’s centuries-old cobblestoned streets and narrow alleys that wind back from the waterfront back towards the old Spanish mission cathedral. Locals play the Mexican version of bingo on Sunday afternoons. Eating fresh seafood from local open-air vendors is almost an artform. Half the city still takes a siesta a mid-day to awaken at night, European style, to dine al fresco by candlelight under the warm starry nights or catch improvisational waterside concerts by local musicians.

Most visitors fly directly into La Paz’ modern airport only 10 minutes from downtown and several excellent hotels where a nice room averages about $100/night for two. Taxis are everywhere, but one often wonders how the drivers make a living since everything is within walking distance. Foot-power is the way to go and most tourist oriented activities are within blocks of the beachfront. For daytime activities, La Paz is a hidden gem for sportfishing, scuba diving and other water sports where water temperatures can reach into the 80’s and 90’s with gin-clear visibility. Daytime temperatures range from the 70’s in the winter to upper 90’s in the summer on the average.

“I know it sounds manufactured,” says Tracy Sullivan, an office manager from San Francisco, “but at night, I really can hear guitars playing from my hotel room overlooking the bay. Combine that with the gentle lapping of the waves and this is the ideal place to just de-compress with a good book and conversation on the balcony. I come here twice-a-year and the hotel treats me like one of the family. Often, there are so few tourists here I just love it!”

WHALE WATCHING - Published Feb. 04 - Western Outdoor Magazine Feature Article

MAG BAY WHALE WATCHING!

With a sputter and pop the 55 horsepower outboard of Captain Rodrigo’s 22 foot panga (Mexican skiff) purred to life and we pulled away from the short dock at Lopez Mateos. The little pueblito on the shallow shores of Bahia Magdalena on the Pacific Coast of Baja, Mexico is normally just a collection of colorful cinder-block houses and storage shacks for the fishermen and their families, but today, it was a bustle of activity.

“Muchas ballenas ahora!” (Lots of whales now!) smiled Captain Rodrigo as he grinned and pointed his craft out and across the strait that separated his village from the series of sand dunes that make up the major part of the bay in this area. More like a giant-slow moving river at this point than a major seaway covering hundreds of square miles, the bay was literally only a hundred yards wide and perhaps only 20-30 feet deep moving languidly among the sandbars, shoals and mangroves that lined the shores.

It didn’t take long. Capt. Rodrigo slows the boat.

We could hear the yells from some of the other boats as nine-year-old Emily Duncan from Santa Barbara suddenly pointed, “Look! Look! There’s one of them!”

Swiveling around in my seat, camera at the ready, I hadn’t been fast enough but in the glassy greenish seawater, a giants’ “footprint” was clearly visible in the water. I hadn’t seen a whale, but the huge swirl, as if a huge hand had swept beneath the water, was excitingly evident. I was quicker next time as just ahead of the swirl the huge gray and barnacle-mottled body of a 30-foot California gray whale rose with barely a ripple moving in-no-particular-hurry and 15 feet of dark-charcoal dorsal parted the waters. Collectively, our boat ooh’d and ahh’d!

“That’s incredible!” said Emily’s father, Bob, as he tried to take a photo. I could hear squeals and excited talk from many of the surrounding pangas as several other whales could be seen in the area as well. “Oh wow! Look! It’s coming to the boat! ” said Jorge Romero of La Paz sitting on the starboard side of the panga as he cautiously backed away from the gunwale and the rest of us rushed to the side he had just vacated. Gazing down and now 2 feet below the surface, a baby whale of perhaps only 12 feet seemed to have turned on it’s side and was eyeing the boat. A bump near the bow that lifted the boat a with a thump and a larger body scraped and passed by…and by…and by as we pointed excitedly into the water. It was like watching the sides of a slow-moving train go by as you sit at the train stop. (When does the caboose get there?) Mom had arrived!

Raising her head in an activity called “spy-hopping” mom appeared to be checking us out, her huge eyes barely blinking as she just hung and suspended some 6 feet of her head out of the water vertically. She must have given the OK, because both she and the smaller calf were shortly rubbing themselves against the boat and alternately lifting their heads (faces?) out of the water to be petted, scratched and rubbed. Occasionally, one or the other would lift and eye out of the water and you couldn’t help but think there was a connection.

“I think the baby just winked at me!” yelled a delighted Emily, as she rubbed the nose of the baby.

“Except for the barnacles, I can’t believe how soft their skin is!” said her father. As a boat owner in California and an experienced sailor, he had seen numerous whales, but had never encountered anything like this as over the next 2 hours, we saw perhaps a hundred whales and were able to touch several dozen friendly or curious enough to come to the boat.

The area around Lopez Mateos was ideal for this. It’s slow moving waters protected by sand dunes created a virtual flume for the whales to pass through on their way to and from the large and more open parts of the bay.

“This just exceeds all expectations. What an unbelievable experience!” commented Bob Duncan. He started to say more, but suddenly, two more whales appeared off the bow with one making a sudden dive displaying the classic flukes of it’s tail just in time to be captured in Bob’s camera. “It’s so different here. Unlike the open ocean, the bay is so shallow, they can’t dive away. There’s also so many of them and many are seemingly so tame they come right up to the boats. This is a lifetime event.”

It hasn’t always been like this. By the turn-of-the-century, the whaling industry had tragically decimated the gray whale and brought it to the brink of extinction. Even today, remnants of carcasses can be found among the lonely blasted sand dunes in this part of the Baja. However, through conservation efforts, the whales have made an outstanding comeback and now numbers between 20 and 40 thousand. In what has been called the longest migration of any mammal, the whales begin their long journey from the Bering Sea in the frigid waters of the north and begin heading south along the Pacific Coast of North America. By January, they begin arriving at their 3 main destinations along Baja, Mexico’s Pacific Shorline. The areas of Scammons Lagoon, Guerrero Negro and here in Bahia Magdalena offer warmer, protected, shallow waters for the whales to mate as well as give birth. Quiet little towns such as Lopez Mateos literally boom during whale-watch season as tourists, scientists, photographers and school kids pile into small skiffs to see these great creatures.

“Everyone should do this,” I heard one teacher say to her charges clearly still excited and chattering happily after climbing out of their boats. “It helps people understand the need to protect such creatures and there’s no better time than when we can make an impact on the children.”

At first, the whales are leery of the boats early in the season. However, by February, the cetacean visitors seem more tolerant and almost appear to enjoy the daily company of so many two-armed and two-legged visitors with their cameras clicking and whirring. Females are less reluctant to come between their curious calves and the pangas. Males seem to enjoy a good nose rub. When they get tired of us, one flick of the tail and they move on or like a living submarine, they fill their “ballast” tanks and simply sink out of sight. The leviathan simply disappears below the surface. However, almost like clockwork, another often appears.

The whales will be around until March or early April then head back north along the coast. Trips can be arranged by a number of operators and it’s truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

That's my story...Jonathan

EMERGENCIES - Published Jan 2005 - Western Outdoor News

READY FOR AN EMERGENCY'

Watching all the disaster stuff going on around the planet from Asian tsunamis to California flooding, I’m reminded of 9/11. It’s a day that’ll be permanently etched in just about everyone’s brain, but for me, even moreso being in another country when all hell breaks loose.

I had a large group of divers and fishermen that had just spent the week with us in La Paz and I was sending them on their way to the airport that morning. They were all having breakfast in the hotel lobby and I took a walk out to the local dive shop to check on some equipment for the new group of anglers set to come in later that day. It was there at the rental shop that I saw those first images that would certainly change the world and had to go back to the restaurant and actually try to convince my clients that I wasn’t joking. I mean…how do you break such incredible news to folks who are still buzzing from last night’s margueritas and convince them that I wasn’t having post-fiesta problems myself. It wasn’t until I had a TV wheeled into the restaurant that faces and hearts dropped.

To make a long story short, the next few days were not only hellish, but amplified by the fact that we were not in the United States. Everyone wanted to be home and there was no way to get there. Several of the guys were military. Cell phones were not working very well. The only news of home were from the same repeated reports on CNN in their hotel rooms. There were no flights. There was a heightened sense of not being connected to anything. Try as I could to keep everyone chipper under the circumstance, it was understandable that no one felt like fishing or diving any longer. Both figuratively and literally, vacation was over. I spent the next week not only trying to keep them relatively entertained, but also trying to find flights; connect to families; find transportation; keep them in their rooms; loaning money…you name it! They were a good bunch, but obviously, I got them all home. Me included and it was never so nice to get back across the U.S. border.

However, several things occurred during those incredible post 9/11 days and I jotted notes promising to pass them on someday to be better prepared in the event either myself or others are stuck in another country when disaster hits or even a personal emergency.

First, make sure the folks back home have the number of the place you’re staying. Seems like common sense, but it’s amazing how often I get phone calls or e-mails from the families of clients who have no idea where their husband, brother, kids, etc. are located.

Second, everyone should have a secondary number to call such as a different family member where messages can be left just-in-case primary numbers aren’t working. If for no other reason than to say, “I’m alright” such a short message can alleviate a lot of problems.

Third, carry duplicates of your paperwork. Got your passport? Got your I.D.? Got your insurance paperwork? Got your tickets? Good. Now make copies and place the copies in a different spot than the originals. If the originals get lost, stolen, destroyed, you’ll have extra copies. Do the same for everyone in your group. Nothing like holding up the whole group because one person loses their passport.

Fourth, carry calling cards that allow you to call from outside the U.S. Many 800 numbers on calling cards don’t work outside the U.S. so check with your carrier. Same for cell phones. Currently in Baja, AT& T, and sometimes Verizon, Nextel and T-Mobile work (this differs from place to place). Make sure you have an inexpensive international calling plan. I pay about 5 bucks a month for my AT&T cell and it works better in Mexico than it sometimes works in the U.S.

Fifth , if you’re on medications, bring extra to allot for more days than your vaction schedule in case of travel delays or disaster. After 9/11 one of the group ran out of a critical heart medication and we spent days trying to get his doctor on the phone to OK a prescription and finally found the medication at $600 for a bottle. Another couple on the trip ran out of a special anti-biotics that took us awhile to track down as well.

Sixth, if you’ve got kids and one of the parents is not traveling, make sure you have a written notarized copy from the other parent allowing the traveling parent or adult to administer medical care if needed.

Finally, bring extra money in small denominations and forget about it. Put it somewhere in your luggage and don’t even consider it on your trip. This is not extra money for Pacificos, shopping or dog races. There should be enough for plane fare home and extras. I have traveled in a number of countries and no matter what folks might think of you or think of America, the one truth is that the world loves U.S. currency. Make sure it’s wherever YOU want to be, even moreso than plastic credit cards.

Heaven forbid anything ever happen to you on your travels, but a little planning goes a long way.

That’s my story...
Jonathan

BRINGING THE KIDS - Published Dec. 04 - WESTERN OUTDOOR MAGAZINE BAJA BACKBEAT

BRINGING THE KIDS TO THE BAJA

I’m not a dad, but I like kids. Some laughingly say I like ‘em because I never had any ninos of my own…sort of like being the cool uncle. Some say it’s because I never grew up myself. I mean, you have to be a bit of a kid yourself to be running a fishing and diving business in Mexico where you get to be Tom Sawyer, Captain Kidd and Jimmy Buffet most days!

