PHOTO: Here's some samples of great inshore stuff to play with. The top three lures are "crank baits" characterized by the "lips" that cause them to dive to different depths when retrieved or trolled. The bottom two lures are plastic/rubber "swim baits" that are also amazingly lifelike and have weight in their heads that cause them to sink, but lifelike rubber tails that undulate back and forth like real fish when retrieved.

YANKING AND CRANKING!

Originally published in Western Outdoor News the week of Dec. 3, 2008


Well, it appears it’s about that time of year again. Seasons are finally changing. Those warm, balmy days of summer and fall look like they’re behind us.

You can feel it down here in Baja, even if you’re not out on the water. It’s cooler in the morning. Even at the southern tip like Cabo, East Cape, and here in La Paz, it’s darned chilly in the morning! I could see my breath yesterday while fishing (because it was cold, not because I drank too much the night before!) and I wished to heck I had brought a sweatshirt on the boat.

The sun does eventually come up warmly. But, the sun is at a different angle during the day. Shadows are longer and there’s a definite coolness to the water. No matter where you are on the Pacific or Sea of Cortez, it’s windier too. More northerlies and afternoon whitecaps aren’t unusual.

It’s also “quiet time.” Most of the fishermen have gone home now. Very few people on the water. It’s not quite the holidays yet either. A lot of emptiness and a lot of space. I like it!

There’s also very few little traffic on the fishing holes! Oh yea!

It’s time to grab the lighter tackle and work the inshore species! Especially, if the winds are blowing and I see those whitecaps out there…heck…I don’t wanna get wet and beat up if I don’t have to. I’m a woose!

If we can get bait, all the better for chumming, but it’s not necessary as compared to those times during the season when we’re out on the bluewater with clients. The late fall and early winter are my “jerking and cranking” time!

It’s the time when I get to pull out my plastic and rubber lures that may have sat dormant during the season. These are the “swimmer lures” that look like creepy-crawly rubber bugs and grubs or the molded ones that look like little rubber fish. The true “jerk baits” literally look like a long- tapered piece of flexible rubber that wiggles. Normally, these are weighted with either a small weight or have a “head” with a single hook protruding from the body. (Ask your tackle shop).

The other part of my arsenal is the “crank bait.” Like the rubber/plastic lures, bass fishermen know what I’m talking about. These are the hard-bodied molded lures that usually look like fish and have a “lip” protruding from the front that enable them to dive when trolled or retrieved. Several treble hooks are usually attached. Some of the Japanese models of these are incredibly life-like. For you old-schoolers, I’m referring to the Rapala-type lures.

I often get complaints that the big stores like Bass Pro Shops and Cabelas often don’t have the right “Baja gear.” Believe me, they have this stuff…in fact, you could find it in your local Walmart too. It’s not real difficult.

Slow trolling the crank baits is a no-brainer. Run the boat slowly so the crank bait doesn’t jump and skip but stays down low. Get ready for anything. Just about anything will hit these at this time of year…jacks, sierra, cabrilla, pargo, pompano…you name it. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to do it so it’s a lot of fun. I like making the boat go in a big lazy “S” pattern so the lure runs and drop and pauses. Sometimes when the lure is just sitting suspended is when it gets blasted!

Big boat don’t work so well as pangas , kayaks or other small craft that can go slow with minimum noise. They also get nice and tight to structure.

But casting this assortment of lures is where the real entertainment comes in . With the rubber and plastic lures, I enjoy casting them around structure such as jutting or submerged rocks and reefs or sloping banks. I used to try “swim” them fast, but I find that swimming them painfully slow or jerking them almost imperceptibly gets the biggest results. Fish seem to pounce on them.

Sometimes, I literally let them sit…move them again…sit…swim a bit. Just be ready to lift up on the rod and set the hook if the crazy things suddenly swims away on it’s OWN! That means hookup! All kinds of things come out of the rocks to eat these lures….big cabrilla, yellowtail, amberjack, dog tooth and mullet snapper and grouper are the types of fish that come out from the crags to ambush things swimming by their hideouts. Don’t be surprised. I’ve found spots where every single cast results in a different species of fish!

