Pompano
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Pompano Fish Report 2 - April 2007
Yesterday we saw sights that reminded us of the seventies..when the Cortez was alive with birds and fish boils. Your heart would pound with
excitement and anticipation as you raced the boat towards the feeding frenzy.
Our day went like this....getting to the bait hole about a half-hour before dawn, we made baits in record time. (Which is in no small measure is due
to my buddy's inate ability to think like a mullet. Says he can sense the bait balls.) Then we use the current favorite bait
rig...a Sabiki 4-hook bait rig with about 3-4 ounces of weight on bottom and lately have been jigging them up 3-4 at a time. We will want about 10
each for the day’s fishing, figuring a 50% hookup rate.
These are bigeyes...terrific live baits. Hint: use a towel or fish glove to hold them while your other hand takes them off the needle sharp hooks and
plop them into your livewell...keeps the slippery devils from jabbing you.
[Edited on 4-6-2007 by Pompano]
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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Pompano
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first spot...
We first fished baits at favorite yellowtail habitat north of Pta. Chivato. This.a hump of rocks in about 210 ft. called “The Ranch.”..don’t ask me
why...I am going to rename it Lonesome Dove anyway, because we have only caught 1 fish there in the last 2 attempts...and this time we scored
nada...zero. We fished hard with fly-lined and deep baits, and tried about everything else in the boat except our two dogs....and finally decided to
head south 18 miles to "Wilbur's famous Hole"..a renowned and legendary hotspot absolutely guaranteed to produce huge fish...if you
were lucky enough to know how to find it.
When fishing it is mandatory in these waters to toast Neptune before noon, so we opened a sacrificial Tecate for him and my buddy...and a cold
Pacifico for me. He can have that swill...I can only equate Tecate with rusted metal can taste of the sixties...ruined it for me forever.
Underway to Wilbur's famous Hole, we spied some bird action near Sta. Inez islands and hove to for a bit of bait fishing. I got a
good hit and a long run ... and then it let go. I reeled in and the bait was still lively..a sure sign of a light yellowtail bite and release. They
are among the gamefish that do not have long sharp teeth. Then my buddy gets one on his fly-lined bait and away it goes. He gets a good hookup and
sets the hook well, bringing a nice 20+ pounder to my gaff. We work the birds and spot a few surfacing tails here and there, but for some reason the
bite was over for us at that spot.
Besides...Wilbur's famous Hole was still beckoning us further southward..
[Edited on 4-6-2007 by Pompano]
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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Capt. George
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where's the beef?
i'm sittin here in Lake I-Wanna-B-Gone and you send off a tease like this.
wats amata u???
\"The penalty good men pay for indifference to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men\" Plato
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Capt. George
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ahhh, thre's the beef, I type toooo quickly amigo!
\"The penalty good men pay for indifference to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men\" Plato
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Pompano
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second stop...
Now we are toasting Neptune again while letting the gps guide us towards Wilbur's famous Holeand I mention that fact that all the
birds are overtaking us and are rapidly winging south ahead of us. Then far, far ahead on the horizon about 3 miles east of Pt. Conception we can
make out a dense cloud just on the water horizon...Birds! Birds by the thousands! A long wide tornado of birds whirling and diving, turning the
surface white with their splashes. As we came within a mile or so we saw that the entire sea behind this first mass of birds was alive with yet
more.... It was really like the old days of acres and acres of fish boils. We looked at each other and said, “Screw Wilbur's famous
Hole!”
and hit the throttle full-bore, racing towards the bird cyclone ahead. Our boat dogs pointed the birds for us, also...but we were too busy getting
some rigs ready for pitching iron. I yell...’Tally Ho! Watson..the games afoot!’ My buddy says, “Who’s Watson?..you better lay off the toasting for
awhile.” We plunge into the birds....rods at the ready...dogs pointing.
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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Pompano
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in the fish boil
I have not been in such a mob of seabirds since those early days on the Cortez! Gulls, boobies, pelicans, shearwaters, frigates, yellowtail gulls,
splittails...and more..they were all there....literally by the thousands and more streaming in from all directions.
A frenzy of screaming and diving beaks...all scooping up the little blue striped baitfish that were balled up in huge swarms by whatever predators
were haranguing them. We glided in, shut down the engine..and started throwing our iron into the mess...we could now see the swirls of larger fish
everywhere feeding on the baitballs.