But , I sure enjoy it when clients bring their kids along. Whether it’s families or dads bringing their sons and/or daughters or both; or groups of guys bringing their boys, it’s all good. I know my own times with my dad when I was a kid are remembered fondly and I laughingly tell him that my current career is all his fault. Now I get to bring him fishing instead.

If you’re reading this then maybe you’re planning a trip this coming year down here to Baja or giving it some thought. Maybe you’re thinking of bringing a youngster or two. Here’s a few things I’ve learned over the years with respect to kids, especially if they’ve never done this kind of thing before.

Fit the activities to the age and experience of the kid – If your kid has never fished, you may want to think twice about bringing the youngster down when it’s rough or cold or it’s really hard core fishing. Remember, this is supposed to be a positive experience, especially if you don’t want to discourage the youngster from future trips. They’re not gunners like you. Keep it warm. Keep it safe. Keep it fun. Wacking bonito all day on light tackle beats trolling for 8 hours in big water looking for one marlin. A big mistake I often see is the parent who thinks he has something to prove to the kid. Believe me, if your kid catches fish and has a good time, your “parent” stock all rises. Nothing like big smiles and tired arms!

Fit the crowd to the kid – It’s one thing if you’re coming down with other families or other youngsters. It’s quite another if your kid is tagging along with you and your drinking and fishing buddies intent on tearing up the town. It’s about quality time, not about watching dad do shooters or leaving the kid for hours alone wandering around the hotel or playing in the pool.

Kids still need supervision even in Mexico – I once saw a youth group of high schoolers come in of maybe 50 kids. There were maybe 10 kids for every adult. Within ½ an hour of arrival a lot of the kids had beers or cigarettes in their hands. Just because it’s Mexico, often folks think that rules don’t apply to adults let alone kids. Mexico has laws like anywhere else and there are places and things kids shouldn’t be doing. We’re guests and often forget that. In all my years, I’ve experienced only two major injuries on our trips. Both involved kids. Both were crippling injuries and on both occasions, the kids should have been supervised. The parents were at happy hour in both situations and had left the kids to “hang out.”

Medical and safety precautions - If the child is traveling with one parent, the youngster should have a notarized note from the other parent giving permission to the traveling parent to take the child out of the country. . It’s also a great idea for the child to have a notarized medical release allowing the traveling parent to make medical decisions in case of emergency. Don’t forget to bring medical insurance information and birth certificate. Then, make a copy of each document and keep them someplace different from the originals. If the child uses medications, bring extra. Know if the kid has food or medication allergies. Last season we took one young man to the hospital thinking he had an allergic reaction or some type of food poisoning. As it turned out later, he just loved Mexican salsa and literally put it on everything until he got sick! Too much of a good thing.

Fishing and diving gear should fit the purpose and the user – Again, match the abilities and experience of the child. Kids have smaller hands. Things don’t balance as well and they may not be as coordinated as you. Remember the first time you used a conventional rod and reel? I’ve seen adults struggle with the equipment so you can imagine what it can be like for a youngster. Most 8 year-olds will not be able to hold onto your Calstar Boomer with your 50W reel, let alone one with a huge marlin on the end so don’t ask them to. Find gear that feels comfortable and then have them practice with it before going out. Less stress for everyone later on.

Make sure the captain or operator knows you’ve got kids or that they have minimal experience – It doesn’t hurt to ask. Captains are just like everyone else. They are all different. In my own fleet, I have skippers who are simply better with families, kids or inexperienced anglers. They have patience. They smile and laugh a lot, even if they might not speak the best English. Everyone has a good time. It makes it easier on you, but by all means, work with the captain or deck hand. You know your kids best. Put your own rod down for a bit and the ego aside and I guarantee you’ll catch a lot more than fish when the fish bite for your kid.

Safety and comfort – While almost all operators these days have lifesaving equipment on board, kid-sized stuff is not often found. If you have a small youngster, their own PFD is a good thing to bring. Additionally, when a kid has his own “stuff” it puts a new spin on any activity. Most kids I know won’t fit that 38 inch fighting belt you lug around so get one for them. My most prized possession as a nine-year-old was a pair of 5 dollar needlenose pliers from Sears. (I still have them). Don’t forget the sunglasses, hat and sunscreen unless you want a miserable child on your hands at the end of the fishing day.

Make sure the kids get lots of props – I had to start somewhere too. So did you. Thankfully in my case, my dad, uncles and cousins never jumped on me for all the tangles, broken gear, fouled bait and lost fish over the years. I would fall in the water. . . throw rocks. . .eat all the Velveeta and marshmallows. However, no fish was too small. Lots of photos were taken. I was encouraged to always try again. Do the same. When you put them down in the evenings and they are dead to the world, that exhaustion and smile will be priceless for years to come. Hold that memory. They grow up fast.

That's my story...
Jonathan

JUNK IN THE TRUNK - Published Dec. '04 Western Outdoor News

JUNK IN THE TRUNK

(BAJA DRIVING ESSENTIALS)

Seems that about this time of year, I get a lot of calls and e-mails from amigos who are intending to drive the Baja during the holidays or during the coming year. Many of them are from first timers and although I get a lot of great questions, sometimes I gotta shake my head and grin. To wit:

“Where in California is Baja California? I can’t find it on the map!”
“How come I can’t make San Diego to Cabo overnight?”
“Can you tell me where the best AM/PM mini-markets are between Tijuana and Guererro Negro?”

These are just a sample from great, fun, intelligent and well-meaning folks who just need to do a little research. A trip down Baja’s famed Transpeninsular Highway doesn’t start with the idea of suddenly throwing an ice chest full of brew into the pick-up and yahooing down the road the next day. It really starts with research. Judging by some of the questions I get, some folks really need to open a book or hit the internet because there are so many great research sources out there from the Auto Club, Vagabundos del Mar, even a stroll to your local bookstore will yield maps, guides, travel logs and other helpful materials. I’ve made dozens of trips up and down the peninsula hauling everything from boats to computer gear and from dive tanks to kayaks. I’ve camped; hoteled; slept on benches; broken axles; been bitten by a coyote; stuck in mud and yet, I sure hope that I’m not the ONLY person folks will ask about taking one of the great adventure drives on the planet. That being said, here’s Jonathan’s elementary primer on what I do and what I bring:

Don’t drive at night and take your time – It’s a great trip meant to be seen and experienced in the daytime. You will see many crosses along the side of the road, not to be morbid, but as memorials to folks who lost it along the highway. Highway One is not the 405. It’s not meant for high speed. It’s a great road, but there can be rocks, debris, goats; birds (big ones eating road kill!); other vehicles with no lights; roadway with no shoulders. At best, you can bust up your ride and get stuck. At worst you get to be another white cross. Be safe and enjoy the ride. Park it when the sun goes down. You will NOT make Cabo San Lucas overnight.
You’re a guest so respect the laws – If you wouldn’t do it in the U.S., don’t do it in Mexico. That includes drinking and driving; drugs; weapons and other contraband. Mexico uses the old Napoleanic judicial system instituted during the days of French control. In short, you are guilty until you prove your innocence and you have little or no rights as a visitor. No one is out to harass you and Mexico welcomes your visit but don’t forget you are a guest. I cannot believe how often someone asks me about “bringing a little mota (marijuana)” or “I think I need to carry my little .22 under the seat to feel safer.” If you have ever tangled with the Mexican legal system or seen the inside of a Mexican jail, I need say no more.
Pack some common sense in the glove box – Buy Mexican insurance. It’s cheap at the border. Have a good map and know where the next gas station is. Have a good spare tire and a working jack. Carry extra copies of your driver’s license, passport and/or immigration papers in case originals get lost. Bring extra medications/ prescriptions if you need them for an unexpected extended stay. Check with your carrier to see if your cell phone will work in Baja.
I never hit the highway without these in the trunk –
· flashlight with extra batteries
· duct tape; wire;
· flares plus a flashing signal light;
· box of simple tools (bottle openers while essential are not part of the tool chest)
· heavy rope; (to pull and be pulled)
· extra fan belts and hoses (never needed them but traveled with friends who did and wish they had brought them)
· rain poncho and tarp;
· bug spray;
· gloves
· extra water; motor oil and other fluids;
· toilet paper; (you’ll be glad for this if you’ve ever used a public Baja toilet)
· folding military surplus shovel (awesome if you’re avoiding the public Baja toilet, but good for digging into or out of situations)
Help others when you can because you never know when you might be the next one. Travel safe and get where you’re going in one piece, but don’t forget to stop and enjoy along the way.

That’s my story.

CABRILLA FISHING - PUBLISHED WESTERN OUTDOOR MAGAGAZINE / BAJA BACKBEAT - NOV. 04

CABRILLA FISHING

Some years ago, I got a phone call from a prospective older client on the East Coast that wanted to do some fishing with us in Baja. Often times, you can just tell when the caller hasn’t done a lot of research before the call. The phone call went something like this:

“I wanna come down there and do some fishing with you and I hear you’re a good guide and got some good fishing there in BA-Jah, Mexico.” (He pronounced Baja “BAH-Jah).
“Yessir, we do. How can I help you?”
“Well, I wanna do some bass fishing in some of those rivers and lakes there around someplace they call the East Cape. Can you help me out? “
(Moment of silence on my end)
“Uh, Sir, we don’t have any rivers and lakes. We’re a desert. Lots of cactus. We got a big ocean, but not a lot of water above ground like rivers and lakes.”
(Silence on his end)
“You sure about that?”
“Yessir. Last time I checked, no rivers or lakes around here at all.”
“Well, I wanna come fishing with my bass rod, got any suggestions?”

As a matter of fact I did. I convinced him to come to Baja anyway. I told him that most folks come to Baja to fish for dorado and tuna and marlin. “I’m too old for that!” he said. “I like fishing quiet waters for smaller stuff.”

I told him I had just the thing. I told him to basically bring his bass gear…some flipping sticks; a level-wind reel or two; and a spinning outfit. I asked him to give me 2 days on the water and that all he needed was pretty much the same lures he would use for fishing bass, e.g., some larger crank baits; some grub tail plastics; and some surface poppers. He was skeptical, but he ended up spending not 2, but 4 days on the water with us and leaving with a big smile; some great stories and a new way to say “Baja.”

Obviously, I didn’t take him to any local lakes or rivers. But, what I did was turn him onto Baja’s own version of bass fishing. So many times during the cooler months, folks think there’s no fishing or keep their sights set on the glamour species like marlin, wahoo, and yellowtail, but forget there’s some excellent inshore fishing. In many cases, it’s probably only walking distance from their hotels or campsites. What I did was turn this eastern gent onto cabrilla fishing which can be some of the most fun and challenging inshore and light tackle fishing to be had in Baja. Cabrilla are essentially seabass. There are several versions, but all essentially look and act like bass and can be fished in many of the same ways that you’d fish a bass in fresh water. In fact, in my experience, most locals will call just about any bass-looking fish a cabrilla, but for the purpose of explanation, I’m referring to any of the bass-like fish of inshore Baja.

