Baja Bernie
`Normal` Nomad Correspondent
Posts: 2962
Registered: 8-31-2003
Location: Sunset Beach
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Mood: Just dancing through life
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Just for the hell of it
Here is a little thing I wrote, as a writing exercise, several years ago...I liked how it stirred things up way back then.
Fisherman beware.....Ha!
Catch of the Day
Listen to Soka, the Marlin, discussing his experiences with other members of his family as they slip ever deeper into the blue Pacific just off the
Cape of Cabo San Lucas. “Damn those air sucking, beer guzzling, fat assed, so called ‘sport fisherman.’ They fly into San Jose de Cabo International
Airport, jump into an air-conditioned cab and head for one of those fancy hotels. Yeah, the ones that stretch all the way from the Cape up to San
Jose. They don’t even check in until they have downed a few cool ones in the air-conditioned bar.”
“These guys and gals really believe that they are great sportsmen—they see themselves as a Hemingway, Ray Cannon, or even as a Gene Kira.
Listen to me because I know. They are no such things. Why, Hell! They pay up to $1,400.00 a day to charter a 35 to 46 foot Bertram sport fisher.
It has all of the bells and whistles that they need to track us down.
Would you believe that the boat only costs a little over a half a million, used, before they add the Penn reels, $275.00 to $700.00 a pop. Then add
the poles and other junk.”
Junior Ukie, “ Uncle why do they do such stupid things? I heard the other day that they pay about ten bucks just for a hook and those little flags
like aunt Ziku wears cost them about twenty dollars.”
Soka, “ It is all very confusing to me! They spend all of this money so that they can brag about what fantastic fishermen they are. It’s nutty they
sit up there in the ‘fighting chair’ most of the day hoping the Mexicans will bring them to where we are hiding. They guzzle beer, eat box lunches
and spread white stuff on their reddening noses and cheeks.
Watch out for those boats that are driven by Pedro. He and his guys have the reputation as the greatest hookers of Marlin and sailfish around. No,
I tell you it makes no sense at all.”
Ziku chimed in, “You brothers and sisters remember when that big gal hooked me last year. It was almost a fight to the death. I dove and ran and
sounded. I dove under the boat and then I ran as hard and for as long as I could. I could hear people on all of the other boats cheer as I did the
tail walk.
You talk about unfair; there she sits on that 46-foot boat with twin 555 diesel engines trying to land a little old lady like me. Anyway, they wore
me down and landed me. I was about gone when they ripped the hook out of my mouth, tagged me and tossed me back into the sea.
They act like it didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt them but I tell you that hook really tore up my mouth. I had trouble eating for months.”
None of the Marlin could understand why the ‘air sucking’ people continued to slaughter and maim them even as their numbers dwindled. They could
understand the need for all things to kill for food and survival. They all remembered the stories handed down from generation to generation about
when the ‘native air suckers’ caught one of our kind every once in a while from a tiny canoe.
Great, great, great Uncle Og told the story of an Indian, paddling a reed boat over by Los Mochis, who hooked one of their large old ancestors and got
pulled all the way across the sea to what is now called La Paz. It is told that the Indian won that bout and feasted on the ancestor for days.
Even today the Mexicans honor the Marlin with much
ceremony. They believe that to eat the meat of a Marlin will make them strong and valiant.”
Uncle Soka continued. “I can understand that they would want to eat of our flesh to nourish themselves and become stronger. But I will never
understand how they can stuff our brothers and hang them on a wall as a trophy. A trophy to what—wasting money and good meat.”
“I tell you youngin’s when you hear those terrible boats and see those bubbles—dive deep and don’t even think of eating until the coast is clear.
It’s the only chance we have to escape those ‘air suckers’ and survive as a clan.”
Sportsmen indeed?
Bernie Swaim
©September 2003
My smidgen of a claim to fame is that I have had so many really good friends. By Bernie Swaim December 2007
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DENNIS
Platinum Nomad
Posts: 29510
Registered: 9-2-2006
Location: Punta Banda
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Excellent, Bernie........Thanks.
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Eli
Super Nomad
Posts: 1471
Registered: 8-26-2003
Location: L.B. Baja Sur
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Mood: Some times Observing, sometimes Oblivious.
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Yep, I remember your story, and I enjoyed it as much today as I did way back when. I sure do like to eat Marlin, but I don't understand torturing what
you don't plan to eat. But, than I am no fisherman.
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