That's My Story...

2009-06-27T14:34:00.003-06:00

PHOTO: Worse places to be on the planet. If the phone doesn't ring it's me...

PHOTO: Greetings from La Paz. Me, Tosh and Gordie don our masks...that no one ever used anyway! So we just wear 'em for fun now!

BAJA NOTES

Originally published in Western Outdoor News the Week of June 30, 2009

I’m writing this looking out across the sunny sand and water at Muertos Bay and you can’t imagine too many other pretty places that can be much nicer. There are some coco palms in front of me and the water is that deep teal blue you see on postcards. Barely a ripple breaks the water surface and other than the folks here in the bar behind me, it’s deserted.

OK, I fib. There’s some real estate folks chatting it up with some prospective pigeons…uh clients... a few tables over. I try to tune that drivel out. If I hear that phrase “get in on the ground floor” one more time, I’m gonna go postal.

But, all-in-all, it beats scratching out on a keyboard in some cubicle. I know I’m blessed. But all is not well in paradise.

Recent bad news from Loreto. Add one more casualty to the pyre.

The 6,000 unit Loreto Bay Resort, about 20 minutes from Loreto, has suspended all operations. The mega-resort was to have included a hotel; seaside village; as well as homes, but had been struggling recently as a combination of the economy, real estate bust, bank failures as well as negative feelings about Mexico in general tied to the swine flu and drug war scares.

The hotel and golf course have been closed and fewer than 800 home units had been sold. More than 400 workers have been laid off.

The failure of the project puts current homeowners as well as those in the middle of construction in a mess and adrift. Despite months of speculation, many were not notified until the last minute that their services had been shut off. The government has asked to take over the project until new investors can be found. Folks do remain hopeful.

On the other side of the spectrum. I don’t know if something “official” has filtered to the troops and other law enforcement personnel at ground zero. But, here in La Paz as well as what I’m hearing from other areas and travelers in Baja raises an eyebrow or two.

Are the cops and soldiers getting some kinds of be “ nice-to-gringos” edict? I think it’s more than our collective imaginations. Here in La Paz, we go through check-points regularly. It’s pretty routine to go through checkpoints set up for drunks (just like the states) as well as regular random checkpoints by the military inspecting for drugs and arms.

At these checkpoints, normally, they’re pretty business-like as a matter of routine. At best.

At worst, there’s been some pretty rude encounters I’ve had over the years. Even traffic stops that I deserved (for wrong turns, seat belts, etc…I’m bad) have been pretty business-like. Just like the cops at there back home in the U.S. Just doing their jobs and nothing says they have to be friendly about it. I get that.

However, lately, guys in uniforms seem to go out-of –their-way to be nice. Even other gringos have said so. At checkpoints I get waved through with a smile. I don’t even roll my window down anymore.

I’ve been asked how my day is going. How is the fishing? Am I enjoying my stay? What??? Sometimes everyone else gets pulled over to be checked, but I don’t.

I turned down a one-way street and immediately got the red lights flashing. Oh no! Here we go. I’m gonna get hard-nosed.

On the contrary. As I watched in my rear-view mirror, the officer walked up like he was gonna nail me. I braced myself. Then he saw my California plates (that I’ve not changed yet) and I saw him break into a grin.

I rolled down my window and he smiled. Like an understanding parent, he told me it was dangerous to turn down a one-way street and to be more careful next time. He didn’t want anything happening to “visitors” to Mexico. He wished me a good day then made sure there was no traffic so I could turn around. No lecture. No Barney Fife harangue about being an idiot and now having to pay a humongous ticket. Just a big old grin.

Make my day indeed! Viva Mexico! I think they have been told to be nice to gringos. Thankful for little blessings.

That's my story!

If you ever need to reach me, I"m at riplipboy@tailhunter-international.com

Best fishes!

Jonathan

2009-06-13T10:01:00.005-06:00

PHOTO 1: Can it get much better than this? Double hook-ups; sunshine; flat water with dad and son in Baja? Priceless.

PHOTO 2: For lots of us it started like this. A simple Kodak moment in the sun begins a life-changing experience with our dads and kids.

UNBROKEN CIRCLES

Originally published the Week of June 16, 2009 in Western Outdoor News

“When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could barely stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished to see how much the old man had learned in 7 years.” Mark Twain

“Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected.” Red Buttons

_________________

One of the great joys of working down here in Baja in the fishing industry is seeing families doing things together. Even moreso, to see the kids and parents interact, but especially for me, watching the dads and their kids or particularly, dads and their sons.

For a lot of us that have come to cherish the Baja, somewhere along the line, our dads played some role in those memories. For many of you, maybe it was dad who hauled you and the family into the old truck or station wagon down that dusty old Baja road.

You may not have even fished at first. Maybe it was just those weekend trips to Tijuana, Rosarito or San Felipe (back in the day!) that got Mexico in your blood. If it wasn’t fishing, then maybe it was a camping or surf trip to some remote beach.

You had an old green aluminum Coleman ice chest (Didn’t we ALL have one of those?). You may or may not have had that musty green canvas tent from Sears Roebuck.

You ALWAYS had a dog-eared copy of the Auto Club travel book plus the AAA map that never re-folded properly. If it was a long trip, you always had rope, a shovel and a roll of toilet paper. Bottled designer water was unheard of, but some of us carried those canvas water bags and plastic jugs of real honest-to-goodness TAP water! And it tasted just fine and no one got sick!

You surely might not have appreciated it then. . .all the things dad had to go through to get that trip underway with or without all the kids or mom. He had to think of everything.
There wasn’t a fallback plan. AM/PM mini marts were not along the way. You may have the map, but Auto Club was not going to come out so he better know how to fix a tire.

Restrooms ? That’s why you brought the toilet paper and shovel. No one grumbled. It’s just the way it was! (Try telling your kids to do that these days!). If you needed air-conditioning, you just rolled down the windows and drove faster. And choked on the Baja dust.

But, now that you’re older and know what it’s like just to get everyone to the movies or Walmart or have mustered your own outdoor trips, you have a special appreciation for what it must have taken for dad to marshall all the troops…and do it generally with a smile.

Only a saint could have listened to another verse of “Wheels On the Bus Go Round-and-Round” coming from the zoo in the seats behind him. “Are we there yet?” “You’re not the boss of me!” “Jimmy is touching me!”

With my own dad, he didn’t get me to Baja. Not initially. When I was a kid, dad got seasick! However, it was his love of fishing, camping and outdoors that got him to impart to me a love for those things as well. He did pile us into the Dodge station wagon many-a-time.

So, in a round-about-way, I’d have never found Baja had my dad not shared those qualities and experiences with me in the first place. When I got older, Baja seemed a natural calling and off-I-went.

Little did I know that I’d later make a life and career down here. And it was me that eventually introduced my dad to Baja and we’ve since shared some wonderful priceless moments together. (His seasickness got better as he got older).

So, it’s with great pleasure that I see dads and sons together. But it’s even more gratifying to see the circle go unbroken as sons grow up and take their own dads fishing and watching the role reversals.

“Dad, don’t worry, I have the tackle.”

“Where’s your jacket? You’ll need a jacket on the boat.”

“ Stop asking. I didn’t forget the beer!”

“Make sure to call mom tonite.”

“Yes, we’ll find you a bathroom. There’s always the shovel!”

“No, I will NOT pull your finger!”

My own dad is coming to visit this week. I will not mind baiting his hook or making sure he brought the sunscreen. I hope he catches more and bigger fish than me. He surely got smarter as I got older!

Happy Father’s Day to you all. Feliz Dia de Los Padres!

If you ever need to reach me, I'm down here in La Paz riplipboy@tailhunter-international.com

2009-05-29T11:58:00.003-06:00

Insofar as several marinas and hotels are planned on this remote stretch of Ventana Bay, this early morning view of Cerralvo Island won't be around much longer nor will the "old school" style of launching pangas off the beach.

OLD SCHOOL ALL OF A SUDDEN

Originally Published in Western Outdoor News the Week of June 3, 2009

I’ve always kinda liked the term “old school.” It denotes a somewhat different way of doing things…perhaps different values…a different character in a person or thing. Days gone by?

So, how did I suddenly get to be “old school” and why does it humorously “sting to get labeled.

So, there I was yakking with some uh…”younger” Baja anglers about how enjoyable it was to drive down the peninsula “back in the day” and pull up, wipe the dust off; scrape the insects off your windshield; and hit an oasis like the Punta Chivato, the old Serenidad, Hotel Las Arenas or Punta Colorada Hotels. Even the old Hotel Cabo San Lucas in it’s heyday was quite a rustic site.

After all those long bumpy grimy miles, to step onto those cool shaded terra cotta floor tiles and the verdant gardens and hear the splash of the mossy court fountain was like heaven. And then to be handed an actual real cold beer across the long bar of the cantina as you looked across over the palm trees and beaches towards the bluest waters you had ever seen was an indescribable sensation. You had arrived!

And, you know what? Beyond that frosty beer; the fishing; the swimming pool (no swim up bar!) and those great tacos; there wasn’t much else going on. And that was just fine…back in the day!

What else could an angler want? Oh…those hammocks under the trees were an awfully nice touch after dinner and a Cuban too. Maybe some smooth sipping tequila. Watching the stars blinking on and to actually see the Milky Way was the topper.

I was expressing these exact words to my young listeners who looked a bit incredulous when I said, that’s about all there was to to do.

“What about the golf?” asked one. “And no waverunners?” “Did you have satellite TV to catch sports?” “I bet you didn’t even have computer hookups, did you?” asked one other with a grin.

I had to remind him that we didn’t even have computers. Heck, not even a cell phone. (Gasp!) In fact, many of you other “old schoolers” can remember that if you wanted to make a phone call, you had to hitch a ride to the local pueblo and find the block house with the rusty “larga distancia” (long distance) sign hanging outside. You paid your money. You made your call and it may or may not ring on the other end. Ultimately, short of someone dying, NO call was worth all that trouble to interrupt the afternoon happy hour!

In fact, despite our current need to have cell phones surgically attached to us, very few calls are really that urgent at all. They weren’t then. They aren’t now!

I told these guys that you didn’t “Priceline” a hotel or read hotel reviews on Trip Advisor first. You didn’t “blog” or “twitter” your friends to get their opinions about a destination. You didn’t choose your hotel by whether it offered massage services, Sunday brunch or free kayaks. You never expected a mint on your pillow although air-conditioning was sure nice.

Often, you chose your hotel because that’s when you got

a. Tired of driving
b. Ran out’ve gas
c. Ran out’ve water
d. You liked the way the name sounded and it was close to the beach
e. It looked like they might have electricity and running water!

You expected to see a bug here and there. It’s Mexico! Track lights? How about a single light bulb from the ceiling! You didn’t complain when the lights went out at 9 p.m. either. There was nothing wrong with the electricity. That’s just when they turned off the hotel generator.

But what was there to do after 9 p.m. anyway? You sat around in the dark in a lounge chair with a drink or around the hotel fire, if they had one. And you talked and laughed and bonded.

And the stars came out and the waves could be heard down on the beach and the breeze ruffled the palms. And you solved all the world’s problems with some of the best conversations you will ever have in your life with friends you will never forget.

“Dude, that sure is old school, alright!” said one of the young guys.

I don’t need a mint on my pillow. I guess if I’m old enough to remember those days, then I am “old school.” And I’m glad I still remember “back in the day.”

That's my story!
If you ever need to reach me down here in the Baja I"m at riplipboy@tailhunter-international.com

Jonathan
Tailhunter International La Paz

2009-05-16T18:58:00.005-06:00

SHHHHHH....AWFULLY QUIET DOWN HERE!

Originally Published in Western Outdoor News the Week of May 18, 2009

Well, judging from the preliminary reports this season, I would think that the Sea of Cortez and the Baja in particular are in for a pretty nice fishing season. It started early with the incredible marlin bite that was off-the-charts around Cabo San Lucas. Words like “epic” and “historic” were often attached as boats slammed striped marlin in record numbers.

Waters have warmed quickly and the body of marlin has moved up and into the Cortez early as have other pelagic species as well. So far, the reports on early season dorado, sailfish, tuna, wahoo and even blue and black marlin have locals and veteran visting anglers cocking eyebrows and rubbing chins. The bite is on and seemingly getting better. Is this going to be one of THOSE years?

Even further north towards Loreto, Bay of L.A. Concepcion, Mulege, things are percolating. There are some unusually good catches starting to bubble up and the anticipation is growing. We could be in for something special.

Just one problem…

No one is here!

I watched several planes unload here in La Paz the other day. Almost empty. Clients coming through Cabo San Lucas tell me planes had a dozen people in them. It was so empty you could lie down across several seats.