As mentioned, they often get overlooked. But look at it this way, if you’d travel dozens of miles to battle a 5 pound bass in your favorite fresh water spot, cabrilla offer that same thrill ranging from 1-5 pounds and larger. Like their freshwater counterparts, they love structure, i.e, reefs, rocks, overhangs, dropoffs, channels and submerged cover. In those same areas, don’t be surprised if the cabrilla get larger or you tangle with even bigger species like pargo, grouper or many of the dozens of other Baja species that like to hang out in those same areas.

Strong fighters that will often dash back to their ragged cover-areas, the fact that they like structure means they can be fished with relative ease, either directly from shore or trolling along slowly with a panga, kayak or other shallow draft watercraft. While live bait is effective, most folks, like my eastern client had a kick using artificials. Slow trolling a large crank bait in and out of the rocks close inshore can result in jarring hits that will yank the rods clear out of your hands. Casting a popper or shallow-diving crank bait close to shore or making it hop off a rock into a drop-off can produce an explosion not unlike a largemouth hitting any topwater jig. You’d better hold on! These fish have teeth and there’s no lily pads in the Baja, only sharp jagged underwater rocks that are the hunting and home grounds to these tough battlers. Plastics are also deadly effective, but the softness inherent to the lure, means they don’t last long out there when pitted against these same underwater hazards not to mention about a dozen other toothy fish that will also jump on these lures.

When you find one, cabrilla, you’ll probably find others and it can result in hours of rod-bending fun in the winter and early spring months in Baja. Catching dozens of the fish is not uncommon. They make great light flavorful fillets which is why they are also very popular to the commercial Baja fishermen for sale to the markets and restaurants. Therefore, in some areas, they can be overfished. Like other members of the bass family, they grow slowly so keep only what you can reasonably eat and release the undersized and extra fish. Be careful of the sharp needle-like teeth, sharp spines and gillplates when releasing. A good pair of needle-nosed pliers is a must to keep from touching the fish anyway, especially if you’re releasing them with as little harm as possible.

This winter and spring, instead of lamenting the lack of marlin offshore, consider keeping it simple and working inshore for some great fun.

That’s my story.

SIERRA MACKEREL - PUBLISHED WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS- NOV. 04

SIERRA - A DIFFERENT TYPE OF MACKEREL!

For years, before I lived in Baja, I would come down like so many other anglers and fish for the glamorous bluewater species that grace the pages of many brochures and magazines…the dorado, tuna, marlin, et al. That’s what I paid my money for and that’s what I hunted. There were so many other species that I caught and quickly tossed aside as “basura” or garbage fish. Some, like needlefish, trumpet fish, lizard fish or puffers because they were either outwardly ugly and I’d never want that evolutionary mess on my plate or because someone somewhere along the line told me it was garbage fish. I mean, given a choice between a slab of needlefish on your grill or mahi-mahi (dorado), most folks could understand my choice.

Sierra (scomberomorus sierra for you academic types) were one of those fish. It wasn’t outwardly ugly. On the contrary, it’s sleek silver/blue exterior with golden dorsal dots is actually pretty stylin’. However, somewhere years ago, I caught one on the iron and my panga skipper at that time laughed and told me it was “yonke” (junk) and that I should give it to him. Not knowing any better, I gave him all my sierra that day as he said it was part of the mackerel family and of course, we all know that mackerel is an acquired taste to say the least! From years of playing off the bait barges and piers of California, I knew exactly what to do with my mackerel. Yessiree, you can have all you want. So, for years, any sierra I caught was given to my skipper or whomever would kindly take it off my hands and without exception it was always accepted with a smile.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized why that first panga skipper was smiling and everyone else was smiling too. It turns out that sierra might be one of the most prized-eating fish in the Baja on top of being a great light-tackle gamer. That first pangero was pulling my leg and he knew he had a “burro” (donkey) on the line when he told me it was a garbage fish.

One of the first sure signs of cooler water this time of year is the appearance of schools of sierra along the Baja coastline. Given their abundance and preponderance to school up along shallow areas, it’s easy to see why they might be mistaken for being “just another mackerel” only prettier. Ranging from 1 to as large as 15 pounds, sierra have the long rakish body of the mackerel except tending towards being more silver. They are powerful fast predators with razor like choppers that draw comparisons to being “baby wahoo” insofar as their teeth can sever mono in a single bite. Like their big cousins, they strike hard; run fast; and make excellent eating with light flakey fillets that can be sautéed, broiled, baked, fried or barbecued. They are possibly the most popular fish in the Baja for ceviche when fillets are chopped, tossed with a bit of garlic, chili, cilantro, onions, tomatoes and left to chill with some fresh lemon juice. Add chips and a balmy afternoon under a beach palapa for instant happy hour.

As gamefish, they are frequently overlooked in much the same way that I used to treat them as just another pesky mackerel. These fish like to school. They like shallow reefs and dropoffs as well as inshore beaches. Find some breaking or schooling bait from November to April and don’t be surprised to get hammered by sierra. Once you get them going, it’s easy and fun to fill the box too as they are hardly picky biters. Fish them directly from shore or from a small boat or panga and they can be one of the most entertaining fish on light tackle. They will certainly eat live bait, but with their sharp teeth, wire becomes mandatory and often wire inhibits the anglers ability to present a lively bait. Like cats that prefer their food to be moving, sierra seem to respond to food that moves. This is where jigging or slow trolling comes in.

My favorite method is to use either a medium spinning rod or even a medium baitcasting/bass rod with a level wind reel loaded with 10-12 pound test. Throwing a shiny chrome spoon like a Kastmaster or Krocodile that wobbles or a light chrome iron like a Christy can result in jarring strikes. A lot of anglers like wire, but I prefer to double-leader the end of my mono with either a Bimini twist or even better, an improved spider hitch as I feel my jig swims better. I’ve also gotten pretty good results with the new tie-able leaders now being offered. Casting to drop-offs, over reefs or into jumping bait or slow trolling those same areas can be a real hoot. Trolling or casting a crank-bait type lure like a broken-backed Rebel or a smaller Rapala will also work, but again, either use wire or double-leader the business-end of your line.

The hit is never ambiguous so you’d better be holding onto your rod. It’s usually a good slam! Like scaled-down wahoo, they will go on some relatively long runs so you’d better give them the high-stick and make sure you have a good drag on your light reel. As mentioned, some of these fish can get up around 10 pounds and no matter what you may think about how mackerel taste, any member of the mackerel family can rumble hard and bend a rod. Sierra stay generally on the surface so even though they might be hooked around structure, they won’t usually dive like their rockfish brethren. The runs will get shorter and shorter, but they will fight all the way back to the boat or beach. Watch those teeth when you remove the hook, but get your rig out again as soon as possible. Where there’s one, there’s usually more. Just don’t let anyone tell you later on that it’s junk fish!


That’s my story.
Jonathan

SEASONS CHANGE - WESTERN OUTDOOR MAGAZINE BAJA BACKBEAT - DEC. 04

SEASONS CHANGE

When you live in a tropical place like Baja, it’s often hard to tell the changing of the seasons. Leaves on the arboles de cocos (coconut trees) along the waterfront don’t turn color, although they do drop the occasional noggin’ crunching coconut. Frost does not form on the windshield of your car in the morning and you don’t see the local neighbor kid bundled off to school in a heavy jacket or ditching those butt-crack-displaying-boxer-showing-shorts for oversized jeans. When you don’t live life by the clock down here or watch a lot of TV to know that all the ads are geared toward this-year’s flavor in Cabbage Patch/Beenie Baby/Game Boy (I lost track of all those toys), you just can’t tell! Unless one of my fishing clients reminds me, it’s hard to remember that football season is on and that the NBA has started it’s season. Yesterday it was 85 on the water while fishing. For criminy-sakes, the water temperature was a “chilly” 82. I was in fishing shorts and a torn t-shirt yesterday when I was guiding on the boat and today in the office, I’m in fishing shorts and a torn-t-shirt again minus a few scales and blood stains. Oh, and I have on some sandals instead of being barefoot. My clients caught a bunch of dorado and we had a big dorado taco barbecue on the beach. Yea, it’s real different down here in the Jimmy Buffet zone, amigos!

So, what was that song I was hearing in the grocery store the other morning? Hijole, that sounds familiar. At least the tune sure does. I had a cart full of Pacifico and Tecate beer and several bags of lime (not for MY consumption of course…for a clients’ beach picnic!) and I ran smack into the toy department and there were several kids running around as kids do. Except, from what I could tell, they were singing Jingle Bells in Spanish. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but looking up, I was right in the middle of K-Mart U.S.A. or something similar. Stacks of toys, garland, lights, bikes, ceramic manger scenes, giant plastic lawn Santas (are there lawns here?) and kids, just like kids anywhere tugging on mom and dad to tell Santa what they want.

“Yo quiero esta y esta y esta!” (“I want this and this and this!”) said one little nino who couldn’t have been more than 9 to his bedraggled mom. She looked like she just wanted to get done with the weekly shopping. She had that disgusted look that so many of us have these days that said, “These stores start earlier and earlier every year and I hate them!”

The sound of “White Christmas” wafted…yes wafted.. from somewhere in the aisles with that tin-like recorded sound that comes from one of those “press this button” cherubic Christmas angels or some other chingadera. It made for quite a cacophony with the other kids still charging around parroting the out-of-tune Jingle Bells.

“Puedes comprarme un rifle de BB?” (Will you buy me a BB gun?) pleaded another kid after my own heart. Of course, I heard the standard father-reply. I couldn’t understand all of it because dad was walking away from the kid, but in Spanish it something like “Do you think I’m crazy?” and something else about “What you did to your sister. . .” and few other choice smack-downs to the kid’s request.

The coolest thing is snow flocking. You know...it’s that fake snow that comes out of an aerosol can and is used to stencil snowflakes. Along with the requisite tempera-paint elves, they were decorating the store windows with it. In fact, it’s everywhere. Folks down here have some affinity for snow flocking. The yard can be full of cactus, but darned if they don’t flock their windows with that spray snow! I was in Cabo yesterday and quite a few of the shops were getting their fake snow together too. Nothing like fake snow on the ventanas (windows) to get you into the holiday spirit in Baja where the only ice most folks here have seen was clinging to the side of a marguerita glass. I spoke to an amigo of mine who does the buying for one of the big grocery chains in Baja and he tells me they sell out of the spray cans of snow every year and never have enough. Talk about another contrast, I saw them hanging fake icicles under a palapa (palm frond roof) of a bar. Chingon!

Maybe the most startling thing is seeing the Christmas tree lots popping up. Fresh firs and pines “direct from Oregon!” (It says so on the side of the trucks unloading the trees.) These trees are as fresh and fragrant and verdant as any you’d see in your hometown lot. How they get them down here, I have no idea, but you can’t beat the price. Try buying a 7 foot tree for 10 bucks in the U.S.

