FISHING LANDS END, OLD MEXICO
It’s hard to believe that it’s been a year now. I’m thinking about my first trip to do some saltwater fly fishing. My brother and I, Captain Don, as we like to call him, were offered an opportunity to go to Cabo San Lucas in Mexico. Our cousin and her husband have a time share there, and invited us to come down over Valentine’s Day, an offer easy to accept since neither of us had any pressing issues that day. Out came the tying vises, stainless steel hooks, and saltwater patterns. Several hundred flies later (which turned out to be a bit of overkill), we were set and waiting for our departure date to arrive. The rods were ready, the reels loaded and waiting; bags packed by the door, flies looked at more times that we can recall so all we had to do now was wait.
In our excitement we managed to get to the airport with time to spare. A beer was defiantly in order to celebrate our coming adventure in “Old Mexico.” Although it was my first time there Don had been there several times before. Having his captain’s license has allowed him to travel up and down the west coast of America while fishing for a living. He was working in the six-pack fleet out of San Diego, California, chasing the pelagic species rich in those waters. His next venture was on a private yacht that anchored at Cabo for several months of the year. It was his intricate knowledge of our destination that had us so excited to string up our fly rods. The Baja (pronounced “Baha”) peninsula is an area that is rich with saltwater game fish thanks mostly to the warm waters of the Pacific Ocean and a year round temperate climate. An angler can pursue everything from marlin and Dorado offshore, to inshore species such as cero mackerel and red snapper, to surf species like rooster fish and skipjack. It truly is a fisherman’s paradise, and,to top it all off there are a few outfitters that specialize in fly fishing for all species available, depending of course on the time of the year.
We had our hearts set on surf fishing for small roosters and anything else that might be around, but had also decided on doing a little inshore fishing through some contacts of Don’s who live down there. Our flight was, thankfully, uneventful, and passing through Mexican customs was equally uneventful, and the ride to the hotel as well. A good thing if you ask me.
The next morning dawned like a postcard. We had our rods strung up and were standing on the beach watching the water for any signs of feeding fish. Without much apparent life in the waters in front of us we started to blind cast to any and all areas that looked like they might hold a few fish. We walked as far down the beach fishing as we could, keeping an eye out for any nervous water. Eventually we found ourselves casting off the only rock outcropping we could find. Neither of us had stripping baskets, which, for anyone attempting to do any surf fly fishing, is an absolute necessity. We struggled to control our line in the backwash of the surf and after several hours of futile efforts we decided to head back to the hotel for a brunch. Several fish were visible well within casting distance while we were fishing the rocks, but with our lack of stripping baskets they might as well have been ten miles out.
Most of the rest of the day was spent with Donald showing me around his old stomping grounds. What a spectacular place, especially if you are able to get away from all of the tourist traps. I much prefer delving into the local culture when I travel. I can’t help but wonder why anyone would want to eat a burger at the Hard Rock Café when there’s some damn fine local cuisine just a few blocks down the street with ten times the atmosphere at a fraction of the cost. I’ll just say that we ate some incredible food that week. With our bellies full we were off to see if we could find a contact that Donald has down there. Angel was at his restaurant and with introductions made, we were all set to do some inshore fishing the next morning. We spent the rest of the afternoon standing on the beach hopelessly fighting with our line in the backwash, but fishing nonetheless.
Donald, my cousins husband Bruce, and I arrived on the docks the next morning to meet our boat captain, Fransico. With our gear stowed away we went to get some live bait for the red snapper that were deep in the rocks where we would be fishing and then we headed out past lands end and then North up the coast about 15 miles. On the way we were privileged to see a few humpback whales, my first since I’d left South Africa so many years ago. As far as Fransico was concerned, the first order of the day was to catch some red snapper. Bruce really isn’t much of a dedicated fly-fisherman, so we opted to use conventional gear until we had some fish boated and then switch to our fly rigs. It was a heck of a lot of fun working those snapper out of the deep rocks. With each one I caught though I couldn't help but wonder how it would have been on my fly rod. When the bite slowed down we decided to chase some cero mackerel that were in the area. Now these fish are a perfect quarry with fly gear. They hit hard, and run fast, and if you don’t have a wire leader you can just about bet you’ll lose every fly you toss out. They’ve got teeth that would make any piranha jealous. We started off using live bait again, for our cousins’ sake, but switched to flies when we couldn’t get any takes. Donald and I rigged up our fly rods and tied on some heavily weighted clousers for the deep water.
