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baitcast
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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 07:19 AM
We need some fishin stories


Its been kinda dull on here expect for dorado and such,we need some old fishin stories,new or old,we did something like this two years ago and got some great ones.
I,ll start with a repeat of that section.

Towed to sea



Not being able afford a boat in my early trips to willard bay,just next door to Gonzaga I did all my fishing from the beach, punta willard and walking distance from Papa Fernandez,s campo and it was there I met my first rooster-fish.

Every morning first light you could hear them coming,hunderds of mullet would be out front with a dozen or so huge pez-gallo in hot pursuit, the noise would wake us up every morning and if it didn,t my daughter would,"WAKE UP DAD THE ROOSTERS ARE HERE" and I would jump up and grab my rod and start throwing everything I owned at them and never a touch,what to do?

I began to put together the master plan no boat,what could I use to get off the beach? then I remembered a friend who had a one man life raft,problem fixed.

The following took place in front of PaPa,s casa 1966 or 67,I had the raft inflated and in the ready position,two outfits,one for snagging a mullet and the other for fishin,and here they come just like I knew they would,my heart rate started to climb just like I knew it would.

It didn,t take long to snag a mullet,pinned him on a hook an jumped in the raft and shoved off,I hadn,t went 50 yds when two big boys crashed the bait,an I was hooked up to a fish I had dreamt about for two years,everything was going to plan,but then he had other ideas an started steaming east toward the mouth of the bay doing a easy 40 knots.

I began hearing cheering from the camp "Dads got a rooster ya ya"but I think it was the other way around.

One man life rafts do not tow straight I found,they do slow spins and things were getting out of control,the line was heavy enough so no problem there,and as the man said "getting towed to sea by a large fish what a hoot"

To shorten the story,after he cleared the point he headed south with me a couple hunderd yds behind,sharp rocks an fishing line do not mix! and that was that.

I will never forget that morning and think of it often.
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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 08:27 AM


I just got back from Colorado. It was a quick trip to visit my mom who is one of the last natives alive in the small mountain town of Eagle near Vail.
She had a minor stroke a couple weeks ago but has almost fully recovered.
All my ancesters on my moms side are from that area and were they rugged "mountain man and women" type.
I took my son to visit his grandma. He and I are the last of that line. I love that little town and hope my son will keep the spirt a live.
I learned how to catch trout there in a small stream call Brush Creek or Brush "Crik" if you are a native. My grandad use to carry me on his back when I was small when he would cross the "crik" from one bank to the other looking for trout in the various pools and rapids. He always knew where to look. My mom and her family lived on a ranch and my grandad would supplement their food supply with fresh trout and also hunted deer alot.
When I got too big to carry grandad made me wade across and with just sneakers and shorts. Man, that Rocky Mountain "crik" water is cold! You had to really want to catch a fish to do that. I did then and still do!
There is also a beautiful lake there called Sylvan Lake. Or just "up to the lake" in native tonge. I fished there many times and always catch a few small trout just for fun.
My son and I fished there this trip too. It was a little rainy and even a little cold at times but my son would not give up even when it got dark. I caught 1 small rainbow on a worm and had him rigged with a grasshopper fly.
We have small spinning rods and neither of us know how to fly fish yet so I rigged it with a bobber and told him to slow retreve it. He doesn't cast very well yet so I finally convinced him to let me cast it out for him. He resisted because he wanted to do it all by himself.
He just wouldn't give up and finally a beautiful little brook trout hit the fly and he reeled it in like a champ.
We had a little net and were really careful not to hurt the fish. I took the fly out and we revived him and he swam out under his own power. I hope we see that trout again some day.
So take a kid fishing and you will change his life or her life. My son went with me to Baja a couple weeks ago and caught his 1st ocean fish. A nice little dorado.
It's tough to have things in common with your kids these days but maybe fishing can be that common ground.
And maybe when they grow up they will be a beer guzzling, lady loving, tough guy who loves fishing and especially baja. Like me.
Hey, it's not my fault. It's in my genes! Blame it on the tough guy mountain men from Colorado, if you dare! ;D




"A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for." J. A. Shedd.

