BAJA ROAD TRIPPING

Originally published the week of January 2, 2007 in Western Outdoor News

Back in the day, when I actually had time to drive up and down the length of Baja we’d do all kinds of idiotic things hauling all manner of toys through the Baja desert. Most of them are things I would never ever do again!

As I look back, it’s amazing no one got hurt or we didn’t lose more stuff or damage more vehicles or have more crisis. But that was also part of the lure of Baja. It was ALWAYS an adventure. Nothing was ever really as it appeared or as planned and that was the allure because you always pretty much laughed through it when all was said and done.

Back in the day, I would literally drive non-stop from the border to Cabo in about 19 – 22 hours. If you’ve never driven the Baja it’s not like wizzing down the interstate back home. While hardly a donkey road, Baja’s main Highway 1 is not a road you take lightly. There’s blind curves; rocks; herds of critters crossing; animals snoozing on the warm pavement; other vehicles going too fast/slow with highlights/no lights behind/in front of you; zero road shoulders…and that was on the GOOD parts of the highway!

I would drive like a madman; take care of biz in Cabo or La Paz then rest about 3 hours and turn right around and drive back to Los Angeles. I’d rest a day or two then drive all the way back…on a whim! It was almost like a commute. Not exactly phi beta kappa thinking.

Most of the time I was hauling things for folks like fishing gear; kayaks; boats; computer parts, etc. You name it and it was probably in my van at one point or another. I once did a favor for a hotel owner who craved cases of Polish sausage, cheddar cheese and fresh mushrooms in the days before those were readily sold in Baja. He wanted it in it in 48 hours and was willing to pay. With a bonus if I was even faster!

But that didn’t stop me from doing things like running my gas tank well past “E” and hoping to find a Pemex stations “on the other side of the hill.” It didn’t stop me from driving through the night of freezing Catavinia’s mountains with the windows rolled down screaming at the top of my lungs trying to stay awake.

It didn’t stop me from driving with no spare tire. No flashlight. No spare gas. No maps. No cell phone (no cell phones in those days). No spare oil or more than say, $100 bucks in my pocket. But, I did always carry toilet paper and perhaps a small cooler of stale sandwiches and sodas. I traveled alone and usually never told anyone I was going.

I once hauled 9 kayaks tied to a trailer. I stopped for gas in El Rosario around dusk. Two hundred miles down the road I had to answer the call of nature in the desert. I did a count and realized…1, 2, 3, 4, 5…hey what happened to the other 4 kayakas? Well, in the strong winds of the passes, they had actually been blown off the trailer when the wrapping straps I was given broke. I drove 5 hours back unsuccessfully looking for 4 of the seventeen foot kayaks in the dark.

Another time, I “volunteered” to help a friend drive down a 24 foot sportfisher with tuna tower. Only problem was that the tuna tower was so tall it wouldn’t go under most standard phone or power wires.

I ended up spending most of that trip riding down the highway hig up in a tuna tower with a big broomstick. As we approached wires, we’d slow down and I’d push the wires up high enough for us to get under. Amazing that I wasn’t fried at one point.

As a postscript when we arrived in Bahia Concepcion, my work was done. It was dark. I climbed into the truck and went to sleep. Others put the boat in the water. Unfortunately, no one secured the anchor line and in the dark the boat floated off and out of the bay. Adios…Rumor has it alcohol was involved! Oh no!

Another time, in the dark, I did run out’ve gas. It was too late to walk back to the town I had passed a ways back or hitch hike so I set up camp in the rocks in a shallow arroyo. I could hear a lot of coyotes that night.

Early in the morning, I woke with a scream and a sore head! Rubbing my noggin, there were teeth marks in the side of the nylon backpack tent I was using right where my head had been. Peering out the screen two coyotes were scampering down the arroyo in the early morning light. Danged things actually drew a little blood off my scalp. I guess I should have had it checked out but since I’d never heard of anyone getting sick from a coyote bite, I let it pass.

