That's My Story

CABO PULMO – Published June ’05 – Western Outdoor News

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ROOSTER HUNT – Published May 2005 – Western Outdoor News

“One…two…three…four…how much do I have to count?” said my anxious client?
“Count to 30 then start counting again until I tell you,” I replied firmly putting my hand on his shoulder as I could see he was getting ready to come out of his huarache sandals. . He looked at me incredulously out of the corner of his eye, but still keeping his other on the 40 pound test that was stripping rather quickly off his reel and out into the swimming-pool-clear-water that could not have been more than 10 feet deep. Somewhere, just beyond eye-sight…down where the sunrays shimmer the water like heat coming off a desert road, something big…really big was swimming off with his bait. There’s an old saying. “To catch a big fish, use a big bait.”

The sabalo (ladyfish) we had been slow trolling up and down the beach for an hour was itself about 18 inches long and about 3 pounds heavy. Anything that might even consider wrapping it’s maw around that piece of scaly salami had to either have attitude in spades or a big pie hole.

I knew that the fish slowly mouthing this big bait had both. “This is the big roosterfish you wanted, amigo. This is why you came down here,” I said from over his shoulder. “Just don’t pull the trigger until I tell you.” I could tell his anxiety level rose a notch or two or three.

“Twenty eight…twenty nine…thirty. Now?”

“Hold.”

More line…”Now?” I could hear the strain in his voice.

“Hold.” ( I was feeling a bit like the guy on guy in Bunker Hill telling the troops not to fire until they saw the whites-of-their-eyes.)

“Now? He’s taken so much line!

I didn’t say anything. I reached over and lightly touched the line and felt the strain. I leaned into him. “Now. Go. Pull the trigger!”

The brake was thrown and he expertly let the line go taught; pointed the stick; and leaned back into the hookset smoothly and in one motion. And the ocean 75 yards behind the boat exploded in a thrashing tail; huge head; and the signature dorsal of the 70 pound rooster. Even from this distance, as the reel screamed, I could see the black racing stripes down the silvery-black body as the fish tore left; then right; then charged the boat as the solid hookup put the rod in double bendo and my client locked into the biggest smile. He had come a long way to hook a big rooster and Baja is one of the premier places in the world to hammer down on one of the most exotic fish in the sportfishing world. Some argue that Southern Baja, especially from the areas south of Loreto to Cabo, are the most productive roosterfish area in the world.

Strange-looking to most, this member of the jack family shares genetics with other more popular and well-known species such as yellowtail, amberjack, jack crevalle, pompano and giant trevally, among others. Thick in body and shoulders, connected to a thick muscular body, these fish are built for power. They also share that same gut-busting attitude that makes all members such a popular fish on rod and reel.

Coming into the Baja shallows generally from about April to July, they sometimes show up as early as February and have been known to stay until December. I may be wrong, but from my experience being on the water, it seems like the smaller fish in the 5 to 20 pounds show up early in the season with the big bruiser bad-boys appearing in mid-summer and getting up to over 100 pounds. I know in our area of La Paz, we have had fish in the 50 to 90 pound class since April.

They can be caught in waters as shallow as literally a few inches as I have seen big roosters chasing bait schools right into the rocks or onto the sands, but normally, working the areas of white sand beaches with a mottling of rock and reef seem to hold the most fish. Being so close, surf fishing is a popular way to jump on these fish with one of the most popular ways being to either throw large chrome spoon-lures into the surf or casting large popper–style lures and reeling as fast-as-you-can and watching the big combs come out’ve the water charging the skipping lures. However, the optimal way is to use a small boat to work up and down large stretches of beach following the fish as they move in search of food source. You simply cover more water. Slow-trolling sardines is effective, but ideally lisa (mullet) are the prime candy bait for these fish. However, if you want to go hand-to-hand with the bigger bullies, slowly trolling a big ladyfish is the way to get bent.

The biggest problem with many anglers is patience. Like a big dog that runs away with a sock, the bigger roosters will often run with a bait and “mouth” it. It’s not eating it. It’s not swallowing it. It’s running away with it. Being too quick on the trigger will only yank the bait out of it’s mouth. Many times, I have seen anglers do the long wait; set the hook and come back with a big bait that is missing eyes, scales and chunks of it’s body, but still alive with an untouched hook. You may not get many chances so the secret is letting them eat. Mostly caught in shallower waters, you don’t have to worry about the fish running deep or pulling out miles of line. Mostly, their fights are characterized by long dashes up and down the beach and more than once we’ve jumped into shallow water to fight the fish knee deep in the surf or running up and down the beach to keep up with it.

