Archive for March, 2016

“How’s the Fishing?”

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You REALLY wanna know what we’re catching?

How’s the Fishing?

Originally Published the Week of March 31, 2016 in Western Outdoor News

It was one of those rare days when I was able to get out on the water with one of our favorite skippers and one of our long-time clients. Captain Julio has been with us for 2 decades. Billy has been fishing with Julio and our operation for almost that long. Every year. Twice a year.

Billy’s wife opted out for a day at the spa. And I just couldn’t take another day in the office back in La Paz. Let me out!

So, it was really like 3 old amigos fishing together. Lots of years among us. Families, chins and wastelines had grown. Hair and stubble had gone south. Lots of stories to tell. Good laughs. You know. Guy stuff…

“Remember when…”

“What about the time…”

“There was this girl I met who…

“There was that one fish…”

“We stopped for a quick tequila…”

No one hardly noticed that we hadn’t caught a fish in awhile. Actually none at all. Yawn.

Captain Julio had his rod in a holder and the other lazily draped over the outboard tiller and gripping a cold beer. He was grinning and making an obscure point about Mexican politics and bad soccer teams.

Somewhere under the shade of his ragged straw lifeguard hat, Billy was sipping on another frosty one in between laughs. His bare feet were up on the ice chest and rod loosely under his arm balanced on the gunwale. If a fish bit…Adios! Billy’s rod was going for a swim.

I didn’t even have a rod in the water. I figured if the fish bit, I’d get in the game. I told the boys I was “conserving energy.”

Let Billy and Julio get the bite started. It’s not as if they were exerting a lot of effort. I don’t think Billy even knew if he still had bait on his hook. Julio had let us drift off the “hot” spot half-an-hour ago.

We were so into talking about achy joints and the Los Angeles “Doyyers” that we hadn’t noticed another panga drift up close by and hail us.

“Hey guys, how’s the fishing?” asked one of the occupants hopefully.

“Muy bueno!” responded Captain Julio with a laugh.

“What are you catching?” yelled back one of the fishermen.

“A buzz!” waved back Billy with a Pacifico upraised. He nearly fell over busting a gut with his wittiness…which set me and Julio off as well. I nearly spit out my own beer! Like guffawing knee-slapping idiots.

“What you got in the boat?”

“Bait!” I roared back! Such a smartass…Now I’m doubled. I think Julio almost snorted beer out his nose!

You know how it is. Once you get started everything is funny. No stopping.

I’m sure the other panga mumbled something about us being “knuckleheads and idiots.” And pulled away. We were obviously no help.

Great fishing.

Catching? Less so. At least as far as fish are concerned.

But who cares?

Someone once told me that I was an “alpha dog fisherman.” It was a compliment.

I caught bigger and more. It was important to me. I studied fishing books and magazines. I actually kept records and charts. I poured over “fish porn” on the internet…photos…reports…weather (admit it…you’ve done it too! LOL).

What a nerd. Tunnel vision angler! In many ways, defined by my fishing success.

To me it was FILA…First in…Last out.. as far as my fishing day was concerned. If there was a mud puddle, I’d be looking at it as a fishing hole. All bodies of water were seen in the context of whether it was fishable!

And now here I was, sitting in a drifting panga in the Sea of Cortez. I didn’t even have a rod in the water. Ho-hum.

It just wasn’t that important. I’ve realized that as I’ve gotten older, it’s become less important. I want everyone else to catch fish. I get a bigger kick out’ve that. But, my own rod doesn’t need to be bent.

I was having more fun “catching a buzz” off the day. I was away from the office and e-mails and cell phones. I was drifting in the warm sun on the water and moreso spending time with my THREE good friends…Mr. Billy…Mr. Julio…and the ever-icy Mr. Pacifico (mas fina) !

Nothing to prove.

How many fish would we catch today? Fish limits would not be an issue today. Time was our only limit.

Time.

Not enough time to sit out here forever. Not enough time to laugh about “Los Doyyers”, politicians, bad old girlfriends, legendary fish and funny bar stories.

Three good fishing friends subtley understanding that there were probably more days behind us than ahead of us. And reveling in every moment! Just three knuckleheads drifting in a boat having a great day fishing.

Not catching. Not fish at least.

We were catching a few things probably much more important than fish.

That’s my story!

Jonathan

Jonathan Roldan has been writing the Baja Column in Western Outdoor News since 2004. Along with his wife and fishing buddy, Jilly, they own and run the Tailhunter International Fishing Fleet in La Paz, Baja, Mexico www.tailhunter-international.com. They also run their Tailhunter Restaurant Bar on the famous La Paz malecon waterfront. If you’d like to contact him directly, his e-mail is riplipboy@tailhunter-international.com or drop by the restaurant to say hi!