I could go on and on. The point is, there’s still a lot of adventure in the Baja. But make some plans. Going off half –cocked like I used to do only invites trouble. I get all kinds of e-mails from readers asking for advice on driving the Baja.

Do some research. Hit the internet. Hit a bookstore. Gene Kira (“The Baja Catch”) has an incredible book about driving the Baja as do several other writers. Be prepared. A little research time can be the difference between an adventure and a crisis. As good as it can be, the Baja can still be very unforgiving to the negligent.

So many times when confronted by a problem, I caught myself saying, “If only…” I was just lucky and it was a different time.






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

PHOTO 1: ROOSTERFISH

PHOTO 2: JACK CREVALLE

PHOTO 3: POMPANO

DON'T KNOW JACK!

Originally published in Western Outdoors Magazine


A lonely stretch of pebbled sand beach. Small waves rolling and swirling around your ankles. The cast. The arc of lure and line through the air landing with a minute splash where the darker blue water fingers up to the shallows. The retrieve. The bump.

Stop. Retrieve again. Three cranks. Another bump and this time the reel handle freezes in mid-turn and the rod arches as a heavy silver body launches itself and lands with a flat whoosh. The fish burrows down. The angler leans in for the hookset and…

The lure pulls loose and the line flies back as rod and angler go from tense exhilaration to relaxed disappointment. The lure flips back and hits the water. The angler cranks once and Zzzzzzzzzzz….hit again! With all the slack line, it’s impossible to set the hook and again, the rod limps and angler grins.

But the lure is still out there and this time a surging “V” of water towards the lure now only yards in front of the angler. And before he can crank again, WHAM! Hookset and stick! This time it’s fish on and the slugger surges up the beach then cuts back towards deeper water in a bulldogged effort to snap the light spinning rod.

A lot of cabin-fever-bound folks sit home during the cooler months of spring gnashing their teeth; watching their old fishing videos; and generally chomping at the bit for the sun to start warming the Baja so they can chase tuna, dorado, marlin and other glamour fish. Counting the days…

But the Baja spring offers a type of fishing much overlooked, but encompassing several of my favorite things. One is light tackle fishing. The other is fishing the many members of the jack family. It’s also relatively cheap and easy. It’s a heady combination!

Listen, if a local kid with some old fishing line wound around a beer can and using a spark plug and rusty hook can do it, this should be as easy as dipping a tortilla chip into salsa. Right?

It’s definitely not gear intensive. Can you say Tom Sawyer with a bobber? Ok, it’s about two steps above that. If you can snag the trout or bass rod your kid forgot in the garage, you’re ready to charge. You know, it was the one you bought two Christmas’s ago that came wrapped in cellophane that had your kid all fired up until the kid unwrapped the iPod the grandparents gave. That was that. And the rod migrated under the bed and finally into the garage.

All the better if you have something from your local Walmart / K-Mart/ Target or similar. Like I said, we’re not talking breaking the bank. My own shore rod cost me about 30 bucks. The reel about the same. It has 10 pound test on it. It’s about a 7 footer with a light enough tip to cast the little batch of lures I carry in a plastic box that fits in my pocket or backpack.

Lures consist of an assortment of shiny things and rubbery creations. I like shiny spoons and chrome lures that resemble the small shiny baitfish that hang out along beaches and rocks. Perhaps a heavy popper and a few small castable crankbaits are also in there.

The plastics consist of smaller swim and jerk baits. There’s some new ones that are so realistically patterned after baitfish, I’m half-tempted to put them in a live baitwell. A few grub and curly tails for good measure get tossed in or ones that look like small shrimp or crabs. If they have a little sparkle in them, all the better.

Colors should resemble what’s out there. If you see or know of a particular baitfish, then copy it. If there’s sand crabs or other mollusks or shellfish around ditto. As a personal preference, I don’t know why motor-oil colored plastics have always been effective for me.

Listen, don’t go nuts on this. Down boy. I know we all love to find reasons to go to our tackle show “on a mission.” But, even just a handful of this terminal tackle will be fine.

