That's My Story

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

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

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

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

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

SIZE MATTERS – Published March 2006 – Western Outdoor News

I’m actually writing this from inside my booth at the Fred Hall Fishing Show in the Long Beach Convention Center. Day 2 (Thursday) is just about done and wow…it’s been a crazy fun show so far and it has been great hearing from so many of you. I’m losing my voice. Once again, I look behind me in my booth and I don’t know where all the food came from. There’s several bags of Spam musubi (Hawaiian style rolled sushi); shrimp cocktail; beef jerky; birthday cake; teriyaki chicken; rice; Maui onion potato chips; Subway sandwiches; Chinese pork and peanut butter cookies. There’s STACKS of it in here. The food fairy visited me again!

Anyway, one of the fun things about these shows is listening to the Baja stories that all of you bring by and tell us! Leonard Philips, from my friends and competitors at the Pirate Fleet was by and telling me about a guy who came by their booth and told them about the one-hundred-ninety-two-pound-dorado he caught. Let me say that again…ONE-HUNDRED-NINETY-TWO-POUND-DORADO!

Folks, that’s one helluva lot of mahi mahi. That’s the mother of ALL dorado. If a 5 foot dorado is about 40 pounds, well…do the math! It either had to be the longest dorado ever or the fattest. The world record isn’t even half that size as I recall.

Of course, Leonard, Pancho Aguilar, his partner and the others in the booth rolled their eyes but this guy swore with a straight face on a stack of tortillas. He said he could prove it and had a photo of the great fish. He whipped out his cell phone and said he had a photo of it in his camera…uh somewhere. They waited. It was there somewhere.

They waited. Uh-huh. Sure. Thank you, sir. I’m sure you’re right. Here’s your lovely parting gift. Next contestant. The guy walked away still insisting he had caught the biggest mightiest robo-dorado on the planet…that had ever existed. That was HIS story and he was sticking to it.

Now, I’d never say that anglers are prone to exaggeration, and I’m sure the amigo certainly believed he caught a 192 pound dorado, but even if he was stretching it a bit, that’s pushing it. You gotta have standards!

Listen, I’d be a rich knucklehead for every time I’ve heard that someone got a 50 pound dorado. In fact, I’ve heard that one so many times, you’d think that the whole Sea of Cortez was filled with nothing but 50 pound dorado. In reality, if you pull one that’s over 30 pounds, that’s a pretty nice chunk of fish.

Ah, but who am I to bust people’s bubbles? Especially when it comes to fish, if a guy just had one of the best fishing days he’s ever had in Baja and is high-fiving and hand-jiving his buddies up and down the beach, then good for him!

I try to be on the beach daily when our boats pull up. If I couldn’t be on the boats that day, then I want to see first hand what got caught; who caught it; and how my skippers did. In addition to my clipboard and camera, I ALWAYS have a small digital pocket scale with me.

“Hey Jonathan, bring your scale, I got a huge fifty-pound bull dorado!” I’ll hear from way down the beach among a cluster of guys happily hoisting beers and back-slapping. I start to pull out my scale as I walk towards them and then I see the fish in the distance. Uh-oh. It’s awful long and impressive, but I’ve been around long enough to know it’s not a fifty pounder. The scale slips discreetly back into my pocket.

“What d’ya think, Jonathan?” asks the angler expectantly as the group parts and I look at the fish. A bit of reverent silence descends as they wait for me to pronounce judgment. I study. I look. I rub my chin and cock my eyebrow. Pause…

“ Wow.That’s a dandy! But for some reason, my scale isn’t working dangit, but let’s call this a 50 pound class fish! (I emphasize the word “class”when I make my pronouncement).

“Huzzah! Huzzah!” Goes the crowd. Jonathan says it’s a 50 pound class fish! Fists pump in the air. Cameras snap. The anglers and his buddies mug and smile. The captain smiles with the fish and a fat tip in his pocket. Everyone gets their picture with the fish. The angler has never won the jackpot, but today by-golly he wins the pool money from his buddies. Later back at the hotel that night, they will gleefully and secretly all put their bar bill on his tab. Indeed a great day.

I smilingly fade back from the crowd. OK, so maybe I fudged a bit by 10 or so pounds. Sue me. It was still a big fish and a trophy to be sure. He should be proud of it. It took him 45 minutes on light tackle. It smoked his drags and kicked his butt. Chignon, ‘Mano! Eres el campion! (Dude, you da man!)