Keep the gear simple. Straight-tie a hook to the line and pin a bait on it. Forty-pound string or larger works on the bigger boys, but the smaller fish are a hoot on light spinning, conventional or even fresh-water gear.

One last thing. If you do hook up with a big pez gallo, the meat is dark, tough and sinewy. I know some folks like to make fish soup out of it, but most folks don’t care for the taste so C.P.R…Catch…Photo…Release.

That’s my story…
Jonathan

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THEY ALL SPEAK SPANISH! – Published May 2005 – Western Outdoor News

“How come they all speak Spanish in Mexico?”

That’s how a conversation started one afternoon with one of my fishing clients. I’m sure I made a funny face or something. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. The question was posed in all seriousness. Part of me wanted to crack back some wiseguy remark and another part of me wanted to just shake my head and walk away. Or bust a gut laughing. Duh…seems pretty obvious to me. Last time I checked, we are in Mexico. They do speak a lot of Spanish here for some crazy reason.

But, I bit my tongue and took a breath. The angler was not un-intelligent. It was just such an off-the-wall question and I guess it deserved as much of an articulate answer as I could muster.

What I discerned from the fisherman was basically a bit of frustration with his panga skipper that day. He wanted to interact with his captain. He wanted to participate in the events of the day. Certainly most of us can readily understand that part of the whole fishing experience whether drifting for tuna on the Baja; mooching for salmon in Alaska or sitting in the Sierras with a buddy and casting Velveeta cheese and marshmallows. It’s cool to be able to communicate with your fellow traveler. A lot of the fun of fishing is the social aspect of the chase and hunt and the camaraderie so integral to this wacky sport.

I explained to him that a lot of these guys, certainly my skippers come from little pueblos and fishing families. City guys might be a bit more savvy, but out here in the country English usage might be few and far between. Then I told him a story.

Several seasons ago, I was out with clients fishing near Cerralvo Island. Every now and then, as is custom that time of year, storms will blow in and out. No big. A few drops and some wind and we keep fishing. The sun comes right out. However, every now and then, it really blows to the point where we call them “toritos” (little bulls) which are basically baby hurricanes that last 15 minutes or so, but best to get off the water quick and beach the boats.

Well, there we were and suddenly the skies got dark and wind started to whip out’ve nowhere. Then, the rain started. It wasn’t time to leave. It was time to GO. The clients quickly reeled in their lines and then I heard it. Amid the roll of thunder and crack of lighting, my skipper, who had worked for me for 5 years pulled the engine and screamed, “Let’s get the F outta here!” In totally perfect American street English. Now, in all these years I had barely had this captain speak more than a dozen English words to me at all. Now, all of a sudden as we race for the beach, I looked back at him and in the howling wind I said “What?

“Let’s get the F outta here!” he yelled back as he leaned into the wind and attempted to pilot the small boat back through the growing swells and rain. Then he caught me staring at him and smiled.

“Where did you learn that?” I said

“Learn what?” (in perfect English)

“How to say what you said,” I replied.

“Oh, watching TV, sports, MTV” (in perfect Enlish) he answered back.

Whoa. I was incredulous. I told him that in all the years he had worked for me, he never ever spoke English of any consequence. I told him it sounded like he spoke English very well. Slipping quietly back into Spanish as we gunned the boat closer to the beach, he sheepishly explained to me that indeed he understood English pretty well. In fact, he said, many of the captains at least understand English. Some even speak English fairly well.

However, he went on to explain that he was nervous speaking English in front of the clients for the same reason he thinks Americans are hesitant to try using any Spanish. He was worried that if he spoke English, the American fishermen would think he was fluent and then things would get said the he would not understand. It was better to just keep it simple. It always worked. They communicated well enough and they caught fish. No need to complicate things.

Made sense to me from that angle. I let that sit for a bit still not believing how well he spoke English. As we hit the beach, I looked back at him and said, “So how come in all these years you have worked for me and you didn’t tell me you spoke English and let me struggle so much?

He laughed, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Because all the captains think it’s great fun listening to you screw up your Spanish!”

That’s my story…
Jonathan

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THEY ALL SPEAK SPANISH! – Published May 2005 – Western Outdoor News

“How come they all speak Spanish in Mexico?”

