Mexico Segunda Parte

Three days after my big game trip I had a much lighter session planned. Fly rods and spinning gear aboard a light skiff, targeting Bonefish, Tarpon, Barracuda and anything else that was around. My hope was that this would be sight fishing but the water around the mangroves was cloudy and visibility was pretty much zero.

I met the guide at a rickety old marina in an area best described as proper old Mexico. His mum Fatima had picked me up twenty minutes previous from our luxurious hotel lobby and we had travelled only a few miles down the road when the Tarmac had given way to dirt track. We passed numerous shanty huts and a rough looking bar (that probably sold the most amazing Tequila!) before turning into an area worryingly surrounded by broken boats and clapped out old engines presumably only kept for their spare parts. I jumped out of the van to be greeted by Rocky(named after Balboa!) a vicious looking but thankfully friendly dog.

 Fatima spoke excellent English but had not bothered teaching her son(my guide!) but we got by on our mutual Spanglish and the universal language of fishing.

I jumped aboard the rough looking skiff and we made our way across the bay towards the mangroves. My confidence was increased by the amount of seabirds that were working the area, Cormorants that are obviously a close relative of our own but are in fact a different species, the Olivaceous Cormorant

and the huge Frigatebirds or Man O'Wars as they are also called.

The Frigates are everywhere, they have the largest wing span to body size ration of any bird in the world and can spend up to a week on the wing not even landing on water. They are fish eaters, mostly flying fish but also participate in kleptoparasitism, harassing other birds to force them to regurgitate their food so they can eat the part-digested contents! Lovely!

 A sparkly shrimp pattern was attached to the leader but blimey it was tough going. Trying to cast a heavy fly into the stiff breeze coupled with my ring rustiness, I haven't fly fished for months, made presentation poor. The guide punted the boat along the mangrove edge but it wasn't until we came down the opposite bank with the wind at our backs that I was really able to work the fly as I would have liked. The Tarpon showed occasionally but they weren't feeding with any gusto in the searing Mexican heat.

Having worked the whole of the first bay we headed to the next. This involved another trek through the mangroves. The temperature outside the mangroves was approaching thirty degrees but inside the added humidity made it feel ten degrees hotter.

We sweated our way through a particularly narrow pass, my guide on the pole at the stern and me sat on the bow pulling and pushing at the protruding branches trying to steer our pass. Stupidly we had laid the fly rod down on the boat and the tip caught on a branch and snapped clean off two rings down. That was the end of the fly fishing then. At one point while we were wedged between two trees deep in the heart of the mangrove jungle I felt like Jeremy Wade exploring deep in an inhabitable savage land.

Just above in the trees the vultures patiently watched our lack of progress. The noises coming from unseen wildlife were like nothing I have heard before and every now and then there would be a large splash. At the sound of one particularly large splash I glanced at the guide, his one word reply was 'crocodile'. His lack of English didn't fail him that time! This felt like real adventure fishing!

Eventually we reached our destination a beautiful bay completely enclosed. I threw a shrimp like lure into every likely looking hole but only one Tarpon made a move at the lure. I saw the flash of its stunning mirror like scales but it missed its target and we ended our circuit fishless again. I was working extremely hard for very little reward.

Our passage back through the mangrove pass into the first bay seemed easier than before and we steamed off to a completely different area in search of better sport. Around twenty minutes later we reached the flats. The water was much clearer here although there was plenty of weed with random clear patches dotted around. This was Barracuda country with copious amounts of places for these aggressive predators to hide ready to ambush any unsuspecting victims who may wander too close. First cast and the rubber shrimp was nailed instantly.

It was only a baby but the speed of these creatures in the crystal clear water is a sight to behold. More Barracuda and the odd Snapper followed but nothing of any size so we headed out to deeper water in search of bigger Barras.

We saw them, they followed the lure but they hadn't grown big by being stupid like their naive smaller brethren. I changed to a popper with similar results, the odd follow but no takes. The icing on the cake of a quite frustrating day came from the sky when a huge frigatebird took the lure and flew off with it. Thankfully none of the trebles caught in its beak and with a slight tug it dropped its inedible prey. I wouldn't fancy unhooking seven feet of angry 'seagull'! The adventure was over and we made our way back to Rockys place.

El Pez Vela, Mexico

Booking anything on the internet is risky but booking a fishing trip over five thousand miles away and paying $800 is a massive blind leap of faith, mixed metaphors I know. However a family holiday to Mexico was a fishing opportunity not to be missed. So with a large slice of intrepidation I clicked the mouse and entered my bank details.

On the day of the trip I made my way to reception for a 5.50am meet with no idea if anyone would show. I twice checked the date and time on my emailed receipt and grabbed a coffee from the bar. Mexicans only have two types of coffee, strong or really strong but boy does it shake off jet lag! Right on time a minibus pulled up driven by a diminutive 'gringo' who introduced himself and asked if I was Yosef, close enough! Stage one complete.

As we drove through a rough looking area I quizzed him about what it was like. "I would be ok sir" he replied "but it not for you sir, not safe". I changed the subject to football, an easy common denominator. 