Yup, I guess the seasons are changing, but unless I had seen all of this, I probably would never have known. Just goes to show you that folks are the same all over. Kids are kids. The language might be a tad different, but the melody and the messages are certainly the same. Kids are excited. Parents roll their eyes. Jingle Bells is played with a salsa beat. Santa wears a sombrero and serape. I was walking down by the marina and I did hear one kid ask for a panga ( fishing skiff) for Christmas so he could go fishing whenever he wanted. I spun around in my tracks when I heard that Now that is a kid to keep an eye on. I do know that the dorado are still biting and so are the marlin. There aren’t too many places where you can eat your big Christmas brunch and still go catch a world-class fish before coming back for Christmas dinner. That’s Baja. Seasons greetings, Pescadores.

FISH FOR WHAT's THERE - PUBLISHED WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS OCT. '04

FISH FOR WHAT'S THERE!

Given that I run a fishing and diving operation down here in Baja, there’s not too many of us operators that stick around if you’re not good. I mean…you gotta produce fish! That’s the bottom line, right? Well, let me tell ya, I don’t care how good any of us operators might be, there’s a limit. I mean, what do I tell the client who complains to me in the dead of December “How come we can’t catch blue marlin?” Or the guy who recently came back with a rack of nice football tuna and told me he had a bad day. “Tell the captain to catch bigger fish tomorrow!” he said. He was serious. Oh if I only had a magic wand or magic fishing dust…sigh…

Truth be told, old Jacques Cousteau may have called the Sea of Cortez the “aquarium of the world”, but like a football quarterback that is most successful taking what the defense gives him, I we can only fish for what’s there. I can’t make world-class roosterfish jump into the boat or make dorado magically appear if it’s the wrong time of the year or the water and conditions aren’t cooperative. Unfortunately, I get a lot of questions from folks asking just for such miracles and, at times, blaming me for the absence of certain species. You guys that run operations in Baja just nod your head. You know exactly what I’m talking about. This is especially true in the winter months when winds can howl; seas can get grumpy and many snowbirds from colder states come to find sunshine and the big gamefish they’ve read about in all the brochures.

Admittedly, if it’s Baja, anything can happen and it’s not unheard of to get bent on the kinds of species that make Baja famous, but many times, folks overlook the great inshore fishing Baja offers, especially in the colder winter months. I’ve always been of the opinion that if you can’t make the fish bigger, make the tackle smaller and go tear up the inshore species. Often, many of the inshore species can be just as mean, nasty and sometimes even larger than their offshore cousins. I’m talking about yellowtail, cabrilla, seabass, amberjack, jack crevalle, sierra and snapper, among others. Maybe they aren’t always the poster-fish that get all the glamour shots, but most fight hard, taste great, and are under-appreciated.

Tackle is hardly complicated. Even a good spinning rod, some shiny spoons or crank baits or some plastics are worth hours of fun. Fishing from the shore or working in and out with pangas, kayaks or cruisers can be an eventful day. I recently spent a day with a TV crew from the Sportsman’s Channel to see how many species we could do and rolled on 15 different species from jacks to bonito and cabrilla to rainbow runners. At no time were we in water deeper than we could have stood up in and never further than 50 yards from the beach. I have a number or regulars who show up with bass rods year after year in the winter and never seem to stop being bent. I’ll take a day inshore in calmer waters catching fish over bouncing around offshore any day. Cacer Chang, formerly of Tady Lures, has to be one of the best. Spend a day with him throwing crank baits into the rocks and you’ll catch 10 times more than my guys working offshore. With something like 2000 miles of coastline, Baja has tons of structure that will produce fish if you just fish for what’s there. At least until I discover some kind of magic wand…

Update on reels – A few columns ago I thought we cleared up the “line on reels” airline debate in which we were specifically told by Aero California that it was fine to carry-on the reels. Since then, several of you have e-mailed me that they were stopped and asked to check-in their reels. Good old Aero Cal. There’s a reason that even here in Mexico the locals call them “Aero Tal Vez” (Aero Maybe). They reserve the right to change their minds…and not tell anyone about it.

That’s my story!

FALL WAHOO - PUBLISHED WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS OCT. 2004

FALL WAHOO

Show up on the beach with one of these or pull back to the docks with one to show off, and the reaction from other anglers will certainly confirm that you got yourself a prize. No doubt the exotic wahoo are among the most sought-after, and elusive fish in the Baja. Known for their speed, fighting ability and great taste, this elongated fish with the mouth full of razor-sharp choppers is quite a prize, especially during the later months of the year.

They’re not easy to catch and maybe even harder to locate. However, from about October to December the waters of Baja are among the best areas to find these fish which rate high on the scale of “exotic fish.” Unlike say, dorado and tuna which are also hard-chargers and certainly get anglers twitchy about catching, there’s never any guarantees about wahoo since they don’t school up like their gamefish brothers and even when caught, don’t often stay caught!

Insofar as you probably won’t encounter “Mr. Hoo” on a normal basis, trying to increase one’s chances of getting one should start with finding the best location. Just like real estate, it’s all about location…location…location. For the long range San Diego boats, one of the best spots for wahoo used to be Roca Partida and Clarion Islands, but those areas are currently closed and short of jumping on a long ranger which has the ability to chase big game fish for several days, you’ll have to narrow it down.

Interestingly, it seems that wahoo are more likely to be in larger congregations in the Pacific than in the Sea of Cortez. Areas off of Magdalena Bay such as the Thetis Bank have been prime wahoo honey holes for years. However, unless you’re long ranging out’ve San Diego, there’s not much to charter out of nearby San Carlos so either you roll your own rig or you charter out’ve Cabo San Lucas. Still, if you can get something that floats under you, I consider this area to be among the best anywhere to stick a ‘hoo.

The areas around Cabo and San Jose can also be productive although as you move closer into the Sea of Cortez, you don’t seem to find the larger concentrations. Still, that being said, San Jose’s Gordo Banks, Cabo’s Golden Gate and Jaime Banks and several offshore ridges off Los Barriles can produce some nice flurries of fish. Moving north, one of the little known hot spots for wahoo is Cerralvo Island with it’s steep drop offs and nearby reefs. Insofar as I fish these waters almost daily, several points at the north and south end of this massive island where deep waters join warmer currents can be banner for wahoo as can the area known as “El Bajo” (The Embudo Bank) north of Espiritu Santo Island about 32 miles north of La Paz.

As mentioned, putting one aboard is almost as difficult as finding them. They are well-known for their dental work with a scissors-like jaw that can cut easily through hundred pound monofilament. On several occasions, I have seen Rapalas bitten in half or nearly by the hard bite coupled with blinding speed of attack. Arguably, I seen it written that they are the fastest fish in the ocean and have been clocked (I don’t know how they do this!) as fast as 70 mph.

If an area looks promising, one of the best ways to bring them up is by trolling. Deep running lures like large Rapalas or fast swimming lures like Marauders have been extremely effective fish takers as well as heavy chrome coated feathers. Colors such as blacks, purples, oranges, and fluorescents are most popular. One trick is to take off any treble hooks that may come from the factory and replace them with single hooks to increase the effectiveness of the hook pentration of the bone-hard jaw and to prevent the twisting fish from using the torque of it’s body to get free.

Where fish are schooling, such as in the Pacific, throwing heavy “wahoo bombs” or lures, especially flashy chrome coated jigs on a fast retrieve or using live bait can be employed. Studies have shown that a wahoo will often charge in and bite it’s food in half, then swim back and pick up the pieces. If you feel that first tug or bite, anglers often make the mistake of immediately retrieving their lures or thinking their bait is gone. Waiting a moment for the fish to come back often results in a hook up.

The most controversial thing about fishing wahoo is whether to use wire leaders to prevent losing the fish (or an expensive lure) to the mouthful of teeth. It’s the topic of endless debate and a personal choice of your own fishing style and depth of pockets to replace lures! If I’m trolling, a lure such as a Marauder or heavy headed feather, I always use wire. At 20 to 40 bucks a pop, I’d rather not take a chance. I hate losing my big Rapalas as well, but I’ve found that fishing without wire produces more strikes and, if I tie a double leader or use some of the new flexible and tie-able coated wires, I really don’t lose that many. It’s the same with my casting lures. I just get more bites without the wire although I’ve noticed that many of the folks who advocate the use of “no wire” are also lure manufacturers!

Either way, there’s nothing like getting bit by one of these speedsters; nothing quite so good eating as the meat; and a great time to fish for them is right now.

CRIME & HONESTY IN BAJA - PUBLISHED Oct. 2004 - WESTERN OUTDOOR MAGAZINE BAJA BACKBEAT

CRIME & HONESTY IN THE BAJA

Several weeks ago, I was having dinner in a beachfront restaurant with a bunch of my fishing clients. It was one of those famous great warm Baja sunsets. The restaurant with it’s white sand floors; requisite Tecate beer white plastic chairs; and palapa roof blended nicely with the aromatic garlic shrimp and grilled dorado being delivered in heaping portions to the table. Generous baskets of fresh warm torillas moved from hand to hand while generous dollops of salsa dropped into make-your-own tacos. As is typical among vacationing fishermen, the conversation drifted and rambled raucously between the day’s great fishing; the strength (or lack thereof) of various mixed drinks; and who-did-what-to-whom.

In the middle of all this, one of the group named Taylor stood up and announced that he had a story to tell. Taylor is an extremely successful salesman and adept speaker. He had kept the table rolling all evening with his philosophical observations on life.

“Today was one of best days I’ve ever had,” he started. “In fact, it was enlightening day.” He had everyone’s attention.

“This morning at the hotel, I put about $800 into a money clip and stuck it into my pocket. This afternoon, that money was gone. I looked all over my room; the hotel; the pool…everywhere! I really had no hope of finding it. As a last resort, I sent to the hotel receptionist and told them I had lost my money clip.”

“How much money was in it?” asked the receptionist? “Eight hundred dollars,” replied Taylor. “It’s right here, Sir. One of the camaristas (cleaning ladies) turned it in.”

“I was speechless,” said Taylor. “I come from a place where no one gives anyone a break. In my work, it’s dog-eat-dog. There are some of YOU at this table that would probably not have given me my money back!” he said jokingly. “However, I was always told that there are so many banditos in Mexico and here some little gal returns my money. It just made my trip that anyone could be that honest in this day and age and I just want you all to know that!”

I informed him that she probably turned in the equivalent of about 3 or 4 months salary and his mouth dropped. He went on to say he made sure to find the young lady and thank her plus give her a reward and proposed a well-received toast with his amigos.

I bring thousands of clients into Baja and one of the most frequent questions I receive is about crime and honesty. “Is is safe to bring my family?” “Can we walk the streets?” “What are my chances of being robbed?” “What are the chances we’ll get shook down by the policia?” I sometimes really just have to shake my head. I won’t deny there’s crime and some places are more dangerous than others, but I can say the same about many places in the states too. However, many of the questions I get are almost as unfounded as my Mexican friends asking me if it’s true that drive-by shootings take place daily on every Los Angeles street corner. (It’s what they see on Mexican TV all the time.)