That’s how a conversation started one afternoon with one of my fishing clients. I’m sure I made a funny face or something. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. The question was posed in all seriousness. Part of me wanted to crack back some wiseguy remark and another part of me wanted to just shake my head and walk away. Or bust a gut laughing. Duh…seems pretty obvious to me. Last time I checked, we are in Mexico. They do speak a lot of Spanish here for some crazy reason.

But, I bit my tongue and took a breath. The angler was not un-intelligent. It was just such an off-the-wall question and I guess it deserved as much of an articulate answer as I could muster.

What I discerned from the fisherman was basically a bit of frustration with his panga skipper that day. He wanted to interact with his captain. He wanted to participate in the events of the day. Certainly most of us can readily understand that part of the whole fishing experience whether drifting for tuna on the Baja; mooching for salmon in Alaska or sitting in the Sierras with a buddy and casting Velveeta cheese and marshmallows. It’s cool to be able to communicate with your fellow traveler. A lot of the fun of fishing is the social aspect of the chase and hunt and the camaraderie so integral to this wacky sport.

I explained to him that a lot of these guys, certainly my skippers come from little pueblos and fishing families. City guys might be a bit more savvy, but out here in the country English usage might be few and far between. Then I told him a story.

Several seasons ago, I was out with clients fishing near Cerralvo Island. Every now and then, as is custom that time of year, storms will blow in and out. No big. A few drops and some wind and we keep fishing. The sun comes right out. However, every now and then, it really blows to the point where we call them “toritos” (little bulls) which are basically baby hurricanes that last 15 minutes or so, but best to get off the water quick and beach the boats.

Well, there we were and suddenly the skies got dark and wind started to whip out’ve nowhere. Then, the rain started. It wasn’t time to leave. It was time to GO. The clients quickly reeled in their lines and then I heard it. Amid the roll of thunder and crack of lighting, my skipper, who had worked for me for 5 years pulled the engine and screamed, “Let’s get the F outta here!” In totally perfect American street English. Now, in all these years I had barely had this captain speak more than a dozen English words to me at all. Now, all of a sudden as we race for the beach, I looked back at him and in the howling wind I said “What?

“Let’s get the F outta here!” he yelled back as he leaned into the wind and attempted to pilot the small boat back through the growing swells and rain. Then he caught me staring at him and smiled.

“Where did you learn that?” I said

“Learn what?” (in perfect English)

“How to say what you said,” I replied.

“Oh, watching TV, sports, MTV” (in perfect Enlish) he answered back.

Whoa. I was incredulous. I told him that in all the years he had worked for me, he never ever spoke English of any consequence. I told him it sounded like he spoke English very well. Slipping quietly back into Spanish as we gunned the boat closer to the beach, he sheepishly explained to me that indeed he understood English pretty well. In fact, he said, many of the captains at least understand English. Some even speak English fairly well.

However, he went on to explain that he was nervous speaking English in front of the clients for the same reason he thinks Americans are hesitant to try using any Spanish. He was worried that if he spoke English, the American fishermen would think he was fluent and then things would get said the he would not understand. It was better to just keep it simple. It always worked. They communicated well enough and they caught fish. No need to complicate things.

Made sense to me from that angle. I let that sit for a bit still not believing how well he spoke English. As we hit the beach, I looked back at him and said, “So how come in all these years you have worked for me and you didn’t tell me you spoke English and let me struggle so much?

He laughed, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Because all the captains think it’s great fun listening to you screw up your Spanish!”

That’s my story…
Jonathan

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This past week, the subject of drugs came up. No, Cheech, not that type of drugs. I’m referring to actual prescriptive medications that cross the border. For years, gringos have gone across the border to obtain drugs in Mexico either because it was easier to obtain; cheaper to buy; or didn’t need a prescription. In the “old days” you could get just about anything in a Tijuana or Ensenda pharmacy for a fraction of what you’d pay at your local hometown drugstore. I remember friends who bought just about all they could carry and easily brought it back across the border. Those days have gotten more restrictive and many medications are no longer so easily obtainable. However, jumping across the border to get prescription medications is still very popular.