The rest of my stuff is what I wear daily anyway. I always carry a sweatshirt or windbreaker I can take off and wrap around myself. It can be breezy this time of year.

The rest of me is t-shirts, shorts and either I’m barefooted or have flip-flops or some kind of footwear I don’t mind getting wet and sandy. Don’t forget the wide-brimmed hat. Pack some dikes and either pliers or surgical hemostats and we’re off to see the lizard!

Do I need a boat? Depending on where you are and how much time you have, a boat, like a panga, kayak or other shallow draft inshore craft is a plus. It will help you cover more water and access areas you can’t hit from shore, but it’s up to you. You certainly don’t need a cruiser for this.

And that’s the other attractive part of this. You don’t need to jam 30 miles offshore to get your jollies! Walk out your hotel door. Take a taxi or walk down the beach. Head to the local marina. Find a breakwater or rocky point.

Incoming and outgoing tides are best, but watch the waters. Swirls, sandbars, underwater structure, birds working or bird droppings concentrated around certain rocks are all indications of fishy waters.

And what of the performers?

That’s the best part. Some of them are probably the most ignored, but best fighting gamefish available in the Baja. Most are probably not great table fare, but make up for it in attitude and feistiness.

Along the shores, you can expect, huge needlefish and trumpets, sergeant-majors, bass, barracuda and a host of others. If you’re fishing anywhere near reef structure, there are a myriad of “aquarium” fish like parrotfish, sheephead and snapper that will drag you back to the rocks.

Around more man-made structure like pilings and vessels, look for snook, pargo, mackerel, halibut, corvine, mullet, ladyfish and others. Don’t let the names of any of these put you off. I’ve seen 20 pounders get hooked in some of the most inane places.

However, my favorite are the jacks. Talk about sluggers. Perhaps no inshore fish can compare with sheer tenacity once hooked. Heck, just watching them feed and terrorize bait can be quite a lesson in aggression. There’s a reason they have been grouped as the “Baja Bullies.” It’s a rogue’s gallery. Some better known than others.

Probably the most exotic and well known are the roosterfish (pez gallo). Flat and full-bodied with their tell-tale dorsal, they swim solo and in schools. This is one fish you might have an advantage being in a panga. These bad-boys move following their bait or whim. They cover a lot of water so moving up and down the beach has it’s benefits. You can often see them. Their dark bodies contrast well against white sand bottoms.

If you’re lucky you can see them schooled up next to shore. They’ll park themselves in certain holes surround by rocks or other structure, indentations in sand or other shelter.

Don’t be fooled. Roosters get big. The world record of 114 pounds was caught right off the beach. There are plenty of 5-20 pounders along the shore but fish in the 40-80 pound class are not uncommon and I’ve been spooled or broken off many times on fish I just couldn’t stop and had no business trying to tame on my spinning rod. But what a kick!

Locals like them, but generally it’s an acquired taste so let them go. If you want one for the table, make it a small one. The meat is pink and not too bad. Larger than that and the meat is dark and stringy.

Their cousins are not quite as big, but can be just as sporting. More common than the roosters are the jack crevalle. Imagine a rooster with a more oval body sans the jester hat dorsal fin of a roosterfish and you get the notorious jack.

A 10-15 pound fish is a bruiser. Hook a twenty pounder and you’re in for a knock-down battle with the odds against you! These guys often move in big schools. Hook one and you can stay there all day losing tackle. I’ve been diving and seen schools with thousands of jacks balled up. Mexicans call them “toros” (bulls) and it’s well deserved. Poor eating so release them.

Better eating…in fact…incredible eating are the pompano. Big chunks, breaded and deep fried served with fresh limes or made into ceviche are a delicacy. Much like their rooster and jack cousins, they are again a flatish body with blunt nose. Imagine a pizza platter that isn’t quite round.

Most of my experience with pompano is on the sandy drop offs of beaches where the shallow shelf slides to deeper water. The pompano seem to hang in deeper water and I’ve mostly hooked them while working a plastic or lure just off the bottom. I’ve never had one blast anything near the surface. However, once hooked, they exhibit the same belligerence as their other members of their family.