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"Life's a Beach... and then you Fly!" Fishbuck

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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 08:35 AM
Brad Pitt story


How Brad Pitt Saved the Sea of Cortez



"Bobby, I'm gonna hit the beach. You ready?"

"No way. I'm down to my last two Lido patches and my skin is scalded. I better hang in the shade today."

Robert T. "Bobby" Champion turned down his host's invitation to the beach, slumped down deeper into the overstuffed patio furniture. The Baja California Mexican sun can fool you in early June.

Bobby was not familiar with the scene. This was his first trip to Mexico. The year, 2042.

He'd been told. "First time? T-shirt, hat, all day. Sun block, 30 or better all over, as needed: tops of feet, knees, neck, nose."

"Cool. Chill here with Grampa Greg. Gramps, tell Bob-o the Pitt thing. Bobby, you'll dig it. Sci-fi Mexico. A trip. Later."

Tony Waltham, Jr. went through the iron gate, hopped on the quad, sped off in a cloud of dust straight for the bluegreen surf.

Grampa Greg rudely shoved the small black dog off the couch with his ample hip, put his feet up on the rattan ottoman, took a swig of his Pacifico beer, grinned wickedly at the kid and said.

"Can you handle this? What grade are you in, same as Tony, nine, ten?"

"Yeah, same as Tony, tenth."

The old man queried kindly "You look awful. You want to sit in the truck? Turn on the air for a little while?"

"Naw, I'm Okay, just the fan, the fan is great." said Bobby. "What's the pit thing. Tony said you had a story about a pit, Mexico and a pit?"

"Not P I T, P I T T. Brad Pitt. The story's about some guys who saved the Sea of Cortez, he was one of em, one of the first."

"Was he one of those environmental guys? Last year, in my history class we read about some dudes who blew up nuke plants, booby-trapped forests. It was dumb stuff. I got a 2.3 for the year."

"No, he was in the movies. You want to hear the story or not?" groused the oldster.

"Yeah, I'm gamed out and I gotta stay in the shade. Shoot."

"Okay then. The story is about this little sea here, the Gulf of California, how it was dying, how it got saved in some really strange ways. The thing is big, 68,000 square miles of salt water. It's kinda trapped between Lower California, where we are now, and mainland Mexico. It's deep, very deep, in some places over a mile. At one time it was the most biodiverse body of water on the planet -- that means it had the most species of sea life, the most abundant numbers of such animals and plants, given its size, than all the other seas or bays."

Bobby took a sip of his coke, put some more cream on the backs of his hands, looked up again at the old man to indicate his continued attention.

"The way it's set up, it's like a trap. The fish that traveled all the seas, that just came to visit, swam into the mouth, down at the tip, Cabo San Lucas. As they went north to feed and spawn they were trapped, caught, netted, fished out for food, cat food, fertilizer by big fishing companies from all over the world. The Mexicans who lived along the shore, on both sides, caught the traveling fish, as well as the local fish with hook and line, nets; ate some, sold some. For almost a hundred years sport fishing was all the rage. Guys with big fishing rods, big fancy reels rented boats to go out and try a one-on-one with marlin that weighed up to 1,000 pounds or more. It was big business. Many of the big cities around here started out with just a few shacks and some boats for these old-timey guys to rent." Greg lifted his ample belly aloft, pushed off the couch, went to the kitchen for another beer, yelled out to Bobby, did he want another coke. The return trip was long and tortuous but in time Greg's butt was again at rest, beer in hand he was ready to go on.

"It didn't happen over night, there were some who tried to slow the process, set some limits on the catch but the money was too big...tens of billions of dollars each year. So, the fish had to go. Pretty soon they were almost all gone. Not nearly enough public knowledge, attention, outrage to do much about it."

Bobby kept up his end. "When does the Pitt guy jump in?"

"How'd you do in Attention Span 101? Hold tight, we're almost there. You can't go to the beach today anyway." another grouse from the old man. "You ever hear of fly fishing?" asked the old man.