I’ll weigh it later back at the hotel and tell the guy that the fish “dehydrate real fast” after they die and that’s why it shrunk so much. I”ll tell the truth in the fishing reports. He’ll be happy and he’ll believe he caught a 50 pound class fish that dehydrated. At least I didn’t tell him it was a freakin’ 192 pounds! Sheesh…I got standards!

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

Jonathan

SIZE MATTERS – Published March 2006 – Western Outdoor News

I’m actually writing this from inside my booth at the Fred Hall Fishing Show in the Long Beach Convention Center. Day 2 (Thursday) is just about done and wow…it’s been a crazy fun show so far and it has been great hearing from so many of you. I’m losing my voice. Once again, I look behind me in my booth and I don’t know where all the food came from. There’s several bags of Spam musubi (Hawaiian style rolled sushi); shrimp cocktail; beef jerky; birthday cake; teriyaki chicken; rice; Maui onion potato chips; Subway sandwiches; Chinese pork and peanut butter cookies. There’s STACKS of it in here. The food fairy visited me again!

Anyway, one of the fun things about these shows is listening to the Baja stories that all of you bring by and tell us! Leonard Philips, from my friends and competitors at the Pirate Fleet was by and telling me about a guy who came by their booth and told them about the one-hundred-ninety-two-pound-dorado he caught. Let me say that again…ONE-HUNDRED-NINETY-TWO-POUND-DORADO!

Folks, that’s one helluva lot of mahi mahi. That’s the mother of ALL dorado. If a 5 foot dorado is about 40 pounds, well…do the math! It either had to be the longest dorado ever or the fattest. The world record isn’t even half that size as I recall.

Of course, Leonard, Pancho Aguilar, his partner and the others in the booth rolled their eyes but this guy swore with a straight face on a stack of tortillas. He said he could prove it and had a photo of the great fish. He whipped out his cell phone and said he had a photo of it in his camera…uh somewhere. They waited. It was there somewhere.

They waited. Uh-huh. Sure. Thank you, sir. I’m sure you’re right. Here’s your lovely parting gift. Next contestant. The guy walked away still insisting he had caught the biggest mightiest robo-dorado on the planet…that had ever existed. That was HIS story and he was sticking to it.

Now, I’d never say that anglers are prone to exaggeration, and I’m sure the amigo certainly believed he caught a 192 pound dorado, but even if he was stretching it a bit, that’s pushing it. You gotta have standards!

Listen, I’d be a rich knucklehead for every time I’ve heard that someone got a 50 pound dorado. In fact, I’ve heard that one so many times, you’d think that the whole Sea of Cortez was filled with nothing but 50 pound dorado. In reality, if you pull one that’s over 30 pounds, that’s a pretty nice chunk of fish.

Ah, but who am I to bust people’s bubbles? Especially when it comes to fish, if a guy just had one of the best fishing days he’s ever had in Baja and is high-fiving and hand-jiving his buddies up and down the beach, then good for him!

I try to be on the beach daily when our boats pull up. If I couldn’t be on the boats that day, then I want to see first hand what got caught; who caught it; and how my skippers did. In addition to my clipboard and camera, I ALWAYS have a small digital pocket scale with me.

“Hey Jonathan, bring your scale, I got a huge fifty-pound bull dorado!” I’ll hear from way down the beach among a cluster of guys happily hoisting beers and back-slapping. I start to pull out my scale as I walk towards them and then I see the fish in the distance. Uh-oh. It’s awful long and impressive, but I’ve been around long enough to know it’s not a fifty pounder. The scale slips discreetly back into my pocket.

“What d’ya think, Jonathan?” asks the angler expectantly as the group parts and I look at the fish. A bit of reverent silence descends as they wait for me to pronounce judgment. I study. I look. I rub my chin and cock my eyebrow. Pause…

“ Wow.That’s a dandy! But for some reason, my scale isn’t working dangit, but let’s call this a 50 pound class fish! (I emphasize the word “class”when I make my pronouncement).

“Huzzah! Huzzah!” Goes the crowd. Jonathan says it’s a 50 pound class fish! Fists pump in the air. Cameras snap. The anglers and his buddies mug and smile. The captain smiles with the fish and a fat tip in his pocket. Everyone gets their picture with the fish. The angler has never won the jackpot, but today by-golly he wins the pool money from his buddies. Later back at the hotel that night, they will gleefully and secretly all put their bar bill on his tab. Indeed a great day.