I took clients to the airport today. It was a bit like walking through a museum or a library. Awfully quiet!

Mexico, and Baja in particular, has gotten a quadruple whammy. It’s gone 4 rounds with the champ and taken it on the chin with a few too many haymakers.

First, and foremost, the economic slump in the U.S. has shut off the tourism on so many levels. Fishing, diving, hotels, restaurants, tours, gasoline…you name it. Squeezed like a lime being pressed in a margarita.

Then, it was the perception that Mexico is overrun with druggies shooting willy-nilly at each other and pegging tourists in the process. A “Crime Spree Grips the Country!” screams the TV. Of course, many people don’t realize that Mexico is bigger than the U.S. and, although bad, the actual spots are localized. But, the whole country gets painted with the same tainted paintbrush.

Third, we get the pig flu. Exhale. Sigh. What the..? (I don’t even know how to say that in Spanish!)

Again, the paintbrush comes out. All of Mexico is rampant with this plague-of-a-flu. In reality, it’s about as potent as the thing your kid brings home from school. Yes, unfortunately, people have died in Mexico City. But thousands die yearly from regular flu and no one gets upset. In Baja, as of this writing, not a single person has come down with the swine flu along it’s entire 1000-mile-long state.

But, people stay home. Toursits give up. “Honey, let’s go to Disneyworld instead. We can eat Mexican food in Fronterland.”

Unofficially, I hear Cabo is at 22 percent occupancy. On the Mainland, places like Cancun usually filled with the sun-crowd is at a whopping 7 percent occupancy.

This past week, even the people that wanted to come down were thwarted. Reports of clients showing up at airline counters ready to go on their vacations being turned away were not uncommon. They were told, sometimes with no warning, that the flights were canceled simply because there weren’t enough people on the flight! “Gee, sorry about that. I’m sure the kids miss you back home anyway.”

Ridiculous. Rather ironic. The planes are empty because so many people canceled because of the swine flu. The planes aren’t flying because they are empty. Circular.

If you do come to the Mexican airport, you’ll be surprised by a little device they are using to take your temperature. No, you won’t “feel a little pressure.” It’s not that kind of a probing device! But, when you arrive and depart they touch it to your head to take your temperature to make sure you’re not running a fever. I guess you don’t get to fly if you have a bug…any bug.

Anyone noticed that all the “news” about the crime seems to have vanished for the most part? Guess the druggies are wearing surgical masks and staying indoors.

What next? Any more calamities and some of these Baja towns will look like high noon waiting for a gunfight. Just add tumbleweeds and dust blowing across the street. And a little Clint Eastwood spaghetti-western music.

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

2009-04-18T06:42:00.004-06:00

PHOTO 1: The hated ones! Pelicans lining up at the buffet!

PHOTO 2: Waiting below if you can just away from the birds! Lemons into lemonade?

PHOTO 3: Some of the crank baits and swim baits you can use to get below the surface and away from pesky birds.

BIRDS BE GONE

Originally published in Western Outdoor News the Week of April 22, 2009

We were shivering as we turned the corner and out of the cove in the early morning light. It was chilly. Brrrrrrr….I looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy with all the layers of clothing I was wearing.

My answer to not having a heavy jacket here in Mexico is to pile layer upon layer of shirts on. I had on one medium t-shirt; a large t-shirt; an XL flannel shirt and a big windbreaker over all of that. I looked like I’d raided a second hand store.

But these spring mornings before the sun comes up can get cold on the water, even down here in sunny Baja. And it was breezy too. No, I take it back, it was windy. Even in the light of dawn, I could already see dust devils and clouds of dust and haze rising as I looked back towards the land. I throttled up on the Honda outboard and hunkered forward while pulling up my collar.

I could already see that past the wind line of the point, we probably we not going to be able to cross the channel today. I guess we could, but it would be a rough wet crossing in the panga.

It looked like most of the fleet came to the same conclusion as I could see other boats opting to fish the rocky shorelines on the lee side of the point to keep out of the wind as much as possible.

The good thing was that there was a lot of bait fish in there. The bad thing was that all the birds knew that too…pelicans, frigates, gulls…the whole Mexican aviary was there on the buffet line. The fact that 30 panga captains were tossing handfuls of sardines into the air to chum fish didn’t help either. It was getting ugly.

Every boat was hooking bird after bird. Most of you have been there if you’ve spent any time on the water. Almost every bait that hit the water with a hook in it got bulls-eyed. We got a few cabrilla (Mexican seabass) but by our 5th pelican, that was it.

The last thing I had thrown into my tackle case that morning was my little plastic box of crank baits. Generically known as Rapalas, these are generally hard-bodied fish shaped lures that have a plastic or metal “lip” on them. This lip causes them to dive when cast and retrieved or slow trolled. Bigger the lip, the deeper the dive.

Many a fishing trip has been saved by having a crank bait aboard. Often, they catch the largest fish of the day. When trolling, you don’t go through as much bait and you also cover a lot more water too. This increases your hook-up odds!

Today, they saved our sanity.

By using the smaller 4-inch sized baits, and trolling them, we resolved our bird issue. I used models that had small the medium lips. I didn’t want them to dive too deep. If they dive too deep, they’d get hung up in the rocks. That surely happened several times so you have to be careful.

But, when fishing structure and slow trolling like this, you want to get as close to the structure as possible. That’s where all these Mexican rockfish like snapper, pargo, cabrilla, etc. lurk waiting to ambush a bait swimming by. The strike, even from a smaller fish, can be ferocious as it grabs and attempts to get back to its hole.

It’s a lot like jig fishing or bait fishing in the rocks. If you don’t lose the occasional rig, you’re not close enough to the bottom. It’s a given you’ll lose a few. But, whoever is driving the boat needs to keep an eye on the depths lest you wipe out a whole tackle box of lures before too long.

The patterns (and some of the are incredibly realistic these days) were generally similar to the sardine baits we were using for chum. Silver side with a darker blue, black or purple dorsal ridge. One strange pattern that seems to work tremendously, however, even when I’ve fished other parts of the Sea of Cortez is a rainbow trout pattern. Don’t ask me why. It’s just deadly!

But we got fish-after-fish and often with double hookups when others were still dodging birds. The lures run just deep enough below the surface so the birds can’t get to them. But, they run deep enough that the predatory fish can’t resist them.

Keep some in your tackle at all times. You just never know! We hit a couple of stops where were just could not stop whatever hit the lures. And I know it wasn’t rocks! Rocks don’t swim away!

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

2009-04-04T09:41:00.006-07:00

PHOTO 1: The tranquil La Paz Malecon waterfront. Pretty much peaceful as ever. 1000 miles away from what's happening up north. I did see some violence last week...two people arguing over a parking space in front of a popular fish taco stand...

BETTER TO LIGHT ONE CANDLE?

Originally published the week of April 7, 2009 in Western Outdoor News

This is your friendly public service announcement.

Obviously, unless you’ve lived on another planet or been in an isolation booth the last 6 months, you’ve heard about the crime issues faced in Mexico. It’s seemingly in every newspaper. CNN runs specials. The internet carries every act of violence and zips it around the planet to more people in shorter time than it takes me to type this sentence.

However, speed does not always equate with clarity. Sensationalism often trumps good accurate reporting.

Our own modern high-tech brains are only as focused as our dwindling attention spans. We blackberry, blog and twitter now. We get our dose of news in 100-word headlines with not much content. We can barely absorb the 6 o’clock news with nothing more taxing to our busy day than 20-second sound bites. We get headlines from talking heads with only a modicum of facts used as filler between the next 20-second-soundbite/headline. I know. I spent many years as a reporter.

Even here in this column, the limits of space prevent more than a smidgen of comment about what’s going on in Mexico and the media-driven perceptions. So, I’m guilty as well. But, I could write a thesis paper on what I know and what I think about the current crime situation.

But, suffice to say, there is indeed a problem.

Yes, it is serious.

No, it’s not all over Mexico

It’s not even all over Baja.

What a lot of folks don’t realize, even frequent long-time Baja visitors, is that Baja is 2 separate states…Baja Norte (Northern Baja) and Baja Sur (Southern Baja). Ensenada is the capital of the former and La Paz is the capital of the latter.

Ninety-nine percent of the violent crime is along the border. It’s not even ALL of northern Baja. Surprise, it’s not even all of Tijuana!
However, Baja Sur wants to keep as much of the ugly stuff out of it’s turf. It’s like Oregon implementing strategies to keep tainted California fruit from coming across.

So, Baja Sur has implemented an extensive three-pronged plan to hopefully keep the bad guys out. It might be like barring the gate when the fox is already in the henhouse, but it’s like that saying “better to light one candle than curse the darkness.”

The moves are meant to keep the barbarians outside the city walls, but also to hopefully instill confidence in locals and travelers that the government is trying. It’s surely got a catchy name/motto titled “Baja California Sur, Estado Seguro.” (Baja Sur, the Safe State). Like Missouri…the “Can Do” state or something like that.

What’s involved is an extensive search and i.d. program at three major areas of entry to the state involving land, sea, and air. . One is at San Ignacio near the border with Northern Baja along the Transpeninsular Highway. The other has been implemented at the busy Cabo Airport.

The third is at the ferry terminal in La Paz to check motorists coming by boat from Sinaloa, home of the notorious Sinaloan drug cartels.

Essentially, both locals and tourists must produce extensive i.d., vehicle registration and are subject to being photographed and fingerprinted. While so far, most tourists have experienced very few problems or been detained, others have been surprised and angered by the searches that can take an hour-or-more. The process is extensive and intrusive.

I applaud the efforts. They are well-intentioned. Mexico needs to clamp down on the crime and it also needs to assure it’s citizens and it’s visitors that it’s safe to travel.

But, I’m not sure how effective this will be. Mexico is caught between a rock and a hard place.

If you’ve ever traveled in other countries, many other nations are used to seeing police presence and searches are not uncommon. Police with guns are normal.

Gringos don’t like being searched. We’re all about “personal space” and we’re really uncomfortable when it’s violated. We don’t like our bags being opened or people poking in our cars. Heck, we surely hate taking our shoes off at the airport, gringos surely aren’t going to like being photographed and fingerprinted just to come down to fish, swim and romp in margaritaville. Oh the indignity. Americans don’t like being touched.

They are also really uncomfortable seeing people…even legit police and army guys…holding automatic weapons. I’ve been searched so many times in 15 years it’s not big deal. I laugh. They laugh. They’re just doing their job. Tourists don’t like that.

So, will this really help keep the tourists coming?

On the other side, with thousands of people traveling in and out of Southern Baja daily, how effective is this? I don’t think they have the resources to detain, search, photo and fingerprint everyone. And so far, the searches have basically turned up car thieves and minor bad guys.

But, they’re trying. I like that they’ve lit a candle. I just hope I’m not in a hurry when I get stopped and I’m having a “good hair” day when I get photographed.

Many thanks to my amigo Pete Thomas of the Los Angeles Times who has written a great sports and outdoor column for years and for keeping us posted and who has a great blog about all this: http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/outposts/2009/03/many-arent-awar.html

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

2009-03-21T13:33:00.004-07:00

PHOTO 1: The prized dog-tooth or cubera snapper get huge. This is a big fish, but they get alot bigger. They live in the rocks and are ferociously powerful fighters in their home turf and have everything on their side against you.

PHOTO 2: In the spring these big pargo liso aka mullet snapper come up in schools into the shallow areas which of course...are full of rocks and ledges. By the time you realize you're bit, you're already too late to stop these bad boys.

PHOTO 3: This is a slugger 40 pound yellowtail. Blistering short runs and tenacity make these highly prized but most often you find them near lots of structure where they hold all the advantages.

STOPPING THE BULLRUSH!

Originally published the week of March 24, 2009 in Western Outdoor News

Having just come off the fishing-show circuit and traveling most of the western U.S. with a lot of the other outfitters from Ensenada to Cabo San Lucas, I know a lot of you are watching the fishing counts in Baja. This is the time of year when there’s a lot of anticipation for spring fishing.

Yellowtail, pargo and grouper season are here. It’s almost like a fever and when word gets out that these big boys are around, you can feel the energy, not just when we talk to folks face-to-face, but even in the calls and e-mails we get as folks book their trips or inquire about coming down.

Springtime is generally bad-boy season. For a lot of Baja anglers, marlin, tuna, dorado, etc. just don’t hold their interest like the “bad boys in the rocks.” Not just for eating, but because of the sheer tenacity of these species and the sport. “Bad attitude” is an understatement.