I can only speak from personal experience and quite a few years of living and working in the Baja. I would say that crimes follow people and where there are the greatest concentrations of folks like Tijuana , Ensenada, Mexicali the incidence of crime will be highest. This is especially true nearer the border cities which also have higher numbers of transient population.

However, speaking in general of the majority of Baja, the response I usually give folks is that if you use common sense, it’s no more dangerous than most American cities and probably safer. Ergo, I wouldn’t leave the proverbial diamond ring on a barroom table and expect anyone to know anything about it 10 minutes later. Nor would I leave my wallet on the beach and expect someone to return it…but then again, someone just might. I mean, when was the last time you left your house or car unlocked in your home town? Where I live in La Paz, a city of almost 200,000, that’s pretty common.

One example I like to give was actually told to me by a Mexican police officer. In his example, if you were to lose your child in the U.S., chances are you’d think the worst. In Mexico, your child would probably be in someone’s home watching TV and 10 people would be out looking for you instead. When they found you, you’d be the one to get scolded for losing your kid! He admitted that unfortunately there is crime, but debated whether it was worse in Baja than anywhere else. Again, he stressed the use of common sense, e.g. do not camp on remote deserted beaches; do not leave valuables lying around; do not flash cash. He said that these were things people should do even in their own home towns. As far as trouble with police, he said most police take their jobs very very seriously and consider themselves professionals. Unfortunately, there are corrupt people and it’s unfortunate that so many old stories of mordida (bribes) are hard to extinguish. However, I still remember his words, “Americans should remember that we welcome our neighbors, but they should remember that they are guests and should act like guests. Our laws are our laws and just as America has it’s own laws. You would not go to a neighbor’s home and act improperly.”

More often than not, stories of great kindness and honesty abound. In one of my favorites, my amigo was traveling up the Transpeninsula Highway on his way back to the U.S. He stopped to eat in Loreto and accidentally left his briefcase with money, documents and identification, but didn’t discover it until he was nearly to Ensenada many hundreds of miles away. Frantically, he was able to call back to the restaurant where he had eaten. To his great relief, he was informed that someone was actually driving up the highway to find him. They had found his address and had intended to find someone to bring the briefcase across the border to his home some 700 miles away. He backtracked to meet the driver and gratefully found his briefcase and his contents fully intact.

In my own travels up and down the Baja, I’ve had my car towed out of sand by cows. I’ve had my busted vehicle stored for months by strangers until I could come back to get it. They never asked for a dime. I’ve been fed by folks who slept on dirt floors. One amigo drove 100 miles to a gas station and back to bring me gas and a hose clamp and refused to accept anything from me except some cans of soda and beer. I had one small hotel owner actually take out newspaper ads offering a reward for anyone who could help me locate a valuable camera I had misplaced because he felt so badly that I had lost it. (It was completely my own fault.) A famous sportfishing writer who came to see me when I lived on the East Cape accidentally left his own camera and diving gear in a duffle bag in the back of a taxi. It was worth thousands of dollars, but he climbed on a plane and flew off. He didn’t realize it was gone until he had been home a few days. The taxi driver didn’t realize it was in his back seat until several days later either ,but promptly and apologetically returned it to me to make sure it got to my friend.

Bottom line, you’re no more in danger in Baja than if you were at home. It’s probably no worse and in many chances, much better than in your own hometown. Sure, things can happen in Baja and do, but more often than not, they are aberrations as thousands vacationers visit Mexico yearly and have incredible experiences. Baja welcomes you, but still try not to leave your money on the floor!

HURRICANE WEBSITES - PUBLISHED Sept. 2004 - WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS SEPT. 2004

HURRICANE WEBSITES

At the time I’m writing this, we just got through one of those weeks when it seems 90 percent of the conversation here in Southern Baja had to do with the weather. Still smarting from several slammer hurricanes (chubascos) in 2003, locals and anglers alike spent the week worrying about whether the most recent growler on the radar screen (“Xavier” for anyone checking) would or would not hit the Baja peninsula. It was a nerve wracking on-again-off-again week! Captains and clients eyed the southern horizon nervously each day on the water. “Are those clouds the hurricane or is that just a wall of normal high clouds?” Vacation planners kept hotels, fleets and airlines jumping answering weather-related questions and “what if?” scenarios. “Will I get a refund?” “Will the airlines cancel it’s flights?”

All for naught…this time! The hurricane never hit. Some breeze, a little chop, perhaps a smattering of rain and it was like going to the doctor and finding out all you had in your aching stomach were one too many burritos and uh…a little “wind.” The chubasco veered out into the Pacific then north before blowing itself out over un-populated desert. No flights were cancelled. No fishermen had to “wait-it-out” at the Giggling Marlin. The hotels never wrote a single refund check!

However, folks were understandably nervous. In a land that gets very little rain except when it falls all at once, running and falling water can be extremely destructive. The land can only absorb just-so-much! Drains about as old as the conquistadores that weren’t meant to handle anything more than spilled beer have been clogged with dust, dirt and trash since the previous rainfall. Electricity, gas and water, often taken for granted in the U.S., even in the worst times, don’t have backup systems to deal with emergencies. Roofs made of tin, palapa or other materials only get tested when it rains (never!) and arroyo bridges that get washed out each year seem to take EXACTLY 360 days to fix….just in time for the next storm! If your house gets washed away, there’s no FEMA check in the mail; no disability insurance; social medical program or unemployment check to look forward to! Further, in a land where the tourism dollar makes the wheels go-round, any type of interruption in the height of the season can literally ruin a fleet, hotel or other business.

Technically, in Baja, the “hurricane season” encompasses early June and into October. Now, that doesn’t mean that if you visit Baja you’re in for it. It only means that most hurricanes hit during those periods, but frankly, your chances of running into a chubasco are about as likely as say . . .rain in Los Angeles from December to April. Could happen…most likely not! Frankly, Baja sees the majority of it’s tourism…anglers, divers, vacationers, families, adventurers during those “hurricane” months so it can’t be all that bad.

However, one of the cool things is that technology has now enabled us to keep an eye on things via the internet. It’s amazing how many folks glue themselves to their computer screens if anything ominous shows up on the Baja weather situation. One of the two sites, we use most often are:

http://www.nhc.noaa.gov/


which is the United States National Weather Service’s Hurricane Center. Even the Mexican TV stations use it to predict the path of potential storms and we see the NOAA maps on the Mexican TV at night. The site is great in that it gives regular breakdowns, advisories and discussions of storms identifying them as actual “hurricanes,” “tropical storms” and the like. What’s of special importance is the fact that the site posts maps predicting the path of the storm over both 3 and 5 days time periods showing potential areas of rain and flooding along the course of the storm.

Another site that we use a lot is the “Weather Underground.” The site rocks. It provides specific weather for dozens of major Mexican cities plus gives forecasts for the coming days. Even for fun, this is a handy and fascinating site that can be found at:

http://www.weatherunderground.com/global/MX.html

This site has up-to-the-minute weather info, winds, forecasts, moon phases, photos, radar images, current temperatures, etc. It’s just packed with info that would be helpful even if you’re not headed to Baja! In addition to these sites, there are many fishing/weather sites dedicated to giving you up-to-date info and the numbers are growing all the time. These are just two recommendations.

As I am on the water almost daily, these are great helps. However, in Baja, often the best way to tell the weather is to simply LOOK OUTSIDE! Baja is a vast area with terrain that can vary from mountains to deserts and hills to plateaus, not to mention several thousand miles of coastline and thousands of square miles of attenuate ocean. In all my many years here, I have discovered that there are probably as many micro-climates as there are topographical features. What might be happening in one spot is not necessarily true only a few miles away or even several hundred yards away! I have seen hurricanes turn and go sideways not even spilling a drop. Over the course of a few miles, I have gone from rain, to sun to wind to even fog. Many times, my fishing boat has been getting soaked with rain yet, a boat a quarter mile away never even gets under a cloud!

For instance, folks often ask me about a prediction for “rain” or “thundershowers” in the East Cape, Loreto or La Paz. However, sticking my head out the office window or climbing out on the deck of the boat, it’s as dry and sunny and hot as a toaster! Not a cloud in sight. Wassup? Well, as I figured out one day, the many mountains in these regions are often clouded. Technically these mountains are part of the adjacent city and are getting precipitation. The mountains only a mile outside of La Paz, for example, are technically “part of La Paz” and while it’s visibly raining on their summits, anglers and tourists on the beach are still slathering on the suntan lotion and at the end of the day, I know I’ll still be seeing a lot of lobster-red bodies that never saw a cloud let alone any rainfall! So, despite what you may be reading off the websites, there’s still much to be said for looking outside or calling ahead!

Baja Seasick Remedies -published Sept. 2004 - Western Outdoor News

BAJA SEASICK REMEDIES

I just got off the water with clients about an hour before starting to write this column. In fact, I’m still sitting here in front of my laptop looking out over the Sea of Cortez and I realize I still have sand on my feet and some dried fish goop on my forearms. It was one of those banner days, amigos. We worked an area called Boca de Alamo on the pangas on the northern East Cape and it was the type of day when the waters go flat. You can’t tell where the sky ends and the waters begin. The sun seems to go from zero to a huge orb of white in nano-seconds and the fish come to the bait like tossing a French fry in front of a 9 year-old!

Conversation came around to seasickness. I don’t know how or why, but I think it was because I noticed a patch behind someone’s ear at the same time I saw one panga troll slowly by with some poor hombre draped over the bow like he was either sleeping it off or just praying someone would stop the danged boat. . .All of this in the middle of a pretty decent dorado bite with guys screaming and yelling and generally having a great time. There’s that ONE guy not having such a good time. If you’ve never been seasick, I pray you never do. If you’ve been seasick, you know what I’m talking about. You want someone to drop kick you into oblivion to put you out’ve your misery.

The client I was guiding for had been really worried about getting sick and I told him that it CAN happen, but generally, the Sea of Cortez is a lot more gentle than say…some lakes! Anyway, I told him to park a patch behind his ear if was really that worried since there’s no sense in ruining his day…let alone anyone else’s day! (MY day in particular to be honest!) But, being his first time panga fishing on the Sea of Cortez, he was pretty amazed and said he really hadn’t needed the patch at all. . .unlike the guy that had just gone by in the passing boat.

I guess seasickness has plagued folks since the dawn of dirt. I worked on quite a few boats and you’d be amazed how many crews and skippers do get sick from time to time and how we cope with it. I’ve certainly heard some doozies about how to cure it! It’s a lot like curing hiccups…except if you’re wrong, the consequences are a lot more…uh…let’s say “colorful” and uncomfortable!

One I heard involved sticking a lit cigarette in your ear! I’ve heard this from several people. Picture that. It’s a bit funny like sticking chopsticks in your nose at a sushi bar. I am told that putting the lit cigarette in one ear creates some kind of vacuum in the inner ear that helps stabilize the mechanism that causes the imbalance. Guys swear it works.