I smilingly fade back from the crowd. OK, so maybe I fudged a bit by 10 or so pounds. Sue me. It was still a big fish and a trophy to be sure. He should be proud of it. It took him 45 minutes on light tackle. It smoked his drags and kicked his butt. Chignon, ‘Mano! Eres el campion! (Dude, you da man!)

I’ll weigh it later back at the hotel and tell the guy that the fish “dehydrate real fast” after they die and that’s why it shrunk so much. I”ll tell the truth in the fishing reports. He’ll be happy and he’ll believe he caught a 50 pound class fish that dehydrated. At least I didn’t tell him it was a freakin’ 192 pounds! Sheesh…I got standards!

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

Jonathan

HOME COURT ADVANTAGE – published Feb. 2006 – Western Outdoor News

I got a call a few weeks back from a gent and it went something like this right out’ve the gate:

Him: Just wanna tell you that you’re nothing but a liar in your fishing reports
Me: Whoa…what did I do and why is that?
Him: I hauled my cruiser all the way down to your place in Baja and we didn’t catch none of the fish you said were hitting. I’m really pissed.
Me: I remember that call, Sir. I recall you said it was your first time fishing the Baja and I remember you were going to be fishing about a week in our area.
Him: That’s right and we got absolutely NOTHING worth shaking a stick at!
Me: I’m really sorry to hear that, but I also offered to either have one of my captains go with you. Or asked if you’d like to fish with us for a day or two to get the lay-of-the land. You declined.
Him: I remember but why would I do that when I have my own boat? I don’t even want to talk to you anymore nor will I read any fishing reports you ever put out!

At that he hung up. Sigh.. Collect self and exhale…

I’m sorry he did that. I had tried to explain to him several weeks earlier that I wasn’t trying to make a buck off him, although that would be nice. Rather, from the gist of my earlier conversation, I gleened that this amigo really hadn’t spent a lot of time in the water let alone fishing in Baja, but by golly, he had a new boat and he was going to use it.

What I didn’t get a chance to tell him before he hung up was that I actually saw his good-looking cuddy cabin out there among the panga fleets. Our boats were catching. The other fleets were catching. I saw his boat just motoring around lost or at times sitting in the drift with some bored-looking fishermen aboard. Not knowing who he was or what he looked like, I never hailed the boat, but the mood on his deck resembled the attitude when someone let’s one fly in an enclosed elevator. A lot of pinched faces.

Score: Pangas 40 100-thousand dollar boat: 0

In fact, I heard a couple of local skippers chattering over the radio about the “gringo rico” (rich gringo) that couldn’t get bit. It didn’t make me want to gloat. I felt sorry for this guy and his buddies. Nothing like being the only boat around with no bent rods and wondering what you were doing wrong

As I tried to explain to him, there’s nothing in the world like local knowledge. Whether you’re fishing in Mulege, Ensenada, Cabo or La Paz, the skippers who bust their chops day-in-and-day-out, have generations of knowledge behind ‘em. Unlike us, they’re not “weekend warriors” fishing for sport. When you’re fishing for your livelihood or because you have to feed your kids you get pretty good. Some years, I’ve been on the water some seasons over 200 days a year which is more than most guys will fish in a lifetime and I will NEVER be as good as many of the captains I have come across in my Baja travels or my daily work. I learn something everyday. I’ll know I’m good when every bait I throw and every cast I make produces a hook up and that day ain’t coming real soon!

Truth be told, I still consider myself only an above-average angler IN MY OWN WATERS. Drop me somewhere else and I’d be as lost as the next guy. There’s a lot to be said for “home court advantage.” Just because I know La Paz waters doesn’t mean I know Loreto, San Quintin, Bay of Los Angeles or the Madison River in Montana.

Conversely, just because you know how to fish the Channel Islands or the banks off San Diego or have your own boat, doesn’t mean it necessarily translates to fishing Baja. Fish are different. Areas are different. Buying $200 Michael Jordan shoes will not improve my jump shot and I never will be able to slam dunk in my wildest dreams. Just because you have a tricked-out boat doesn’t mean you’re gonna catch fish either. It’s an art. It’s a sport. It’s a learned skill. It changes from place to place and season to season. Give yourself an edge. It’s called research. Learn from a local. Fish with a local a few days. Get the feel for things…the bait…the style…It’s well worth the investment of time and money. Your boat, your rod and reel, your tackle…even the reports you read here in WON are tools of the trade, but you still have to know how to use them.

