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The Cats of Nine in Mexico

Page history last edited by Todd 14 years, 2 months ago





My drag is buzzing like a beehive and I’m anxiously looking at the line as I it melts off the reel. Just minutes before, I had hooked up a brute force fish and it came unbuttoned after a blistering run towards China. I’m begging the fish gods to keep this fish on. It’s a horse and it’s straining my big arching 13 foot Breakaway LDX. I’m really glad I spent hours and hours testing knots and lines. I had supreme confidence in my 30-pound Tuf line (not Tufline XP) and the glued doubled uni-knot. The only way this fish would escape is by pulling the hook or running out my 400 yards of line. Errrr…..was it? The powerhouse at the end of the line took an abrupt right turn and was heading around a rock point. I can’t put any more pressure on so I dash down the beach and nervously scan the rocks. Can I climb onto them without undue risk? Would the Pacific waves dash me to pieces? I’m very cautious in this situation but the fish is dictating the fight and after fidgeting for a few moments I decide it is reasonable. I loosen the drag a quarter turn and carefully climb out onto the highest and driest rock. The fish had hung my line onto an underwater rock and was using it using it as a pulley. Boy, that tuf line is some tough stuff! It’s sawing around the underwater rock without complaining. After about 10 minutes of this my line pulls free of the rock only to wrap around another one. And so forth and so forth. I marvel that I am slowly whipping this fish. Bit by bit, it tires and I unthread him from the rocks. In the beginning I wanted it to end and now, 30 minutes later, I am sorry it was almost over. What a huge heart this fish has. Raw power, stamina, and cunning. It slowly approaches a crevice near my feet and I time the waves with a swift grab. This fish must go back to the ocean to fight another day. I swiftly dash to the safety of the beach and gently release it. I had been immersed in the primal joy of a fish pulling on my line. It was long by the clock but still all too brief. Not to worry, more big fish lie in wait within my reach. But first, my weary arms deserve a rest.




This will be a story about nine guys in surf fishing heaven. We are a rag tag group from New Jersey, Florida, Georgia, and Minnesota. We have the roots of the USA, Israel, Columbia, and Vietnam among us. Many of us have never met before. We would now watch each other’s backs and share each other’s joy, laughter, frustrations, and snoring for a week. We have been preparing for six months. We call ourselves the Cats of Nine and we are now friends for life. Here is a four-minute video of the cats in action. I posted it a few days ago but it’s appropriate to launch this story with another viewing.


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In case you do not make it to the end, you should know I initially thought the cats caught about 40 – 50 roosterfish. Now, one of the cats reports that he caught 25 roosterfish by actual count. It’s very possible that the actual total count could have approached 70 – 80. This must be a one-week record of some sort. Most surf fishermen are satisfied with a small handful in their lifetime. Not only that, but we caught an equal amount of huge (to 40 –45 pounds) crevelle. It was unfathomable and humbling. These huge fish wrecked out gear, wrecked our arms, and wrecked our nerves. DANG was it FUN!!!!



I glance out the airport terminal entrance and there stood five of the Cats. From left to right. El Cortador (the Cutter (aka Sudsratt), Plomo (the lead weight(aka Levari)), El Gancho (the Hook (aka HPD), Fernando, El Echada (the Cast (aka Dennis)), Andar (the Wanderer (aka Scott)), and Bocina (honk honk the Horn (aka Surf n Horns)). Ophelia (the huge ghostly cubera(aka Qtiep)) is taking the picture.



Tiburon (the Shark (aka Airnuts) and Chilicon (the spicy one (aka Chilicon) have arrived one day earlier and were already at the fishing grounds.



Along with the Cats stands a very special person. He is Fernando Herrara. He, his wife Maricella and their two teenage kids have moved back to the place of their youth after living in California for the past several decades. They are WONDERFUL (and bilingual) people who are toiling to make a small and magical place at our destination. The will soon complete a five-bedroom hotel to serve surf fishermen. They cook wonderful family style food, they are situated on a prime fishing beach location, they run a small store.  I am so glad that my friend Fernando is there to greet the other Cats before we arrived and that he will load half of us into his nice big SUV. Since our group is large, the other half go in a rental car.



We pile in the cars and stop at Walmart (yes, Walmart in Mexico) for snacks and assorted stuff. Then Fernando leads the way through the narrow streets city streets, into the mountains, into the countryside, and on to our fishing grounds.