"Flies? Flies? Nuh uh." is the almost unintelligible reply from the teen.

"Well, they made a movie about it, about a river and flyfishing, back in the early 1990's. This famous movie star was in it. It started a whole fad thing. The way it works is you take this real skinny, real long fishing rod, a reel that looks a squashed coffee grinder, lots of light line, whip the whole thing back and forth till the line goes out farther and farther. On the end of the line you tie on a tiny little hook you can hardly see. You wind sewing thread around the tiny hook, glue some small feathers to it so it resembles some little insects the fish like to eat."

Bobby interrupts. "The insect is a fly I bet, it looks like a fly, the hook thing."

"Mind like a proverbial steel trap, my lad. You got it. It looks like a fly. The first ones were made to look like the kinds of flies that inhabit small freshwater lakes and streams -- mayflies. The fad took off like a wildfire in a Georgia pitchy pine forest during a ten-year drought. Nobody saw it comin'. Times were changing. Men were gettin' away from all the manly tough stuff, wrestling went belly up, boxing, the rugged red-necks with the big rods and reels lookin for the big marlin, tuna started crossing over. People were becoming more sensitive, more in touch with their feelings, in touch with nature."

Another interruption. "The guys with the fly things caught fish too, just like the red-necks didn't they?"

The old man finished off his beer with a flourish. "You're right on point today kid. If this were a history class I'd be giving you a 3 something. The big difference; the fly guys did catch fish ---- they let em go, threw em back, every one of em.

Pitt wasn't the only one. A bunch of guys on T.V., you do remember T.V. I hope, guys with even longer and skinnier rods, bigger reels, big old lures made out of bird's wings started flyfishing in the ocean. Well, the fad on ocean flyfishing was wilder than the freshwater stuff.

Pitt was one of the pretty boys, skinny, with deep blue eyes, long lashes, looked like a girl. The salt water guys on T.V. were fatter but still had that girlish look about em. The manly types were being replaced by these sensitive guys. Pretty soon this whole area around here was full of guides, schools, special resorts, special tours, how-to classes. It wasn't just around here either. These new sensitive types had a world more money than the rednecks ever thought of. The fad was spreading world-wide at the same exact time we were in the center of an economic updraft. The big factory ships were dragged off to rust at the dock. Quotas were starting to be set, catch limits enforced, the sea began to have the time to heal. Mother nature will bounce back with a vengeance if you just ease up a bit."

Bobby has a chance. "The dorado, the fish we caught Tuesday, were they going away? Did he save them too?"

"They were almost all gone. Now they're back in record numbers. When Pitt died way back in the thirties they made a big deal of his death but all the publicity was about the movies; hardly a word on any of the ‘nets about what he started, what he did for this ocean and all the others." The old man added.

"I had a friend who used to flyfish. He lived over in Los Barriles. Luther Kutcher. Died eight years ago. He was the biggest, meanest looking guy you ever saw, hands like hams. Amanecer, that's Spanish for dawn, I'd go down sometimes just to watch him. A mountain dancing. That's the impression I got. All that mass, muscle and jiggle almost prancing above the water, just where it hit the sand, whipping that thin wand back and forth like the devil's whip. He didn't like the Pitt guy, the movie. Caught his share of the shore fish but he let em all go. If he wanted fish for dinner he bought it off the dock." Greg took a long sip of beer, looked out at the ocean.

Bobby's turn. "Is that it? That's the story?"
"Yeah, that's it."

Bobby wants more. "Are there any of those fly fish guys still around? Around here? Could Tony and me see em?"