If you’re reading this between March 1 and 5, I’m going to be in my Tailhunter Booth at the Fred Hall Show at the Long Beach Convention Center. Come say hi. It’s been great meeting so many of you at all the recent fishing trade shows. I don’t know how it started but thanks also to all of you who keep bringing me food too! Last week at the Pomona Fairgrounds, at one time, I had a huge breakfast burrito the size of my leg (thanks to my amigos at the Pirate Fleet), pizza, sushi, cookies, soda, two In-N-Out cheese burgers (animal style), chili fries; 2 ham sandwiches and a pastrami sandwich. It was like my refrigerator back in college!

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

Jonathan

HOME COURT ADVANTAGE – published Feb. 2006 – Western Outdoor News

I got a call a few weeks back from a gent and it went something like this right out’ve the gate:

Him: Just wanna tell you that you’re nothing but a liar in your fishing reports
Me: Whoa…what did I do and why is that?
Him: I hauled my cruiser all the way down to your place in Baja and we didn’t catch none of the fish you said were hitting. I’m really pissed.
Me: I remember that call, Sir. I recall you said it was your first time fishing the Baja and I remember you were going to be fishing about a week in our area.
Him: That’s right and we got absolutely NOTHING worth shaking a stick at!
Me: I’m really sorry to hear that, but I also offered to either have one of my captains go with you. Or asked if you’d like to fish with us for a day or two to get the lay-of-the land. You declined.
Him: I remember but why would I do that when I have my own boat? I don’t even want to talk to you anymore nor will I read any fishing reports you ever put out!

At that he hung up. Sigh.. Collect self and exhale…

I’m sorry he did that. I had tried to explain to him several weeks earlier that I wasn’t trying to make a buck off him, although that would be nice. Rather, from the gist of my earlier conversation, I gleened that this amigo really hadn’t spent a lot of time in the water let alone fishing in Baja, but by golly, he had a new boat and he was going to use it.

What I didn’t get a chance to tell him before he hung up was that I actually saw his good-looking cuddy cabin out there among the panga fleets. Our boats were catching. The other fleets were catching. I saw his boat just motoring around lost or at times sitting in the drift with some bored-looking fishermen aboard. Not knowing who he was or what he looked like, I never hailed the boat, but the mood on his deck resembled the attitude when someone let’s one fly in an enclosed elevator. A lot of pinched faces.

Score: Pangas 40 100-thousand dollar boat: 0

In fact, I heard a couple of local skippers chattering over the radio about the “gringo rico” (rich gringo) that couldn’t get bit. It didn’t make me want to gloat. I felt sorry for this guy and his buddies. Nothing like being the only boat around with no bent rods and wondering what you were doing wrong

As I tried to explain to him, there’s nothing in the world like local knowledge. Whether you’re fishing in Mulege, Ensenada, Cabo or La Paz, the skippers who bust their chops day-in-and-day-out, have generations of knowledge behind ‘em. Unlike us, they’re not “weekend warriors” fishing for sport. When you’re fishing for your livelihood or because you have to feed your kids you get pretty good. Some years, I’ve been on the water some seasons over 200 days a year which is more than most guys will fish in a lifetime and I will NEVER be as good as many of the captains I have come across in my Baja travels or my daily work. I learn something everyday. I’ll know I’m good when every bait I throw and every cast I make produces a hook up and that day ain’t coming real soon!

Truth be told, I still consider myself only an above-average angler IN MY OWN WATERS. Drop me somewhere else and I’d be as lost as the next guy. There’s a lot to be said for “home court advantage.” Just because I know La Paz waters doesn’t mean I know Loreto, San Quintin, Bay of Los Angeles or the Madison River in Montana.

Conversely, just because you know how to fish the Channel Islands or the banks off San Diego or have your own boat, doesn’t mean it necessarily translates to fishing Baja. Fish are different. Areas are different. Buying $200 Michael Jordan shoes will not improve my jump shot and I never will be able to slam dunk in my wildest dreams. Just because you have a tricked-out boat doesn’t mean you’re gonna catch fish either. It’s an art. It’s a sport. It’s a learned skill. It changes from place to place and season to season. Give yourself an edge. It’s called research. Learn from a local. Fish with a local a few days. Get the feel for things…the bait…the style…It’s well worth the investment of time and money. Your boat, your rod and reel, your tackle…even the reports you read here in WON are tools of the trade, but you still have to know how to use them.

