That's My Story

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

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

Read Full Post »

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

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

Read Full Post »

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

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

Read Full Post »

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

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

Read Full Post »

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

Read Full Post »

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

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

Read Full Post »

PARGO SHELL GAME – published April 2006 – Western Outdoor News

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

Read Full Post »

DELICATE SUBJECT – published March 2006 – Western Outdoor News

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

Read Full Post »

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

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

Read Full Post »

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

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

Read Full Post »