The discussion centered on the current status of how to get legitimate medications across the border. Enlisting the aid of my good friends, Dr. Nat Rose and his wife Pat, who have spent years in the Baja and run Pacific Beach Urgent Care in San Diego, they dove into the subject online as well as contacting the Mexican consulate. What we found out was typical of so much in Mexico. Basically, what’s written isn’t always what’s done. (For example think about Mexican fishing limits; flying with line on reels; etc.)

Here we go. See if you can follow this:
According to the Mexican Consulate in San Diego CA , to purchase a controlled substance in Mexico, the prescription must be written by Mexican doctor. That doctor must be registered with the Ministry of Health. If not, or if the medication doesn’t require a prescription in Mexico, you still need a prescription from a U.S. doctor to get the meds across the border.

That’s the short story. Dr. Rose, found the more comprehensive details with http://www.mexonline.com/medications.htm. According to their website:
“There are regulations for bringing in pharmaceuticals from Mexico, however they are changing on a constant basis. Although many drugs in Mexico are available over the counter at a pharmacy, certain prescription drugs in Mexico do require a prescription from a Mexican pharmacist, and foreigners have been known to purchase them from people not authorized to issue them. You can be arrested in Mexico if caught buying drugs without the proper prescription and the penalties are stiff, up to 25 years in jail in Mexico.

A prescription is needed when purchasing a controlled substance. This includes painkillers, tranqulizers, and some diet pills. A prescription from a U.S. doctor is not enough. Mexican law requires a prescription from a Mexican physician, and that prescription must have the seal of the state health department.

The pharmacist in Mexico is required to keep the original prescription, but you should make sure you don’t leave the store without a copy for yourself. Also, if you’re in doubt about the classification of your medication, if it’s a controlled substance, the pharmacist will have the official pharmaceutical book with that information.

Many drugs that require a prescription in the U.S. can be bought over the counter in Mexico, such as antibiotics, anti-depresants, birth control pills and heart medications. Techincally these drugs do require a prescription but the law is routinely ignored”.And here’s the important part. It’s what our own country has to say about the subject.

“ According to the U.S. Customs, to bring back prescription drugs into the U.S. you must have a prescription written by a physician licensed in the United States, have it in its original packaging and carry no more than a three-month supply AND you must declare them. If you are caught trying to bring in drugs without the above requirements you can be stopped, have your good confiscated and may be arrested.”

Having lived now in Mexico for quite awhile, from time to time a legit prescription is needed. In practice, this is what I’ve found. I go into a pharmacy and ask for the medication. They tell me I need a prescription but if I go around the hallway in back there’s a doctor there. I walk around and there’s a “doctor” at a desk with a big drug catalog. I pay him say…20 pesos. He looks up the medication and writes a prescription, I walk back around to the pharmacy counter and pick up what I need. Of course, I’ve never tried to bring back medications over the border or tried to order 300 valiums for “personal use” either. Nor will I try. One thing in Mexico, laws and rules might be routinely “ignored” but the laws are still there and if you get caught, it’s hard to argue “but we do it all time.”

That’s my story…
Jonathan

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WORKING THE SHORE – Published April 2005 – Western Outdoor News

I get asked all the time about surf fishing in my area. Being in La Paz, well, I have to couch my answer a bit. When I hear the question, I have to say “No, but….”

You see, mostly when I get asked that kind of question, I know that the person asking really envisions long stretches of pristine beaches with breakers and rocks and structure or sharp cliff drop offs. You know, they’re looking for the “picture book” Baja surf fishing. Can’t blame ‘em, because that’s usually what I envision too. But, where I am in La Paz, the bay isn’t exactly surf fishing heaven. It’s a big shallow sandy bay. It’s pretty to look at and makes for some great kayaking and many a Kodak moment, but it’s not exactly a prime surf fishing destination. However, there’s a lot of places in the Baja that really aren’t that great, at least not by traditional thought.

Take the guy who happens to just want to kill a little time with his spinning rod or baitcaster. He doesn’t want to travel way down the beach to the hot surf spot or maybe he’s stuck around a place where there’s nothing but man-made structure like a marina, docking area or there’s jet skis and tour boats blasting by. But, he’s jone-sing to squeeze in some water time before dinner; before the tour bus comes; before he has to go shopping with his wife for t-shirts for the grandkids. You know what I’m talking about.