Bits and pieces of baitfish were flung into the air, scooped up in flight by frigates who never set a foot into the water. You could look down and
see full bodies, half-bodies and scales everywhere...all sinking into the depths. Meanwhile, we notice that we are not getting any hits....hmmm?
What the heck is that about?
We chucked everything at them...plus putting out some more baits...nada. This was very strange, even though by now we had figured the main predators
to be firecrackers and not worthy of our fishbox. We finally realized that this huge boil consisted of nary a yellowtail that we could hook, nor a
cabrilla, grouper, rooster, etc.
A little frustrated, I dropped my iron down to the bottom..about 270 feet here...and viola!..a nice pinto took it. Well, by Golly, pinto is a lot
better than nothing, so we switched tactics and bottomfished these tasty guys for a bit. We did real well with blue-white Salas, about 6 oz..and
hooked everything within 5 feet of the bottom..usually picked them up on the descent rather than the ascent.
At first we had thought that we had just stumbled onto a pile of rocks that the pintos normally frequent, but as the birds and bait moved, so did the
pintos far below. We conjectured that the torn pieces of bait drifting down to their deep habitats were making the pintos move with the frenzy
above. (Remember, my buddy thinks like a mullet and he knows things like this.)
As we moved with the boil and birds we kept bottomfishing underneath and caught a variety of fins..including these:
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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Capt. George
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didja get any boids?
\"The penalty good men pay for indifference to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men\" Plato
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Pompano
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and some like these...
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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Pompano
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cabrilla hump...
We trolled home along the mine area near Pt. Conception with Mirrolures and nailed a couple of nice cabrilla...our personal favorite for dinner.
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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Pompano
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work time...
A fishing note: We had 77 degree surface water most of the day and saw lots of floating kelp..no big paddies yet, BUT... we DID see a couple of flying
fish. Hoo-boy, when will that first dorado be caught? Manana?
No fishing day is complete until the fish cleaning job is over and the boat is spotless and ready for the next day. A sharp filleting knife, a steel
glove, a board, and some gallon baggies makes the fish cleaning job go quickly. A good buddy doing the boat cleanup meantime is priceless.
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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Capt. George
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thanks, I needed that!
\"The penalty good men pay for indifference to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men\" Plato
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Pompano
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The end result was a really fun day at sea..fishing with good friends. We caught enough for a great meal later that evening and had some Easter
family feast gifts for Mulege friends. After my mullet-buddy did such a great job of cooking last night, I was very tired and was fast asleep within
5 minutes after hitting the pillow. A long day on the water....and great fun. Tomorrow we are doing something different...maybe “Wilbur’s famous
Hole!”
The End.
I do what the voices in my tackle box tell me.
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Skipjack Joe
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That red fish is amazing. It's so beautiful it looks like one of those wall mounts. Is that a huachinango? Dad always told me there was nothing to
compare with a fish just out of the water.
A cyclone of birds is a good way to describe it. I was in on that sort of thing in baja, 1983. The birds flew overhead in a tight circle with boobies
breaking out of the melee, divebombing into the water like some sort of missiles. It was electrifying. Squawking birds. Movement all around.
Everything was a blur. Everyone should experience this.
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tripledigitken
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Pompano,
Thanks for the great report, next best thing to being there. What beautiful water, and some hansom German's too! I hope you make a habit of sharing
your fishing trips with us.
Ken
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Cypress
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Thanks for the fishing report and the pictures. Looking forward to the
next edition.
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Hook
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Nice cabrilla/leopard grouper or whatever your buddy has there.
I guess under that Bing Crosby hat he would be sporting...................................a mullet????
If I had a mullet, I'd cover it up, too.
Thanks for the report, Roger.
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Capt. George
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Pompano,
I got some great jigs I'll be bringing down...guys do real well with them over on the Pacific side....not to mention the mayhem thay create in the N/E
of the US of A
really enjoyed the report...........
\"The penalty good men pay for indifference to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men\" Plato
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Skeet/Loreto
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Thanks Pomp!
Brought back all of the "Glory Days" of the 70's and 80's.
This might be the right time to Snorkel off of Punta Pulpito and watch the Goldens Herd the big Cabrilla.
Skeet/Loreto
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Bob and Susan
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the "Glory Days" are NOW!!!
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