Halfway to our destination, we stopped at the outskirts of a small town for a piss break. Pissing on the side of the road is a Mexican tradition and it’s done with flare and style. We were stylin’! A man appeared at the other side of the fence and he asked in Spanish if we would like to buy this property. Maybe he thought we were marking our territory!!



I had come down with a virus the day of departure. Stress, fatigue, and work overload can make you susceptible. The virus gave me a scratchy throat, a little fever, and it gave me a migraine on the airplane flight. The migraine had given me a touch of airsickness. Now, on the twisty mountain roads, I was carsick. Halfway there, I couldn’t fight it any more and I blew my Mexican oatmeal and raisin cookies into the ditch. We stopped again and I blew chum again. I was dying. This was the longest car trip ever. I longed to put my feet on terra firma. I could have kissed the ground when we finally arrived.


We arrived several hours later than projected and we needed to find Tiburon and Chilicon. They had arrived on a scouting mission the day before. They were to be waiting at a resteraunt about three miles down the road. Five cats loaded in the rental car and two of us fired up an ATV. Off into the Mexican darkness we roared. We found Tiburon and Chilicon all puffed out from hammering roosterfish earlier that day. Unfortunately, it was late and the cooks had left. There was no food to be had at Candes. I wandered through the sleepy village and found that a lady named Adrianna would cook us some hamburgers and fries in her back room. They were WONDERFUL! Sleepily, we plunged through the darkness back to our lodging. We sorted gear and prepared for the next morning. The traveling, the exotic surroundings, and the anticipation of big fish made sleep hard to come by. Tomorrow, it’s all going to come together like we couldn’t believe.



My head hit the pillow and I crashed big time. The frantic air flight, the virus, the migraine, the car sickness, and the late arrival frenzy had taken its toll. I hadn’t had any real sleep in almost 48 hours so it was way overdue. The before dawn alarm clock went off and I moaned. But, you can’t sleep in when there are fish to be caught. We bustled around and found ourselves in the Maricella’s beautiful kitchen. She had made a huge breakfast of scrambled eggs and ham, tortillas, hash browns and piping hot cinnamon spike coffee. The Cats were digging in and the fishing eagerness was electric. What a wonderful thing to be wolfing down great food in the midst of rabid kindred spirits. It was like we had found our people. Soul mates who validated that each other wasn’t crazy and alone in the world.


We had decided that Cortador, Andar, Echada and I would use the ATVs to go south on this first morning. However, due to my crashing the night before things were not quite ready to go. As I fumbled in the pre-dawn Ophelia, Plomo, and Bocina dissappered in to the darkness to the north on foot. I was lamenting the fact that I was still fiddling when I heard that group whooping about 100 yards away. My fingers were all thumbs but quickly I finished readying the ATVs and I buzzed my way up the beach to find out if the whooping was worthy. In the gloom, I could see Plomos rod bent over. Ophelia yelled it was their third roosterfish already and I made a mad dash back to Fernandos to load the gear and the guys. Fishing fever!



We drove the road south and soon descended to the beach. Chilicon and Tiburon had already arrived there via car. Chilicon was already on this third fish and Tiburon was landing crevelle.




We rode the ATVs past them and about a mile south. What a kick! The wind in your hair, the surf at your feet, the sun rising, and the promise of big predator fish! We hit some nice looking water but except for some smaller crevelle, nada. We stopped and discussed strategy. Chili was catching fish up the beach. We would go and spot jump.



Andar soon was yelling that there was a school of roosters menacing his Super Strike Popper. It is really fun to watch someone catch his first roosterfish. Scott asked me how he gets “this” off his face. It was a huge grin!


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Very soon, all of us were on to the roosters!


Chilicon and Tiburon had departed for parts unknown and when our action died down we headed for lunch. All the Cats showed up around 2:00 with BIG stories of slaying fish. It had been a non-stop free-for-all all morning. Roosterfish and crevelle abounded. We shouted and giggled like little kids and said if we didn’t have another repeat day like this we would still be satisfied. I didn’t believe it for one minute. The afternoon was spent straining a few more fish. We were like boys in a huge sandbox. The decades peeled away. We had turned back the clock and were kids again. Tomorrow was to be another day in incredible string of days.




Most of the days melded into one big slugfest. We typically divided into three groups and gloated with each other as the groups reunited for meals. The numbers and sizes of fish were almost beyond belief! I'd like to highlight just a few of the days and moments.