Cheap fishing done close to shore when everyone else is on the outer waters getting tossed around is a perfect style for Baja springtime fishing. A lonely stretch of beach. A spectacular sunrise or sunset. A bent rod and screaming reel. Not much better!

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

A BAJA STATE OF MIND

Originally published the week of December 18, 2007 in Western Outdoor News


I was whining and moaning a bit this week.

I had fishing clients. The season is pretty much over. The crowds have all gone and the waters are mostly empty. It’s that time of year. But, I have a few folks who come down some of whom are good friends and regulars.

And I wasn’t really happy.

For one, it’s been cloud, rainy and cold all week. Those of you who know me down here, know that I’m a shoeless, shorts and torn t-shirt guy all year. Formal wear means I’m wearing flip-flops on my feet.

This week, everyone is wearing fuzzy jackets, heavy sweatshirts and you’d be crazy to be barefooting. Bottom line, more or less miserable fishing weather.

And I’m not happy. I have fishing clients and I’m stressing. I want sunshine. I want warmth. I want glassy flat water. I want fish on the chew that jump in the boat when I wave my rod over the water.

As much as I really like these particular clients that are here right now, I really wish they weren’t here because this just isn’t Baja!

It’s like when relatives or friends drop in unannounced and your house is thrashed. You’re a caught wearing the shorts with disappearing failing elastic waistband and you have mattress hair. You’re not presentable. You don’t have your best face on or best foot forward. Can’t you come back another time, Uncle Joe?

Well, despite the chop, and wind, rain and bad conditions, the clients actually caught a mess of fish. They put the wood to the pescado although they were out there in slickers and boots…hardly Baja style!

Over dinner one evening, I leaned over and said, “I’m really glad you had a good day, but you should really come in the summer or fall when we really rock! The dorado go nuts. The sun is out. The hotel is one big party of fishermen and dancing on the bar and celebrating big catches, loud stories and big lies. It’s a hoot! Town is full and the restaurants and clubs are going full turbo!”

The husband looked at me and said, “Why would we want to do that?”

I was perplexed, but what he said next opened my eyes.

“We fish Cabo and the East Cape and Loreto at other times of the year. We come here specifically because it’s the off-season and NO ONE is here!”

I leaned in to listen.

“We always catch a mess of fish even though it’s December. But even moreso with no one here, it’s the one time of the year when my wife and I can be with each other; fish together; learn more about each other. She’s my best friend and we don’t get quality moments like this at any other time of the year.”

“There’s no distractions. We don’t need the crowds or better fishing. It’s a great time to be in Baja because it’s just US,” he said with grinning emphasis.

“The silence is wonderful and it’s just the two of us!” he smiled. And then he looked across the table at his wife who’s eyes were shining in the table candlelight.

The restaurant was nearly empty except for us and a lot of candlelit tables and twinkling Christmas lights. “Silent Night” in Spanish was playing softly over the speakers. The surf broke gently in the background over the last orange embers of a setting sun.

Well shut my mouth and open my eyes too. Deep breath. Take stock. Look around and listen.

Thanks for the reminder, my friends. All is calm. All is bright.








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

THE ROAD TOO TRAVELED

Originally published the week of Dec. 12th 2008. Western Outdoor News


This is a bit of a touchy subject to write about and I’m can already imagine the e-mails that I might get. But, I guess it’s about time I say something about it and throw in my two-centavos. .

Do you ever do something or say something then two seconds later wish you could take it back? Like those TV ads for Southwest Airlines where the rockstar yells out, “Thank you Cleveland” to the crowd and he’s actually in Miami. Or the gal who accidentally launches the pink slip virus at her workplace while goofing around on the internet. You wish you could take one step back and have the moment over again.


Last week, I wrote about Impulse Fishing and jumping in your car basically on a whim and driving over the border to go fishing at places like San Quintin or Ensenada. I still stick by that. I’d do it in a heartbeat.

But, that column was written BEFORE a big story appeared in the Los Angeles Times as well as other publications about the increased violent attacks on tourists driving the Baja especially near the border.