Another is drinking a lot of beer. OK. No laughing. En serio, amigos! Sounds like another fisherman’s excuse to tip a cold one, but some anglers drink beer on boats “to keep my balance and prevent seasickness.” I didn’t say these work. I said I’ve heard some doozies. All these years, here in Baja I just thought fishermen were drinking beer” because.” No other reason needed. As in “I drink beer because!” I had no idea there was an actual medicinal motivation!

Most recently, I heard that if you pinch your nose while you’re getting nauseated and inhale like you’re hyperventilating, it will also knock down the urge to visit the rail. Most assuredly, it will probably cure hiccups!

I dunno, I guess if you do al three…stick a lit cigarette in your ear; drink a beer AND pinch your nose while inhaling the comedy aspects should be enough to cure any mal de mar!

Seriously, however, I do get to deal with the issue quite often and fortunately, it’s not as bad as some folks think when they come fishing in the Baja, at least in the Sea of Cortez. It can be a whole different story on the Pacific side. Anyway, first rule of thumb is that prevention is better than the pain. If you think you’re gonna be sick, take something ahead of time. You paid all this good money to be here with your family or amigos. Fishing is a special time. Don’t blow it away because you’re blowing chunks. Take your seasick tabs or use the patch or whatever works for you whether it’s a band or electrical device or staying off the greasy foods. Think about not only your comfort, but also the comfort of your amigos around you. When the dorado come tearing through the chum and someone yells “hot rail” it’s pretty embarrassing when It’s YOU coming down the rail and everyone is diving out’ve your way. Maybe, when all is said-and-done, you really will not need the prevention, but take the precaution rather than finding out too late. It’s definitely too late when you’re turning green and the label on your medications say “Take 2 tablets THREE hours before travel.” You’re already toast!

When I’m guiding, I always bring a few things of my own in case someone says they might get queasy or they are already getting queasy. I bring chewable children’s Dramamine or Bonine. You don’t need water and you don’t necessarily have to take it before the event. All the better, if I can get the client to take the stuff before going fishing. I also carry generic meclezine. (No, not mescaline!) It’s the active ingredient that’s in many popular travel sickness medications. It’s cheap. It’s available over-the-counter AND it doesn’t make the client as goofy and sedated as some of the other types of medicines. It also doesn’t last as long in the angler. If it turns out to be a flat day, bueno! The stuff is out’ve their system instead of lingering all day.

For on-the-spot first aid, I always carry some crackers, some ginger tablets, and some Pepto Bismol with me. Ginger ale or ginger cookies work OK too, but the tablets are best. I’ll give them to clients who get past the point-of-no-return. It helps in most cases to knock down or knock out the nausea or hold down the acid.

Finally, it seems to go without saying, but doggone it, get enough sleep. Try not to see how late you can stay out at Squid Roe or win the Macarena contest at the Giggling Marlin Roe the night before you climb on the cruiser. Go easy on the nachos and jalapenos at Tio Pablo’s in Barriles or El Nido in Loreto before you board the cruiser. And, for Pete’s sake don’t try to “improve your balance” too much all night by chugging Coronas or sticking lit cigarettes in your ear! You’ll never live down the photos your amigos take of you.

NOTHING LIKE LOCAL KNOWLEDGE - PUBLISHED AUG. 2004 - WESTERN OUTDOORS MAGAZINE BAJA BACKBEAT COLUMN

NOTHING LIKE LOCAL KNOWLEDGE

A few years ago, I was running boats outta Los Frailes on the southern East Cape of Baja down below the hotel corridor of Bahia Palmas. It was another promising morning, as are many in Baja. Baja mornings are like that when you’re headed out to the fishing grounds. You know what I mean! No matter what the day was like before, today is a new day, amigo! Anything can happen!

Whether it’s the first day on the water after weeks of angst or just the anticipation from yesterday’s outing, there’s always that current of excitement coming down to the beach or landing in the morning. It’s controlled chaos! You can smell it and taste it and it’s in your very marrow…the Baja sun starting to break through…the morning chill getting edged out quickly by the heat you know is coming…a bit if diesel mixed with salt mixed with a bit of smoke from the cookfires on the beach and wafting from the hotels…the chatter among other fishermen…the horseplay…the guys who aren’t quite awake or shaking out the marguerita cobwebs…the vets dragging themselves out with swagger and purpose or simply taking their own sweet time…the rookies so jacked up either talking big or quietly looking nervous and absorbing every word and nuance of the vets…the low idle rumbling of the boats as they move in and off the beach or hold their positions in the line-up…the little cacaphonic snippets of Spanish and Spang-lish jumping back and forth…boat to boat…dock manager to captains…anglers to captains…

“Hola, Miguel? We gonna catch some big tuna today?”
“¡Claro que si, Señor Jackson! ¡Andalé! Today we find the big porpoise school for you! Watch your step!”
“That’s what I like to hear hear! Miguel! Gotta win back my money from Bob today!”
“Shut up, Jackson. What happened after that 4th tequila last night? What boat am I on today? Who am I fishing with? Where’s my gear? Oh my head…”
“Boat number 5…Boat number 5…where’s the Jones group for the Brisa del Mar? Your boat is ready! Jones group…Did anyone wake those guys up? Hijole…los cabroncitos! Hahahaha…
“¡Vamanos! Vamanos! The fish are waiting, Señores! “
“OK, Miguel! Hey, Greg, do you have the bait money? I bought yesterday, Butthead!
“I bought the beer last night! Man, I’m so fired up. Gonna catch me a bull dorado today yes indeedy! ” (belches while holding a beer and scratching self).
“Oh man…I was gonna change my line last night!”
“¡No te preoccupes, Senor! Are these your lunches?\ Vamanos! “
“Oh my head…”

You get the idea. You know what I’m talking about. And then there’s the gear! It was on one of these mornings that I’m reminded of how all the techno-gizmos we bring fishing are often no match for that little something called “local knowledge.”

I hadn’t been working this stretch of coach very long, but I had been out guiding almost all season on the pangas and mini-cruisers for the hotel I was working for at the time. However, on this particular day, a group of clients had paid me to accompany them on their own cruiser instead of using one of the regular boats and crews. I think we must have loaded half a tackle store onto the boat that day! Chingon…there were a lot of gold reels and bent butt rods on that boat! They even has some kind of custom designer hooks made in France or Italy or somesuch! As we loaded, a few kids were on the beach and one of them asked for a few hooks and leads. One of the guys dug into his 50 pound tackle bag and pulled out a few loose hooks and weights. We watched the smiling kids trudge down the beach with their fishing line wrapped around beer cans and soda bottles. Oh, if it could only be that simple again, I remember saying to myself!

Pulling away from the beach, I waved and smiled at a few of the hotel crews who now had a day off. They were going to take out one of the boats to catch some fish for the worker’s camp. As much as I like fishing with clients, I enjoy fishing with the amigos.” W ish we were all going out together. I knew they would be missing a day off work, but they had been going for several straight weeks and figured it would be good for ‘em to play for the day.

Well, as is sometimes the case, its was one of those Baja days when the ju-ju just isn’t with you. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. The hot sun and slow drone and vibration of the motor soon killed off the small-talk. It dropped the hungover guys into slumber and had the rest of the clients well on their way like slow-motion bobble head dolls rolling with each swell. We trolled mile after mile of seemingly deserted ocean! No matter what I did in the cockpit, none of the fancy electronics, state-of-the-art rods and reels or “flavor-of-the-month lures” could raise a sniff from even a needlefish! When you’re guiding and being paid for it…gawd…these are the WORST days as it feels like there’s an ever-growing bullseye on your back as if it’s YOUR fault the fish aren’t biting!

Suddenly racing up our stern came one of the hotel boats and I could tell it was my amigos from the docks! Life stirred on our own boat as they came abeam about 30 yards and smiling and waving held up a sailfish and several tuna. Since, they didn’t have a radio on their boat (not all that uncommon back then!), I couldn’t converse, but we all smiled and waved back. Good for them! They certainly got our attention and they slowed down and put out their own trolling rods to our starboard. Using hand motions, and a lot of yelling and laughing they wanted to challenge us for a case of beer! Well..now we’re talking! My clients got jacked up again! A little excitement and friendly competition! Shirts vs. Skins! Home team vs. Vistors! I looked around at our weaponry…we had it all! But we hadn’t done a thing all day! But I had to smile because I saw my amigos drop back some pretty interesting lures behind them and started to laugh. I told my clients that I thought we had just been hustled and that they should get the case of cerveza ready!

Well, over the next 3 hours, we didn’t get a strike. Nada! Not even trash fish! But the boys next door? Don’t ask…hammered one more sail…two dorado…and another tuna! My clients couldn’t believe it.

As we all got back to the beach later that afternoon, there was a lot of good-natured yakking as beers got exchanged and my friends willing shared a good portion of their fish with my clients. However, my amigos refused to tell my clients what they had used for bait or lures, despite much cajoling!

Later over dinner…“You said we got hustled?” said one of my clients .Laughing, I said, yes. I explained. I saw it when they first put their lures into the water. You see, without the benefit of the 100 dollar lures we had been dragging all day, I saw the “local team” using splashers and jigs made out’ve Orange Crush and 7-Up soda bottles! They drain half of it out, depending on how deep they want them to run. They also put crumpled aluminum foil; gum wrappers and other shiny trash into the bottles along with some shiny pop tops; a few pebbles for noise and rig it all up like a jig or splasher. I’ve even seen them paint eyes and stripes sometimes! The things jump, and bubble and kick up quite a commotion!

“You got home-towned, amigo!” I said with a grin.
“Well, how come we didn’t do the same thing?” said my client
“You were pretty adamant about only using all the fancy stuff you had brought down and besides, if I had rigged up something like that, you’d have all laughed me off the boat,” I explained.

“You’re right. Doggone, I learn stuff everyday! Fortunately, it only cost us a case of beer and tonite, I’m gonna scrounge up some soda bottles from the trash!” He said grinningly pulling on a puff of his Cubano and blowing a big old cloud into the warm Baja night. “Tomorrow is another day. Ask those guys if they wanna bet TWO cases tomorrow and we’ll have some fun!”

As I walked later that evening with the clients down the beach…me to my house and them to their rooms, we passed one of the beach fires on the sand. We noticed it was the same group of kids that has asked for some hooks and lead that morning. The kids were sucking their fingers and laughing obviously enjoying a great barbecue, but stopped when we approached. One stood up with a big grin as he recognized my clients.

“Gracias por los “hooks,” Señor,” he said. “¡Mire (look)…!”
He opened a battered dirty ice chest and we all squinted inside as our eyes adjusted to the firelight…full of lobster and pargo…Increible! (Incredible!)

“Dang.” I heard someone in the group say. (It wasn’t exactly the word used, but you get the idea.) “Maybe I”ll stay in the beach and fish with these kids tomorrow instead” said someone else in the group.

We all laughed as they took the path to up to their rooms and I walked smilingly down the beach to my own little place. Just another day in the Baja. . . and tomorrow would come again! Andalè pues…

ESSENTIAL GEAR - PUBLISHED AUG. 2004 -WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS

ESSENTIAL GEAR

In my business taking folks out fishing here in Baja, I get to see a lot of pescadores unloading off the airplanes or piling out of vans or onto our boats each day. Standing among our drivers and captains, we often shake our heads at how much stuff gets brought own. It’s pretty amazing! Bag after bag and box after box and tube after tube…not to mention…here comes the 150 qt. marine ice chest!