Tiep is known as Qtiep on SOL. We call him Ophelia beof mine. This is the third time we have joined forces in Mexico together. There is no one I would rather have watch my back and share my fun with than Oph.cause of a ghostly huge cubera snapper he lost (and is obsessed with) last year. When Tiep catches Ophelia he will have truly caught himself. Tiep is a special amigo Fishing in Mexico has shown him a new world and a new reality. Over the past several years he has morphed from a work beaten, chain smoking, coffee guzzling, and sleepless guy into a muscular, smoke free and relaxed guy who exudes joy and confidence. This magical place in Mexico does that to people. It gives them a refuge and an anchor for the pressures of life. When things are tough, this place enters your mind and brings everything into perspective. Oph has become my lieutenant on these trips. He is my confidant and my trusted friend. Oph has written a trip summary on a private web page belonging to the Cats of Nine. I'm going to use his narrative to tell the story of Lost Beach. Thanks Oph!!


We will skip breakfast this morning and head North, pass Achillos, pass Jessie's and pass any resemblance of civilization. Before the morning was over we would be standing at the most Western part of Mexico. At the ledge of the world staring into the deep Pacific ocean. Bocina, Cortador and Scoot packed into the Chevy and Gancho, Echada and Tiburon took to the other car. It was a long ride North in the dark. Cows laid littered in the street. Where do they come from and why are they lounging in the middle of the street during the night? Is it the warmth of the dirt road that attracts them? Do the ranchers drive them out to graze the side of the land? Are they the natural lawnmovers of this secret society? What ever the reason is they have become a nuisance. The size of these cows are nothing with tamper with. Strapped with horns that stick out about a foot on each end, they could easily knock a small car into the side ditch. Here they lay in front of us blocking the entire road. They won't budge and take their time getting on their feet and out of the way. The horns do not work. The only way is to lightly bump them in the ass with the car. This will send them running for the fences. Tiburon is a mad-man as he leads me through the herd. He bumps a big mama cow in the ass and sends her scurrying and her little calf follows. Finally clear of cows and cow shits we march forward. The road north has just been blasted less then a year ago. The road is not perfect and have not been travelled on frequently. Ditches and runoffs break apart the road and we carefully manuevered the tiny wheels over them. Luckily I had bought full insurance on the rental. Finally down at the bottom of a hill we pulled over to the side and parked. In the dark Gancho fumbles to find the entrance to the sea. So here we are standing at the entrance to the Lost Beach.



The morning sun had slowly crawled up this morning. It was lazy and laid behind a thick blanket of clouds and now have begun to drizzle lightly. The rain was warm and was not much of a bother to us. If anything we welcome it to the humidity that engulfed. The dimly lit sky gave us enough to see that there was a barbed wire fence that surrounded the promise land. We helped one another duck through the prickly wires that would serve as the cattle guard. Two man on each side pulled part a hole big enough for a third man to crawl through. We pass our first obstacle. There would be many more as Gancho had told us that the Lost Beach involves going through a troll, and an underwater cavern and some other mystical fairy tale fable. We were up for the challenge. The trail that we had followed abruptly ended in a circle full of thorn bushes and BEE laiden flowers.


We could hear the buzzing of what would be thousands (or was it millions) of bees collecting honey. Could this be the troll demanding his fare? Gancho disappeared behind a set of thickets and he had found another path heading somewhere. Not sure where but it was a path. We slowly crawled, got down on our knees and broke through to the other side to find Gancho standing at another set of barbed wire fence. This one enclosed what looks like a field of marijuana plants. Rows and rows laid lined up symetrically. Gancho hops over the fence and was waiting to help the next person. Pass the fence and over the open field, there were more thick brushes. It did not seem like there was an opening to the beach but a dead end that might get us shot from trespassing. Thousand more bees are heard buzzing about. They seem to be following us and with their wings flapping and fluttering it echoed through the woods and into our heads. I jumped the fence in one leap and am ready for the next obstacle. Bocina follows and then something unexpectedly is heard from the other cats. "I am going to Jessie's who is coming with me?" Wait, what!!!?? We had bested the troll and made it into the caverns and you want to back out now? A little aggravated that we had come all this way and to have half your team give up sorta saddens you for a bit. Gancho, Bocina and myself were in it for the long haul. We were this close to finding the Lost Beach and we were not giving in too the troll. We marched on through the muddy field and left the skirt wearers to backtrack their way to the car. We had faintly heard the rumbling of the ocean just ahead. At the end of the field was another fence surrounded with thickets. We found an opening underneath and another set of barb wire laid in our face. The rumbling had grew louder and through a mall opening in the brushes we could could see the beach. Bocina had found a gate 10 feet from where we were standing. The gate was not a formal gate but this was an opening that we had been searching for. Two post had been held together by a wire. Pulling them apart gave us enough room to walk through with all our gear.