We arrived at the marina and I was ushered into a small office full of more dodgy looking gringos, I signed some forms in Spanish with no idea what was written on it and waited. Activity bustled on around me with ice, fishing line, food and beer going forwards and backwards. Lunch was thrust into my hand and I was ushered outside to the coffee pot. I helped myself, needless to say it was strong.

Finally I was introduced to my skipper, Pepe an American looking Mexican who spoke very little English. Thankfully his first mate Juan spoke excellent English inquiring about my previous boat fishing experience and once satisfied that I knew a bit we sped off out of the bay deep into the Gulf of Mexico. Our destination was a deep channel home to a multitude of baitfish which attract the ultimate predators, Blue and White Marlin and the stunning Sailfish. 

Five rods are deployed when trolling, teasers and muppets attached and a garfish-like bait is tied on with wire sewed through its eyeball, thankfully it is already dead! Two rods on down riggers, two on outriggers and one off the top deck.

We had only trolled the baits for about twenty minutes when we got the first hook up, I jumped in the chair and found myself attached to a powerful fish. The unseen adversary twisted and turned, made powerful runs but slowly and surely I kept pumping the rod and gaining the line back. We got a brief glimpse of a huge sail but the fish saw the boat and made one last dash for freedom. Thankfully the hook held firm, I ignored the pain from my aching muscles and brought the fish back up from the deep blue depths and Juan grabbed the stunning beast and hauled it on board. 

For the small price of $1400 the local taxidermists will stuff and mount the fish and ship it anywhere in the world and whilst I thought it would make a great centre piece for our kitchen wall I am not sure the wife would agree! Besides there is no way I could be responsible for killing such a stunning creature. 

The rods were quickly redeployed but I was in no hurry for further action and thankfully the next bite was not too quick in coming along. I was also grateful that when it did come it was a small bluefin tuna of about five pounds, unhooked and chucked in the box to be used later as bait.

By now my limbs had recovered and I was ready for more action. A screaming run followed but this fish did not stay attached for long, the frayed hook link indicated that the escapee was a wahoo. Its razor sharp teeth had made light work of the 80lb line. Wire trace is not used when billfishing the theory being that the fish feel the steel and let go whereas mono is less perceptible.

 More tuna followed all about the same size plus a bonus bonito of over ten pounds, more bait for later I was told. Couldn't wait to see how those were going to be deployed!

Two species ticked off the bucket list and I felt confident that more would follow but the next few hours were very quiet. We trolled and trolled further out towards the Atlantic but nothing happened. "The fish are sleeping" Juan informed me. By now it was 34 degrees so I joined the skipper on the top deck where it was a bit more comfortable in the breeze. A chilled beer or three helped too.

There was to be one more final flurry of activity though. The skipper cut the engine on an obviously known hotspot and three slices of Tuna were despatched to the ocean floor.Within minutes I had a clonking bite and thoroughly enjoyed a stand up battle with a large Grouper.

 Another species ticked off the list and a proper bonus that I did not expect. Several Red Snapper followed to put the finishing touches on a cracking day. 

What did we do before the Internet?!

More Florida fishing part two.

A millpond

Duck key, Florida 4th June 2012.
Two days after the Tarpon battle I was still feeling the effects, back ache and a bruised groin(from the rod butt). In spite of this there was still an itch to get out on the water so I booked a half day with Captain Billy Whitney aboard his skiff, Soc-Et-Tu-Um (Only in America!). We met at 7.15am in Tom's dock where the Tarpon are permanent residents but you are not allowed to fish for them.

 These are the clever ones, they know that if they hang around they have an easy meal of the remains of the gutted fish brought in by the fishermen.
I had decided that this trip was to be a more leisurely and sedate affair targeting Snapper, Jacks, Sea Trout and Redfish if we were lucky.
Several buckets of Shrimp were loaded and put on ice and off we went. I would have liked to have tried to catch a Bonefish but they have not been seen in this part of the Keys for a couple of years. A cold front came through and destroyed a whole year group and moved the bigger ones further along the coast. This makes the Florida grand slam(Tarpon, Bonefish and Permit) very difficult nowadays.  To add to the problems the Keys angler has already is a proliferation of seaweed that has began to flourish in the area. On top of that there is an abundance of Pinfish (small and inedible critters) that attack the baits before the sought after species can get a look in.  With all that against us we sped out beyond the weed about twenty minutes to a relatively clear area. Tactics out here is a fluffy luminous green jig head  weighted lure tipped with a real Shrimp tail over the hook shank.

Shrimp on ice

These are cast out as far as possible and retrieved 'sink and draw' style to the boat. Within seconds the annoying pinfish are on the bait and the Shrimp gets obliterated nine times out of ten. When we could keep a bait on we caught well, hard fighting Mangrove Snapper, Jack Trevally that dived in the weed and Sea Trout. The Sea Trout were a different species to our own, they look similar in terms of spots and silver coloration but have a dorsal fin similar to a Bass with spines. I lost count of how many fish were caught in the end but we finished up with a few 'keepers' on ice. These were donated to Mrs Whitney upon our return. An enjoyable mornings angling but not as exciting as fishing for Tarpon.

A brace of Snapper