The operative word here is “structure.” Look around you. If there’s water and structure, chances are there’s fish. My own epiphany took place a number of years ago, eating at a marina sea-side watering hole. Occasionally, I would hear a big “kersplash” and I was sure I could see dark shapes moving around under some of those mega-yachts. However, being in a big-city Mexico marina, often dark things floating in and around boats are best left alone! I was sure my polarized glasses and ears were being deceived by the hot sun and chilly doses of marguerites.
However, several days later, I was paddling into the marina on my kayak after an unsuccessful kayak fishing trip and happened to be dragging a silver spoon lazily behind the boat when “WHAM!” Fish on! Short fight and a 10 pound pargo later, I had dinner in the hatch.

That got me looking a little closer around some areas that I had previously ignored. I think it was Dick Gaumer, famous for working the bays and inlets of S. California who had told me once that a” marina is nothing more than thousands or pieces of structure.” There are pilings, ropes, debris, wrecks and other stuff in every body of water made by man. Each boat is nothing more than another piece of structure for fish to hide under. After Hurricane Marty hit La Paz several years ago, more than 100 boats were wrecked in one marina and many never really got fully salvaged. I have had diver friends of mine who do maintenance on boats tell me that some of those wrecks are turning into fish hotels with jacks, pargo, snapper and other species using them for cover.

I recently, had one fishing client of mine pull a 20 pound pargo out from under the docks and tell me he saw larger ones. It’s the same everywhere. There are countless days when I have not been able to go out when I’ve had a blast with a spinning rod and a spoon, crank bait, or popper and gone to town with roosterfish, jacks, barracuda and other species caught in and around the docks of Loreto, Cabo, La Paz, San Quintin and Santa Rosalie. It was a great way to kill a few hours although not your traditional “Baja surf fishing.”

Find the structure. Find the fish.

SIDENOTE: My amigo, mentor and fellow WON Baja editor, Gene Kira has recently acquired the rights to “The Unforgettable Sea of Cortez” his dynamite coffee table book about our predecessor Ray Cannon about the golden years in the Baja. This is a MUST book for any Baja nut and it’s filled with stories and those great old-time photos. The book went out of print and Gene has now acquired the rights to get it back on the shelves. I have bought several myself for gifts when it was last out. He’s looking for advance orders and can do it for $39.95. You really shouldn’t miss this. Gene can be reached at gene@mexfish.com or his website at http://www.bajadestinations.com/ .

That’s my story…
Jonathan

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WORKING THE SHORE – Published April 2005 – Western Outdoor News

I get asked all the time about surf fishing in my area. Being in La Paz, well, I have to couch my answer a bit. When I hear the question, I have to say “No, but….”

You see, mostly when I get asked that kind of question, I know that the person asking really envisions long stretches of pristine beaches with breakers and rocks and structure or sharp cliff drop offs. You know, they’re looking for the “picture book” Baja surf fishing. Can’t blame ‘em, because that’s usually what I envision too. But, where I am in La Paz, the bay isn’t exactly surf fishing heaven. It’s a big shallow sandy bay. It’s pretty to look at and makes for some great kayaking and many a Kodak moment, but it’s not exactly a prime surf fishing destination. However, there’s a lot of places in the Baja that really aren’t that great, at least not by traditional thought.

Take the guy who happens to just want to kill a little time with his spinning rod or baitcaster. He doesn’t want to travel way down the beach to the hot surf spot or maybe he’s stuck around a place where there’s nothing but man-made structure like a marina, docking area or there’s jet skis and tour boats blasting by. But, he’s jone-sing to squeeze in some water time before dinner; before the tour bus comes; before he has to go shopping with his wife for t-shirts for the grandkids. You know what I’m talking about.

The operative word here is “structure.” Look around you. If there’s water and structure, chances are there’s fish. My own epiphany took place a number of years ago, eating at a marina sea-side watering hole. Occasionally, I would hear a big “kersplash” and I was sure I could see dark shapes moving around under some of those mega-yachts. However, being in a big-city Mexico marina, often dark things floating in and around boats are best left alone! I was sure my polarized glasses and ears were being deceived by the hot sun and chilly doses of marguerites.
However, several days later, I was paddling into the marina on my kayak after an unsuccessful kayak fishing trip and happened to be dragging a silver spoon lazily behind the boat when “WHAM!” Fish on! Short fight and a 10 pound pargo later, I had dinner in the hatch.