"The thing's died out mostly. Occasionally I see some guy on a quad flingin the fly down by the lagoon. Still lots of roosters and jacks down there. Before you go back, you got four more days, you might run into one of them down on the beach. If you do, if you see them down there, best stay way back away from them if they're whipping those things about. They're sensitive, sometimes a little touchy. And they're proud. I guess they got good reason."
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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 08:54 AM


In the '70s I went with my BF and two children who were about 8 and 9 at the time, to one of the small coves south of Puertocitos camping. Back then, you could camp in a cove like that and not see anyone else for 3-4 days. We had rented an aluminum canoe for offshore fishing. Leaving my daughter on the beach, me, BF and 8 year old son took the canoe out about 100 yards off the beach to catch something for dinner. Right away son hooks up, and all three of us lean to one side for a look-see. Ever been in a canoe? We were all in the water in the next second, the canoe upsidedown. At first, I wasn't concerned until we turned the canoe over and couldn't get the water out and couldn't climb back in. I realized we were drifting as I watched our camp getting further away - and a bit north from where we started. My daughter was by herself on the beach. We had only one life jacket, which my son put on. We tried to stay calm and decide what to do - but I was getting scared. After about 10 minutes of hanging onto the side of the canoe and continuing drifting south, I saw that we were drifting into a bank of rocks jutting from shore - small waves were crashing on the rocks, but it was terra firma nevertheless. We allowed ourselves to be pushed onto the rocks and when we could, scrambled onto them, holding onto the boat. We dumped water out of the boat, rescued the tackle box, and lo and behold, reeled in the line to find that fish still on the hook! BF paddled the boat back to our cove and my son and I boulder scrambled and hiked back to camp - about 1/4 mi. away. The lessons learned with that little episode was quite a chapter.
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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 09:07 AM


When my daughter was 5, I decided to take her fishing for the first time.
We went to little lake/pond that is popular with local weekenders.
As we walked to a vacant spot on the bank, a few fishermen commented that nothing was biting that day.
I rigged a little sppon onto her "kid's rig" and made the first cast for her.
As I handed her the rod, something hit !
She reeled in the cutest little blue fin/gill? and got yelled compliments from around the pond.
After a few more casts and no more fish, she was little bored so I said, "Let's go to another lake where we can catch lots of fish".
So off we went to the local trout pond (the pay for fish kind).
I paid for 4 fish; enough for dinner, and we went off to slaughter trout.
She fished for one fish.
There were ducks running around the lake and soon she was chasing the ducks and I was left to catch our last 2 fish, alone.
She really hasn't been interested in fishing since.
Thank goodness my youngest is a boy that loves to fish with dad !!
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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 12:08 PM


Many of us fish for other than baja fish from time to time including me the following pic is the structure I made in front of my place in Northeastern WA.

The shore line in front was pretty bland when I started.every spring before the run off they would lower the lake 12' which gave me time to create my master piece.

I cleaned the beach for a 50 yards in both directions,sunken logs,xmas tree,s,rock piles,tires you name it,it was to become one of the best LMB spots on a 21 mile long lake

I added a sausage grinder on the dock to grind up perch for chum:lol: before my friends would come up from Calif. to visit I would chum for 1 or 3 days,by the time they arrived it would look like marine land around the dock:lol:,they would always ask "is it like this all the time" and I would always answer yes!

Have a couple more pic,s to add......in a min.
Rob

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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 12:28 PM
couple of hogs


A sample of the bass off that dock,also trout both browns and bows in late fall and winter,perch,crappieand several others! just got to cold and was to far from baja.
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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 12:47 PM


Fishing stories? :lol: Baja fishing stories?:lol: Sea of Cortez fishing stories? Plenty of fishing, but very little catching unless you like fiction.:)
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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 02:20 PM


I caught quite a few of these in the mouth of Conception near Mulege and even more off La Ventana the past 2 years.
I love Sierra for fish tacos !! :biggrin:

[Edited on 8-27-2008 by Diver]

fish.jpg - 37kB
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[*] posted on 8-27-2008 at 02:44 PM


Diver, Thanks, Your picture is worth a 1,000 words.:bounce:
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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 08:36 AM


I was fishing for bonefishing one day at Christmas Island and unintentionally hooked a small trevally. After a spirited fight I landed the fish and opened it's mouth to remove my crazy charlie. There was something bright and shiny inside. Upon closer examination I was really surprised to find a rod guide in there, the top guide, it appeared.