Whether you’re discussing yellowtail, pargo or grouper, you’re talking about fish with big heads, powerful shoulders and bullish personalities, not to mention finicky tastes. To that, add the fact that they are in their home turf…rocks, reefs, structure…and it’s often not a level playing field…uh water!

While these species might migrate to some degree, at this time of year, they become “homeguard.” They’re not venturing too far from their neighborhood of razor sharp rocks, caves and ledges. Yellowtail might make it out a bit but their first inclination is to head right back to cover Pargo and grouper are already either in shallow rocky water or coming out’ve caves and crevices to feed and pounce on meals.

Do the math.

With any of these species, you suddenly realize you’re bit. In the nano-seconds or so that it took your hands or your brain to compute that it’s not just your bait wiggling, about 10 yards…30 feet of line spun off your reel. Your rod bends 3 feet. You lift it another 3 feet to set the hook. That’s 6 feet. You’re now 36 feet behind and in the hole…so is the fish!

`He’s already back in his hole or travelling through the rocks! When you set the hook and it bites into the fish’ jaw, the fish puts on the jets and burrows deeper. Zingpowie! There goes the line. You lose. Less than the time it took me to type the last sentence, you’re toast and your panga captain is patting you on the back. Your buddies are laughing something about you being a “farmer.” Dejection. Shame…You try to shake it off. They’ll “get theirs” you mumble back.

It happened so fast. It’s hard to explain. Your imagination blasts Powerpoint programs of how big that fish might have been. Man, so THAT’s what it feels like!

All you can do is reload. Pin another bait on and drop down.

But that’s what makes this so fun and challenging. Guys talk all the time about popping tuna-after-tuna or dorado-after-dorado to the boat. In Cabo they’re racking a dozen or more marlin-a-day these past few months.

But how often do you hear a guy tell you he put “limits” of pargo, grouper or yellowtail on the boat? A good day is 1, 2, 3...maybe! If he does hit limits, he’s usually shell-shocked and sweat drenched. Yes, it happens. But it’s often the exception rather than the rule.

The biggest thing with these fish is you gotta turn their heads. You have to stop the bull-rush. Once they get up that head-of-steam, you’re already on the losing end. The fish has the edge.

So often I see anglers, even experienced ones, get bit and set the hook. Then, they get their elbows and knuckles slammed against the gunwales. They understandably hold on for dear life and wait for the fish to slow down so they can lift the rod and pull.

Well, unlike a tuna or dorado that may have hundreds of feet of water below it, you don’t have that luxury with these fish. The bottom is right there. They are already in the structure. The fact that you waited, put you behind the 8-ball. As soon as you get bit, you have to pull like a madman and fight the urge to lay the rod down.

Lift that stick and put as much pressure on the fish as possible. Turn the handle if you can. This is where all you guys who bought those expensive two-speeds with big drags and low gears will finally figure out why you spent the money!

Chances are you will probably still lose the fish. That’s just the way it is. But, it’s an awful lot of fun!

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

2009-03-07T08:43:00.003-07:00

PHOTO 1: On so many levels, Mexican taxi drivers can be your best friends on a visit to Mexico whether you're a first timer or returning vacationer.

PHOTO 2: Make a friend and most taxi drivers will hang with you to make sure you're OK even getting you back to your hotel after a fun night on the town, even when you've run off with someone's Mexican flag...

JOSE AND JESUS HAVE YOUR BACK

Originally Published in Western Outdoor News the Week of March 10, 2009

If you ever want to know anything in Mexico, talk to a taxi driver. Forget the concierge at your four-star resort. I think stereotypically, taxi drivers are the same around the world.

They are a great mix of a little bit of hustler; bit of shaman; bit of scheister; huxter; and general purveyors of knowledge big and small. They are like walking talking guide books and far better than a phone book!

They can be as paternally watchful over you and your family like a favorite uncle or cousin or happy to be a frat boy with you careening around town on an all-night bender.

If you’re new in town and a first-timer, a Mexican taxi driver can be your best friend. Forget for a moment the little electric fan attached to side window or the colorful yarn-dingle-balls stuck with Velcro to the inside of the windshield. Or the foam dice from the rear-view mirror. Forget the two massive speakers playing Creedence Clearwater Revival from the rear or the tuba and accordion sounds of rancho mariachi music…

OK…so maybe the motor pings a bit and you can feel the brake pads pushing metal to metal…

With Jose at the wheel (singing along to a cassette with “Proud Mary!”) and a plastic statue of Jesus on the dashboard you’re in good hands! (I know one guy that loves 70’s disco music and at night while driving flashes his ceiling lights like a strobe for the clients).

Actually, most of the drivers I know take much pride in their jobs and their vehicles. They’re like modern day cowboys and know that their ponies are their livelihoods.

Even if the motor rattles, they do their best to keep ‘em shiny! In between fares, they meticulously polish their cars to remove the Baja dust that settles on everything within minutes. When they get a call, they come running!

Any cab driver worth his weight in salsa knows who has the best fish tacos. He knows the best beaches. He knows where they make the strongest margaritas and where to get the best deal on souvenir t-shirts. Forget walking around with the Auto Club guide book looking like a tourist. Jose has your back.

Ok, so he’s also probably watching the backs of his family too. Usually, every place he takes you is owned or operated by an uncle or cousin. But, that’s OK too. Roll with it and he’ll probably get you a discount or at least some extra beans and rice and you can always count on a big smile.

You are very important to any driver. Fares don’t come easy. Competition is rough and there are 50 cabs for every tourist. I once heard that in Cabo San Lucas alone there are something like 30 different taxi cab companies, not to mention tour bus and shuttle bus operations.

You really do have a choice to ride with someone else and most will go out of their way to do extra things. Do you need some special service like running to the market to get you a case of beer or pick up a kilo of carne asada and tortillas for the beach? Send Jose.

Don’t be afraid to negotiate. Nothing is written in stone. Taxi drivers, like anyone else, are businessmen.

If you need him for several hours strike a deal. Need him to come back later? strike a deal. Most taxi drivers I know would much prefer knowing they will be busy, especially with the same customer, than waiting in line at the airport or hotel for a fare that may or may not show up.

Some of the best friendships I have seen develop over these many years with our clients and locals are with taxi drivers. Befriend a taxi driver and believe me, they’ll remember you when you come back.

Bring him a new CD or cassette for the radio and you’ll make a friend for life and won’t have to listen to “Proud Mary” twenty times either! “Beeg wheels kip on torning…”

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

2009-02-21T20:27:00.005-07:00

PHOTO: This is Old School. Keeping it simple...blue water...a panga boat...some beer...some sunshine and a fish on the end of the line.

THE NEIGHBORHOOD IS CHANGING

Originally published in Western Outdoor News the Week of February 24, 2009

Well, it finally happened. After many false starts, they opened a golf course here in La Paz. Well, they opened the driving range part but the rest of the big green park is supposed to be open in a few months.

They also broke ground on two other courses here in town. I have to admit to mixed emotions.

Let me say that I’m not a golfer. I learned long ago that I have no aptitude for it and given the fanaticism I see among my golfing buddies, that’s probably a good thing. I have enough vices and toys to fill my garage…fishing and fishing gear being among them. I’m just not into spending my day chasing a little white ball all over.

But, I do have a world of admiration for anyone who can do it. It’s a helluva skill. I can lay claim to once shooting a 68 and I’d have done even better if my ball hadn’t hit the windmill before bouncing through the castle and missing the clown’s mouth. But that’s as good as it gets.

But, a lot of folks like golf and so do a lot of my fishing friends and clients. Power to them, I’m glad we can now offer that service and another vacation activity…just like Loreto. Just like East Cape and just like Cabo!

Yes, just like Cabo. That’s where it kinda gets caught in my throat. Just like Cabo. Hmmmm…

I like Cabo San Lucas a lot. For a lot of reasons. But having a golf course just seems to smack of all the things that people came to Baja to escape and things that I hear on a daily basis about why folks are looking for other Baja destinations. Golf is an icon that changes the landscape geographically, socially, and culturally like no other. Think about that.

In and of itself, it’s not the problem. But play free-form-association with the word “golf” and you get related words like clubhouse, estates, tennis clubs, exclusive country clubs, traffic, restaurants, boutique mall, parking lot, blah blah blah. You get the point. Take it further and you come up with marinas, yachts, booze cruise, para-gliding, beach rentals, noise…sound familiar?

Man, wha’ happened? Que paso?
Tell ya what. We brought it with us and I’m as guilty as the next person. And I understand the phenomenon that strikes us all who find a piece of paradise and

(a) Don’t want it to ever change and/or
(b) Don’t want anyone else to move in after us

I’m being very selfish. And God bless progress and I can only hope it’s done right. I’m sure I’ll go give it another try!

Still, I had to cringe over a conversation I heard when I ducked into a local taco stand for a quick lunch. Four new “transplants” were having a conversation that pretty much centered on:

Not being able to find a decent gardner who would work for less than 10 dollars a day.
How slow the service was at the new Burger King and how locals did not understand the concept of “fast service.”

Where the ladies yacht club would hold it’s “high tea luncheon.”

How much gas their Humvee was using these days.

Exhale...Cringe...Shake my head...

In contrast it was so refreshing to get a call today from some guys who wanted to go fishing next month.

“We don’t need fancy. We’re jus’ some good old boys who want a room that has some hot water. We need some beer and a boat that goes forward and won’t sink and do some fishing. Simple as that!”

I’m gonna miss that old school. It’s a dwindling breed. But I’d better learn to play golf or at least get my ball past the windmill.

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

2009-02-08T11:56:00.005-07:00

PHOTO 1: Heavy afternoon traffic on the Baja freeway...

PHOTO 2: If the phone doesn't ring it's me...

PHOTO 3: Shoveling snow can wait. The only ice you see will be inside a margarita glass!

MORE THAN IT EVER WAS...STILL A GREAT VALUE

Originally Published in Western Outdoor News Week of Feb. 12, 2009

By the time you’re reading this, I’m not sure where we’ll be but since the first week of January, we’ve been on the road criss-crossing the western U.S. This is the time of year when we hit the major fishing/hunting outdoor shows held in most major metros.

This is the one time of year when we come out’ve Baja and get to actually set up our booth and meet so many of our old amigos and clients and hopefully meet new ones. It’s nice to be in the U.S. for awhile! (I sure miss In-N-Out Burgers!)

Moreso, it’s a great time to see what’s been happening in the rest of the industry and catch up with other friends who run similar operations, not just in Baja or Mexico, but other parts of the U.S., North America and the world.

By the time you read this, we’ll have finished appearances in San Francisco, Sacramento, Denver and Portland. Still to come are Phoenix, Salt Lake, and of course the Fred Hall Fishing Show in Long Beach.

It’s a lot like being a modern day carnival worker as we all travel with each other from show to show. The Alaska salmon guys…the Costa Rica outfitters…the Canadian guides…the S.African bowhunters…the Himalayan trekkers…the Baja charter services…all bouncing down the road from show to show. It’s usually the only time we have to catch up with each other after busy seasons.

Invariably, we all talk about the economy. As goes the U.S. economy, so goes the travel biz. With less disposable income these days, it’s not easy to go on vacation and most of us entered the trade show season wondering with trepidation. We see those booths that are empty. We hear hear horror stories about those outfitters and guides that are struggline. For many of us 2008 was a tougher year. What about 2009?

Well, from what I’m hearing at ground zero, 2009 may not be so gloomy. There’s no denying that things are tight, but after speaking to thousands of people during the last month as well as to a number of Baja operators, projections are good and just support things many of us have known for ages about Baja.

People are still travelling to Baja. Not just Baja veterans, but first-timers are coming to Baja as well. It’s being “discovered” by a whole new flock of vistors. With airline rates decreasing and the dollar going strong against the peso, it’s still one of the best values for the buck.

Think about it. Name a single place where you can still get world-class fishing just a few hours flight from the U.S. border. Where else can you find incredible scuba, kayaking, whale watching, windsurfing, spearfishing, and off-road running and other activities for which Baja is known. There aren’t many with that combination.

And certainly, if you can think of a place, you certainly can’t do it for the price of a Mexican vacation.

For me and Joe Average, it’s still possible to take a great vacation and not dip into the rent money. For the cost of one day in Vegas or one day in Canada or Hawaii, you can stay for almost a whole week in Mexico. And bring the wife or kids too if you wanted. Also, being so close, you can do it over a long weekend and spend more time enjoying and less time traveling.

A quick survey of a number of Baja operators showed me that they’re holding the line on prices; adding more amenties; beefing up services and doing their best to remain attractive to vacationers.

As one Baja operator told me, “People still have to go on vacation. Money is tough, but Baja fills a nice niche. You get world class quality adventure without paying world-class prices and for many Americans, it’s just a short plane ride away.”