______________

Jonathan Roldan’s

Tailhunter International

TAILHUNTER FISHING FLEET #1 Rated on Trip Advisor

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Website: www.tailhunter-international.com

U.S. Office: 8030 La Mesa, Suite #178, La Mesa CA 91942

Mexico Office: 755 Paseo Obregon, La Paz, Baja Sur, Mexico

Phones:

from USA : 626-638-3383

from Mexico: 044-612-14-17863

Tailhunter Weekly Fishing Report:

http://fishreport.jonathanroldan.com/

Tailhunter YouTube Videos:

http://www.youtube.com/user/pangapirate

“When your life finally flashes before your eyes, you will have only moments to regret all the things in life you never had the courage to try.”

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“When Is A Day Not A Day?”

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WHEN IS A DAY NOT A DAY?

Originally Published the Week of March 15, 2016 in Western Outdoor News

A French philosopher once penned, “A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.”

And so it was that I was sitting around with one of our captains that work for us in La Paz.

Stubble-faced leather skin. The “Baja squint” from so many years staring into the glare of the Sea of Cortez. Character lines earned from a lifetime on the water make it hard to tell his age. Maybe 65? Could be 10 year younger. I’ve never asked. He’s never told me.

He’s worked for my fleet for 20 of those years. His salt and sweat encrusted Dodgers hat has to be at least that old.

After a sip or two, people often say things prudence might otherwise put the brakes on. And in this case, after a long day of good fishing, a little pyramid of cans was building on the worn plastic Modelo Beer table with the faded logo.

Some small talk. But then…he looked up at me and said thoughtfully, “Do you want to know what I really think of you gringo Americans? “

Oh-oh. Danger. Danger. Little red lights go off in my head.

It wasn’t said belligerently. It was said the way one guy at a bar talks to another guy when he wants to let the other guy in on something…or get something off his chest.

One of those situations we all get into. Even if you said, “No”, they are going to tell you what they think anyway.

Except, I was his employer. And, although I’ve been in Mexico two decades, the gringo label on my head still hasn’t rubbed off.

But, this wasn’t like the guy from the mail room at the Christmas party slobbering over the CEO. I respected this man and considered him a friend.

No matter what you think of yourself, it’s often harder to hear what others think about you. Or people like you. Tread lightly.

OK. Bring it. But, I leaned back a bit defensively. Arms crossed in classic body language.

“I think Americans are good people. Very generous. Mostly very kind and thoughtful.”

My anxiety eased a tad, but I could hear a “but” coming.

He took a sip of beer. Swirled and swallowed choosing his words carefully.

“But (here it comes)…they have too much money (he laughed). And they do not understand what a day is.”

He paused and let that sink in. I looked curiously and cocked an eyebrow. He had my attention now.

“For example, me and a gringo fisherman are the same age. If we both die at the same time, I will have lived twice as long as him!”

Made no sense. I hoped this wasn’t going to be a one-sided rambling of a guy on a buzz.

Be he explained slowly and pointed at me.

“The problem with gringo Americans is that they are always in a rush. Go here. Go there. Running. Even on their vacations, they are always in a hurry. Their day is always too short. Too complicated. They do so many things. They have too many things. But, they never really enjoy what they have. “

“My day is simple. My day is NEVER too short. My day is twice as long as yours! So, I will live twice as long! “ He said with a emphasis and a laugh.

He swallowed a burp. He slapped me on my back; winked at me; and teetered into his house to the call-of-nature. And to think about what he said.

A drunk mind speaks a sober heart.

Left to contemplate, I sat there in that dusty yard under a tree watching him disappear into the house. A bee buzzed the empty beer cans.

With my own beer in hand, I tried to wrap my brain around the logic of a simple Mexican fisherman who plans to live twice as long as me…twice as long as most of us.

Because he lives slower.

It was a hard logic to rebut.

People tell me I’m “living the dream.” Don’t get me wrong. I’m blessed.

But, I’ve often wished my day was 2 or 3 times longer so I could get more done. I live with a cell phone in one pocket. Another phone in my hand. A clipboard in the other. Two laptops on my desk and an internal clock in my head that’s always ticking.

The only reason I happened to be sitting for a few minutes with my captain friend was because I had to pick up some work-related equipment he had fixed for me.

And I think of so many of our friends and clients who come down to La Paz to see us. They eat at our restaurant and all of them are glued to tablets and smart phones as they eat. Every day of their vacation, there’s an agenda item that requires a schedule. They live full exciting lives. They talk business, family and obligations even while fishing.

They video everything, but I often wonder how much do they really watch later. Who has the time?

Every now and then it’s good to be reminded not to forget the here-and-now. THESE are the “good old days” you’ll be talking about tomorrow.

The way that sun rose over the Sea of Cortez…that day the tuna exploded behind the panga…the day your kids swam with the whalesharks…the afternoon the lady at the taco cart became a new friend… the stupid jokes you and your buddies told over the campfire that night…the day in Baja you did absolutely NOTHING and didn’t see another person on the beach all day.

These are the days that should be savored and locked in our brains and hearts and not just in our cell phones or stored “on the cloud.” Take our lives down a notch. Live slower. Live longer via the logic of a simple country fisherman.

My cell phone rang. I let it go to voice mail. I sighed and pulled another beer from the battered ice chest.

They say the secret to success is to hire people smarter than you. I’m gonna sit for a little longer with my captain friend.

That’s my story

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