"Well, isn't that amazing", I thought to myself. "How did that get in there?"

Shaking my head from side to side I theorized about the viciousness of the animal that would even attack something like that. "They'll stop at nothing. Some poor angler must have lost his guide and the fish was attracted to it's glitter".

One, two, three, four.... I swear you could have counted to ten before the light came on. My head snapped back and I looked up at my rod.

The top guide was gone!!



P.S. for you non-anglers. The guide had come off during the fight and slid down the line into the fishes mouth to the very hook.
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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 08:49 AM
to catch a world record spot fin croaker in baja


it is absolutely essential to wear your best camouflage gear. especially when the sun is not yet out!!!!


:light::lol::P:wow::o:O:yes::yes::biggrin:

before...

before (Small).jpg - 30kB




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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 08:51 AM
spotfin bone soup


after.:yes:

good eatin'....

after (Small) (Small).jpg - 47kB




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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 08:53 AM


I went to Alaska with my parents when I was in high school. My brothers lived up there as comercial halibut fishermen-longliners.
We were docked in a remote town, Hoonah, and I was bored. My brother set me up with a 3/8 inch rope tied to a heavy candy bar jig as a hand line. I wasn't expecting much as I bounced it on the bottom off the bow of his fishing boat which was a converted 52 foot tug boat.
La di da nuthing then bang! I hooked into sumthin' that allmost pulled me into the water. I hung on with both hands to the rope as it gave quite a few strong pulls. I finally pulled it up screaming for my bro to bring the gaff. I had caught a 40 lb halibut on a hand line!!
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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 10:52 AM


About 15 years ago I was fishing off Mulege in my 17 foot Boston Whaler with wife Pat and friend Tom Carlin. Trolling a Mexican Flag feather the reel went off. I yelled Dorado! because it was jumping, but soon realized it was a big sailfish. I was in the stern reeling, the sailfish was pulling us backward, the water was coming in over the transom, and lots of it. Running up to the bow was a good move because the big fish just pulled us along for awhile. When he got near, he flashed, jumped and then calmed down. We edged up, grabbed his nose, released the lure and towed him for awhile to revive him. We watched the beautiful big fish slowly swim off into the clear depths. After that I made sure to reel them in from the bow and not the stern!
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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 12:13 PM


quick one while waiting for the kids. just got off the water Dorado are close in just 2-5 miles north and east of coronado island and under flotsam that got blown outta da arroyos. lots of flotsam so watch out for the outboards. dorado are picky today smaller ones coming up first not too many like yesterday but when the larger fish rise all of the smaller ones get competitive. largest one caught today was over 40 pounds. there were four others on the boat today which made flycasting difficult but I caught my share and am happy. they didn't want poppers today only the bullcandy sardina pattern in tan and white. never had to change the fly and i caught about a half dozen fish from 15-30 pounds. we went out late at about 9am and returned at 12:30, now waiting for the kids to walk over to the shop from school so I can take them home and eat some fresh fish tacos....
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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 12:29 PM


Woody,still can,t get over that fish,also I,ve noticed you have never have said where you got him:lol:
Rob
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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 01:25 PM


Quote:
Originally posted by baitcast
Woody,still can,t get over that fish,also I,ve noticed you have never have said where you got him:lol:
Rob



and don't forget the one that broke off!!!!:O

i got him in 3-4 feet of water right above my left shoulder with a hunk of pismo.:lol:




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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 03:52 PM


The local guys set gill nets that stretch the length of a football field. :D They have several of 'em. Can pick about 50 lbs. out of 'em on a good day. Less each day.:no:Get about 10$US/kilo from the gringos, less from the home folks.:D Does it pay for the gas? Pay for the beer? No. They're in what you might call a downward spiral with no way out. Negative? Throw another chunck of wood on that Kumbaya campfire.:D
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[*] posted on 8-29-2008 at 05:06 PM


Cypress, you and the Palmetto need your own fire. Anybody want to donate some wood, buffalo chips?
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