That got me looking a little closer around some areas that I had previously ignored. I think it was Dick Gaumer, famous for working the bays and inlets of S. California who had told me once that a” marina is nothing more than thousands or pieces of structure.” There are pilings, ropes, debris, wrecks and other stuff in every body of water made by man. Each boat is nothing more than another piece of structure for fish to hide under. After Hurricane Marty hit La Paz several years ago, more than 100 boats were wrecked in one marina and many never really got fully salvaged. I have had diver friends of mine who do maintenance on boats tell me that some of those wrecks are turning into fish hotels with jacks, pargo, snapper and other species using them for cover.

I recently, had one fishing client of mine pull a 20 pound pargo out from under the docks and tell me he saw larger ones. It’s the same everywhere. There are countless days when I have not been able to go out when I’ve had a blast with a spinning rod and a spoon, crank bait, or popper and gone to town with roosterfish, jacks, barracuda and other species caught in and around the docks of Loreto, Cabo, La Paz, San Quintin and Santa Rosalie. It was a great way to kill a few hours although not your traditional “Baja surf fishing.”

Find the structure. Find the fish.

SIDENOTE: My amigo, mentor and fellow WON Baja editor, Gene Kira has recently acquired the rights to “The Unforgettable Sea of Cortez” his dynamite coffee table book about our predecessor Ray Cannon about the golden years in the Baja. This is a MUST book for any Baja nut and it’s filled with stories and those great old-time photos. The book went out of print and Gene has now acquired the rights to get it back on the shelves. I have bought several myself for gifts when it was last out. He’s looking for advance orders and can do it for $39.95. You really shouldn’t miss this. Gene can be reached at gene@mexfish.com or his website at http://www.bajadestinations.com/ .

That’s my story…
Jonathan

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BAJA BLUES – Published April 2005 – Western Outdoor News

Baja is a great place to fish. It’s one of the best, but sometimes there are those days when the fish gods do not smile; the wind blows; the bait doesn’t show up; the moon is in the wrong phase and you can’t make a cast or tie a knot if your life depended on it. Things are just out of synch for whatever reason. Happens to the best.

Michael Jordan made a lot of winning shots, but he always said the ones he remembered the most are the ones where the big orange ball clanged out or he tossed a brick that bounced off the backboard. You know, poop happens sometimes no matter how hard you want to change it or how prepared you are or how many fishing magazines you read. I sure hate to see frowns and take it from the guy who has to see all the long faces at the end of the day. I wish I could wave a magic wand or a magic graphite rod over the hurt and make the ouch go away.

Several of the skippers and I were talking one day along with some of my friendly competitors. Just a casual bull session after a long salty day working the islands and it hadn’t been all that great. Over cervezas we were all licking our collective wounds because there sure had been a lot of grumbling. We take a lot of pride in our work and somedays no matter how hard we try, we can’t make the fish jump in the boat.

Believe me, skippers, operators, agents…we take it as hard as the fishermen sometimes. Everything on a trip can be superlative. We can have great transportation, great rooms, awesome food, great friends, and great weather, but nothing can ruin it faster than not catching fish.
Most anglers take it pretty well in the long run, but every now and then, there’s that one guy in the group who just can’t let it go. Sometimes, even when the fishing is pretty good, that person will still make it a point to tell you what’s wrong with the situation. It will never be good enough.

That’s when I tell him about the “Baja Blues” or the “BB Syndrome” as I have named it. When the guy is calmed down enough, I ask him if I can call him in a few days or if he will call me once he gets home.

It usually goes something like this:
“Hey, Joe, it’s Jonathan calling you from Baja.”
“Hey, Jonathan, what’s up?”
“Just calling you like I said I would. What are you doing right now?”
“Oh nothing, I’m in my (pick one) (a) stuck in traffic (b) working in my cubicle (c) mowing the lawn”
“I told you I’d call. Let me ask you something. Where would you rather be?”
Three out of four times, I get just a moment of silence right about then as they ponder the off-the-wall-question. Sometimes, I can ever hear the “lightbulb” go off silently on the other end of the line.

At this point, I explain to them about the “Baja Blues” and how even someone like me who spends the better part of the year in Baja get its. It’s the feeling you get about 24 to 48 hours after you come home where you realize that only a short time before you were in a pretty special place.

