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Surf fishing Mexico in solitude

Page history last edited by PBworks 11 years, 3 months ago

Default Surf fishing Mexico in solitude

 


In the afternoon, I sit on the beach for a rest. There is a slight sand shelf and the warm sand forms a fine chair with a backrest of sorts. A glance to the south reveals yet another bird/bait blitz about ½ mile away but the edge is off and I deserve a break. As I sip Gatorade, the past two days run through my mind. Golden sunrises have split the mornings over my shoulders and the Mexican Pacific has extinguished the blazing sun in the evenings. I’ve witnessed ten thousand wheeling birds crashing into the surf and seen seething fish drive minnows onto the bare sand. The fish have been willing and my line has been tight often. I have walked and fished for two complete days. Each day has covered about eight miles of walking and I’ve made nearly 500 casts each day. It’s about 95 degrees on the sands in the afternoons but I am well equipped and prepared to fish all day through the experiences of my previous trips here. I have fished in comfort, solitude, and basked in that satisfaction that I can surf fish the deserted Mexican Pacific with confidence, safety, and effectiveness. A lifetime on the water, in the woods, and on the plains brought me to this and this is where I will devote myself for decades to come. It’s like being in both heaven and earth.

 

A group of eight surf fishermen and myself are coming here in late August.  It will be the height of the fishing season with many big roosterfish, crevelle, and hopefully a few cubera snappers cruising through the waves. It will be the trip of a lifetime for some. Very few people get the chance to have a surf fishing adventure on truly deserted tropical beaches. Few people get the thrill of seeing a marauding roosterfish chase a top water plug and pounce upon it. Few people get to experience the power and arm ache of a huge bull shouldered crevelle caught with ones feet planted in the sand. Very few people get a shot at a big cubera snapper that refuses to be beached. I’ve brought several groups here before. It has been a tremendous and life changing experience for all. It’s not just about the fishing. It’s about a powerful seemingly unreachable daydream turning into a reality.

 

I am addicted. I was here five months ago. I was here two months ago. I needed another fix before August and so when the possibility of a few days off from work presented itself, I jumped a plane. This is the one season I have not experienced here. It’s the transition from cool winter waters into warm summer waters and I’m eager to see what offers itself. My flight arrives in the late afternoon. As we approach the airport I surprised to see that the forested hills are brown and stark. I assumed it would be spring here but I now see that spring does not arrive, the trees do not leaf, the grass does not green until the summer rains come a few weeks from now.

 

It’s becoming dark as I trace the stone and dirt road over the mountains. Suddenly, I hear an all too familiar hiss and it’s not the crowd booing. It’s my old friend the flat tire and it’s deflating fast. I think I’m smart because I’ve brought a long a can of Fix-A-Flat for just this occasion. I hook it up and press the button on the can feeling smug. The smile soon comes off my face as I realize the leak is too big and near the rim for this cure. Out comes the spare and the weirdest jack I have ever seen. In the twilight, I puzzle things out and change the tire. I am soon on my way with the jittery feeling that I no longer have a functioning spare tire. In the darkness, I arrive in a small pueblo where I am known. There is a place with cow skulls nailed to a ramshackle fence. Lazy dogs lay in the dirt and the yard is conglomeration stuff. It’s difficult to determine what is still in use and what is cast off junk. I honk the horn and someone comes through the darkness and the gate. He is known to me and I am known to him. He has repaired my tires before and we laugh and chat. He says to return in an hour and all will be well. I drive the last couple of miles to my lodging on an expansive and fish laden beach.

 

Before the sun rises, I find myself standing at a dry sandy wash. This wash leads about ½ kilometer to the ocean. In the half-light I trot down the wash with lizards fleeing in front of me. A beautiful lone coyote dashes off at the sight of me and roadrunners dodge through the brush. I’m tingling with excitement and anticipation. Soon a high sand bank rises before me. The Eastern Pacific ocean bursts into sight on the other side. It’s bit like seeing a friend after a too long absence. The waves are still dark and the cresting foam outlines their form. As I look to the south I see hundreds of dark shapes standing on the high sand bank. Hundreds of pelicans, gulls, herons, cormorants, and a host of others wait for the sun to break. This is an excellent sign. Soon they will be wheeling overhead and diving on bait. The same bait that will draw in fish.