We made our way under a few bushy trees and a magnifent beach unfolded in front of us. Untouched and unspoiled with a large sand shelf and rocky outcrops at both ends of the beach, we had found the Lost Beach. We walked over the dunes and hundreds of turtle tracks are seen. They weave up and down the sandy beach and led to nests that they had dug out with their flippers. This was a good sign that humans or predators are rarely found here. The turtles would come to lays their eggs without being threaten. Perhaps a few ranchers and some cattles grazed the land but never a fishermen or flocking tourists that is, until now. We pounded a few logs into the sand to mark our entrance way. Then we put together our rods and latched on our favorite lures and spread out to fish the glory hole.



Like it was a queue from a movie setting, the heaven unfolded and rain started spouting on us. We timed our cast and launched our lures into the ocean. With the wind at our back our lures went sailing past 150 yards. WHAMMMMM! Colin hooks into a Rooster that takes some line. I look over and he had a sly grin on his face and I shot one back. I launched my whistler again and this time a Quamos smacked it. I look over and Colin had landed his rooster and held it up for me to see then put him back where he belong. I land my Quamos and put him back.



Colin moved past me while I was fighting the Jack and have now hooked into another Rooster. He lands it and does the same. Held it up to show me then put him back. Thunder echoed through the canyon and rain came gushing down. At this point the fishing went insane. Roosters, Jacks and Needlefish are seen running rampant through the waves. The needles come screaming out of the water at 50 miles an hours. They dive in and out of the water chasing bait. Right in the wash I see a large shadow just cruising along. This thing was huge about 7 or 8 feet long. It came in cruising from my left and just pushed everything out of it's way towards my right. At one point I saw a shark fin stick out of the water. We later confirmed with Marcelino that shark infest these waters up North. The fishing went on despite the rain, the wind and the thunder in the background. We were drenched from head to toe. Our brimmed hats kept the rain from going into our eyes and we were able to make out what is smackin our lures at the end of our casts. Like that I had a fine Rooster on and landed him. Another one but lost him. Needles. Jacks. Green Jacks. Even Rays were seen prancing around. The needles were fast and were the first to get to your lure. I had to repeatedly change leaders everytime I hook and land one. The teeth on these things could slice through metal.



The rain came down in buckets and the needles were voracious. Every cast I had one on. Finally it seem like a hurricane had passed on top of the Lost Beach we retreated for shelter. We sipped gatorade and ate granola bars until the clouds strolled by and the wind let down for a bit.



Back out to the beach for more of the insane fishing. However with the storm passing by it seem the fish have pass by as well. No more Roosters or jacks. Just the annoying needles that slashed and threathen the strenght of your line and leader. We made a decision to move down to the left end of the beach where a towering sand shelf had been carved out by the waves.



For sure it looked fishy. On my first cast about 20 shadows were chasing down the lure. Roosters and jacks beating each other up to get a chance to jump on my hook. My luck a big Toro hit. I love catching Jacks for their power and two a day will make your arms sore. I was catchin 6 of these Quamos a day!!! You tend to want to give up after a 20 minute fight. They simply do not cave in once hooked. Just as you think you've won, they run back out into the waves and the arm wrestling begins again. Even the little toro will pull drag and bend your rod. While landing him I look over and see Bocina hooked up. After a few minutes he holds up a very fine Rooster for a picture.



We continued to fish and I made my way over and around the rocky outcrop. Nothing more was landed but the hidden scenery was a sight to see. If I could choose a place to build my dream home, it would be nestled right here. I didn't take a picture because I had wanted to keep this for myself. It is capture and locked up in the back of my mind. One day when the cats are brave enough to venture our this far. They will see the hidden beauty of my new Lost Beach.


It was time to go eat and we met Gancho and headed back to the car. We made our way through the invisible gate and the mango brove, and past the trolls. Now only the three of us knew the secret of the Lost Beach.