You may have been on a sunny veranda soaking up some rays and holding a frosty cold one under a shady palapa like those folks in the Corona Beer ad. You may have been poolside laughing your head off with long-lost buddies while the sunset dipped below the horizon or enjoying a candlelit dinner seaside with your best gal or watched your kids having the time of their lives splashing in the waters and you thanked God you had the ability to bring them something special. You may have even been bobbing around on a boat not catching a fish and were so frustrated you forgot to enjoy the special moment of just being there. And all that was only a few hours before and now you’re stuck in traffic and you’d give anything to be back in the Baja again sporting those raggedy shorts; worn huarache sandals and faded fish print shirt…even if you weren’t catching a single thing. That’s the Baja Blues. For those few precious days, dangit, you were in the Baja, dude!

And hopefully, you didn’t waste your time griping about what didn’t happen and what you didn’t catch and what you didn’t do and took the time to savor what did happen and what you experienced. Because despite what looks like Baja being overrun with people, most people in this life do not get to come to this special sandbox. They will never see the dolphin schools outside Mag Bay or watch the sun come up blazing behind Carmen Island or smell the first whisps of fresh corn tortillas coming off the fish camp fires or see the commercial fishing boats push off the beach in the mornings or experience a day that seems like it lasts 36 hours long. Fishing is what it’s all about, but excuse the blasphemy if I say that if you only come for the fishing, you really missed something and it’s those things that you really will miss when the Baja Blues strike. It’s also why we can’t wait to come back.

And sometimes…the person I’m calling “gets it.” You can hear it in their voice. They’d rather be back. Even if the fish don’t bite. Baja does that to you if you take the time to listen.

That’s my story…
Jonathan

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BAJA BLUES – Published April 2005 – Western Outdoor News

Baja is a great place to fish. It’s one of the best, but sometimes there are those days when the fish gods do not smile; the wind blows; the bait doesn’t show up; the moon is in the wrong phase and you can’t make a cast or tie a knot if your life depended on it. Things are just out of synch for whatever reason. Happens to the best.

Michael Jordan made a lot of winning shots, but he always said the ones he remembered the most are the ones where the big orange ball clanged out or he tossed a brick that bounced off the backboard. You know, poop happens sometimes no matter how hard you want to change it or how prepared you are or how many fishing magazines you read. I sure hate to see frowns and take it from the guy who has to see all the long faces at the end of the day. I wish I could wave a magic wand or a magic graphite rod over the hurt and make the ouch go away.

Several of the skippers and I were talking one day along with some of my friendly competitors. Just a casual bull session after a long salty day working the islands and it hadn’t been all that great. Over cervezas we were all licking our collective wounds because there sure had been a lot of grumbling. We take a lot of pride in our work and somedays no matter how hard we try, we can’t make the fish jump in the boat.

Believe me, skippers, operators, agents…we take it as hard as the fishermen sometimes. Everything on a trip can be superlative. We can have great transportation, great rooms, awesome food, great friends, and great weather, but nothing can ruin it faster than not catching fish.
Most anglers take it pretty well in the long run, but every now and then, there’s that one guy in the group who just can’t let it go. Sometimes, even when the fishing is pretty good, that person will still make it a point to tell you what’s wrong with the situation. It will never be good enough.

That’s when I tell him about the “Baja Blues” or the “BB Syndrome” as I have named it. When the guy is calmed down enough, I ask him if I can call him in a few days or if he will call me once he gets home.

It usually goes something like this:
“Hey, Joe, it’s Jonathan calling you from Baja.”
“Hey, Jonathan, what’s up?”
“Just calling you like I said I would. What are you doing right now?”
“Oh nothing, I’m in my (pick one) (a) stuck in traffic (b) working in my cubicle (c) mowing the lawn”
“I told you I’d call. Let me ask you something. Where would you rather be?”
Three out of four times, I get just a moment of silence right about then as they ponder the off-the-wall-question. Sometimes, I can ever hear the “lightbulb” go off silently on the other end of the line.

At this point, I explain to them about the “Baja Blues” and how even someone like me who spends the better part of the year in Baja get its. It’s the feeling you get about 24 to 48 hours after you come home where you realize that only a short time before you were in a pretty special place.

You may have been on a sunny veranda soaking up some rays and holding a frosty cold one under a shady palapa like those folks in the Corona Beer ad. You may have been poolside laughing your head off with long-lost buddies while the sunset dipped below the horizon or enjoying a candlelit dinner seaside with your best gal or watched your kids having the time of their lives splashing in the waters and you thanked God you had the ability to bring them something special. You may have even been bobbing around on a boat not catching a fish and were so frustrated you forgot to enjoy the special moment of just being there. And all that was only a few hours before and now you’re stuck in traffic and you’d give anything to be back in the Baja again sporting those raggedy shorts; worn huarache sandals and faded fish print shirt…even if you weren’t catching a single thing. That’s the Baja Blues. For those few precious days, dangit, you were in the Baja, dude!