Is it safe? We hear that a lot too.

“Unfortunately, there’s problems near the border cities. There’s no denying that the druggies are fighting each other, “ said one fishing operator. “But that’s up around the border and it’s between the drug dealers going after each other, not necessarily tourists.”

“It’s all perception,” added the owner of a scuba operation from Cabo. “I have friends who don’t go to California anymore because they think they will get killed in a drive-by shootings in Los Angeles. We know that gangs don’t roam Los Angeles looking for tourists.”

“Thousands of people cross the border everyday for work and play. Plane after plane unloads in Cabo San Lucas, La Paz and Loreto filled with families and tourists. Banditos don’t jump out from behind the rocks. Nothing happens. People have a great time,” he added.

Just across the border. Still a great value. More than it ever was.

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

2009-01-25T10:47:00.003-07:00

A BIT OF BAJA LIFE...

Originally published in Western Outdoor News the Week of Jan 26, 2009

One of the most common questions I get down here from friends and clients is, “Well, can I mail it to you?”

Now, I live in La Paz, Baja Mexico. It’s the capital city of the state of Southern Baja. With almost 250, 000 gente (people), this isn’t exactly a sleepy little pueblito. It’s a hub of business, agriculture, tourism, and fishing, not to mention the site of a university and the seat of government.

Therefore, it comes as somewhat of a surprise to folks when I respond, “No, you’d better not mail anything to me.”

I mean, for those of you who have visited or spent any time in the Baja, when was the last time you saw a mailbox? Think about that for a moment. Despite the rising cost of postage, Americans take mail for granted. Ergo, when you put a stamp on something and drop it in the red and blue box, you can generally count on it getting where it’s going in a timely manner.

I know we have a post office in La Paz (hidden behind two taco carts), but has anyone ever seen a mailman? Ever seen a postal truck? I know they sell stamps. I know sometimes people get mail!

Indeed, most of my friends don’t have an address to their homes. Instead an address is given as, “2.4 km a Carretera a Pichilingue” (2.4 kilometers on the Pichilingue Road) or “Colonia Revolucion Entre Altamirano y Iglesias” (Neighborhood of Revolution between Altamirano and Iglesias streets). You don’t get an address. You get directions.

Sure, mail gets delivered…sometimes. When I first moved to Baja, my folks would mail me things like magazines (Sports Illustrated, Time, Western Outdoors) and things like vegetable seeds and tools.

Three weeks later, I’d get a battered box that looked as if it has dragged behind a truck. As I found out later, mail from the states went to Mexico City first. There it was searched for “contraband and subversive materials.” Then it would get forwarded to me in Baja.

The flower and vegetable seeds would be confiscated. They left me a rubber mallet. My Sports Illustrated (What no swim suit issue?) was gone as was Western Outdoors, Time and others. But they left me National Geographic and Mad Magazine. (Western Outdoors is subversive?) This was almost 15 years ago and it hasn’t gotten much better.

That’s “if” the parcel was sent rush or special delivery or air mail. Regular mail rarely ever got to me. Once I got it 6 months later. Well, I got the envelope, but nothing was in it.

Local mail, if you can call it that is truly comedic. Again, have you ever seen a mailman?

If you ever see long lines outside the offices where you pay your electrical, phone or cable TV bill, that’s people standing in line, sometimes for hours. It’s because it’s easier and more reliable to just pay the bill personally.

My own bills get delivered by a guy on a bicycle. With a basket on the front like you had in 2nd grade. He is paid by the phone or electrical company. No uniform. No specific training other than knowing how to ride a bike is needed.

He rides by and throws the envelope at your front door or place of business. If it falls in the street. OK. If it lands on the steps, OK. If it flies into a tree. OK.

It’s NOT OK, when they shut off your electricity for not paying your bill because you never got a bill. There’s no notice. There’s no “please submit your late payment” letter. One day your phone, gas or electricity is just shut off.

Now you must go stand in line to pay the bill…and another fine to turn your service back on. If you didn’t get your bill, it’s not their problem. They gave the sack of bills to a guy on a bicycle!

Two weeks ago another guy on a bicycle came looking for me. He was from the Mexican IRS. He said he “lost” the notice telling me I had not paid $71 dollars in taxes on my last income tax. But, he had diligently been trying to find me ON HIS BICYCLE for two weeks.

But, he was sure happy to find me now. And, according to him, it was my lucky day that I had been found. If I didn’t pay my $71 by noon, I’d lose my business license!

Oh joy. Only in Mexico. I should be used to it by now! We can only laugh most times.

The Mexican postal service recently ran an ad asking people to “mail” in suggestions on how they could improve service. I’m sure folks ran right out to put pen to paper.

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

2009-01-11T23:50:00.004-07:00

PHOTO 1: Volaris Airlines uses brand new airbus planes and is another alternative to traveling to Mexico. This new air carrier flies from Tijuana.

PHOTO 2: The planes fly from Tijuana, but they'll pick you up in modern shuttles from San Diego and scoot you right to the terminal.

VOLARIS AIRLINES TRIP FROM TIJUANA TURNS OUT TO BE A SURPRISE!

Originally published in Western Outdoor News week of Jan. 13, 2009

Over the many years, I’ve been hosting anglers down here in Baja, we’ve had our ups and downs with the airlines (no pun intended). I had often heard from many of our friends and clients living in Southern California and especially the San Diego area that they really loved taking the flights out of Tijuana to destinations south.

Whenever that rose in a discussion, it was usually met with a raised eyebrow and a polite smile. Why go through Tijuana? You mean THAT Tijuana as in “over-the-border-Tijuana?” Uh, no thanks.

I’ll admit it myself that there was a nagging perception that I was just asking for trouble going through Tijuana. I wasn’t worried about the airport, but I know many people do have misconceptions about Mexican airports.

Moreover, they are absolutely terrified however of driving through Tijuana, especially given some of the news reports emanating from the border cities. Not speaking Spanish or being able to read signs doesn’t help either.

Personally, I just didn’t want the hassle of navigating not only the border but indeed just wrangling my Gilligan-driving-skills through Tijuana.

I get crazy enough thinking I’m late for a plane at LAX let alone getting in line at a slow border crossing; going round-and-round some plaza in Tijuana with no stop lights; or getting lost and finding myself driving down some one-way street with no name.

This from a guy who is generally very comfortable driving in Mexico and speaks a modicum of Spanish. But why add more stress to a travel day?

Well, times have changed. During the holidays, I had to jet back and forth several times between our place in La Paz and visiting the family in S.California. Airline tickets being what they are, I had heard some good reports of a new airline flying out of Tijuana called Volaris.

I don’t want this to be an info-mercial for them, but the experience was incredible. They have done a lot to alleviate many of the concerns gringos have about flying from Tijuana and flying Mexican airlines.

For one, forget the border problems! Volaris had a special shuttle that picks you up from the San Diego train station. A special Volaris booth there in the station sells the ticket for 15 bucks. I quickly boarded a modern shuttle bus like the type they use to bring you to your parking structure at LAX.

Indeed half the people aboard were Americans. Many were repeat users and all said it was the best secret around. Several aboard had taken the train for 17 dollars from Los Angeles to San Diego and said they lounged happily along the way and watched traffic inch along the 405 freeway, next to the tracks. Neener! Neener!

In 30 minutes, we were there at the Tijuana Airport. We spent 5 minutes at the border while someone checked the bus. At the airport, numerous porters (speaking English) clamored to carry your bags and then stood in line with you to check-in at Volaris’ counter.

Because this is a domestic flight, it’s a little more lenient on the security check-in too.

The planes themselves were incredible. This is a brand-new airline using new giant air bus planes. I’m told that after only a few months, Volaris is already the third largest airline in Mexico.

Six seats across. Huge storage bins overhead. Leather seats with lots of legroom.
There were TV’s to watch and each seat had a plug-in connection for using your laptop or other electronic device. Cart service included snacks plus a full-array of beverages.

The flight back to the U.S. was just as smooth. As you exit the Tijuana terminal, again, there’s a shuttle waiting to take you back to the San Diego train station. The only glitch, if you will, is when crossing back into the U.S

When you hit the border there’s a security check. All passengers must disembark while the shuttle bus is checked. Additionally, all passengers go through the regular checking of documents and the X-ray machine.

It took 10 minutes. We then walked about 20 yards outside the building and re-boarded the bus. Twenty minutes later, I was dropped off back at the San Diego train station.

Other than the slight inconvenience at the border coming into the U.S. which is to be expected, this was seamless. All this took place during holiday rush as well. No worries about parking. No driving through the border. No getting lost in Tijuana.

And Volaris cost about half of what it would have cost to fly round trip from Los Angeles!

That's my story!

Jonathan

2008-12-28T07:15:00.003-07:00

NEVER TOO EARLY TO GET THE PAPERWORK DONE!

Originally Published in Western Outdoor News the Week of Dec. 30, 2008

If a Baja trip is in your future for 2009, it’s never too early to start getting things ready, especially your paperwork. No sense in waiting until the last minute and perhaps suffering some bureaucratic or logistical screw-up that might de-rail or severely impact that vacation you’ve looked forward to for so long.

As soon as the holiday glow has worn off, get going on your passport. If you already have one, check to make sure it’ll be current to travel in 2009. It must be renewed every 10 years and Uncle Sam will not be sending you a renewal notice.

If you are applying for the first time, since the middle of 2008, you are required to have a passport to travel by air outside of the U.S. in order to enter or re-enter the country. (That’s the important part. It’s fun to get out, but you want to make sure the U.S. lets you back in!)

However, by June 1 of 2009, the full effects of the Western Hemispher Travel Initiative by the U.S. State Dept. will be implemented affecting both land and sea travel. It will require that all persons traveling outside the U.S and wanting to enter or re-enter the country have either their U.S. passport or the new passport cards.

The new passport cards have been in effect for several months now and cost $45 for a first time adult applicant. These wallet-sized cards look like a driver’s license and were meant to facilitate travel for folks who cross and re-cross the border often.

This applies to many commuters who go back and forth to work in either Baja or the U.S. These cards cannot be used for air travel and are strictly meant for land travelers. However, if you’re like many anglers who frequently drive across to say, go fishing in Ensenada or San Quntin, you may want to consider using the new cards.

Right now, the timeline for processing new passports or cards is not long. Estimated time is 3 weeks, but don’t wait. Many people don’t start thinking about their passports until it’s almost time for vacation. Then, there’s a big rush. Things slow down Don’t get caught. Might as well get them for the kids too. They’ll be needing theirs too at some point.

All the info is right here: http://travel.state.gov/passport/passport_1738.html

The other document you need to consider is your fishng license. Yes, you do need one technically to fish Mexico/Baja waters. Whether someone checks or not, you’re supposed to have one on you. If you’re not fishing, but on a boat with fishermen, you’re supposed to have one as well.

Like many laws in Mexico, sure, it seems like you can get away with things. But, it’s when someone actually decides to check or else decides to enforce it then problems can arise. Again, you might as well take the pre-cautions and have the document ready.

Interestingly, it’s often easier to get a hold of a Mexican fishing license in the states than in Mexico. Obtaining a Mexican fishing license is sometimes as complicated as applying for a mortgage and about as easy to get these days.

The bureaucracy of getting a Mexican fishing license can be staggering. In the states, one usually goes to their local tackle store or variety store and steps up to the sporting goods counter. Five minutes later you walk out with a license. In Mexico, obtaining a license can take days!

Don’t count on your outfitter or charter company or hotel to have them. Often, through no fault of their own, they can’t get them either! It’s a good idea to check and even better if you can obtain them in the U.S.

Many of the better tackle stores that service clients who do long range trips or clients who travel to Mexico carry the licenses. Various travel groups and clubs also carry them. You can also get applications online:

http://www.conapescasandiego.org/contenido.cfm?cont=MAIN&CFID=201203&CFTOKEN=99827794

Personally, I think it’s more economical to just purchase the yearly license. Unlike licenses in the states that are good for only a calendar year (Jan 1 to Dec. 31), a Mexican fishing license is good for 365 days from the time you purchase it. If you don’t know the exact dates of your trip or plan to fish Mexican waters several times this is a great bargain.

Depending on where you purchase the license (there may be a small service charge and the peso exchange rate), the cost of a daily license is about$12. A weekly license is about $25. A yearly license about $50.

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

2008-12-21T12:09:00.003-07:00

FILLING THE BAJA SLED!