 

I’m extra excited because I have a new rod. It’s a 13-foot Breakaway LDX. I’ve been practicing with it for a month or two. It’s unbelievable that this absolute cannon is so light in weight. With a good pendulum type cast, it will rocket an aerodynamic 2 ½ to 4-ounce lure an easy 150 yards. More if you want to pour on the coals. I have cut the long butt down to 24 inches and it is a joy to use. I actually timed my casts over a period of time and calculated my number of casts for the entire day. After subtracting breaks and fish fighting time, I estimate that I made about 500 casts in the 150-yard range each 12-hour day. This was done without undue pain and with manageable efforts. I will say that the LDX is the ultimate long distance pluggers rod. No, it is not for throwing Bombers in the wash. No, it is not for slinging 8 and bait. No, it is not for the inexperienced caster. However, it may be the ultimate rod for the accomplished long distance plugger. I’m totally blown away by this fantastic rod at a fantastic price.

 

I nervously string up the LDX and clip on a F-14 metal. It’s my search lure. It can be fished high, low, and in between. I can burn it, drop and pop it, or slow roll it. It casts out of sight and it catches everything. I measure my eight-foot line drop and load the canon release. Facing away from the ocean I pendulum swing and rotate into the cast. The rod feels heavy and loaded as I come forward. The lure leaps from the rod and the line sings. The release of stored energy is exhilarating. The sun is rising and the birds are starting the hunt. They start circling and diving about ½ kilometer to the south. I take off at a trot. All heck is breaking out when I get there. Sardinos are leaping onto the shore and there is a riot of birds. I cast into the thick of it and hook up.

 

 

This fish feels like something I have not caught before. I do not feel broad tail sweeps like a rooster fish or crevelle. Instead, I can feel a rapid tail vibration as it pulls out drag. It does not feel large but it is very strong and fast. My drag goes out for a few minutes and then I gain line. As it nears the shore it struggles with the wave turbulence. A wave washes it onto the beach and it is a bonito! I have never caught a bonito from shore. It is very pretty with iridescent lines and patterns. Bonito makes good ceviche so I bury it in the sand and mark it with a stick.

 

 

 

 

The next cast hooks up again and suddenly it feels strange. A pelican starts flopping. I now have a fish and a pelican. The fish comes off and after an epic battle the pelican comes to shore. He is very mean and snaps at me like an alligator. I hold his head down with a stick and free my line. This nasty bird gives me “the bird” as he flys away. I spend about an hour catching bonito. Very strong and willing fish! I saved four and later was disappointed that the flesh was nothing like the bonito I know. I now know they were “striped” or “Mexican” bonito and not the “eastern Pacific” bonito that are very good to eat. Nonetheless, they are very scrappy and fun to catch!

 

 

 

 

The bonito leave and I walk down the beach about a mile. More birds. Maybe more bonito? They are far off shore and I’m glad to have my big rod. I bulls-eye a long cast and something is hooked. This does not feel like a bonito. It feels like it knows the waves and how to use them. After a while, a pretty little green jack is at my feet. It shines and glows in the sunlight. I’m happy and send it back.

 

 

 

 

The green jacks want to play with me so we have fun together for a while. Then, porpoises appear and the jacks depart. Another walk takes me down the beach. I see agujon (giant Mexican needlefish) leaping far off shore. They have a long tooth filled snout but a very soft mouth. A get hit a few times but they are not well hooked and they are lost. After a few chances I get solid hooks into a nice agujon. They are very aerobatic and they tail walk and leap like a billfish. When it comes to shore I am very careful. Agujon like to try to bit their oppressors and usually their target seems to be your crotch. My voice is still low so it must have gone well! It’s about noon so I build a fire on the beach and cook the agujon for lunch. They have blue flesh but it is very tasty.

 

 


 

The two and one-half days are filled with bonito, green jacks, and agujon. I have a wonderful time because I am not a fish snob and enjoy them all. The water was very cold. It was the coldest on record for this date. The hills are mid-winter brown. The season has not changed yet and the warm water glamour fish are not patrolling the beach. Soon, the rooster fish will be here. I’m glad to have fished. It was very enjoyable to wander the deserted beaches with my solitude and thoughts. In my mind, the fishing was good and worthy. I’ll remember this as a fine time and the big fish will be waiting in August. - HPD

 

 

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