I'm going to copy Oph's account of "Roostilla" here. WHAT A FISH!! Out of the 70 or 80 roosterfish we caught, I think only three died. This is an outstanding example of fishermen protecting and respecting their sport. No roosterfish that has a chance of survival should be kept or given to the locals. They are too magnificent and precious to use as food (the flesh is only marginally good).


Echeda had a few follows and I hooked a Rooster out pretty far. Just as it hops on it hops off after giving me a flashy show. Wasn't a bad fish either. Then on my next cast, my lure got blasted by a fish. The impact almost took the rod out of my hand. The rain had started drizzling down again. This fish starts to pull hard and peels line. I could not stop it and just let it run. I though "oh my could this be Ophelia?" This fish was acting like a cubera, it was right in front of me and heading straight out to deep sea. I point my rod up towards the sky a bit to try and use the rod to slow it down. This worked and the fish started going left. I lowered the rod and managed to gain some line and I follow the fish. The whole time I skiddadled across the sand and I stayed on top of the fish. It had taken me across to where Echeda was fishing and he got out of the way for me. And like a good amigo he said "here let me help you land it" and waited for me while I fought this beast. I managed to get the fish in to the first set of waves and now it ran back out again. The reel was singing as this fish just took line. Echeda had asked me what I thought the fish was. Immediately I said Toro and a BIG one. Not because I saw it, but just the power of this thing. I have fought large Toros all week long and this one was acting just like the giants I have hooked into, but this one seemed much bigger and more powerful. I was confused. Was it a Toro or was it a Cubera! Now at 20 minutes into the slugfest my arm was aching. Still however I could not lose this fish. Then suddenly in a large wave that crested above, the fish was broadside and hanging in the wave and I was able to see it's gray stripes and elongated body. I immediately yelled out to Echeda "It's a Rooster!!! And it's a BIG one!!!" I now held on for dear life. I am focused and concentrated. Echeda was fumbling around behind me and was rooting me on. I finally got the fish in the wash and then the fish woke up momentarily and out of it's daze, it steamed ahead and ran back out to the deep sea. Nothing I could do but let it run. It got out to about 75 yards before tiring out again. I pump my rod and gained back some distance between us. The same thing happened three more times, running out, running to the left, to the right, just running for it's life. The rain had been steadily sprinkling down and this setup for a perfect scenario for this long fight. Just like Rocky when he fought the Russian. I was the Russian getting clobbered when I thought I was winning. My mind was focused and all my energy was drained, my arms were about to be pulled out of their sockets. I never wanted anything this bad as I carefully maneuvered it into waves. After 40 minutes the big fish was in the wash again and spent. Timing it carefully I let a giant wave carry it further up the sand dune. As quick as a cat I leaped into the wash and grab the giant fish by it's tail. I barely could put my hand around it's tail and was fumbling to move it up the sand. I used another wave to drag it across the sand. Echada had come down and relieved me of my rod so that I could use both hands to grab the fish. The size moved me and I try to hoist it up as I dragged it across the sand to where the waves could not reach us. I was paralyzed by this enormous fish. I fumbled to grab my camera, turned it on and asked Echeda to take a snap of me and Moby. Echeda obliged and shakenly took a snap.



I am pure jello now. Limp and dazed my stomach was all tensed up. Adrenaline flowed and now I was just trying to calm down. I took the fish and held it in the water to breathe. A large waves rolls over me and pushes me and the fish back up the bank of the sand. I grab the big fish and try again. This time I was able to hold it in the water a bit longer and it's tail stroke for a bit and it's comb went straight up. I let it go and it starts to swim away on it's own. I turn and climbed out of the suds and made my way back to Echada for a high five. Then Echada points back towards the water. The big fish had went limp again and was now tossed back into the current. It was on it's side. I leaped down and caught it by the tail and was trying to revive it again. The big fish starts breathing again and seemed like it was going to make it so I let it free again just to have a wave crash it back into the suds. Sapped of energy I felt bad and tried to get another hold of the fish. The current kept it out far enough just where I could not reach for it without diving into the ocean. So I followed it while the current took it down the beach and hoping for a chance to grab it. The fish now was floating along on it's back and was for sure had gone. Echada handed me my rod and said try to get it with your lure. Sadden I was able to hook it and drag in back into the sand. No use letting the crabs feed when their is a whole village that could be fed.