Originally Published the Week of Dec. 13, 2008 in Western Outdoor News

I guess except for the surroundings, Baja during the Christmas season is a lot like anywhere else once you get used to it. Except for the fact that it’s not cold and there’s a lot of desert around here, it’s pretty much the same. No one is standing in a Santa suit at the grocery store ringing a bell. Unless Santa was in shorts, he’d bake in a furry red suit!

But Christmas “season” has been going on pretty much since November. Unlike the states, there’s no Thanksgiving holidays acting like a speed bump towards Christmas. Once Halloween is over, it’s full turbo towards Navidad! Stores have been decorated for weeks. Christmas shopping began Nov. 3rd.

Christmas tree lots have been up for awhile. They advertise “fresh Oregon Christmas trees” here in Baja. Yes, they come all the way down from the Pacific Northwest. They are a little pricier this year like everything else, but seem to move pretty fast.

I had to do a little errand running last week downtown in La Paz and also in Cabo San Lucas and it’s pretty funny seeing store merchants spraying fake snow in the windows and seeing everyone hanging up ornament balls and hearing Christmas carols in Engish in the larger stores and malls. Every flat-screen TV must have garland wrapped around it. I think that’s big on the Christmas list this year.

But this is the time of year, everyone knows that I’m going to be making several trips north to the states. So, my list is growing longer of all the things my local friends are asking “Santa Jonathan” to bring them. One of my friends calls me the “Christmas burro” because I’m like a pack animal with all the goodies.

It gets longer every year and, of course, I always get the promise that they’ll pay me back if I buy it in the states for them.

There’s the impression in Mexico that things are really cheap to buy in the U.S. Really cheap! Perhaps relative to Mexico prices, it’s less expensive in the states, but an iPod is still and iPod and a Seiko dive watch will never be a Casio.

So, it’s difficult when a friend making 10-dollars-a-day wants me to buy a car stereo, a laptop computer, or an Xbox and promises he’ll pay me weekly for it. They also don’t understand that I just can’t pack a sled full of all the goodies and fly back either. On Dasher! On Dancer!

Customs fees aside, there’s also weight restrictions aplenty these days and hefty fees for extra baggage.

But I do my best. Miguel wants a Dodger jersey. Sergio wants a DVD by Aerosmith. Liliana wants a bottle of California wine. Anita wants See’s candy. Rogelio wants a Laker’s baseball hat. Jacobo wants polarized sunglasses.

Eddy wants a Mario Brothers video game. Javier wants black 501 Levis sized 34 x 32. Sigh…”They must be black and they must have the Levi label on them,” he insists. Big on labels.

I will do what I can and try not to disappoint. But the hardest are the requests from the younger ladies…

“I want the same dress that Yennifer (they don’t pronounce the “J” in Spanish) Aniston wears to the Academy Awards.”

Oh sure, let me just order one of those up.

“I want the same makeup that Paris Hilton wears!”

Sure. I”ll stop by Walmart on my way to the airport. That’s where Paris Hilton shops. Believe me!

“I would like Brad Pitt’s autograph!”

Exhale. Deep thought.

OK, let’s see. I have a marker. That’s B-R-A-D…

I hate to disappoint.

Happy Shopping, amigos. I gotta load my sled.

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

2008-11-29T23:00:00.003-07:00

PHOTO: Here's some samples of great inshore stuff to play with. The top three lures are "crank baits" characterized by the "lips" that cause them to dive to different depths when retrieved or trolled. The bottom two lures are plastic/rubber "swim baits" that are also amazingly lifelike and have weight in their heads that cause them to sink, but lifelike rubber tails that undulate back and forth like real fish when retrieved.

YANKING AND CRANKING!

Originally published in Western Outdoor News the week of Dec. 3, 2008

Well, it appears it’s about that time of year again. Seasons are finally changing. Those warm, balmy days of summer and fall look like they’re behind us.

You can feel it down here in Baja, even if you’re not out on the water. It’s cooler in the morning. Even at the southern tip like Cabo, East Cape, and here in La Paz, it’s darned chilly in the morning! I could see my breath yesterday while fishing (because it was cold, not because I drank too much the night before!) and I wished to heck I had brought a sweatshirt on the boat.

The sun does eventually come up warmly. But, the sun is at a different angle during the day. Shadows are longer and there’s a definite coolness to the water. No matter where you are on the Pacific or Sea of Cortez, it’s windier too. More northerlies and afternoon whitecaps aren’t unusual.

It’s also “quiet time.” Most of the fishermen have gone home now. Very few people on the water. It’s not quite the holidays yet either. A lot of emptiness and a lot of space. I like it!

There’s also very few little traffic on the fishing holes! Oh yea!

It’s time to grab the lighter tackle and work the inshore species! Especially, if the winds are blowing and I see those whitecaps out there…heck…I don’t wanna get wet and beat up if I don’t have to. I’m a woose!

If we can get bait, all the better for chumming, but it’s not necessary as compared to those times during the season when we’re out on the bluewater with clients. The late fall and early winter are my “jerking and cranking” time!

It’s the time when I get to pull out my plastic and rubber lures that may have sat dormant during the season. These are the “swimmer lures” that look like creepy-crawly rubber bugs and grubs or the molded ones that look like little rubber fish. The true “jerk baits” literally look like a long- tapered piece of flexible rubber that wiggles. Normally, these are weighted with either a small weight or have a “head” with a single hook protruding from the body. (Ask your tackle shop).

The other part of my arsenal is the “crank bait.” Like the rubber/plastic lures, bass fishermen know what I’m talking about. These are the hard-bodied molded lures that usually look like fish and have a “lip” protruding from the front that enable them to dive when trolled or retrieved. Several treble hooks are usually attached. Some of the Japanese models of these are incredibly life-like. For you old-schoolers, I’m referring to the Rapala-type lures.

I often get complaints that the big stores like Bass Pro Shops and Cabelas often don’t have the right “Baja gear.” Believe me, they have this stuff…in fact, you could find it in your local Walmart too. It’s not real difficult.

Slow trolling the crank baits is a no-brainer. Run the boat slowly so the crank bait doesn’t jump and skip but stays down low. Get ready for anything. Just about anything will hit these at this time of year…jacks, sierra, cabrilla, pargo, pompano…you name it. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to do it so it’s a lot of fun. I like making the boat go in a big lazy “S” pattern so the lure runs and drop and pauses. Sometimes when the lure is just sitting suspended is when it gets blasted!

Big boat don’t work so well as pangas , kayaks or other small craft that can go slow with minimum noise. They also get nice and tight to structure.

But casting this assortment of lures is where the real entertainment comes in . With the rubber and plastic lures, I enjoy casting them around structure such as jutting or submerged rocks and reefs or sloping banks. I used to try “swim” them fast, but I find that swimming them painfully slow or jerking them almost imperceptibly gets the biggest results. Fish seem to pounce on them.

Sometimes, I literally let them sit…move them again…sit…swim a bit. Just be ready to lift up on the rod and set the hook if the crazy things suddenly swims away on it’s OWN! That means hookup! All kinds of things come out of the rocks to eat these lures….big cabrilla, yellowtail, amberjack, dog tooth and mullet snapper and grouper are the types of fish that come out from the crags to ambush things swimming by their hideouts. Don’t be surprised. I’ve found spots where every single cast results in a different species of fish!

It’s cheap. It’s fun. It’s easy.

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

2008-11-15T09:31:00.002-07:00

A WEE BIT OF CHEST POUNDING

Originally published in Western Outdoor News the Week of Nov. 16, 2009

This isn’t really about Baja or fishing, but is about living and being in Baja. Actually, perhaps it has more to do with being in America and being an American.

Having been in the newspaper, radio and TV business as a reporter and even as an average Joe in the U.S. your perceptions are understandably shaped by the views and reporting of what the media feeds you. I’m not suggesting anything sinister (that’s a whole different article for a different newspaper!), but you are what you hear, read and see.

I have the unique perspective of living outside the United States 80 percent of the time. Specifically, I’m down here in Baja. I get to watch Mexican TV and read local and national Mexican newspapers. Even my TV gets CNN, but it’s CNN from Hong Kong so it’s really British-slanted news.

But, more-to-the-point, I get to see and hear and talk to friends and associates at street level about their perceptions of what’s going on in the world and specifically the United States.

I was in Mexico with several dozen of my fishing clients when the World Trade Centers came down in 2001. What an odd sensation to watch tragic world events hit your country and to be an outsider looking in. It’s a pretty helpless feeling. And there was no way to leave Mexico and get home. All the flights had been canceled as the U.S. went into lockdown.

And now there’s 2008 and the elections. Given the state of the U.S. economy and the world economy in general that has been directly affected, I don’t think I’ve ever heard so much chatter and discussion about the elections among local Mexicans. If I only had a peso for everytime a conversation started with, “What do you think about the elections?” or “Who do you think will win…?”

In some respects, it was a little awkward. Many of my Mexican friends were actually better informed about the issues and politics than myself! Certainly, issues about the economy were primary, but many of my amigos also know enough about the war in Iraq, race, education, immigration and crime. It sometimes sent me scurrying to the internet to verify what I had heard.

Interestingly, just like Americans are affected by what they read and hear, not surprisingly, so were my Mexican friends subjected to the views of their own media regarding rumors, mud-slinging and hearsay between the candidates. I was often asked to verify what was truth and fiction as if I were somehow in-the know. (Frankly, I’m not. I love news, but I’m not a big fan of politicians or politics).

So, the election came and went with great anticipation. Yes, I voted absentee. I guess I’m a little disappointed. I don’t think I have yet to vote for a winning candidate. That’s my curse. If I vote for you, you will lose.

But from what I could see from the outside-looking-in and from what my Mexican friends tell me, we Americans should be awfully proud. Even ex-pats like myself.

As one of my friend said, “In Mexico, we don’t have many choices. You Americans should be proud that you get choices. So many of Mexicans think that it’s a gringo world north of the border, but it gives hope that ANYONE can rise above their status in America to be anything they want to be. A doctor, a businessman and even a president. You even had a woman running as well. That is something fantastic for you Americans.”

“I don’t think you Americans voted for a black man or a white man,” he added. “I think you vote for the best person you thought would help your country. It was above politics. I wish Mexico was more like that.”

Another told me, “We watched your candidates all the time. I think you use the word, “classy” in English. Unlike Mexico, no one threatened violence. There were no riots or demonstrations. The candidates acted like gentlemen and statesmen.” (Wow. He was talking about OUR politicians?)

Even after the elections, I had one of my business associates tell me how many Mexicans saw that America had “good losers.” He said, “After our last election, the loser threatens a revolution and people took to the streets. Your Mr. McCain congratulated Mr. Obama and shook his hand. I was impressed. Do you know how lucky you are to be an American?”

Yes, I do. That sound you hear is me puffing out my chest a bit. Everyone is watching. God bless us all.

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

2008-11-02T08:14:00.008-07:00

ROAD TRIP!

Originally published the week of Nov. 4, 2008 in Western Outdoor News

Road trip! I always liked the sound of that, but especially, if it meant we were headed south of the border. Before I moved down here to Baja, there was nothing like the anticipation of rolling across at San Ysidro or the Otay Mesa checkpoints.

I was never one to linger long in Tijuana or even Ensenada if I was on a roadtrip. Those were places I came for a weekend soiree to party, play, surf, fish, and do things that grew legendary as I grew older.

Most stories about those times invariably begin with “We started with a shot of tequila then…” Usually downhill from there. Lost many a brain cell along the way to the evils of distilled agave and a mescal worm or two.

The object, however, on a road trip was to get as far and quickly away from the border as possible. To me, those towns weren’t Baja. No disrespect meant because I’ve had a lot of fun there, but those were almost an extension of San Diego. Baja meant…”out there!” Not “ right across the border!”

Drive all night if you had to. But drive. Get away. Get down there. Everything’s strapped down. Extra water. Can of gas. Throw in some 10/40 oil. Rods and boards. Don’t forget the rope and shovel.

Beer? Check! Can’t forget ice, but dude…we gotta stop at the mini-mart. Can’t live on just the bags of Cheetos you brought. Doofus. What are you thinking? And don’t forget the toilet paper this time either!

And somewhere with the lights many hours behind you the Baja show starts. Or rather it unfolds. Some say it reveals itself.

The horizon starts to glow and silhouettes the cactus soldiers that suddenly materialize gently out of the darkness. Boojum trees, desert scrub and rounded boulders catch the orange rays peeking over the eastern mountains. An empty road ahead that curves to vanishing point across a desert plain. The last vehicle you saw was hours ago. A rusty old pickup with one headlight seemingly moving no faster than time itself in this timeless place.

The cities are somewhere “back there.” And your phone hasn’t rung since San Diego and there’s no signal out here anyway. You chuck that iPhone into the glove box with a grin.