This is not an unusual conversation at the airport as I often greet the guys coming in: “Hey Mr. Jones! Welcome to Baja. Hope you had a good flight! The vans to the hotel are outside at the curb. Is this all your uh…stuff? “

“Great to be here finally, Jonathan! Yup, this is just MY stuff! “(shaking my hand and huffing as he puts down the camera bag, small duffel, snorkel bag and followed by a porter, looking like a Himalayan sherpa with a six foot stack of tubes chests and luggage!) The other nine guys are right behind me and are ready for anything…blue marlin…sailfish…giant tuna…dorado…yellowtail…You name it! For the next TWO days of fishin’ , it’s gonna be beer and bendo!” says Mr. Jones with a grin as he leads the posada to the vans.

TWO DAYS?????

I shake hands and high five ‘em all and watch the parade of amigos and porters akin to a 3 month African safari conga line to the waiting vans and drivers who sigh knowing there’s some serious loading to be done! I can only smile and shake my head. God bless ‘em all for bringing all the toys because it wasn’t too long ago that I just about needed my own personal entourage to haul my gear to Baja. By golly, if the ladies can bring a change of clothes and accessories for any vacation event, then I think I need 15 rods and reels; 20 jigs; every manner of hook; 5 each of every type of sinker; 30 assorted feathers…blah, blah blah…I MUST have them!

For you Baja veterans, tell me it isn’t true! You will spend 2 hours packing your clothes consisting of 3 “lucky” t-shirts; one pair of fishing shorts ( you swear you’ll rinse ‘em out each night!) and (maybe) few pairs of underwear! Yet, you will take 3 weeks to pack and re-pack your fishing gear “just so” and you’ll do it several times a week. You are soooo busted!

Well, after working in Baja now for almost a decade and, being on the water sometimes hundreds of times yearly , I can tell you now that we’ve both been busting our collective humps for nothing!

Sure, bring it if you need it and always remember that if you lose it, there’s often no place to get another of those freaky-awesome-propeller-lures with the polka dots and aluminum tinsel skirt. However, one of the joys of fishing the Baja is the mere simplicity of it all! Think about it. When all was said and done, how much did you really use on most trips? Some hooks? A few leads? Maybe a heavy iron to the rocks? (That Leatherman you left in the cantina does not count!). There’s a lot to be said for keeping it simple! Just remember the local kid with the sparkplug and old mono wrapped around a beer can that outfished you on the last trip!

First things first, do a little research. Talk to the fishing fleet operator or person who booked your trip. Read the online boards and keep track of the fishing trends or the regular fishing reports submitted on these pages you’re holding.

What type of fishing are you going to be doing? Live bait? Trolling? Deep jigging? Surf? Bring what you need.

Who are you fishing with? Amigo, if your buddy is bringing 10 rods and you’re bringing 10 rods and each of you has 10 of the same-colored feathers and jigs, you’re only doubling yourself and your boat is gonna look like a porcupine out there and maybe hampering your ablity to move around the boat or fight fish.

More importantly, what type of fish will most LIKELY be biting in the place you’re going to fish and at the time you’re going to be there? I’ve actually had anglers ask me things like, when is the best time of year to catch blue marlin in San Felipe or how many dorado can they expect to catch in Loreto in DECEMBER! In the Baja, I guess anything could happen, but the likelihood of it happening is about like my chances of someday being able to grow more hair on my head! Pack your gear accordingly and I’ll keep my bandana on!

For the most part and under normal circumstances, the following would be my essential Baja quiver if I was going to be fishing on a boat. If you’ve never been down, hopefully, this will give you some ideas. For you Baja vets, you’ve got your own style, but maybe this will give you some ideas to save your back, not to mention the back of the bellman, porter, or skipper who has to help you schlep it all.

OUTFITS:
1 Thirty-pound live-bait outfit
1 Forty –pound live-bait outfit
1 Fifty or Sixty pound meat stick that could be used for trolling or deep jigging
Make sure the line is new and drags are smooth. Shorter beefy rods with quick tapers are probably better than long rods, not only for packing purposes, but more importantly casting distance is not that important (just move the boat!) Further, the shorter stick will give you that backbone you need when that bonito bite turns into a bull dorado; sailfish or yellowtail!

TERMINAL TACKLE:
Again, it depends on what you’re fishing for. I would bring one dark and one light-colored feather (pick your favorite) in sizes to match what you’re fishing for. I would bring 3 casting irons (one medium and two heavies). I’d pack a few crank-type baits like Rapalas, Yo-Zuris or other reputable brand matching the targeted species. Bring an assortment of hooks. I guarantee that you will NOT need 100 of every size for a typical 3 day Baja fishing trip! Same with lead. Be picky. If you’re not doing bottom fishing, there’s no need to bring those 12 oz. torpedo sinkers. Pack a few swivels and a few odds and ends and yes…bring that funky lure that always catches fish no matter what.

ESSENTIALS:

To this, add camera, sunscreen, hat, sunglasses, windbreaker, duct tape and plastic bags as well as your travel documents (two copies for safety). You would be surprised how many anglers forget some or all of these things. If you take medications take a few extra days supply.

NOW STOP BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF!

Of course none of this is meant to cover all conditions, odd situations, seasons and species of fish. But, it’s a basic beginning and an END! Remember, these are just the basics, but in most situations, you’ll get a lot of bang for your buck. You’ll tweak it to fit your own style. By all mean, however, don’t forget the freaky-awesome-propeller lure with the polka dots. It might just be the hot jig for the trip. OK, bring two in case you lose one! I gotta go re-arrange my tackle box again. The red lures go here. The chrome ones go there…

FALL TUNA - PUBLISHED AUG. 2004 - WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS

FALL TUNA

You know, there’s nothing quite like a tuna and the feel of that first run as it jams and rips off line racing wherever tuna race to! Pound-for-pound, with perhaps certain members of the jack family (aka yellowtail and their kin), nothing kicks like a tuna! You tuna boyz know EXACTLY what I’m taking about. You KNOW the adrenaline rush! You know that feeling of rod-bending power where the fish is pulling so hard you’re praying on the rail for fear that the force of the fish is literally going to jack you over the side like a ragdoll and you know there’s bruise forming where the gimbal is rammed into your gut! You KNOW that first run that doesn’t stop as you high-stick that puppy and watch the line peel. Dang! Can I have an “AMEN!” Listen, you’ve probably caught that marlin already and you know that the 120 pounder with the pointy face was fun, but (yawn), it was a wussie punk compared to the 40 pound dawg of a yellowfin that just rolled on your bait!

Say what you will about the taste of the meat, but as a fighter and gamefish, the popularity is hard to argue among sports anglers, especially in Baja waters. I mean, there’s a reason that San Diego landings pile up with anglers climbing all over each other when the albacore siren goes off. There’s a reason that long range boys salivate over thoughts of big yellowfin off the Ridge or Mag Bay. Did someone say there’s big paddies off San Quintin? Why do my reservation lines and e-mails suddenly spike and tank-topped anglers tumble out onto Baja airplane runways when the tuna bite is on? Why is the WON Tuna Tournament so popular? This is tuna time, Baby!

Simply put, tuna kick butt. If you’ve never done the tuna tango, ask someone who has! A lot of you S. Cal and SW United States anglers know the beast of which I speak. However, I still get a lot of anglers , especially folks from other regions, who just don’t have any idea what we mean until they actually get bit my “Mr. T.” I’m not even necessarily talking about big tuna or even prime time tuna like yellowfin, bluefin, bigeye or even albacore. What about bonito and skipjack?

Many of you have heard something like the following…

“Sure, you may have caught your 30 pound king salmon on the Kenai in Alaska and high-give for that 5 pound hook-jawed German brown you got in the Rockies that busted your chops on the flyrod, but, amigo…that’s just a 12-pound bonito on the end of your rod and it’s taken you up the rail for 10 minutes already! “ Ah yes…feel the power!

Often, late summer and fall fishing can be spectacular for the yellowfin tuna that roll into Southern Baja waters. These are not to be confused with yellowtail, which are members of the jack family, but rather these are the critters that, along with albacore, often end up in your Chicken-of-the-Sea can and are also known in some places as “ahi,” or “Allison tuna.” Ranging in size from 5 pound “footballs” to 200-300 pound “gorillas,” Baja is a prime world-class destination for catching these sluggers.

There’s any number of methods for catching tuna. Often found as schooling fish, trolling is one of the most common methods of locating fish, especially fast movers. To cover the most area, feathers are regularly used. Many anglers will run their colors with the darker colors at dawn and dusk and the brighter colors during the daytime. Personally, I prefer a different method. I don’t think color makes that much difference (heresy!). I subscribe more to the theory that swimming action, movement and shapes are more important! Therefore, I like to use lures that have heads or actions that cause the jig to pop, shimmy or wiggle. I like to run my darker lures closer into the prop wash to create darker shadows in the white water and my lighter-colored lures outside to catch more reflection off the sun and water. Finding moving porpoise or birds working an area are definitely worth checking out! If I know that fish are “fer shure” in an area, either because of birds and porpoise or just because the area looks promising or I’m lucky enough to have electronics, I won’t wait for the fish to come up! I’ll bring the lures down to the fish using deeper running jigs like lipped-lures, heavy runners and the like, making sure to watch my boat speeds so that the lure “swims” properly.

If I’m bet-the-farm-certain that the fish are around, I’ll slow troll by cranking down the RPM’s on the motor. I like dropping back a live bait, if I have some, like a small mackerel or sardine coupled with the occasional one or two live baits (If I’m using sardines) tossed into the wake. Now-and-then, a small handful also goes over.

One of the lesser known tricks I picked up years ago from one of my skippers when I’m working the cockpit or doing the chumming, is to pop the eye out of the bait before launching it. I know…OK…I’m being mean and all, but by doing this, the bait will flip around on the surface a bit longer in circles generally causing a commotion in the wake rather than quickly jetting off. Can’t tell ya how many times that produced instant boils as the fish fly up to the surface to feed! Once they’re up and boiling and the frenzy is on, pin baits on hooks and get ‘em going!

One of the most effective and often unknown or ignored methods for taking tuna, especially the larger ones, is called “chunking.” The San Diego long rangers have used if for years with devastating effect and it works just as well from your private boat or panga in Baja. Essentially, it consists of taking “chunks” of other fish such as other tuna, bonito, bait fish, junk fish and tossing these cuts into the current…one or two at a time from an anchored or drifting boat.

Another chunk is then hooked and set adrift with the rest of the chunks gently floating and drifting down with the current. Line is continually peeled off a free-spooling reel to keep the baited chunk drifting naturally. The cardinal rule is “Dead bait does not swim!” If your slack line suddenly goes tight and starts “swimming away,” it’s time to slam the reel into gear because someone has your bait in it’s mouth!