It’s cheap. It’s fun. It’s easy.


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

A WEE BIT OF CHEST POUNDING

Originally published in Western Outdoor News the Week of Nov. 16, 2009

This isn’t really about Baja or fishing, but is about living and being in Baja. Actually, perhaps it has more to do with being in America and being an American.

Having been in the newspaper, radio and TV business as a reporter and even as an average Joe in the U.S. your perceptions are understandably shaped by the views and reporting of what the media feeds you. I’m not suggesting anything sinister (that’s a whole different article for a different newspaper!), but you are what you hear, read and see.

I have the unique perspective of living outside the United States 80 percent of the time. Specifically, I’m down here in Baja. I get to watch Mexican TV and read local and national Mexican newspapers. Even my TV gets CNN, but it’s CNN from Hong Kong so it’s really British-slanted news.

But, more-to-the-point, I get to see and hear and talk to friends and associates at street level about their perceptions of what’s going on in the world and specifically the United States.

I was in Mexico with several dozen of my fishing clients when the World Trade Centers came down in 2001. What an odd sensation to watch tragic world events hit your country and to be an outsider looking in. It’s a pretty helpless feeling. And there was no way to leave Mexico and get home. All the flights had been canceled as the U.S. went into lockdown.

And now there’s 2008 and the elections. Given the state of the U.S. economy and the world economy in general that has been directly affected, I don’t think I’ve ever heard so much chatter and discussion about the elections among local Mexicans. If I only had a peso for everytime a conversation started with, “What do you think about the elections?” or “Who do you think will win…?”

In some respects, it was a little awkward. Many of my Mexican friends were actually better informed about the issues and politics than myself! Certainly, issues about the economy were primary, but many of my amigos also know enough about the war in Iraq, race, education, immigration and crime. It sometimes sent me scurrying to the internet to verify what I had heard.

Interestingly, just like Americans are affected by what they read and hear, not surprisingly, so were my Mexican friends subjected to the views of their own media regarding rumors, mud-slinging and hearsay between the candidates. I was often asked to verify what was truth and fiction as if I were somehow in-the know. (Frankly, I’m not. I love news, but I’m not a big fan of politicians or politics).

So, the election came and went with great anticipation. Yes, I voted absentee. I guess I’m a little disappointed. I don’t think I have yet to vote for a winning candidate. That’s my curse. If I vote for you, you will lose.

But from what I could see from the outside-looking-in and from what my Mexican friends tell me, we Americans should be awfully proud. Even ex-pats like myself.

As one of my friend said, “In Mexico, we don’t have many choices. You Americans should be proud that you get choices. So many of Mexicans think that it’s a gringo world north of the border, but it gives hope that ANYONE can rise above their status in America to be anything they want to be. A doctor, a businessman and even a president. You even had a woman running as well. That is something fantastic for you Americans.”

“I don’t think you Americans voted for a black man or a white man,” he added. “I think you vote for the best person you thought would help your country. It was above politics. I wish Mexico was more like that.”

Another told me, “We watched your candidates all the time. I think you use the word, “classy” in English. Unlike Mexico, no one threatened violence. There were no riots or demonstrations. The candidates acted like gentlemen and statesmen.” (Wow. He was talking about OUR politicians?)

Even after the elections, I had one of my business associates tell me how many Mexicans saw that America had “good losers.” He said, “After our last election, the loser threatens a revolution and people took to the streets. Your Mr. McCain congratulated Mr. Obama and shook his hand. I was impressed. Do you know how lucky you are to be an American?”

Yes, I do. That sound you hear is me puffing out my chest a bit. Everyone is watching. God bless us all.


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

ROAD TRIP!

Originally published the week of Nov. 4, 2008 in Western Outdoor News

Road trip! I always liked the sound of that, but especially, if it meant we were headed south of the border. Before I moved down here to Baja, there was nothing like the anticipation of rolling across at San Ysidro or the Otay Mesa checkpoints.