After reading those articles, I wished I had worded my column a bit differently, but it had already gone to press. Like I said, I’d still love to drive the Baja and miss those weekend runs to just south of the border. I’d do it in a minute. But there’s no mistaking that there have been an increased number of incidents against tourists. So, I keep getting asked why I don’t write about the crime issues?


Sure, I’ve heard about the increase in incidents against tourists but I’ve refrained from writing more for several reasons. For one, I have only a limited space to write about a subject that I could write pages on so understand the limitations in this column.

I’ve also tried to keep this column on the lighter side and apolitical. To me, WON is supposed to be about fun. Fishing and Baja are supposed to be about fun. You get enough bad news on the TV and can find plenty in your own daily newspaper. I’d rather write about tacos and tuna than people getting robbed or political corruption (on BOTH sides!).

Second, a lot of what you hear and read about is in northern Baja. It seems the closer you are to the border, the more these incidents increase. I talk to my compadres down here in the south and road crimes of the nature and violence we read about, are almost unheard of down here.

That’s not to say there’s not crime, but even my Mexican amigos down here look at me and ask, “What the heck are you talking about? What road crime? Why is anyone attacking tourists?”

Third, it’s touchy living down here; running a business; and writing a column in a popular fishing publication. I’ve never ever been censored by WON or anyone else who thankfully have given me pretty much free reign to write.

But, I’m not stupid either. There are many good and reputable advertisers who are in this paper. It would hurt them if I said certain things. And, to every story you read, there’s often two sides to every story. For example, several years ago, an angler was beaten by locals. That was the big story. The part you didn’t hear was how he had cheated at a drunken card game the night before and how he refused to pay a panga captain for a bad day of fishing.

I’ve also been subtly warned here in Mexico that I have a high profile and my writing is being watched and read by certain uh…”influential people” so I have to self-censor myself at times from writing things that might be too controversial. Part of the game.

I’m a guest down here. I don’t have First Amendment rights in Mexico. And I work and live and write with that understanding. This is not the U.S. I’m still just a little guy in a big pond down here.

So, let me revise and re-iterate a few things about driving down here to Baja. Many are things I’ve said before. Yes, crime is higher, but it’s higher everywhere! It’s the unfortunate way of the world. The best you can do is not let it govern your life to the point of avoiding life and locking yourself in your room. But minimize yourself as a potential target.

As mentioned earlier, the closer you are to the metro areas along the border, the higher the incidence of crime. Fact of life. More transients. More poverty. Too many people in too little space feeling hopeless and trying to survive.

If there’s places in YOUR community you wouldn’t visit, for Pete’s sake stay out of places you shouldn’t be at either when you come across the border . You may hate tourist spots but stay out of dark bars, narrow alleys, dark campgrounds, lonely beaches and long stretches of deserted road. The intrepid days of Ray Cannon and even Gene Kira are gone.

Don’t travel alone. Have a wingman with you and preferably caravan with amigos. For crying-out-loud, stay sober too while driving for all the reasons you already know about. Drunks are easy victims of themselves and others. ‘Nuff said.

Don’t travel at night. Makes common sense. It’s not like cruising down a U.S. freeway or thinking, “I can make Loreto if I drive non-stop from San Diego.”

Don’t tell everyone you’re a target! Yes, you have all your toys and your lady has all that bling you bought her showing it off proudly. You love to roll with your ATV and with a boat and your pickup stacked with goodies. You pull-up into a little bar some night on the way down the Transpeninsular and proceed to pay with a 100 dollar bill you peel off a wad. You drop another 100 bucks on gas at a little Pemex.

You have more swag in your space than that whole little village will see in a month. You think people aren’t watching you? The smiling guy next to you at the bar just earned 5 dollars today busting butt and is drinking it all up tonite. He’s watching the rich gringo. If it can happen in Bakersfield, it can happen in Baja.

Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of ALL people are good folks. Use common sense so you’re not victim to the small rabble that ruin it for so many others.

I’ll write more in another column.


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