In Mexico, my first experience with this technique was watching in somewhat restrained horror as my panga skipper (who now works for me!) took a few handfuls of our precious live sardines (that I had just paid 20 bucks for!) and killed it by tossing it rudely into our plastic bucket to die. To that, he added some of the already dead guys at the bottom of the bait tank. I watched incredulously as he stripped off a bunch of line from my reel into a small pile on the deck and pinned a dead sardine to the hook. As he let the boat drift, he then took all the dead bait and dumped it over the gunwale. Grabbing my hooked bait , the captain tossed it also into the slowly sinking morass of silver slivers and scales. Was this guy nuts? I looked on skeptically as my slack line and bait sank away into the depths with the rest of the mess when suddenly WHAM!!! My line goes tight and my skipper yells, “Reel! Reel!” I kick in the brakes and the rod goes bendo! I look up from the now-straining reel and my skipper just flashes a broad smile and taps the temple of his head knowingly! Ahhhhhhh…chunking! That’s what he was doing! I had done it on long range as a passenger and when I had worked boats. but never ever thought it might be applied to other applications!

Since that time many many years ago, that technique has been responsible for countless tuna. It works especially well when nothing else will. It works when nothing seems to be able to bring the fish to feed on the surface. If I’m guiding, it’s the technique I will most often employ, especially when things slow down.

Being diver and always bringing a mask and snorkel aboard, I’ve had many an opportunity to see how and why this works. I’m no marine biologist or expert on fish behaviour, but this is how I figure it. Fish are like people. No one likes chasing their food around. It’s why we LOVE our buffets! All you can eat right in front of you! It’s nice to have your chow all lined up for you when all you have to do is open your mouth!

I’ve seen some pretty impressive things underwater while fishing like this. As the bait drifts down, it tends to disburse because of current and gravity. The secret is keeping the hooked piece of bait among the other pieces. That’s why we keep the line slack and the reel out of gear to keep the hooked bait drifting naturally. If you let the line tighten the bait ball drifts away. By the same token, if you let your bait drift too long all the bait drifts and falls away as well. Time to start over! However, it’s pretty fascinating watching the tuna feed on these candy chunks! A tuna is a powerful fast fish, but I’ve seen them slowly and lethargically literally swim around the chunks and leisurely slurp up one chunk…then another…then another! Well, surprise! One of those pieces has YOUR hook in it! Often, I have seen the tuna continue to lawnmower through the bait zone even after it has picked up the hooked piece. I’ve caught dozens of tuna and found their stomachs gorged with chunks or whole pieces of bait! That’s why if you’re on the rod and reel and your bait starts swimming away, it’s time to grab your socks and throw the danged reel into gear!

DON' PUT AWAY RODS - PUBLISHED AUG. 2004 - WESTERN OUTDOOR NEWS

FALL FISHING IS NO TIME TO PUT AWAY RODS!

Well, I guess the trolling rotation has come around and I’m up and putting my best colors out for the team and into the prop wash! Hope it’s long and productive for all of us!

It seems that just when we were finally getting used to the summer bite around Baja and trying to figure it all out, fall is here. While I’m sure a lot of you might be thinking more about new school clothes for the kids and football in the states, don’t miss out on what’s happening south of the border!

Even when I was in California and working boats up north, it never surprised me that just about the time everyone was putting out the last embers of that Labor Day barbecue, they were also stashing their rods and reels too! Take a look at the counts at your local landing sometime. It’s like the numbers of anglers fall off the edge of the planet! It seems that some folks think that the fish just roll off the chew and stop biting once summer is over! I notice that even moreso here in Baja. With the exception of some weeks when the big tournaments rumble into Cabo and the East Cape, things get a bit ghostly at times! But re-think that! Fish aren’t reading any calendars…at least not the type you and I hang up on our refrigerators! On the contrary, fall fishing can be some of the best fishing of the season. I mean…there MUST be a reason that all the big money tournaments by Western Outdoor News, Bisbeees, Gold Cup, etc. are held in the fall!

But, it’s not just the well-know spots like Cabo and the East Cape! From the Pacific border of Esenada to San Quintin and south. And on the gulf side from Rosalia to La Paz and all the little pueblitos, bahias, puntas and playas in between, the fall is ripe for some outstanding fishing! Even before I set up my operation in Baja, I would always set out my calendar and chart up all the spots I was going to fish during the coming year. I would ALWAYS circle September or October in Baja and make at least one or two trips. The hardcore boys and Baja vets know what I’m talking about!

There’s a few reasons that the fall months can be especially good for you:

First, chances are, it’s gonna be a little cooler than in the summer. It can still be hot and there could still be bouts of humidity, but generally speaking, you’re not looking at the blazes of July toasting your coconut.

Second, again generally speaking, the summer storms are over, especially the deeper you go into the fall. Waters can be just as warm as summer without the air heat as well as clear and flat…just perfect for spotting those tuna boils 100 yards away; that kelp paddy up swell; or those finning dorado or tailing marlin! As well, water visibility can be incredible for getting bait, or if you’re a diver or spearfisher, for some awesome underwater activities.

Third, crowds are gone. Absent showing up right in the middle of Cabo’s Squid Roe during a tournament, many of the summer crowds are gone. Pick your spots. You could be the ONLY person on the beach or the only panga on the honey hole! Smaller crowds translate to less fishing traffic hammering the fish. Baja has more than 2000 miles of coastline so there’s a lot of choices without having to bang elbows and combat fish with 20 other boats on the same meter mark! Fish still have to eat. You might as well be the person to feed ‘em and drag a lure across their faces or drop a bait on their heads!

Fourth, prices seem to go down. Air rates often drop after Labor Day although they could , of course, be higher during tournament dates or to popular locations. Same with hotel rooms, in that there are some deals and packages to be had if you look around. Hotels want heads-on-beds! If you’re driving the Baja, look for less tourism traffic near the border as well as along the Transpeninsular. Hotels will have better vacancies. . Gas availability will generally be better. If you stay away from driving during holidays, you also tend to get fewer cargo trucks and local traffic as well.

There’s a few caveats, no doubt. Like all places near the ocean or involving ocean activities, I speak only in generalities because things can and do change. The deeper you go into the fall, the greater the chances the winds will come up and start rolling out’ve the north. This is especially true inside the Sea of Cortez. If you start looking too deeply into say…November, fishing could change drastically in terms of species and weather. Where I am in La Paz, winds could start shifting in late October. Same for the East Cape. Loreto and points north could get winds even earlier. Or not! Also, book as far in advance as possible to get the best rates and availabilities and if at all possible…Do NOT travel on Sundays! Everyone wants to go places on Sundays (like back to work the next day!) and it’s traditionally the most crowded and most expensive time to travel.

Just some food for thought, amigos. Fall is a great time for the Baja!

WINTER TACKLE TWITCHING - Published Dec. 2004 - Western Outdoor News Dec. 2004

WINTER TACKLE TWITCHING

I’m a professional fishing and diving guide in Baja, Mexico. I’m used to being in HOT weather., but as I’m here in the states at the moment on business, I”ve got a jacket and my wool boots on. Yes, it’s winter and off-season for fishing. I’m sorting through all the thousands of fishing photos I accumulate all season and keeping fishing videos playing on the TV in the background, jumping every time the clicker sounds off on a fishing reel.

So what now?

First things first, it’s a good time to go over your gear. Check what you lost and replace what you busted. Don’t wait until the fishing reports are starting to rage in the spring or summer and everyone and their brother starts to scramble. Sure, there’s the holidays and relatives and those unbeatable underwear sales after Christmas, but a little forethought goes a long way right now.

Check your rods for nicks in the guides that can shred line at the worst possible time. Get those replaced or re-wrapped. Finally give your rods a proper cold water and soap wash, then lightly spray and wipe with WD-40 that will give it a nice sheen again and help remove some of the minor dings. Store them covered or at least standing straight up or straight across in an un-stressed position. Make mental note to return the rods you borrowed, especially your neighbor’s classic Sabre rod you’ve now had for 2 seasons. Resist the temptation to wave your rod in the air like a sword when no one is looking. Kick gravel in driveway as you realize there was no warranty on that $29 swap meet rod you broke on that barracuda. Curse yourself for spending so much money and the vendor who “ripped me off, man!”

Take a look at your reels. Bust a lot of tuna or yellowtail this season? Go hand-to-fin with a marlin or two? Get rid of all the old line. Check the drags. Replace them if necessary. Take the reels to a shop and have a full maintenance done on them. Again, a nice light coat of WD-40 helps to buff them up. Don’t put line on them until you’re ready to fishing again so that the line doesn’t retain memory and go stiff on you. Mentally remind yourself that this is what you’re going to say when you return the borrowed reels with no line on them to your brother-in-law.

Terminal tackle? This is the fun part. We call it “tackle twitching!” You know what I’m talking about. This is where you plant yourself in front of your TV during football games and spread everything out on the floor. Even if you’re in your boxers put some shoes on so you don’t impale your foot on a hook! You then sort and re-sort all the red lures, chrome jigs, half-ounce egg sinkers and every single hook over and over and over again into their neat little compartments and make mental notes on what to replace. You take out the feather and trolling lures and you make them “swim” through the air making “whooshie” noises as you envision some sea critter attacking it in a froth of foam. You take all the rusty stuff and put them in a “special” container. You know darned well that you might just need that $2 rusty hook again sometime so you add it to the thousands of “vital” rusty hooks you’ve accumulated over the past 10 years. You also make a bold mental note that you now MUST visit the tackle store which now takes on the importance of say . . .attending your daughter’s graduation! You also make mental notes as to what fishing trade shows you must NOW attend in order to get the best deals and how you’re going to justify all this to your significant-other under the guise of “saving money in the long-run!”

Oh, by the way. . .check your freezer! Remember all that albacore you absolutely HAD to fillet for canning, smoking and giving away to your brother-in-law, the gardner, neighbor and mailman? Forget it. That was 4 months ago. The foil-wrapped/ zip-locked plastic bags in cold storage are so freezer burned that the only thing you can do is steam it for the cat. Make another mental note to release more fish this year. Uncle Joe can catch his own fish!

Take out all your fishing magazines from the pile in the bathroom library. That’s right. .. the one on top of the clothes hamper. Stack them by region and dates, freshwater and saltwater. Remind yourself that this is the year you make a real FILE system for these. Throw away anything dated more than 3 years. Make a mental note not to let so much steam from the shower ruin the great photos. Re-read several articles about that new Mexican resort you’ve always wanted to try. Drool at the pictures of big tuna and dorado. Imagine the warmth of hot sand under your bare feet and salivate at the thought of an icy Pacifico exploding at the back of your throat. Start to cut out advertisements reminding yourself to call and check on prices. Spread map on floor while sitting in your boxers. Put t-shirt on and watch that fishing video again. You start to make a mental list of your fishing chums who will stop whatever they are doing to go with you. How much vacation time do you have? Can you invite the boss? Hmmmm. .. some of the guys wanted to make this a “couples trip” this year. “NO!!!” you scream from the depths of your brain as the testosterone levels rise like a billfish to the bait. “That’s what Vegas is for!”

It never hurts to dream! Best fishes to you and yours for the coming year and season!