“Hi, I’m out of the office this week. Please leave a message.” Beeeep. Another grin.

You open the truck window and inhale. The city smells are replaced by an earthy freshness tinged with salt from the ocean you know must be just over the hill. The desert chill of the morning causes you to pull your over-sized hoodie a bit tighter around your collar. Pour another warm cup of coffee from the thermos jug between your legs. You smile and realize you’re finally miles from nowhere.

Your buddies are curled up in a jumble. Junk food wrappers from the Jack-In-The-Box peek out from under jackets and an errant French fry or two are on the floorboards. Will stop somewhere along the way.

The low rumble you hear isn’t your all-terrain tires thumping along the Transpeninsular Highway anymore. Your tummy is waking up along with the rest of the Baja desert. Blues and purples now mixing with the sunrise orange make a beautiful palette to greet you. Sure beats the 405 freeway and staring at brake lights.

But gonna have to stop for grub along the way soon. Mmm…steaming huevos rancheros, fresh cheese and tortillas. Maybe they’ll have some of those great tamales. Must be someplace coming up ahead.

Should look at the map soon. So many little pueblitos. Find some place with a big rusty Corona sign out front and a Coke logo painted on the wall and a bunch of plastic chairs. Someone’s mom is the cook. No menu, but the best food on the planet. Those are the best.

Look for someplace with some truckers parked outside. Me and Rob ate at a really great place last time. Bunch of kids running around and laundry in the yard. Jerry’s never eaten road food before. It’ll blow him away.

Wake up the boys? No matter. They’ll wake soon enough. Everyone has been so juiced getting ready for fishing and surfing. Musta spent 2 weeks packing gear and five minutes packing the clothes. Shows where our priorities are! Hope we didn’t forget nothing. Sure got enough strapped to the roof racks.

A crumpled bag of Doritos reduced to crumbs and some CD’s that bounced off the dashboard when you hit the speed bump in San Quintin are on the floor. Nah. I guess we got everything we need. You got your fish brothers on a roadtrip.

The Eagles greatest hits is in rotation on the changer. The first power chords of “Take It Easy” make you grin as you take another sip of coffee. Fingers tap the steering wheel...

“We’ll I’m a running down the road tryin ta loosen my load…”

Si, Senor. You got everything you need and a wide open road ahead.

“…Such a fine sight to see…”

Exhale. Let the decompression begin...Buenos Dias, Baja!

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

2008-10-18T09:18:00.002-06:00

NOT MUCH BETTER THAN THIS! AND NEVER VERY FAR AWAY! THAT's BAJA!

JUST FIVE MINUTES!

Originally published the week of Oct. 21, 2008, in Western Outdoor News

“I can’t believe all the changes I’m seeing.” How often that starts a conversation when I run into a fisherman who hasn’t been down here in a long time. “I remember back in the day…” Is where the conversation heads down the road of reminiscing with squinted eyes towards a vision of a long gone Baja of the past.

You can fill in the blank to whatever memory you happen to hold closest. Whether it was the day you and dad saw a mile of yellowtail breaking the surface with schools of bait leaping for their lives around Santa Rosalia or perhaps you remember Cabo San Lucas before the marina (Yes, there really was a time before Squid Roe!)

Perhaps you remember your first trip when Tony Reyes was in his prime and the grouper were huge at the Midriff Islands. You might remember when the Van Wormers had a pet lion on the premises at Palmas de Cortez. Or you remember flying into the old Serenidad Hotel in Mulege with the Johnsons for long days of fishing and that great barbecue they had at night.

Or how about the Old Mill in San Quintin when Jimmy got up on the table with the mariachis playing into the night and giant clams and fresh fish piled on the table? And the senoritas from town with their dark eyes and dancing hips. Ahhhh…the old days when schools of roosterfish could be seen in the shallows off the old Hotel Las Arenas, but you were already too tired to do more than lift a cigar and a tequila after a full day of fishing.

Dirt roads and skiffs. Busted axles and warm beer. Dust and fresh grilled tortillas. Panga captains with rolled up dungarees and fish that had never seen a hook and line.

And now the face of Coronel Sanders smiles down at you. Walmart greeters in blue vests welcome you through their doors.

Drive through even the seemingly smallest pueblito and there’s a crowd. There’s a little real estate office. There’s another house going up. The little marcado is adding a new wing with a a coffee bar serving expresso! They are paving the main road. More fenced-off lots saying, “Private Property.” Are those new street lights going in? Little dots on the landscape are no longer drive-by blinks.

Can’t say I really like it, but I’m speaking hypocritically. I’m craving some KFC extra-crispy and I’ll be the first one through the door at Walmart too when they build one in my town looking for that blue light special (or is that the other chain?)

But it gets discouraging. Until I remember my “Five Minute Rule” and remember where I am.

Five minutes from any beach, I am once again in the best fishing waters on the planet. I’m on the same waters that captured the imaginations of Ray Cannon, JohnSteinbeck and even Gene Kira. I am not surrounded by tourists off a cruise ship. I am surrounded by a school of dolphin or swarming dorado.

Five minutes from any strip mall, I’m in the desert of Hernan Cortes and Juan Cabrillo. Desert flower and boojum trees grow thick. Some of the same cactus in front of me may have witnessed the passing of a mule train of conquistadores, padres and other settlers hundreds of years ago. That old dirt road we take for granted up the arroyo follows the same path used ages ago by the indigenous natives who lived in the mountains and whose descendants still scratch out a living up in those crags.

Five minutes from the latest trendy coffee house, I am on a hill watching a Baja sunrise tear away the darkness turning grey and purple into a blaze of orange as it percolates up like a giant bubble from the eastern horizon. Schools of baitfish can already been seen in the ripples of “nervous” water near the beaches below as the sea creatures wake to a new day of survival.

Within 5 minutes of any new “fast food” joint, I can walk up a little side street and still find the best carne asada or shrimp tacos on earth. It’s easy. There’s a line around the place and the aroma of salsa, onions and sizzling meat on the grill grabs you by the nose like an aromatic gaff and seduces you to try one! Locals only! No tourists would ever find this place. Don’t go looking for any “board of health” paper tacked to the walls. There are no walls! Don’t expect napkins either or a menu. Use your sleeve. Pay as you go. Point at what you want!

Old Baja isn’t gone. It’s just a few minutes off the beaten path. Hopefully never more than 5 minutes away.

That's my story.
If you ever need to reach me, I'm at riplipboy@aol.com

2008-10-12T13:45:00.002-06:00

THE NEW AGE ANGLER

Originally Published in Western Outdoor News Magazine Fall 2009

There are many things in life I want to try before I push up the daisies. There are many things I now realize I will never get to do. And there are a ton of things I wish I could be good at and I know I will never be. I have a great respect for those who can do those things. I have an even greater admiration for those who can master it.

Certain things in life I have given up on. I will never be a professional football player. I guess I will never climb Everest or play lead guitar in a rock band in front of thousands of screaming fans. I can’t even grow back my hair. Cross those off the list.

I don’t’ look good in white shorts and I will never master tennis or come close. Golf is another. I used to tell folks I once shot a 65…but that was only because my ball went through the windmill over the bridge and into the clown’s mouth!

Another of those is flyfishing.

I am a flyfishing hack. I have tried it. I have diligently taken lessons from professionals. I have put in my time trying to put little puffs of fuzz in Montana riffles. I have dutifully given it my best shot in the Sierras and float- tubed Wyoming. Yea, I’ve caught a couple of fish…the stupid ones and the hungry ones.

Where I have fished in those pristine waters, those fish have seen the best of the best. They know a fraud when they hear me tripping in my waders and tumbling into the current or hear my curse (in two languages!) as I spend my time untangling my flyline from overhead branches or wrapped around my ankles! I’ve hooked myself in my fancy-pants flyfishing vest more than I’ve hooked a fish.

Give me a live worm or a salmon egg and I’m deadly. With a flyrod, fish need have no fear!

So there I am in Baja, watching from my boat. Thirty yards away, I can hear it. The reel isn’t screaming. It’s more like a loud hissing whirr…the sound well-lubricated gears make when they’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing inside a well-made machine.

And the rod. Long and whippy in the classic “high stick” position is fully loaded and almost parabolically bent in half. The butt is straight up, but the tip is almost touching the water straight down and nano-seconds from snapping.

There are times in an angler’s fishing career when no amount of technology, experience, guile or strength will make one iota of a difference. And all you can do is hang on…and grin.

This angler, standing tall in the bow with legs braced and elbows pulled close is definitely holding on. The strain in evident in the arms. It is evident in the dark “V” sweat -stain on the back of his khaki outfitters shirts and in the underarm circles enhanced by the smelter-heat of the mid-day Baja sunshine.

But he takes one moment to breathe and look over his shoulder. He shakes off the strain in a free hand and hangs onto the rod with the other.

I’m caught watching and he raises his fist to pump the air triumphantly and gives me a thumbs up. And a grin. As the white glare reflects off the water illuminating the shade under his wide-brimmed hat. It’s definitely a grin.

I’ve already caught and released 7 fish on the day and kept one. I’ve seen this guy make scores of casts all morning and this is his first hookup of the day. Whether it’s a big jack, a needlefish or a hefty roosterfish, I wanna see what he has.

Whatever it is, this Joe deserves it. He worked hard for it on a typical blast-furnace Baja day where anglers pray for a breeze or purposely tell their captain to troll to get the heavy heated air moving.

I see more and more of these flyfishers on the water. And I think it’s a sign of the times and a changing attitude as well as a changing visitor now coming to the Baja.

Originally pioneered by folks such as WON’s own Gary Graham on the East Cape, Grant Hartman in Cabo San Lucas and Pam Bolles in Loreto, what looked like a passing aberration or subset to conventional fishing more than a decade ago, has built a growing following that’s not so easily dismissed despite an arguably shaky start.

To some, it was almost as if the sheepherders had moved in among the cattlemen. Cocked eyebrows and shrugged shoulders greeted many flyfishers at first. Sometimes, it was open animosity from local crews and visiting sportfishermen alike.

Baja is not, “A River Runs Through It!” There’s no gentle creeks and towering John Muir Trail-type pine trees around. This ain’t Walden Pond, amigo.

I mean, this was the land of Ray Cannon, Charlie Davis, Neil Kelly, Fred Hoctor and old Johnny Steinbeck for criminy-sakes! Salty, beer-drinking, tequila swilling boys who wore big staw life-guard hats, t-shirts emblazoned with , “Fillet and Release!” and wore shorts with sewn-in beer holders were the norm. That’s my daddy’s Baja and they went to battle with big artillery. Big fish. Big rods.

These aren’t rainbow trout or even silver salmon swimming just beyond the beach breakers. Flyfishing was for foo-foo fishermen, wasn’ it? It was the sport for fussy rich guys or guys who had accents and smoked pipes, wasn’it? Flyfishermen read the Wall Street Journal and quoted Chaucer. Baja guys quoted Jimmy Buffett and lines from Saturday Night Live and Schwartzenegger movies.

Flyfishers even looked funny and had funny equipment. Those little rods and reels cost as much as a mortgage payment..each! Because of the long-billed baseball-style hats, some Mexican captains called them, “cabezas de pato” (Duck heads). They wore color-coordinated expensive catalog clothes from L.L. Bean and pants from Bass Pro Shops.! (Eyes roll) They want to hook tuna and dorado and (smirks) marlin and sailfish? Bring it on. Have at it. This’ll be good fun!

And indeed it has been fun. And these new anglers are enjoying the heck out of their Baja experiences. Good on them. I grudgingly give them and their guides their props. They work hard at it and earn every biter they get! And I’m seeing more and more reasons why this has become such an attractive way to go.

Granted, they are still some of the fussiest anglers I see. I don’t mean that in a bad way. But, it’s a particular sport. It’s a precision sport. It’s a demanding sport. And many of the flyfishers tend to be affluent…retirees professionals, doctors, lawyers, CEO’s, whose desire to master the sport is an extension of the type of drive often reflected in their careers. Sure, it can be an expensive sport, but as I have personally found out, you don’t just walk out to the water and become a “flyfisher” any more than you become a heart surgeon, CEO or a golfer just because you have the right tools.

But with each passing season, I see it becoming more of a sport of the masses too. And that’s good to see..and maybe good for Baja too on so many levels.

Pragmatically, take a look at the gear. In an age when airlines are getting awfully sticky with weight restrictions and charging for every extra little pound, rods can it in little tubes the size of map-cases in your overhead bin. No need to haul around giant PVC pipes stuffed with sticks anymore.