If you’re reading this between March 1 and 5, I’m going to be in my Tailhunter Booth at the Fred Hall Show at the Long Beach Convention Center. Come say hi. It’s been great meeting so many of you at all the recent fishing trade shows. I don’t know how it started but thanks also to all of you who keep bringing me food too! Last week at the Pomona Fairgrounds, at one time, I had a huge breakfast burrito the size of my leg (thanks to my amigos at the Pirate Fleet), pizza, sushi, cookies, soda, two In-N-Out cheese burgers (animal style), chili fries; 2 ham sandwiches and a pastrami sandwich. It was like my refrigerator back in college!

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

Jonathan

Pangas No Mas – published Feb. 2006 – Western Outdoor News

No matter what you may want or remember, Baja will never be your dad’s Baja for much longer. Maybe we’ve already lost it. It’s all a matter or perspective. If you’re a real estate guy with deep pockets, Baja must seem like a vast landscape of opportunity just waiting for the hand of creativity to sweep over it. From the other side of the wall, if you’ve been pushing pangas off the beach for 20 years, there’s a whole different perspective.

Eric Brictson of Gordo Banks Pangas is the iconic beachmaster of beachmasters. Everyone knows Eric and if you haven’t fished with him off San Jose del Cabo then you probably know someone who has. Sleepy little San Jose del Cabo used to be a hidden enclave at polar opposites to it’s bustling sister city of Cabo San Lucas half an hour away but it’s about to step…no accelerate. . . into the new age with the construction of the massive Puerto Los Cabos Marina Project . According to Eric, the project is progressing rapidly and they predict that they will be opening the entrance to the ocean sometime this summer insofar as they’ve nearly completed the southern jetty and have started on the larger northern jetty.

If you thought the Cabo San Lucas Marina was big, the San Jose operation boasts plans for a ferry terminal, offices, private beach club, an island boutique hotel, 500 slips for boats up to 150’, restaurants and retail shops, a seafood marketplace not to mention the Greg Norman golf courses, home sites and condos. There’s even a 20 acre sports parque plus sports center and two soccer fields. Hard to believe we’re only a few years removed from the days when Cabo didn’t even have a working dock!

Eric has told me that real estate is going through the roof and so many things are changing. Some for the good, but he’s also worried it doesn’t bode well for his fleet as well as others, but he’s trying to remain hopeful.

“Our fleet has to relocate from the northern end of the beach, which is where the northern jetty had been planned, so now we are on the furthest southern end of the same beach in about half the area. Also, the new palapa and fillet table that Puerto Los Cabos agreed to build for us is of smaller scale so we are adjusting as best we can.”

He added, “A major problem now facing everyone is there are no longer many beaches where locals can go. Due to construction, there is barely room for all of the 50 or so pangas and still have room for the public and their cars.” He expects that with all the resorts along the Cabo corridor as well as the marina construction, it’s only going to get worse.

The days of the panga might be numbered. According to Brictson, there is a small area just inside the marina “away from the fancy yachts” that is slated “to have some 80 or so slots for pangas. This is being built just to keep peace with the locals. This area will create even more competition and price wars than we already have.” He added, “ I personally feel the panga charters will rapidly become obsolete as wealthier clientele prefer larger and more comfortable boats, besides the fact that we will need boats capable of holding more fuel and traveling further distances in order to find fishing action.”

He intimated to me that fishing is not what it used to be either, but that’s the subject of another column. I”ll keep you posted as things progress. However, further news that Armageddon can’t be too far around the corner:

Mark Rayor of Vista Sea Sports in Los Barriles says that the town got it’s first traffic light recently. Add that to the new golf course where the old landing strip used to be in front of Hotel Palmas de Cortez and can Starbucks be far behind?

Maybe it’s already happening in La Paz which now has a (close your eyes and cringe)…an Applebees Restaurant right on the malecon (waterfront). There are already several very popular coffee bars in town, a new bowling alley, driving range and COSTCO type wholesale and a genuine Irish pub that opened last season. As one of my Mexican friends told me, “Me gusta mucho American pancakes.” (I like American pancakes.) Oh no. Chucky Cheese must already be looking for a space.

I’ll be in my Tailhunter Booth at the International Sportsman’s Expo at the Pomona Fairgrounds Fairplex (L.A. Co. Fairgrounds) Feb. 17-19th. Come by and say hi.

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

Jonathan