That's My Story

When you have to come up with 60-70 columns a year plus articles and every week there’s a deadline, you scramble for just about any idea that can get your cerebral muse cranking out words on the computer that might make sense to someone.

Many of the columns come from everyday experiences or people I meet down here on a fishing adventure. Many of the ideas come from you when you write to me or ask me a question.

I recently got one from a good-guy amigo who wants to come down in February. That’s WINTER in the Baja. There’s some good fishing to be had, but it’s not exactly prime time for catching the sunshine, warm waters and many of the bluewater species that have made the Baja legendary.

He’s coming down with his wife and his sons. He wanted to fish 3 days during the week, but ended his inquiry by saying, “Is it even worth it to be on the water that much?”

I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that.

Of course, I know he was probably referring to whether it was worth it to even fish that many days given the probability of winter-like conditions. He has his heart set on a big bull dorado of which I tried to temper his expectations with the reality that February is not usually dorado time, but there would be other species to catch.

But, his question raised perhaps the bigger question of whether being “on the water” was “worth it?”

About now, as I write this, I’m looking back at a helluva fishing season we’ve had. I think of all the fish. But what I remember most is all the smiles.

To me, that’s what this is all about. Years from now when the fish tales are still being told and the truth has become enmeshed, distorted, and augmented, embellished and still generate laughs, it’s the smiles that will be remembered.

Down here, I don’t sell fishing trips. I sell smiles. I think that’s what all of us do who are in this business. At the end of the day, is everyone smiling? As you pull away to the airport, are there more smiles than frowns?

The battling fish of the last few days have been reduced to amorphous frozen slabs in plastic zip locks stuffed into ice chest. But a smile is a smile is a smile.

Whether they caught fish or nor, are they smiling? Was it worth it?

For most of us…most of you, your time on the water is limited. Your vacation time is limited. The time you have with your family, friends and loved ones is finite. You only get a certain number per lifetime. We will not pass this way again.

I can ask the dad who watches his young sons get excited over their first fish if it was worth the time he tore himself from his busy work. The screams. The laughs. The Kodak moments. They will never be 10, 12 and 13 ever again. Mom doesn’t care that she spent 3 days packing. It was worth it.

Ten guys now all with families and responsibilities had all been high school buddies so many years ago. But today they’re together poolside with beers and nachos. Missing waistlines and hairlines. Weary from the day-to-day meat grinder of running businesses and raising families. And today nothing but laughs. Many stories beginning with, “Remember when…?” Or, “How about the time…?” For a few days, they get to be Kenny and Joey and T.J. Instead of Mr. Baxter, CEO. Pull my finger! Har-Har! It’s worth it!

There’s the couple who just celebrated 40 years together still holding hands here on the beach and looking at each other over a sunset dinner. Ask them if it was worth it. How many sunsets have they seen? How many are left?

I had several different clients facing serious medical problems. The prognosis was not good. We both knew this might be the last Baja trips ever. How many good days in the past had they spent on the Cortez watching sunrises and fish breaking? Birds diving. Cold beers and spicy tacos.

We promised we’d see each other next season. You betcha. But we both knew the likelihood was not good. We were saying good-bye and we all knew it. It’s different saying good-bye when you know it’s the last. Right now, every day is worth it.

I had a gent who was a vet of World War 2 here. Still going. Eyes still-twinkling. Over conversation, he quietly said, “Phillipines, Leyte, Manilla City.” That was enough. “I’ve seen a lot,” he said. “I was just trying to stay alive. I was a machine gunner.” That was all he had to say. I think he would say being her in the sunshine with his wife laughing and fishing with his grandkids was worth it too. But, fish had nothing to do with it.

There’s an old saying that “God does not count the days against you spent on the water.”

We only go through here once. You will never have this day again. I hope it’s spent smiling. Whether the fish actually bite is irrelevant.

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