That heavy tackle box stuffed with throwing iron, lead, weighted trolling feathers and what-not? Leave it home. This is called FLYfishing! By definition, (sorry for the oversimplification) but you’re tossing bits of fluff through the air. You won’t need to hire Sherpas to schlepp your stuff.

And that goes for the days of the huge ice chest as well. Most of the flyfishers release their fish. In fact, I had one flyfishing client sheepishly ask me if it was OK to keep one small dorado for dinner! He was so used to releasing all his fish he felt it necessary to ask permission to keep one. Not to take home. It was to eat in the hotel that night.

Admittedly, that was really refreshing. In a time when I’m usually asked how many POUNDS of fish can be taken home and see guys almost jumping on their ice chests to cram in one more filet, I have no problem with putting fish back in the water.

And that’s perhaps the bigger picture with the flyfishers. And maybe a lesson to all of us too. In an age when our fisheries, our waters, our resources in Mexico and everywhere else are sorely taxed, I like that fact that flyfishers also like to “put fish back.” C.P.R…”catch..photo..release.” It a nice creedo.

I like taking fish as much as the next guy. Don’t get me wrong. I grew up like many of my contemporaries dreaming of bloody decks and tails sticking out of fish boxes and ice chests too small for the catch. A successful day was measured in numbers of carcasses in the bag or box. I won’t deny that it still is a measure of a good day.

But I acknowledge that it doesn’t have to be.

Like the angler earlier in this piece, I’ve seen them whip the waters with those long rods hour-after-hour. I have neither the patience nor stamina for that. I WANNA GET BIT! But, in the same way I can view a golfer or doctor, I gotta give kudos to someone who puts in that kind of time.

I encounter angler after angler who come off their boats and tell me they got 5…6…7 fish and it was a “so-so” or “ho-hum” day. You’d have thought someone stole their bicycles judging by their faces.

Maybe the caught all the fish in 15 minutes and the rest of the day was dull. Maybe they caught all the fish on lures instead of bait or they just dinked and scratched all day for 2 hours of boredom punctuated by 5 minutes of hookup time, then back to boredom.

On the other hand, the flyfisher is pumping his fist victoriously in the air after spending an hour methodically casting to a breezing roosterfish time after time after time. He’s giving high-fives to the fish gods when finally, the rooster turns…and charges…and inhales. FISH ON!!!

It makes the victory of the hookup all that much sweeter!

I may have to give this flyfishing thing another go.

That's my story. If you ever need to reach me, I'm at riplipboy@aol.com

2008-09-13T21:03:00.002-06:00

Mexican Folklorico Dancers celebrate Mexican Independence Day perhaps the biggest fiesta in the Mexican calendar year.

GRITO ("YELL") LIKE YOU MEAN IT!

Originally published the week of Sept. 16, 2008 in Western Outdoor News

By the time you’re reading this, a goodly portion of Mexico’s population will probably be sleeping it off and trying to muster up the energy to go back to work and continue on with the week.

I like how Mexico parties. In many cases, unlike in the U.S. remembers our holiday days like Memorial Day, President’s Day..even 4th of July only because it’s a 3 day weekend or an opportunity to hammer beers at the beach or river, Mexico truly seems to savor it’s fiestas.

Sometimes, in fact, as I immerse myself deeper and deeper into the culture, it seems that many of my Mexican friends work ONLY so that they can party! Often, since many folks down here work 6 days a week and get only Sunday off, a fiesta after a 60 –hour-week seems as good an excuse as any to crank out the barbecue and drop more cervezas into ice.

The weekend of Sept. 13 through the 17th here in Mexico is probably bigger than Carnivale!

It all revolves around Sept. 16th. That’s officially Mexico’s Independence Day. It’s the day of the “Grito de Dolores” (Cry of Pain) In the dawn hours of 1810, the peasant and Indian class of Mexico finally got fed up with 3 centuries of abuse and oppression by Spain. Spaniards from the mother-country as well as those born in Mexico had been treating the new world lands and it’s people like the proverbial red-headed-step child.

In those hours of September 16th, Mexican hero and martyr, Padre Miguel Hidalgo, a true Renaissance man and humanitarian, turned from priest to warrior general. Screaming “Viva Mexico,” his raggedy army of rancheros, Indians, Mestizos and other oppressed groups charged the Spanish artillery and lancers with pitchforks and machetes. It was a bloodbath but the peones won. It was a slaughter fueled hundreds of years of passion, hate and racism on both sides. The good padre regretted the loss of so much life, but was unable to stop the pent-up rage of his insurgent army.

The Padre and his army were later betrayed and Hidaldo was summarily executed later, but the date became the firebrand for 11 more years or revolution that finally resulted in independence and sovereignty. Every revolution starts somewhere and Sept. 16th is the day a bunch of pissed-off Mexicans finally said, “Enough is enough!”

Forget Cinco de Mayo. It was an important, but minor battle comparatively speaking. However, due to the heavy marketing by certain beer companies, most Americans mistakenly assume it’s a momentous day because their local cantina in Long Beach, California has 2 for 1 beer and tacos. Most American’s have no clue.

It’s much like many of the Mexican hotels and restaurants doing huge promotions for 4th of July here in Baja. It’s for the benefit of the gringos. Most have no idea that it’s America’s Independence Day. Come to think of it, even some Americans I know don’t have a clue as to what happened in 1776 on that day.

However, Mexico rolls differently. They do indeed know their big day and the country revels in it. And sure…they par-TAY!

This year, the 16th falls (fell) on Tuesday. Folks start the fiesta barbecues on Saturday and carry it to Sunday. Technically, Monday the 15th is a half-day work. But who works on a half-day Monday that’s preceded by a weekend and then the following Tuesday is the biggest holiday of the year?

So, by Monday afternoon ,the entire country is pretty much in fiesta mode. Fresh tortillas, tamales, chicarrones, carnitas and carne asada seems to waft down every street and case loads of beer walk out of every little super-mini-market on every corner.

By Monday night, everything not related to the party is closed and huge blocks in most large cities have been closed off to massive street fairs featuring rides, bandstands, fireworks, parades, wandering mariachis, speeches, and more food and beer!

Then at midnight, just like Americans watch the big Times Square ball drop in New Years, “El Grito” (the yell) starts in Mexico City! “Viva Mexico!” “Viva Mexico!” “Viva Mexico” goes off in unison as the clock strikes midnight in each city. It’s thunderous. It’s a whole nation screaming as their forefathers charged the Spanish cannons armed with sticks and kitchen knives back in 1810.

And then the whole country really starts to fiesta long into the night and onto the next day! “Viva Mexico!” “Viva Hidalgo!”

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

2008-08-31T19:05:00.003-06:00

PHOTO: When it rains, you might as well make the best of it and stay dry under your favorite watering hole!

PHOTO: Most late summer/early fall storms blow in and out quickly.

CLICK YOUR RUBY SLIPPERS, DOROTHY!

Originally Published in Western Outdoor News the week of Sept. 2, 2008

I’m typing this while under a palm roof watching the rain drip from the fronds. A steady drizzle rakes across the bay giving it an uncharacteristic greyness to what is normally a vibrant panorama of greens, blues and red sandstone. A brief flash of lighting and rumble of distant thunder pops and fades. And the rain falls a little harder.

The drops streaks across the glass in front of me and I can see it starting to puddle up under the space in the door where the wind is pushing in the water.

And I’m hiding.

There’s a pack or two of fishermen roaming the hotel grounds and they’re grumpy and bored. They can’t fish. The port is closed. No one in. No one out. No boats off the beach today, fellas. Sorry you got up so early.

Yes, blame it on me. It’s my fault. I made it rain JUST FOR YOUR VACATION. It hasn’t rained all year, but I picked YOUR vacation for the rain to come down on the parade.

It’s difficult to run a fishing business and explain to anglers that although it might not look real rough in the bay, outside, it’s churning. We don’t like to cancel trips anymore than you! We’d put you out of we could, but not only is it darn rough, it’s unsafe. It’s difficult to communicate the safety issue to anglers that have been pumped for month about getting out on the water. Understandable. So is the grumpiness.

If I could click my rubber ruby slippers and make the great Oz take it all way, I would. Dorothy help me. We lose work. We lose money. We have unhappy anglers on the beach all day who just want to vent on someone…anyone!

That’s why I’m hiding! I’ve already heard it. I’ve already explained it. Tomorrow, the weatherman says it will all go away and the sunshine will come blasting out again and all will be forgiven as the fish fight to jump into your boat.

But today, no one is listening.

From August to September-October, it’s technically “hurricane season.” All that warm water to the south of Baja off the central coast of Mexico breeds storms. As it moves over the warm waters they gather power. Sometimes they turn into hurricanes. In actuality, they usually get no larger than a tropical depression or a tropical storm that doesn’t even warrant an official “name” like “Hurricane Marty” or “Hurricane Henrietta.” Today it’s “Number 11.” Whoop-dee-freaking-dooo…

But storms do move north. No doubt.

In all honesty, you do get some rain. These late summer and early fall months can get awfully humid for some amigos as the heat gets the water vapor rising. Then, clouds turn to thunderheads and you can see them rising precipitously like giant columns of cotton. By the minute, you can see them extend and sometimes get darker.

Then, perhaps some lightning happens. And the rain starts to fall. This is especially true in the afternoons. Very tropical. A warm shower or short blast of water. One street floods. Another remains dusty. You can be bone dry, but 100 yards away, you can see the cloudburst. On the water, you run into columns of falling water and simply drive around it.

Then, just like that, it’s over. The sun comes back out and the ground steams and basically no one left the swimming pool or stopped sipping their margaritas. No one stops fishing.

Compare that to the “torito” (little bulls) that can unleash with all the power of a mini-hurricane. They come up quickly and leave just as quickly leaving wind-ripped palm trees; community flooding; torrential arroyos; and even some structural damage. But, like a bull, they’re quickly gone. Probably not a good time to be on the water and most will head for shore if even for some quick shelter then head back out once the storm blows by. In truth, most storms here…except for the largest blows…are big wet inconveniences to Baja travelers.

But not coming fishing at this time of year or being nervous about it is unfounded. The fall is traditionally some of the best fishing time in the Baja. Avoiding it would be like deciding not to go skiing in the winter because there “might be a snowstorm.” Or not taking the freeway because accidents happen. Duh!

I’ve been here 14 years and been through a chubasco or two. Actually 4 here in that time Only 1 was really bad. The others kept me off the water no more than a day or two. Then out we went! One of the best by-products of the storms is that it washes lots of debris into the water which is perfect for dorado to hang out.

Could a hurricane or storm happen on your fishing vacation this time of year? Sure. Will it happen? Probably not. Is it a good time to go fishing? You bet.

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

2008-08-16T19:17:00.003-06:00

PHOTO: Keep an eye on the cleaning process. Cut it. Clean it. Take care of it!

HASTE MAKES WASTE!

Originally published the week of Aug. 19, 2008 in Western Outdoor News

After all these years here, it still amazes me how little attention many anglers pay to the end-product of their endeavors. They’ll spend weeks prepping and primping to get all the lures, hooks and rods together and making sure they have CD’s for the boombox and digging for that smelly fishing hat, but the object of the hunt gets scant attention.

I’m talking about your fish. That’s why you come down here, right? Fish for the barbecue when you get home…fish for the gardener…fish for all your office buddies.

Well, like anything else on the trip, it requires two things. Namely preparation and forethought. Stop and take a breath. Stop worrying so much about whether you can find your fishing shirt with the funny logo and 4 seasons of blood stains on it and give a little thought to actually bringing home some fish.

I get questions all the time from first timers. Many of them have fished places like Alaska and assume that fish can just be flown home from Baja neatly packaged and wrapped, if not by the charter service then by UPS, DHL or other carrier. NOT!

I mean, sure, it can be done, but chances are, it’s costly and in many places carrier services are not offered or even “express” service means 3 to 5 days with no guarantees!

So, assume your fish is flying home with you in most cases. That means you need some kind of packaging and something to bring it home in.

Vacuum sealing is increasing, but assume for the moment it probably is NOT available. So, bring the zip-lock style bags. Gallon size is preferred, not little teenie sandwich bags. It’s rare that anyone will have the time and patience to cut your 40 pound dorado into 4 oz. squares.

Do not assume that these types of plastic bags are readily available in Baja. Sometimes they are. Sometimes they are not. Often, they are a thinner or inferior quality and often much more expensive than in the states. Big-box retailers like Costco and Sam’s Club offer great deals on bags.

Second, you’ll need an ice chest. In the old days, we all brought down huge coffin-like 100 qt. marine coolers. These days with weight restrictions and airlines charging for excess baggage, we’ve found that a 40 qt ice chest filled with frozen fillets weighs just about 50 pounds more or less. Remember that those extra-thick chests or chests with wheels will weigh more than regular ice chests.

