Bear Samples poses with a dorado he caught in Mexico. (Courtesy Bear Samples)
Only an idiot or an addict would go fishing after a hurricane, so that’s just what I did on my trip to Baja California.
Question Victor Snover’s sanity as well because he teamed with me to fish the equatorial climes. After my recent journey to Alaska, Baja was a distant 4,500 miles to the south. In stark contrast to Durango, the mid-October temperature pushed 90 degrees. Our final destination was the quaint Mexican village of La Ventana in the Sea of Cortez (or Gulf of California) about 100 miles from Cabo International Airport, a modern facility to rival any in the U.S.
Our drive across the peninsula filled us with wonder. The flora and fauna were captivating. What was around the next bend of the road? I had been to Cabo San Lucas years ago, but somehow missed the towering verdant mountains backdropped by an azure sea and sky. It is mesmerizing.
Berris “Bear” Samples.
We observed a host of colorful butterflies, wild shaggy burros, and a sea of majestic long-armed cacti. The cardon, or elephant cactus, is the tallest in the world, reaching heights of 70 feet and living for up to 500 years. Simply awesome. The green vista stood in juxtaposition to the deep blue sea, which harbored a variety of sea creatures like a giant aquarium.
After checking into our comfortable Airbnb condo, Victor and I ate dinner with Mary Grigsby, the vibrant owner of The Fish Ranch, who filled us in on what to expect, boat details, fly fishing possibilities, and our panga driver guide for the next day. I’ll highlight Mary next month because of her intriguing story and example as a woman director of a fly-fishing business.
She provides a great service not only with her fly shop, which we filled the cash register, but with guiding and complete fishing weeks. Mary knows how to whet your appetite for a unique adventure.
Our first day of fishing took us across the strait to Ceralvo Island, or Jacques Cousteau Island, since he dove there. Our guide Jorge was an expert at handling both the panga and the bait-casting net.
Pulling up to a school of sardines, marked by a small flock of pelicans,
Jorge swung the weighted net across a likely spot and pulled it back, filled with dozens of minnows that would be used to attract fish within casting range. It takes strength, skill, and agility to handle a net, and it takes eagle eyes to find and spot the sardines.
Firing up the 80-horsepower Yamaha, Jorge drew on his experience to find a likely productive area. Without using an anchor, as we drifted, he would toss the sardines 20 to 40 feet from the boat. It was like ringing a dinner bell as all sorts of fish attacked the free meal.
“What was that?” we asked as long, silver, streaking fish tore into the sacrificial bait. The dreaded needlefish with a mouth full of razor-edged teeth was out to interfere with our fly-fishing because our flies resembled a sardine. They make a barracuda proud!
Soon, Victor was whooping it up over landing his first saltwater fish. Jacks, ladyfish, pompano, skipjacks and roosterfish were caught and released.
The pompano is a cousin to the permit, one of my favorite saltwater fish to chase. With a deep body, they can turn on their side, making them very difficult to reel in. Roosterfish sport a distinctive, large comb on their back and dark lateral stripes like a WWII destroyer. Fish frenzy! Chaos!
When roosterfish go on the rampage, they slice through the water at high speed and smash anything that moves, namely and hopefully, your sardine fly. Several of the rodbenders pushed 5 pounds.
Bear Samples poses with a roosterfish he caught in Mexico. (Courtesy Bear Samples)
Sometimes during the excited frenzy, Victor and I would practice “malcasting” (a new term that I’ve coined), which means any sloppy or bad cast ends in a hookup. My fishing buddy must have heard my time-worn adage ‘keep your fly in the water’ day after day, as well as, “We are locked, cocked and ready to roll!”
“This is not a fishing trip. It’s a catching trip-ha,ha,ha! Flyfishing is fun,” so I quipped to Victor as he boated a nice dorado. While it was not a competition, we matched fish for fish each day.
Things get a bit dizzying and frenetic as large, frenzied dorado smash bait all around the boat, creating saltwater mayhem, an intoxicating proposition. Tiki, our guide the last day, had the magic touch and song as he called the fish to eat our flies. It’s hard not to be smug after netting another 10-pound fish, but my persistent panga pal put me in my place.
After watching him battle a rampaging dorado for 15 minutes, I stopped casting to film him landing his fish. With a shouted “Yeah!” Victor boated his fish, a whopping 15 pounds of bull dorado and the largest of our trip.
There really is something to be said about beginner’s luck.