And hopefully, you didn’t waste your time griping about what didn’t happen and what you didn’t catch and what you didn’t do and took the time to savor what did happen and what you experienced. Because despite what looks like Baja being overrun with people, most people in this life do not get to come to this special sandbox. They will never see the dolphin schools outside Mag Bay or watch the sun come up blazing behind Carmen Island or smell the first whisps of fresh corn tortillas coming off the fish camp fires or see the commercial fishing boats push off the beach in the mornings or experience a day that seems like it lasts 36 hours long. Fishing is what it’s all about, but excuse the blasphemy if I say that if you only come for the fishing, you really missed something and it’s those things that you really will miss when the Baja Blues strike. It’s also why we can’t wait to come back.

And sometimes…the person I’m calling “gets it.” You can hear it in their voice. They’d rather be back. Even if the fish don’t bite. Baja does that to you if you take the time to listen.

That’s my story…
Jonathan

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STEPPING OUTSIDE THE BOX – Published April 2005 – Western Outdoor News

Well, our fishing season is in full-swing now and I have some clients down here now with me that are in Baja for the first time. Great good solid salt-of-the-earth folks from Kansas. You know, good corn-fed, beef and potatoes amigos from middle America. They are having a blast and enjoying the sun, fishing and, of course the “real ocean.”

They’ve been here for a few days and I had a little break one evening and asked them if they wanted to take one of my “taco tours” where we do the equivalent of a “pub crawl” and sample some of the local eateries that they would not normally encounter in any of the tourist pamphlets. You Baja rats know what I’m talking about…sizzling spits of marinated “al pastor” meat; the smell of that carne asada coming off the grill; roasted potatoes crammed with mushrooms, cheese and chilis and an array of a dozen salsas in front of you to choose from; breaded shrimp tacos that can be smelled up the beach; and burritos made from tortillas as large as a hubcap from sidewalk pushcarts piled high with grilled onions and chunks of steak.

The look I got from the group was as if I’d asked them to eat one of those dishes they serve on the reality show “Fear Factor.” You should have seen the faces. We’re not talking about eating moving grubs or putting live bees into a tortilla wrap.

“No way! We’re not eating that stuff from outdoor carts. People die from that stuff,” was the general consensus.

(Exhale and sigh) It’s strange how often I get that from folks down here. It’s the “Is it safe?” syndrome. I asked them to trust me and told them that believe it or not, most locals don’t eat lobster and steak picante at the local seaside hotel restaurant and that half the fun (and education) of visiting any new place is also sampling the food. What’s life without a little sushi or pasta or the occasional falafel or a plate of sweet and sour pork?

Well, I got them to go and they had a blast. They nearly wiped out one taco stand famous for it’s Tijuana style tacos stuffed with pineapple-marinated adobada meat, minced onions, cheese and cilantro plus I introduced them to horchata the chilled rice, sugar and cinnamon drink. Those Kansas folk can sure put it away. For the rest of the trip it was taco stands only and they even made quite a few friends at their favorite stand. By the second day they had the owner cooking special orders for them and showing them some special salsas he had behind the counter.

As I explained to them, eating in another country isn’t too different from eating in their own home towns. Every place has good and bad foods. You might see 3 burger stands lined up against each other back home. However, if you look at the parking lot, usually the one with the full lot is the best place to eat. It’s the same in Mexico. Step away from the main tourist street. Walk around a little bit. You may see several taco stands in a row. The line around the place will tell you the local favorite. If you see them lined up, that’s a pretty good sign. If you see a stand with no one there, then that might also be a bad sign too. That goes for the clam and tamale stands outside of Ensenada; the burrito carts in Guerrero Negro, the fish taco stands in downtown Loreto all the way down to the alleyway taco stands you’ll find in Cabo.

Step outside the (Jack-In-The-Box) mentality and place your order. It’s among the best way to experience a country and Baja is no exception.

I’m doing another “taco tour” tonite with clients. You should come along sometime. We’re going to top it off with a place that makes homemade ice cream in 60 flavors. But that’s another column.

That’s my story. . .
Jonathan

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