After some trial and error we found that allowing the fly to sink for 30 to 40 seconds with a very fast retrieve was what they were looking for. It was a bit of a surprise when that first one hit. The line at my feet was flying off the deck and all I could do was try to keep it from tangling around the reel seat. In just seconds it had me into my backing. Granted we were only using 10 pound test leaders with a 20 pound test butt section, but it was still very impressive to have a fish take line that fast. Not even the big King Salmon I’ve caught took line that fast. A few minutes later I had my first saltwater fish on a fly boated and it wasn’t long until Donald’s rod was doubled over as he hooked up with a nice cero mackerel that he too boated. We fished pretty hard to catch a few more fish that morning. The most impressive thing to me though was how, after one hit on a clouser, there was just a little bit hair left behind the eye. I’d never seen anything like that! It looked like someone had taken a pair of scissors and just sheared the dressing off the fly - absolutely amazing. I must have ended up with six or seven flies that were mortally shredded before we were done.
With the sun high overhead and the bite over it was time to head back to the harbor, but not until we had secured the next morning with Francisco. That evening we had the hotel restaurant cook up two of the snapper we caught, and let me tell you about delicious. It had been about 20 years since I’d eaten seafood that fresh. I release most of the fish I catch, but I’m not opposed to keeping a fish or two for dinner, and it was well worth it. For most of the rest of the day we lounged around the pool, hanging out with my cousin and playing with her kids. I spent an hour or two blind casting along the shore and managed to catch only a lizard fish. Actually, it was so ugly I couldn’t bring myself to touch it, so I gently shook it off the hook.
We were standing outside the Baja on the Fly store a bit before Francisco arrived at the dock, so with a little time to kill we ventured in. I was quite impressed with their array of gear and their selection of flies. This particular shop caters to fly fishers, offering inshore and offshore fishing trips year round. I’m afraid that as of right now that’s the only information I can give you about them, but from what I’ve heard and read about their operation they well definitely give you a good value for your money. We bought a few flies, poppers, just in case there was a surface bite occurring, but we never got to use them.
By the time we were out of there Francisco had the boat ready for us to head out. We had decided to devote as much of the day to fly fishing as we could, and being that it was only Donald and I this time, that’s what we did. We fished with live bait for about an hour for Francisco (he makes his living supplying fresh fish to restaurants) until I just couldn’t take it anymore. Out came the fly rod and it was on. In just a short while we were into fish, cero mackerel again. As the bite subsided, we decided to see if there were any Roosterfish riding the waves in the back of the surf, so we left the rocks and headed for the beach. Although we were unable to find any Roosters, we did get into a huge school of Skipjack. That was an experience. Looking down into the water there were hundreds, if not thousands of fish, and some of them were hungry, so much so that we were able to catch a few. Francisco also had a secret spot for Roosters that he said was on the way back to the harbor, so Don and I elected to leave the Skipjacks and try our luck at Francisco’s little honey hole. Try as we might, we just couldn’t seal the deal. We both had strikes and would have the fish on for just a second or two and then they were off. Roosterfish have got very hard mouths, and it is best to let them run for a few seconds before you set the hook. I didn’t know that then, and I suppose that might be why we were never able to really get a good hook set on one. Time melted away like the sun block on our noses, and with the day coming to an end we turned the boat south and headed in.
With fishing done for the day, we found ourselves back at the hotel with a terrible thirst. We nurtured some pina-colada along with some smoked marlin tacos. Absolutely delicious. After a late lunch, the time came for us to make a decision fish, or fly? By fly I mean parasailing. Just to entice us tourists there are several kiosks along the beach that offer everything from kayak rentals to parasailing, something I’ve wanted to do for some time. If you’ve never done it and have ever wanted to you should, provided, of course, you’re not scared of heights. I took my camera up with me and got some extraordinary pictures, and courtesy of my brother tipping the boat captain, I also got dunked.
That, I regret to say, was the end of our trip. A few hours later we were back on the plane headed home, but not before we agreed to return as soon as we could. If Mexico is a destination that piques your interest as a fly fisherman I would definitely give it a thumbs-up.