I was never one to linger long in Tijuana or even Ensenada if I was on a roadtrip. Those were places I came for a weekend soiree to party, play, surf, fish, and do things that grew legendary as I grew older.

Most stories about those times invariably begin with “We started with a shot of tequila then…” Usually downhill from there. Lost many a brain cell along the way to the evils of distilled agave and a mescal worm or two.

The object, however, on a road trip was to get as far and quickly away from the border as possible. To me, those towns weren’t Baja. No disrespect meant because I’ve had a lot of fun there, but those were almost an extension of San Diego. Baja meant…”out there!” Not “ right across the border!”

Drive all night if you had to. But drive. Get away. Get down there. Everything’s strapped down. Extra water. Can of gas. Throw in some 10/40 oil. Rods and boards. Don’t forget the rope and shovel.

Beer? Check! Can’t forget ice, but dude…we gotta stop at the mini-mart. Can’t live on just the bags of Cheetos you brought. Doofus. What are you thinking? And don’t forget the toilet paper this time either!

And somewhere with the lights many hours behind you the Baja show starts. Or rather it unfolds. Some say it reveals itself.

The horizon starts to glow and silhouettes the cactus soldiers that suddenly materialize gently out of the darkness. Boojum trees, desert scrub and rounded boulders catch the orange rays peeking over the eastern mountains. An empty road ahead that curves to vanishing point across a desert plain. The last vehicle you saw was hours ago. A rusty old pickup with one headlight seemingly moving no faster than time itself in this timeless place.

The cities are somewhere “back there.” And your phone hasn’t rung since San Diego and there’s no signal out here anyway. You chuck that iPhone into the glove box with a grin.

“Hi, I’m out of the office this week. Please leave a message.” Beeeep. Another grin.


You open the truck window and inhale. The city smells are replaced by an earthy freshness tinged with salt from the ocean you know must be just over the hill. The desert chill of the morning causes you to pull your over-sized hoodie a bit tighter around your collar. Pour another warm cup of coffee from the thermos jug between your legs. You smile and realize you’re finally miles from nowhere.

Your buddies are curled up in a jumble. Junk food wrappers from the Jack-In-The-Box peek out from under jackets and an errant French fry or two are on the floorboards. Will stop somewhere along the way.

The low rumble you hear isn’t your all-terrain tires thumping along the Transpeninsular Highway anymore. Your tummy is waking up along with the rest of the Baja desert. Blues and purples now mixing with the sunrise orange make a beautiful palette to greet you. Sure beats the 405 freeway and staring at brake lights.

But gonna have to stop for grub along the way soon. Mmm…steaming huevos rancheros, fresh cheese and tortillas. Maybe they’ll have some of those great tamales. Must be someplace coming up ahead.

Should look at the map soon. So many little pueblitos. Find some place with a big rusty Corona sign out front and a Coke logo painted on the wall and a bunch of plastic chairs. Someone’s mom is the cook. No menu, but the best food on the planet. Those are the best.

Look for someplace with some truckers parked outside. Me and Rob ate at a really great place last time. Bunch of kids running around and laundry in the yard. Jerry’s never eaten road food before. It’ll blow him away.

Wake up the boys? No matter. They’ll wake soon enough. Everyone has been so juiced getting ready for fishing and surfing. Musta spent 2 weeks packing gear and five minutes packing the clothes. Shows where our priorities are! Hope we didn’t forget nothing. Sure got enough strapped to the roof racks.

A crumpled bag of Doritos reduced to crumbs and some CD’s that bounced off the dashboard when you hit the speed bump in San Quintin are on the floor. Nah. I guess we got everything we need. You got your fish brothers on a roadtrip.

The Eagles greatest hits is in rotation on the changer. The first power chords of “Take It Easy” make you grin as you take another sip of coffee. Fingers tap the steering wheel...

“We’ll I’m a running down the road tryin ta loosen my load…”

Si, Senor. You got everything you need and a wide open road ahead.

“…Such a fine sight to see…”

Exhale. Let the decompression begin...Buenos Dias, Baja!



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