Sure, you can buy ice chests in Mexico, which is often a good alternative, but know that an ice chest might cost almost twice as much in Baja as back in the states.

Now, at ground zero, when you’re nailing fish and pandemonium is on the deck, don’t forget your fish. It would be nice to bleed the fish, but that’s often not possible or feasible when all heck is busting loose and the tuna and dorado are boiling.

That being said, bleed them when you can, but at least get your fish out from the hot sun. The Baja blaze will turn them to mush so put them in the shade and into some kind of chiller as soon as possible. The cooler the better. As soon as a fish is dead, it’s already decomposing. That’s nature. Heat is your enemy.

That goes for fish cleaning as well. I know it’s hard to resist the high-fiving, fish tales and beer toasts at the end of the day but keep an eye on whoever is cleaning your fish.

Pack it yourself in your bags if possible so that they’re in the size you want. If there’s only two of you eating, there’s no senses in putting 10 pounds of fillets in a bag that has to be defrosted back home.

Resist the urge to pack too much into a plastic bag as well. So often, I see anglers jam everything they can into a plastic bag.

When it goes into the freezer, it will freeze like a giant bowling ball that will have a hard time getting into your ice chest. Often, it expands as it freezes. The enclosure pops open and now you have freezer burned fish.

One trick is to put just a few fillets in the bag. Using a bucket of water that most boats have handy, push the bag under water just far enough that all the air comes out. The water pressure compresses it. Press the bag closed. Instant Mexican-style vacuum seal! And, by all means, don’t leave bags of fish on the cleaning table or deck to steam cook in the sun! Get them iced!

You paid too much for this trip and fish is too precious to waste! Take care of it.

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

2008-08-02T18:07:00.002-06:00

TAG ENDS!

Originally published the week of Aug. 5, 2008 in Western Outdoor News

Some loose “tag ends” this week to tie up and spread around to you. Just some bits and pieces and notes off the tackle box:

SOMETHING SMELLS FUNNY

After my column two weeks ago about keeping smells away from your fishing gear and bait, I got a number of comments from readers agreeing with me and offering various remedies. Initially, the column was generated by a WON reader who asked about having sunscreen on his hands and whether the smell repels fish.

Two readers, wrote in and told me that they keep a small can of WD-40 handy. It’s not only good for the occasional squeaky reel handle, but it’s then sprayed on a small rag. The rag us then used to wipe on hands or fishing tackle that may have been “contaminated” by non-fishing smells such as suntan oil, food, cigarettes or mechanical items.

Great idea. Many anglers swear that WD-40 is a great fish attractant and will spray it directly on lures and other items. I once asked a WD-40 executive about it and all he could do was smile and say, “No comment!” But it’s rumored that the popular lubricant has fish oil in it.

Another amigo wrote that he keeps a little bottle of that waterless hand sanitizer handy to clean his hands of sunscreen then keeps a little bottle of shrimp or anchovy fish scent in his box. A drop or two on his palms then rubbed together gets his hands smelling “just right!” But he adds that his hands smell pretty stinky afterwards.

ECONOMIC RIPPLE EFFECT

Yes, indeed, Baja is feeling the pinch from a lot of different angles. Whatever happens economically to the U.S. also has an effect down here in Baja. Americans have less disposable income so conversely, they’re not traveling as much. High airline tickets and fuel prices don’t help.

Actual gas shortages in northern Baja over the past few weeks have actually stranded many vacation drivers insofar as commuters and commercial drivers, fleeing high U.S. gas prices have come across the border to fill up on the cheaper Mexican gas prices. Supply has not been able to accommodate the demand. Ergo vacation travelers have been caught in long lines of stranded vehicles.
Along those same lines, nervousness over road violence towards tourists, has severely crimped U.S. tourism to Mexico. And nothing says “money” like a big old shiny Suburban pulling a sportfisher down Highway 1. (And it’s probably filled with gasoline!)

I’m not saying something is going to happen. Hundreds of thousands of people cross the border daily and nothing happens. But, by the same token, I’m not one to advertise when I have a bankroll in my pocket as I walk down a dark alley.

But, even for passengers flying down here, not only are flights more expensive, but they’re getting harder to find. Out of Tijuana, our old friend, Aero Californa, is once again having problems. You may re-call that several years ago, their flights were suspended because of too many safety violations. Thousands of U.S. fliers were left holding worthless tickets. Well… They were allowed to fly again, but never regained their ability to have international flights.

However, many folks travel domestically with Aero Cal and lots of San Diego and S.California residents and fishermen find that traveling to Tijuana to catch Aero Cal flights to cities in Baja and mainland Mexico is quite convenient and surprisingly easy. Well, Aero Cal has been suspended again allegedly for failure to pay fines and taxes. Some of the newer Mexican airlines that seemed to have great service such as Alma Air and Avolar are having their own difficulties because of higher ticket prices mean fewer travelers.

Bottom line, it seems things are slow down here in Baja. Depending on who you talk to or what you read, business is off 20-40 percent. In the northern border states where much of the economy is directly affected on a daily basis by Americans and Mexicans crossing the border for business and pleasure, counts have been as high as 60 percent.

Speaking to friends in Cabo, La Paz and the East Cape, they tell me it’s off about 30 percent from normal years.

Baja is still a bargain relatively speaking compared to other places, but there’s no question that what happens in the U.S. affects everyone else.

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

2008-07-20T11:19:00.002-06:00

HANDS ON! HANDS OFF!

Originally published in Western Outdoor News, the week of July 22, 2008

One of our readers, Larry Wayne, sent me an e-mail recently asking about scent and it’s effects on fishing. Specifically, he wanted to know about sunscreen on his hands. To wit:

“ I have both read and been told that sunblocks have ingredients that are highly repellent to fish, and that if you have sunblock on your hands when you handle lures or bait, it will significantly hurt your chances of getting bit.

Since I am fairly dark skinned to begin with, I have rarely worried much about sunburn, but with what I now know, I have to be careful not to overexpose myself…Do you agree that getting sunblock from your hands onto lures or bait can repel fish, and, if so, what do you advise your clients to do to prevent that problem?”

This is the first time I’ve gotten a written query about the subject, but I’ve been asked about this when doing fishing seminars. So, let’s spread my two cents (scents?) on the subject.

First and foremost, I too am dark-skinned. I never go out on the water without the sunblock on. I used to think that I was immune to the sun as well. I never burned. I got a deep dark tan. Then, I had a little bout with skin cancer and that opened my eyes and I’ve also noticed how many of my own clients and friends are now paying the price for their time under the sun. It’s a serious issue. Don’t let yourself burn.

Secondly, on the subject of scents, I’m a big believer. Fish might have brains the size of a pea, but they have handy-dandy keen senses that keep them alive. Their sense of smell is just one of them. But it’s awfully powerful and a big motivator in getting the fish to eat or not to eat what you’re offering.

Just look at yourself. If the cheeseburger not only looks like a cheeseburger , but also smells like the roasted charbroiled meat, the grilled onions, the sesame bun toasted with butter…well, you get the idea. Are you salivating yet?

By the same token , if it looked like a cheeseburger but all you can smell are your roomate’s smelly gym sneakers he left near the dinner table, that would be a turnoff too!

Same with fish. Just look at the display counters at your local tackle store. Row upon row of lotions, potions, oils and goo to put you your lure, live bait, or other terminal tackle. There’s “stink bait” for catfish. Shrimp scent for rockfish. Anchovy and squid stink for pelagic bluewater species. Crawfish flavor for bass. Trout get garlic. There’s probably a cheeseburger scent in there somewhere too!

Some anglers even swear that stuff like WD-40 lubricant is a powerful scent as well. (But that’s for another column).

The point is, smell does have an effect, both positively and negatively.

Sprays, lotions, chemicals, gasoline and solvents from your boat; your cigarette; wiping sweat off your brow; even (gasp) eating that cheeseburger or burrito on the docks or in your box lunch all have scents and oils. Rub the side of your nose. See that oil on your finger? All can be transferred to your rod, reel, line, lures and bait.

I grew up fishing with my old Japanese, Filipino and Hawaiian uncles and cousins. They were religious about keeping their hands clean. The hand that touched the cigarette or sandwich did NOT touch the baits or gear. That’s how we were brought up, whether fishing for trout or tuna.

Obviously, you can’t go around all day with your hands in gloves so anytime we touched anything, we would wash our hands when possible before touching the gear or baits. But, even soap has scent to it…usually something flowery or antiseptic.

So, after getting the gunk off our hands, we’d grab a piece of dead bait or even a small live one and mash it in our hands. We’d stick them in the ground chum…anything to mask the human oils on our hands or things we had touched. Only then, would we touch our gear.

So, use the sunscreen. Eat the burger. But keep your hands as clean as you can!

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

2008-07-06T05:20:00.003-06:00

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING - THE OTHER SIDE OF BRAIDED LINE

Originally published the week of July 8, 2008 in Western Outdoor News

Years ago when braided spectra lines first came out I made a trip to down here to Baja. This was in the early 90’s, long before I had moved down here to La Paz.

I had spooled my reels with this new “miracle” line and was on my first trip using the new-fangled stuff. I was anxious to put it to the test and had read up on all the wonders it would accomplish towards my fishing.

As we rolled out to sea that first day, I was setting up my gear there on the deck and I happened to cut off a tag-end piece of spectra. I laid it on the rigging table next to me figuring to throw it away with the rest of my debris when I was done.

The Mexican deckhand came to sit with me and watch me rig up. He absent-mindedly picked up the piece of spectra and started to use it to floss his teeth!

Now, if you’re familiar at all with braided line, you know how abrasive this stuff can be. It’s virtually indestructible and is made of the same stuff they make bullet-proof vests. Saw it back and forth on a piece of wood or metal and you can almost cut through it. You can only imagine what it might do to a set of teeth and gums!

Back in the day, my command of Spanish consisted of being able to place an order at Taco Bell. I did my frantic darndest to explain via hand gestures, grimaces and enough mime technique to make Marcel Marceau proud to the deckhand that this piece of string was “no bueno!”

He looked at the innocent piece of string and me and back at the string. He uttered some profanity about the stuck-up gringo who wouldn’t let him use a simple piece of string to clean his teeth. He got up and walked away.

I felt like an idiot too. But I couldn’t let him saw through his gums and probably into his skull!

Well, in more than a decade of use now, spectra line has become more widespread and can be found universally even to the simplest panga captain. It’s well-known for it’s low stretch, incredible strength and low diameter, allowing anglers to pack on lots of extra yardage into small reels.

However, as more anglers are using it, I see a lot of improper use of it as well down here.
For one, too much of a good thing is a bit wasteful. For instance, packing a trolling reel with 1500 yards of the smaller diameter braided line, just “because you can” is pretty expensive. Besides, how often do you honestly get deeper than say, 200 or 300 yards in any spool?

Further, unless you’re on a party boat, which is rare here in Baja, or a long range San Diego type vessel, most fishing craft can follow or back down on a hard-charging fish. Short of a huge marlin or really giant tuna, the majority of sport-caught fish down here aren’t going that far before you turn them or they finish their runs.

Better to use the braided line as backing then “top-shotting” (splicing) regular monofilament on top of the braid. I see quite a few anglers coming down fishing straight braid with no top shot. East Coast anglers are fond of it. I’ve never heard a definitive reason. But I can give you my two-cent against it.

To begin, if you’re fishing live bait, braided line is a lot more visible than mono. Additionally, the braid, especially when wet, is heavier than mono. If you’re using a small live bait like a Mexican sardine, it won’t fish as well. It won’t swim as well. Your whole bait presentation is off diminishing your fish-catching abilities.

Pragmatically with braid, if the line loops, it has a greater tendency to tangle and get into knots that are ridiculous to untie. This is unlike mono which has a more springy nature to it. Get into a knot with braid and chances are you’ll have to cut that expensive bit of string, which often requires special cutters. Your normal dikes won’t work.

Finally, let’s talk gear and personal safety. Braid cuts! It will saw into the fiberglass or wood gunwale of a boat. It will wear a groove into the guides on your rod. In a bite with everyone bent, your braid line will slice very neatly into your buddy’s mono cutting off his fish and earning you a physical or verbal punch in the nose.

When you or your captain or deckhand tries to grab the line to get a hold of a hot fish or trying to release a fish, tension-filled braided line also cuts very neatly through fingers and hands. It’s a bit like grabbing a moving hack-saw blade.

Admittedly, there are a few applications where straight braided line is recommended. However, in most applications I’ve seen down here, pop a few hundred yards of mono on top of your braid and save the money and frustration.

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