Gancho got his energy back and now was fishing along the banks. He made his way over to us and was shocked at the size of this fish. Plomo also came up when I was fighting the fish but took off for Aquilles. He had missed the entire fight that I had with the big fish. Back at Fernando's place he had about six of his amigos drinking corona. There is a storm headed straight for us and Fernando offered to barbeque the fish for everyone to eat. We would skip out on going to Cande's and feast as a family. Fenando hands me a beer and I quickly gulped it down and made my way back over to guys. Bocina had awaken and had overheard the conversation over the bacony. He straddles up and flies down the stairs onto the ATV for a lift to 2 kilo. The guys continued fishing while I played the whole thing back in my head. Not another fish were to be caught that night and so we headed back to Fernando's to get out of the rain.



Back under the cantina the fish had already been gutted and fileted. I was hoping to get a weight on it but hunger took over and Fernando's brother had carved it up and coal was on the grill. We cracked a few coronas and began our night. Hurricane Dean was headed straight for us and rain came gushing down. One of our new Mexican amigo had offered to buy us a bottle of tequila as long as we drank the entire bottle. We obliged and the shot glasses came out.



Gancho help celebrate by buying a round of Hamburguesa for everyone. He and Tiburon braved the weather and had found Adriana to make us her special Mexican hamburgers. Tequila, hamburger and fish tacos what more could you want. The fish had fed roughly 30 people that had wandered into Fernando and Mary's house. There was a band there. One of them were Mary's nephew and had decided to come out and visit. Other friends of the family slowly made their way under the canopy and were now munching on barbecue fish and Mary's home made tortilla and rice. Tiburon showed us how to drink tequila as he downed (or was it doused) shot after shot. Chili had made some new friends as he broke out the cigars and humbly matched shot for shot for our new amigos. It turned out to be a good night as we took on Dean.



I finally can say that I have had Rooster meat. Only if forced would I ever eat it again. Better to leave them to in the ocean and at the other end of your line instead of on your plate. The local seem to enjoy the fish and were making fish tacos with rice, beans, veggies and hot sauce. The bottle of tequila was finished and the ardent amigo requested that it was time we purchase a second bottle to drink. We took the queue and head back to the hotel for some sleep. The rain still drizzling down we ran under palm trees through the rain runoff and into shelter. That night I snored louder then both of my room mates. Louder then the lizard that have made our sleeping quarters into his den. Louder then the thunder and the waves that crashed outside.





I am not quite done yet! On the next to last day, I asked Ophelia (Qtiep) if he wanted to go on a big adventure. He gave me a quick glance that gave me his answer. We topped off the gas tanks on both ATVs and headed south. South as far as our hearts desired. I can not tell you what this was really like but I will try. This whole afternoon adventure was an outstanding moment in my life. The wind was upon my face. The sky shone upon me. The sea was skimming by and the sand was beneath me. My good friend was with me. We traveled far for the pure exhilaration, adventure and fun of it. Miles and miles of deserted beaches, crashing shores, and freshwater lagoons passed by. We saw things no one save a very few wandering residents have seen for eons. Birds, fish, rocky cliffs, huge sand dunes.............. We were actually young boys again. This place is a time machine and time had been thrown back. It is pure magic. The fountain of youth. I tip my hat to Tiep.


I usually loath ATVs. Their misuse infringes on the enjoyment of others, they scar the land, and their riders could easily walk the same places. If there was ever a place where and ATV is warranted it is here. The sands are deserted, the distances are vast, and it is the only way to access many places. If this is rationalizing, so be it. Our tracks swiftly disappear with the wind and the waves. Simply said, my guts tell me it is OK in this situation. You would have to be there to fully understand.


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I have made one more video. I snuck off one day and fished the beach alone. I made a video of myself catching a roosterfish. I held the rod AND the camera in the same hand. Tiburon (Airnuts) taught me this. The sawing sound you hear is the drag peeling and transmitted directly to the camera as it touched the rod. Sweet music to any fisherman!


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The big trip is over. The Cats of Nine have returned home. They have seen things, done things, and caught things that others only dream about. They will repeat the tales over and over. They will return to Mexico many times in their heads and hearts. They only need close their eyes and the sights, sounds, and smells will return to them. They will feel the cast. The fish will chase the lure. It will strike with a splash and pull on their arms. They will catch the fish and see the fish. The Cats of Nine will forever be on the Mexican beach. It will never end.













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