Baja 2007, our 6th trip south of the border, and despite the fact that the days of having a reasonable stretch of beach to ourselves to stalk big unmolested roosters is most likely a thing of the past (RDTM no doubt), and the increase in barb wire and â€œpropiedad privadaâ€ signs that keep popping up in new places, we managed to make a few minor adjustments, deprived our selves of plenty of sleep as usual, fished like animals day after day, and had just as an amazingly great time as ever!
Fishing the home beach the first morning
When a school of Jack Crevalle began tearing up the water and blitzing right at our feet, it didn’t take Brandon long to hook-up with this 5 pounder. Me on the other hand, well… my time would come…
When the blitz reappeared it was 100 yards down the beach. Dad was first on the scene, then Brandon, and finally I made it, late again…
Another nice 5 pounder for Brandon
And a 5 pounder for my Dad! But my time would come…
And the following morning it did! A big fish picked up my fly on a blind cast and made an imediate bee-line for mainland Mexico. It didn’t take long before the 200yd splice from gsp to dacron went out the tip top and I was silently cursing myself for using the small, thin-wire hook and no bite tippet. Brandon said it best as the fish continued to slowly take line for what seemed an eternity, ” … such a helpless feeling”.
With the sun now well above the horizon my silent prayers were answered and the fish finally turned. After an unbelievable amount of reeling, an aching forearm, a building bruise in my abdomen and a series of shorter runs, and a lot of beach covered in a back-and-forth, tug-of-war attempt to throw the fish off balance, Brandon eventually got his hand around the wrist of the tail, amazingly at the exact spot it had picked up the fly 45 minutes earlier, back before the sun had shown itself.
Delirious and still in disbelief that we actually had the fish at hand, Brandon & I lifted it for the boga grip… 26 POUNDS!
The celebration was short lived as both my Dad and Brandon were anxious to get back to fishing themselves after following me, my bent rod, and my noisy reel up and down the beach with the video camera for the better part of the last hour. I’m not sure if it was my dad’s first, second, or third cast, but the show was back on and it was now his line headed for the mainland!
The cameras were back out as the show played and this time it was my dad’s turn to experience that helpless feeling of watching your fly line and backing disappear somewhere out in Mexico’s deep blue Sea of Cortez.
A few hundred yards down the beach and I took the honors of tailng the fish
Dad with a 15 pound Jack Crevalle!
This year’s first Rooster! (never mind the size)
The absolute coolest little fish out there, Baby Roosters