It’s the ones that get away that fill your dreams, even more than the ones you land.
It was time for the second annual PhilR and Clarkman fishing and dining expedition to Loreto, Baja California del Sur. Flights and guide booked, the last couple of months were spent tying flies, poring over trip reports, and sharing YouTube videos looking for the tip or fly that would make that crucial difference. Only time would tell if it would, but it’s still a fun pre trip routine.
Eventually, the day came and we were off. Landed, through customs, and off to our lodging for the next week. After quickly settling in, it’s off to the harbor cafe for tacos and beer.
We decided to hit one of the beaches for the evening, and had some fun getting chased by little roosters. We were getting ready to call it a night when a bigger rooster started blowing up on the other side of the point. I watched for a moment until I remembered why I was there and started running, all the while thinking I’d be undergunned with the 8 wt in my hand. However, it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
We had booked three days with Francisco aboard his panga, the Cuervo Especial. After checking in with him, clarifying priorities (roosters, but really anything), and getting a load of bait, we were off. The water was like glass, and we quickly found fish.
There was a large shoal of big eye croakers, interspersed with sardines and other bait fish, tucked up next to an island. And there were roosters and yellow tail cruising around the bait, sometimes blowing up on the surface outside of casting distance, sometimes cruising by the boat while we were stripping sinking lines on the wrong side.
We caught some decent sea bass and snapper to get on the board, happy with hard fighting reef fish while waiting for shots at our quarry. I don’t remember the exact order of what happened next , but things quickly got interesting. Randy hooked a yellowtail, which dove for the rocks and sawed off his 25 lb fluoro. Then another, which dove for the rocks and sawed him off. Then a different fish, which we never saw but Francisco said was a pargo (snapper). An ordinary pargo fights hard, and wants to get back down to the reef, but you can usually strip them in. This one got on the reel and peeled line off a drag set for yellowtail and roosters. Under one rock, through another hole between two others, and then Randy got broken off again.
By now, things had slowed down a bit so we headed for another spot nearby. One of the things I love about fishing down there is all the sea life. We saw turtles and dolphins in one cove, and a school of manta rays cruising by under the boat. The mantas are really cool, because they also jump clear out of the water. Not cool, at times, since they also screw around on the surface like a rooster, getting my heart rate up.
The other thing that jumps is cabrilla chasing bait. Big one jumped, and I was able to drop a cast right next to it. Two strips, and it was on. A minute later it was in the net.
Things slowed, so we went back to see if the roosters and yellowtail had returned to the first spot. They were, and the first thing I did was hooked a nice pargo.
I made a snap cast at a couple of roosters and yellowtail cruising by. I was on almost immediately. Mindful of the need to keep it out of the rocks, I got it on the reel and started cranking. YT had a different idea and started peeling line. I didn’t get my hand out of the way in time, and got whacked on my thumb and index finger. Hurt like hell, drew blood, and kinda pissed me off. He would take line, I’d get it back, and we seesawed like that for a bit. Well, it was hot, I’m out of shape, and those fish pull hard. Since lying down wasn’t an option, I decided to take a break by fighting from a kneeling position. It helped, but added a different complication. I really wanted to rest the rod on the gunwale, but Francisco kept rightly yelling at me not to. About twenty minutes later, it was in the net and in the fish box.
Eventually, it was time to head in, get some bandages for my finger, ice for my thumb, and beers for our wounded pride.
Morning came early, and we headed back to the same area, hoping to find more of the big guys around that shoal of bait. But it was not to be. We drove around a lot, trying to find bait, trying to find fish, positioning ourselves where those roosters coming down the beach might be next. We got some pargo, some cabrilla, and some other bycatch such as triggers, trumpets, needle fish, barracuda, and even a scorpion fish. Randy may have also hooked and lost another yellowtail.
Day 3 came early, and Francisco decided we should try another of the islands. After a long run over, we found a cove and reef that was full of these pink snapper. And roosters, which started blowing up all around us. I finally got a nice one to chase, and it ate. It ran, I kept my hand out of the way of the handle, and I relaxed a bit, knowing I finally had my rooster. At which point, it ran towards the boat, the line went slack, and it was off. These things fight dirty.
We tried some other spots, but nothing was as good as that half hour in that spot, so we decided to run back to the bait was back in the first spot. Along the way, we saw a pod of seals hanging out, warming their flippers in the sun.
We didn’t find any big guys, but I did manage a hawkfish and a hogfish to finish our time with Francisco.
The next three days we were on foot. I had my trusty ten weight, but Randy had brought along a beefy spinning rod and some big poppers to get more distance from the beach. It got distance for sure, probably three times my best casting range. It’s also really deceptive, putting up a rooster tail that looks like a rooster on the hunt. I picked up a small jack in the shallows, while Randy worked further out. Suddenly, his plug disappeared, he felt weight, and it was gone, whatever it was.
We shifted over a bit, and I finally got on the board with a rooster. A little one, but a rooster nonetheless, which brought my species count up to a baker’s dozen.
That capped our fishing success for the week. We got up on the breakwater with the locals, casting to boiling baitfish, getting some hot follows (mostly with the spinning rod) but no eats. We walked the beach some more, but players weren’t coming in close enough.
A couple of other random observations. Bait balls weren’t nearly as plentiful this year, and the birds weren’t very helpful in finding fish for us. Frigate birds are really cool, except when they’re gliding around you and you keep mistaking their shadows for fish. It’s a lot cooler standing in the water, but you get a lot more shots from a boat. No seaweed, so no dorado. The hot fly seemed to be an olive over white deceiver that I tied, but Francisco’s green and grey clouser was successful to (if a pain to cast). And finally, buying a broad brimmed straw hat stimulates the local economy, throws desperately needed shade, and keeps flies off the back of your neck.
It was time for the second annual PhilR and Clarkman fishing and dining expedition to Loreto, Baja California del Sur. Flights and guide booked, the last couple of months were spent tying flies, poring over trip reports, and sharing YouTube videos looking for the tip or fly that would make that crucial difference. Only time would tell if it would, but it’s still a fun pre trip routine.
Eventually, the day came and we were off. Landed, through customs, and off to our lodging for the next week. After quickly settling in, it’s off to the harbor cafe for tacos and beer.
We decided to hit one of the beaches for the evening, and had some fun getting chased by little roosters. We were getting ready to call it a night when a bigger rooster started blowing up on the other side of the point. I watched for a moment until I remembered why I was there and started running, all the while thinking I’d be undergunned with the 8 wt in my hand. However, it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
We had booked three days with Francisco aboard his panga, the Cuervo Especial. After checking in with him, clarifying priorities (roosters, but really anything), and getting a load of bait, we were off. The water was like glass, and we quickly found fish.
There was a large shoal of big eye croakers, interspersed with sardines and other bait fish, tucked up next to an island. And there were roosters and yellow tail cruising around the bait, sometimes blowing up on the surface outside of casting distance, sometimes cruising by the boat while we were stripping sinking lines on the wrong side.
We caught some decent sea bass and snapper to get on the board, happy with hard fighting reef fish while waiting for shots at our quarry. I don’t remember the exact order of what happened next , but things quickly got interesting. Randy hooked a yellowtail, which dove for the rocks and sawed off his 25 lb fluoro. Then another, which dove for the rocks and sawed him off. Then a different fish, which we never saw but Francisco said was a pargo (snapper). An ordinary pargo fights hard, and wants to get back down to the reef, but you can usually strip them in. This one got on the reel and peeled line off a drag set for yellowtail and roosters. Under one rock, through another hole between two others, and then Randy got broken off again.
By now, things had slowed down a bit so we headed for another spot nearby. One of the things I love about fishing down there is all the sea life. We saw turtles and dolphins in one cove, and a school of manta rays cruising by under the boat. The mantas are really cool, because they also jump clear out of the water. Not cool, at times, since they also screw around on the surface like a rooster, getting my heart rate up.
The other thing that jumps is cabrilla chasing bait. Big one jumped, and I was able to drop a cast right next to it. Two strips, and it was on. A minute later it was in the net.
Things slowed, so we went back to see if the roosters and yellowtail had returned to the first spot. They were, and the first thing I did was hooked a nice pargo.
I made a snap cast at a couple of roosters and yellowtail cruising by. I was on almost immediately. Mindful of the need to keep it out of the rocks, I got it on the reel and started cranking. YT had a different idea and started peeling line. I didn’t get my hand out of the way in time, and got whacked on my thumb and index finger. Hurt like hell, drew blood, and kinda pissed me off. He would take line, I’d get it back, and we seesawed like that for a bit. Well, it was hot, I’m out of shape, and those fish pull hard. Since lying down wasn’t an option, I decided to take a break by fighting from a kneeling position. It helped, but added a different complication. I really wanted to rest the rod on the gunwale, but Francisco kept rightly yelling at me not to. About twenty minutes later, it was in the net and in the fish box.
Eventually, it was time to head in, get some bandages for my finger, ice for my thumb, and beers for our wounded pride.
Morning came early, and we headed back to the same area, hoping to find more of the big guys around that shoal of bait. But it was not to be. We drove around a lot, trying to find bait, trying to find fish, positioning ourselves where those roosters coming down the beach might be next. We got some pargo, some cabrilla, and some other bycatch such as triggers, trumpets, needle fish, barracuda, and even a scorpion fish. Randy may have also hooked and lost another yellowtail.
Day 3 came early, and Francisco decided we should try another of the islands. After a long run over, we found a cove and reef that was full of these pink snapper. And roosters, which started blowing up all around us. I finally got a nice one to chase, and it ate. It ran, I kept my hand out of the way of the handle, and I relaxed a bit, knowing I finally had my rooster. At which point, it ran towards the boat, the line went slack, and it was off. These things fight dirty.
We tried some other spots, but nothing was as good as that half hour in that spot, so we decided to run back to the bait was back in the first spot. Along the way, we saw a pod of seals hanging out, warming their flippers in the sun.
We didn’t find any big guys, but I did manage a hawkfish and a hogfish to finish our time with Francisco.
The next three days we were on foot. I had my trusty ten weight, but Randy had brought along a beefy spinning rod and some big poppers to get more distance from the beach. It got distance for sure, probably three times my best casting range. It’s also really deceptive, putting up a rooster tail that looks like a rooster on the hunt. I picked up a small jack in the shallows, while Randy worked further out. Suddenly, his plug disappeared, he felt weight, and it was gone, whatever it was.
We shifted over a bit, and I finally got on the board with a rooster. A little one, but a rooster nonetheless, which brought my species count up to a baker’s dozen.
That capped our fishing success for the week. We got up on the breakwater with the locals, casting to boiling baitfish, getting some hot follows (mostly with the spinning rod) but no eats. We walked the beach some more, but players weren’t coming in close enough.
A couple of other random observations. Bait balls weren’t nearly as plentiful this year, and the birds weren’t very helpful in finding fish for us. Frigate birds are really cool, except when they’re gliding around you and you keep mistaking their shadows for fish. It’s a lot cooler standing in the water, but you get a lot more shots from a boat. No seaweed, so no dorado. The hot fly seemed to be an olive over white deceiver that I tied, but Francisco’s green and grey clouser was successful to (if a pain to cast). And finally, buying a broad brimmed straw hat stimulates the local economy, throws desperately needed shade, and keeps flies off the back of your neck.
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